A Jumble

I'm blogging instead of sleeping because the last four jars of 'canned' tomato sauce are in their boiling water bath. Once they come out and I hear them pop, I can rest my head on the pillow and snooze. If you're keeping track, I canned 10 jars today. I only had 24 empty jars to fill. I have at least as many tomatoes waiting for me on the vines as I've picked. I'm thinking I may need more jars.

I had so many things on my mind last night as I struggled to fall asleep. Things I thought I might put down here as way of clearing my mind. Instead everything is too much a jumble in my brain to be of any coherent use.

I was going to write about how it seems we're more lax and yet, at the same time, more reluctant to 'let go' with Meg than we were with Logan. I wanted to write that it wasn't really an issue of her being "the" baby - as in the youngest not just in our immediate family, but in the extended family on both sides since it appears my brother will never marry or have children if his current commentary is to be believed. No, the 'babying' of Miss Megan, at least as it seems to me, is because she's subjected to the comparison of her brother.

Don't misunderstand. I don't mean to say that we're looking at Megan today and comparing her to Logan when he was her age. To be honest, I'm sometimes hard pressed to remember what he was like 2 years ago. It seems like such a distant memory suddenly. What I mean is we look at this infant on the verge of toddlerhood as she stands next to this young boy. Its a stark difference. Her inability to understand and control impulse is so much clearer to see. Her size and age induced physical limitations become more noticeable. Her lack of social skill and all those other things that the boy about to begin preschool is starting to show a clear grasp of stand out more when she's standing near him.

I'm wondering if I'm making any sense.

Its a funny thing, really. When we sit and watch those early movies of Logan, we see a little boy very much like his sister. It just wasn't as noticeable to us then.

I hear the last jar pop. The jars are good and done. The sauce is canned. I'm off to bed. Perhaps some time when I'm more lucid I'll embellish on this topic some more. Please do feel free to ignore the mindless ramblings of bleary eyed gal.

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