Little boys, little boys

I am struck all too often now by how little time I have left before the boys go off to college and start living on their own. All of Emery's pants are too short and I just bought the newest of them 3 months ago. But each night, sometimes upstairs in Wilbur's room and sometimes downstairs in Emery's room, they crawl in bed together and sleep like angels. I encourage it since Emery is 4 years older than Wilbur and the time will come so soon that they just won't do that anymore.

I walk at home now when Doug isn't there. I just walk back and forth on a stretch of road that takes me just a little beyond our house in either direction. I stay close enough that if Wilbur needs me he can just stand on the front landing and he'll see me. Each week or so I venture a little farther. To see if Emery could watch after his brother for a little while at a time.

Sometimes I am so impatient with them. I get so frustrated and angry that they don't mind what I say or follow directions. I hate myself when I get that way and yell at them. I curse at times. I tell them after that I am wrong to lose my temper that way. I am afraid that's how they'll remember the entirety of their childhoods: mom losing her temper.

I feel it acutely when I think of how fast they are growing. So when I see them in bed, side by side facing each other and one arm slung over the other or a leg crossing the mid-line boundary denoting his side or his side, I think that maybe it will be ok.