"You're being like me asking Momma TWO times," Janie nods to Jack. "Sometimes I get a different answer I like better."
From around the corner, elbow deep in dishes, I take mental note. The never ending rain of questions, they're mapping my every move.
1918. Jane's assessment of Psalm 139, "If you get an air tank and go to the bottom of the sea and bury yourself in the sand, God still knows where you are."
1919. Lucy trying to sound grown up, "Frow-up tastes like juice."
1920. Jack's offer, "I'll help you, Jane. I don't want you to be left out."
1921. And his commentary, "I tighten up my butt when I'm holding a toot."
1922. How I show Craig my progress on the boys' room and find the children have a fort under the baby crib.
1923. How Craig takes a vacation day and spends it taking our children on dates.
1924. Time with my mom parsing out motherhood and children, learning from someone who knows more than me.
1925. Evenings working another puzzle down by the fire, Prince Caspian audio book in the background.
1926. Baby things lent from a friend in CA.
1927. A dentist visit, teeth polished clean.
1928. A fresh shower curtain.
1929. Myra, arms raised to be held.
1930. How she shouts, "I SWALLOWED," from the dinner table when we insist she eat what was served.
1931. A day on the farm, a pot roast feast, apple crisp and a nap to draw the afternoon long. Mother-in-law who spins all things possible.
1932. A string of pearls and all the history and heritage that came with it.
1933. A birthday party for the February birthdays in the family, all the ferris wheels of conversation and carnival of children, the litany of appreciation for each birthday person.
1934. Lucy's progress as a hairdresser, "Look, I braided my bear's ears."
1935. Her birthday wish, "I want an animal that is a real animal that sprays stinky stuff."
1936. How she calls scones, STONES.
1937. How Myra shushes Lucy's doll.
1938. How Jane's suddenly taller than the light switches around the house.
1939. "I have something that I want to sell for two hundred dollars: my magnet drawing thing." Jack starting to notice how the world works.
1940. How Myra sits on my lap and whispers, "Mum-mum, hi."
1941. Learning not to fret over if I said or did the perfect thing and just step into the next moment.