The boys save me from boredom, that’s for sure.

In the street, without helmets, not the safest activity ever, I know.  But they were so proud of the way they rigged the wagon to the trike, and they just wanted to take it for a test drive.

And this image sums up each of them so well.

I don’t want them to ever wonder how it feels to really like yourself, what it's like to be entirely satisfied.  I try to show them what it looks like when life is done well, but they're usually the ones teaching me.

Autumn wins

Autumn wins all the color awards.
We've collected bright leaves, planted decorative mums and been to football games, campus crayoned entirely with the Crayola set “tailgate triumvirate” -- scarlet, gray and beer.

Autumn wins first place for food, a big crown for cool weather and all the trophies for longer nights.
We've been apple picking, had cider and warm donuts, plan to make chili and pumpkin muffins.
We've been encouraged to pull out quilts and sweaters and candles for cozy nights.
We've watched the sun start its job of disappearing earlier in the day, trying desperately to keep its head up until bedtime, failing.  (Dear sun, We can relate.)

Autumn wins.  Until winter.

preschool

He started preschool today, with all the confidence in the world.  

It was like a wave of charisma swept into the classroom before him, I could almost see it, the way heat radiates off asphalt on a hot summer day.

I hope his teachers will see it, too. 

to answer a few questions

No, we are not looking for another "T" name.  That was an accident with the boys.
We've only ever used family names -- Celia Eleanor, Thomas Everett, James Tolliver -- and we hope to land on another one that celebrates heritage.
Recognizing that we still have six months to decide, here are some we are currently considering:

Ambrose, Alwyn, Blazer, Charles, Cecil, Hanley, Herbert, Holton, Gabriel, Neil, Wetherholt

Also, Tucker wrote "Morgen" on the running list, and Tols asked us to write "not Poop."

Yes, we wished fleetingly for a girl.  We would have called her Nelle.  But we are just so glad the baby is healthy. And we realize it might be hard for another daughter to grow up in the shadow of a dead sister.

I feel good.  Maybe not as good as I did nine years ago, when I was much younger and had no summer obligations other than taking Colby for an occasional walk.  Certainly, though, nothing has been worth complaining about.  (Aside from waiting for tests results - that was rough.)
I would like to reserve the right to intermittently sound off about how tired or sore or fat I am feeling, but it should be a given that no matter what I say, more than anything I am feeling fortunate and excited and very, very grateful.

oldest and older, lately

BIG (little) news

I've been meaning to post here, but have not been able to wrangle words into their proper places.

I've been beyond happy, beyond grateful, someplace without language, wondering
 what could possibly be said that would say the rest too?

Andy's phone rang recently, and a smile spread across his face.  He whispered healthy, and it sounded like such a small word.

Even before that, there hadn't been a whole lot to say.
Please.  It was all I allowed myself this summer, that one small plea an endless prayer.

The problem with trying hard not to think about something is that you think about it more.
It took awhile for us to decide we might be ready for another round of resilience.
There are always lots of reasons not to do something.

Standing at the intersection of two vastly different futures, we struggled to see into the distance of either.  Knowing the universe is not in the habit of dropping into our laps exactly what we’ve dreamed of, we worried that maybe we wanted too much, one miracle after another.
But we were sure we wanted our choices to reflect our hopes more than our fears.

Becoming a parent is bold and dangerous.  Being a parent is too.
There are never any guarantees.  Any number of horrible scenarios could play out - between now and March, in the first few years, when this child is twenty-three.  What we do know, finally, is that this child will not die of Batten Disease.  What we do know is that growing a family is terrifying and precarious and unknown and very humbling and extraordinarily awesome.  And we are thrilled, and relieved, that ours is still growing.

We feel lucky, if lucky is a big enough word for it, and look forward to welcoming another little Betz boy in about six months.

our doctor sent home an essential oil -Joy- for us to diffuse during the long wait

 best news ever

 big brother, baking

 we did dream

 more Legos, more Lincoln Logs, more dirt and noise!

all three Betz boys on the field in the Shoe

preseason