The Boy Who Lived

So it helps that the house is a construction zone.

And the kids are out of school.

And we're trying to keep 5 little ones (and a couple of big ones) fed and happy (without a kitchen).

But we breezed through the period of February 20th through 22nd without too many tears.

And life is good here.

I have hope.

I like the metaphor of the broken kitchen wall. It's taking longer to break down, and the electricity had to be rewired since it was so old and out of code. So this is delaying the wall finishing, which is delaying the floor, which is delaying the cabinets and the stove/oven is scheduled to arrive any day now. But it's good. I want it to take longer, as long as it's done right.

Our family feels as healthy as it was before February 20th, 2009.

John and I are working on projects together.

The girls are studying hard and progressing.

Parker is running.

And jumping.

He only just started jumping last week. It's adorable and hilarious.

Imagine jumping without the sensation of gravity...

That is what it feels like for Parker.

And he does it.

And it's way too cute.

He's like a giant baby.

I think he weighs 35 kilos. And I tow him around like a newborn.

Sometimes he demands it.

Sometimes I welcome it.

But this week I celebrate his life, our lives together.

And I have joy.

3 years ago today we didn't know if he would live.

If he did live, we didn't know if we would be able to participate in life, and to what extent.

But now you would meet him on the street and never know.

Never know his sorrow, and pain and suffering.

And his mom's....

And his sisters'....

And his Big Daddy's.

And everyone else whose lives he has touched or continues to touch.

He smiles constantly.

He runs and laughs and jumps.

He speaks.

Sure, he has a lot more speaking and hearing and learning to do, but he's progressing.

Just like the rest of us.

What more can we ask for?

If it's like the kitchen, I'd prefer he takes a little longer, and gets it right. Rather than hurry through it and not learn correctly.

He's come a long way, baby.

We've all come a long way.

And the journey was hard, but good.

We're still here, still ploughing forward. My dad taught me many great things.

And I remember him saying "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

It resonates in my soul, it is true. But I can't help but wonder, "If it almost kills you, does it make you even stronger? Or are you proven weaker for almost falling over the ledge before grasping up the dusty, rocky wall before someone takes your hand and helps you back up, or you find the strength to get up again yourself??"

This week he has learned to say, "I wanna walk." This is not code--this means, "I don't want to go in the stroller, Mom."

He also started saying, "I don't want to."...or "I want to." Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.

We're not sure where he learned that, since no one around here says, "I don't want to."

But it's good. I'm glad he's moved on from , "I want nandy!"

That was starting to get old!

The neurologist says Parker does not run. (But it's fast forward motion, come on.) I think these videos prove otherwise.

Run, Parker. Run!

And don't look back.

Just look out for cars...., please.

Break Down to Build Up

Of course my mind has been turned toward difficult Februarys past as we approach the ski vacations this year. We are coming upon 3 years since PJ got his wicked illness and as everyone around us prepares to leave town, pack their ski clothes, try & stay warm in this Paris Winter weather, I am happily staying strong and staying put.

We had a busy Christmas, so it's been nice to regroup and take it easy this Paris Winter. Since January I feel a physical burden has been lifted from my shoulders. It could be that the twins are getting bigger and easier. It could be Michelle, our new fille au pair! It could be that we are not running ragged with doctors appointments (as we have in Winters past), it could be that we are focusing on different things since our family seems to be healing or mostly healed since FEBRUARY 2009...or a myriad of other things that I am too myopic to see.

The past 2 years in February I have been depressed.....

And I am not a depressed person.

I try & talk myself out of it, but anyone who knows depression knows it's a hard thing to do.

Luckily I have lots of spring chickens and dear friends who force me out of seclusion.

But this Paris Winter has been unusually bright.

The weather has been very mild until recently, and we've had "un grand froid" as the Parisians call it. A very bitter cold that has settled in, but it has been less-less very-much less gray. And-

Oh-how-I-love-it.

But I think it's not only the weather that makes things seem brighter.

It's everything.

My family seems happy & healthy.

My husband is working hard. I am working hard.

We feel grateful for our health, though sad for my Dad's recent heart attack...and other notable hardships around us.

But we are concentrating on times tables, and brushing our teeth better, learning poems, colors, shapes, verb conjugations, piano pieces...ballet positions.

It's finally a house of learning & love & growth.

After we have suffered to stay afloat for 3 years.

And its glorious!

Sure, there are mountains of laundry to fold every-single-week.

And cupboards to organize everywhere I turn.

But it seems like it's just the way it should be in a working household.

John was away this week on business, and he told me," It feels like I haven't been on the road for a long while and I miss you all a lot more. Feels like the girls are getting big and growing up and we are never going to get them back..."

I LOVE it when he gets all sentimental like that.

But its true, that I have moments, and moreso recently where... I want to freeze time & just soak in the moments. The moments when Parker throws everything like a ball, falls on the floor in his crazy roll-dance...and the girls laugh and prance in their fancy dresses & newly done big-sister-produced pedicures & manicures.... When we have secret love notes under our pillows, and child-choreographed plays to watch and applaud...when we eat more candy than we every should, and go back for more.

Parker has recently discovered the word, sign, and concept of candy. He has been able to say chocolate for some time, but now it's like a crazy obsession that he asks for candy a hundred times per day. AND HOW CAN I REFUSE A DEAF BOY WHO SPEAKS AND SAYS " I WANT NANDY!"?!?!?!

It's so impossible to say no to him.

But when Axelle exclaims, "Oh! I loooooove that!" about EVERYTHING---after crying for fear not wanting to do anything beforehand...or Penelope bosses me around looking for her favorite pony or hair bow or this skirt or that mermaid....when Hannah looks me in the eye and I can see forever that she has always existed to be my child...when Abby carefully reads to or gently caresses the back of a sibling as they drift away to sleep... or uses her older, sophisticated 10 yr old knowledge to reassure a crying sibling who forgot her poem at school to just "google it"...my life seems perfect.

And I want to capture it. And fold it up delicately decorated in heart shaped paper with bright stripes & spots and doilies..and keep it carefully tucked away in my heart to open again later.

When they are grown and gone.

When I won't spend ALL DAY EVERY SINGLE DAY PICKING UP CLOTHES AND TOYS AND SHOPPING FOR AND PREPARING MEALS.

And I will miss it. I will miss them. I already do in anticipation......:)

My life is bright. Full of so much joy.

I thank God for that.

My dear, loving God.

But as we approach the Winter Vacations, I am happy to take down that awful bright green that I painted the entryway last Paris Winter or the Winter before (?) to try & feel happier & lighter, and trade it in for something different.

And we are tearing down walls, and fixing up our kitchen, changing kids rooms and reorganizing.

And it feels really, really good.

It's hard work and takes a lot of planning & budgeting, but it's going to be so bright & clean & new & fresh when we are all done.

It feels great to concentrate on worldly things that don't matter much, but that will impact us on a daily basis. That will make our home a refuge for the storm outside that is life.
We have needed this work for a loooooong time. It is overdue.

And I can't help but make this obvious parallel between us and all that we've been through....

That we are tearing down walls to better our home....and that perhaps we needed to be broken down ourselves in order to be bettered--in a spiritual way, or emotional way, or just to better understand humanity. And why we are here.

We have to break down to build up. To make stronger.

And man, were we ever broken down, and humbled.

But we are building up again. And hopefully stronger and righter and truer--to ourselves, to those around us, to our Maker. To life.

Soooooo bring down the walls. It starts tomorrow!