an august weekend

We were at the lake this weekend, all of us.

As the week went by and the teenagers around here discussed inviting friends, I had the realization that the big brothers and sisters, brothers and sisters in law, grandsons, nephews... were all going to be there.

Friends would be welcome, but we would have nowhere for them to sleep.

So in the end, it was just us, and that's rare.

Tim's eighth birthday is tomorrow. For a couple reasons, the timing--but mostly the PERSON HE IS--the day he was born is one of the very best of my life.

see how he's bundled up in a sweater and blankets? that's life for a baby in an old house in this climate--layers, sweaters, moccasins

He's an extremely cool person.

He also smiled at four days.

Dan was living with John in an apartment near the university, but he was home that afternoon. Storms were approaching so it was dark in the living room. I was tired and blurry and glad for Dan's company.

Dan cradled Tim on his forearms and called him T-Dawg and talked to him.

Tim was still, listening intently to his crooning voice, and then smiled--a big baby grin, ear to ear.

Dan quipped, "At least ONE brother knows I'm funny."

Yeah, it's true. You are, and Tim knew it.


Okay, this is a classic Tim story:

One morning I had to wake him up early, and that doesn't usually happen. I rubbed his back as he woke up.

He sat up and said, in his Timothy deep voice, with the extra round vowels, "I had the most boringest dream I ever had in my whole entire life." (His whole entire life--yes, all six years.)

I said, "Yeah?"

He said, "I dreamed I was a nail."

(a nail?)

I said, "That's pretty boring. What were you doing? Holding things together? Getting pounded on the head?"

"Nope. Just layin' in a box."

Okay that's the most boring-est dream I have ever heard. You are right. I fell over on the bed next to him, laughing.

Tim? I love you. This whole family could not be who it is without you.

YOU.

Lucky, lucky us. love, Mom

2003 Timmy pointing and Kari beside him, working on some Polly Pockets