Catching My Breath

I've been catching my breath a lot these days. Sometimes, it's because I've walked up one of the many stairs in our house and I seem to be carrying a "little" extra weight these days, have gotten a "little" out of shape and have a baby crammed into my lungs.

But usually, it's because I just witnessed a death defying leap from the top of the couch, 50 pounds of combined weight between Daniel and Caleb crashing into one another, a head (yes, still attached to the body) swinging through the air and narrowly missing the corner of our brick, fireplace hearth. Patrick is occasionally the facilitator of these stunts... I just catch my breath and remember this is my life with boys!

This morning I caught Daniel and Caleb sitting in Patrick's grandmother's rickety, old chair, rocking back and forth until they almost launched toward the moon. They'd fall off and climb right back on again. I caught my breath as once again there was no damage. Well, there was probably damage to the chair and to the wall, but the boys seemed to have survived it.

Here's a less-violent version of the boys playing on the chair.