My dreamer, my honey bee

Snaggle-tooth. Noah knows his nicknames, if I've called him something once, she remembers. He's my honey bee, my stinky butt, he's my where's that little butt butt? He's almost a year and a half and on that day he'll be closer to two and closer to getting older and older. I worry about my children - I worry about everything on this earth coming to do them physical harm - but I know spiritually they're going to be better than okay. I know they are strong and can deal with the mystery of life. I know they know how to love, and speak up for what they need. I think they might be raising me instead of the other way around. Noah and Isaiah have taught me to deal with being who I am. When I just had Noah I could get through almost anything because I could handle it all (barely.) I was good in crisis and loved to organize my way out of everything. I had it under control even though I was ripping at my seams. But when I had Isaiah I didn't have the time or the energy to deal with bullshit. I would have hurt myself if I kept living in perfection with two children. With one baby I could fool myself into thinking I wasn't headed to insanity, but two babies force you to see yourself and your created life. Parenting two children is the halogen lighting in a bright white public restroom. And by bullshit, I mean the stinky part of life, the shit - the part that doesn't add any memories to your life, or wisdom (unless you note improving on how to multi-task,) those moments wasted on putting life in order - getting rid of the ants, buying salt for the water purifier, comparing airline ticket prices and times online after several consultations with almost everyone remotely involved. I want more of the random 10:39s in the morning when Isaiah wakes up from his morning nap and nuzzles with me and we read "Bark George" which he pushes away for his mini-ABC books, or "My Truck is Stuck," or the night-time animal sound book which is being torn to sheds because he can't let it alone. I prefer those moments than sorting and rinsing the recycle. Employing Delmy to help us manage our very full life is the best money I've ever spent. Her expense gives me time to BE with my babies - watch them play dress up. Watch Isaiah walk around in one of Noah's princess shoes and growl like a dinosaur. Isaiah makes me laugh so often. He is teaching me to laugh and let the bullshit go so i can BE in the real part of life - the part where people just BE with each other. He's got the funniest hairstyle. He's got blond curls on the back and long, flat bangs that cover his head like a comb over. He's also got the biggest two front teeth on a toddler. He laughs, sneezes, or cries ALL the time. I watch his face scrunch up into one of these emotions every other minute. He's so allergic to everything, he feels everything that happens around him, he's sensitive in a special sense way. All my children will be sensitive in the respect that they hurt easier BUT that doesn't make them, or me, weak. But Isaiah is aware, he doesn't sleep easy, animals make him so happy, water makes him happy. He is easy to please. Isaiah gets a kick out of everything. He will high five or kiss anyone who recognizes him. He's so very sweet. Noah is clever and curious and guarded with who she shows attention, and Isaiah just enjoys everything until he's exhausted or famished and then you feed him or put him to bed and this simple life makes Isaiah so very happy - and that is a gift, a gift from God to him, and the other way around too. Isaiah appreciates simplicity and it all actually tickles him. He's wonderful.