Almost 9 months ago but he is still practicing stomping. While he enters his dramatic phase (he was going to "die -ie" because it was the "wong" pizza tonight) -or should I say perfects, it I am entering my where-did-all-my-brain-cells-go-phase. My mom, the beloved grandma who knows everything, has been transferred to a rehab facility that seems very nice and seems to mean business. I'm not sure if she was joking or not when she said she was happy with the program they were starting her on except for the insufficient time for naps. I am guilt ridden because I only plan to go in once a day and to take advantage of my free time to - no wait a minute. I have a four year old. I forgot. I actually do momentarily forget. And a part time (limited of course) job and a very messy house and a whole lot of laundry... Maybe there is a reason I feel this tired. But I didn't seem to when Caleb was in the hospital -or this stupid. Maybe I am forgetting. All I know is this is my mother and this is different. I know she is going to die - I just don't know when. My children on the other hand I have no such knowledge pertaining to such events, certainly not in my lifetime. I was often fearful when Caleb was having all those surgeries but, well it was different, scarier but less of a personal private weight. This mortality thing getting hold of one's parents on the other hand... Well it nevers seems so unexpected as in one's own life. Like gray hairs and wrinkles and extra weight. It only seems extraordinary when I see it on me!