Were they Really That Small?

I did a bad thing this morning. I was trying to find an old picture on our external hard drive when I stumbled upon some older pictures of the boys. I cant believe they were ever that small? Look:



Seeing Finner with that little bowl haircut and Seamus with those missing teeth sent me into a state of longing for those early years. Its such an odd feeling seeing them like this. When this picture was taken Seamus was in 1st grade. I know because he lost his first tooth in first grade. It was his top one. They all started falling out quickly afterward. Seamus was five in 1st grade so that would make Finn 3. My God how they have grown.

And then I found this one of Finner:



Look at his grubbly little hands cupped around Matt's face. He still does that - he grabs our faces and rubs them with his dirty little fingers. He's our touchy feeling boy - he's always been like that. I can actually smell him when I look at this picture. He always had a distinctive little boy smell: a musty smell of grass and dirt and little boy saliva.

But the real kicker was this shot of Seamus:



We are having one helluva time with Seamus right now and seeing this picture actually brought tears to my eyes. I thought I had it so tough back then. HA! Stupid me. I had no clue what was coming. Shea didnt have his eyebrow scar yet. That happened in 2nd grade when he fell out of a small tree and hit his head on a rock. Twenty one stitches. I always thought his face looked like a merry little elf - heart shaped with pointy- ish little ears. He used to play like I imagined an elf would - always busy, determined, and with 100% enthusiasm. His eyes seem rounder in this picture, but that look he is giving me is the same as today. Actually, no... the look in the picture is a bit more pleading than today. Not as angry or accusatory or irritated. That look says "Mama... I neeeeed to do whatever you are asking me NOT to do. Im going to do it. I have to. " Oh my sweet Seamus. Where have you gone?

Im reading this horrible book right now where the protagonist's daughter tells him that he lives too much in the past. Its a problem. He likes to sit and revel in his past experiences at the expense of living his life in the present. When I see these pictures I can understand how people get caught up in things they cant ever get back. I can honestly say that Im not sure I want to go back and re-live my early years with the boys. From one standpoint I do. It would be a gift to undo the mistakes Ive made and try again with new found wisdom. But that kind of reverie isnt what Im talking about. When I look at these photos I dont think of the things I could I have done better. Instead I think of the things I didnt appreciate more - the little things. I feel an overwhelming ache to experience those little details just one more time. And this time I'd enjoy it. Idl slosh around in those moments like a fat pig does the mud. I would love to sit among my young sons and listen to them laugh. They used to feed off each other's laughter: the sound like captured moths hitting around in their chests, rapid and wild. I miss how they used to speak - their intonations and the squeakiness of their voices. I miss the days when they would play outside all day - long before they knew what videogames were, before the computer.

I should stop this now. Im starting to get sucked in.