it has been so long since i have written on this blog that i almost feel like i need to just start a new one. the truth of the matter is, though, that i love the running start that this one provides–some background, some previous musings…so, i will give this whole thing another go.
as our little family was getting ready to go to church recently, we had what has become a common argument with Noah (4). he is quite particular about a number of things in life, most particular about his clothes. he, like most everyone, doesn’t like for clothes to be too itchy, or tags to be too pokey, or things to feel too hot…but he really, really doesn’t like for clothes to be too short. this is unfortunate because he is the son of a giant (or so little sister thinks) and has rapid growth spurts a few times a month, it seems. this wouldn’t be quite so much an issue if he didn’t, with almost the same amount of “really’s”, dislike clothes that were too long. you can see the problem here–if i try to buy something a little big so he’ll have some growing room (because that’s how the nixes do it), he gets upset because it’s too big/too long…if i don’t buy it big, it only lasts him like a week before it becomes too short. he has developed a quite interesting way of testing whether or not his shirts are too short in the torso. he gets on his knees and his elbows, almost as if he was about to shoot some marbles…if there is even the slightest amount of skin showing on his back when he does this or if he can sense that the tip of his underwear might be poking out and showing, he loses it. he cannot be seen in public (or in private) wearing such a ridiculous thing. additionally, of late, he has gotten hyper paranoid about the sleeve length of his shirt. the most recent argument i mentioned at the beginning of this paragraph was over said sleeve length. he put on a nice gingham long sleeve button-up shirt and it passed “the marble shooting” test perfectly. ryan and i got really excited, throwing high fives around like we had just won a championship game, only to see a distressed look on noah’s face. he could sense, it seems, that something still was just not quite right. he surprised us at that point by pulling a new test out of his sleeve (pun intended). he reached his arms out as far as he could and, to our dismay, began crying when his wrists poked out of his sleeves. he immediately began yelling that he could not (under any circumstances) where that shirt because it was too short. ryan and i, both trying to finish getting dressed ourselves and get out the door, scrambled to explain to him that everyone’s shirt did that. ryan put on a button-up shirt and showed noah how his did the same thing… i put on my jacket and proudly showed my wrists when i raised my arms. it took a lot of reassuring and encouraging, but somehow we made it out of the house without noah ripping his shirt off (it’s happened before)… and as i rode to church, i thought about a book title i came across from one of my favorite authors called i thought it was just me. it’s funny how much i’m like noah with my problems, sure that these things that are really bothering me, really making me uneasy…i thought it was just me that had some problems. turns out, it’s not.