1. My house is full of men's voices and the only males in the place at the moment are my kids. My baby's voice is still cracking now and then, but he's almost done with that voice change over. I remember the shocking day when I heard some man talking downstairs. I ran down and discovered it was my oldest son.
That moment was like the first time you hear someone call you mommy -- a kind of a thrill of squee-yay! we have reached a big point. But this stuff doesn't stay exciting very long. The next time someone calls you that, it's no longer a thrill and in a couple of years mommmmeeeeeeeee becomes one of your least favorite word. And that last baby saying mommy? Old hat.
This last manly voice isn't bringing on a squee, poor young fish misses out on the celebration. But here; it's in a blog.
2. And in another repeat-that-isn't-as-breath-taking as the first-time (thank goodness on this one), I've been cleared once again after a needle biopsy. That first biopsy was scary. This was my second and now I'm beginning to see that these might be almost as routine as scans. Oh, I don't think so, medical community. Those things hurt. You're going to have to scare me silly if you want me to do that again.
3. Mud season is upon us. This one is definitely filed under "here we go again." because I drag out the extra mats and bellow at the kids check your shoes! I will feel sad when the only footprints I find around the house are my own -- and this isn't just because I won't be able to blame other people for my mud. I'll miss their deep, manly voices, yelling maaaaa. (and their size 14 [ yes, fourteen] shoes clogging up the mat-space by the front door)