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"Jack, will you give Brennan some puffs?"
"Of course I will!"

Yes, he really said that. True story.

Saturday, B hit 8 months. How does that happen? How is it that he's crawling like mad, into everything, squirming out of hugs and busy, busy busy? Where has the time gone?

For Brennan, no one is funnier than Jack; nothing is more fun than pulling himself up to stand; and there's no better song than the Spider-Man theme song.

For Jack, no one is cooler than Spider-Man; nothing makes him feel more accomplished than winning on his Nintento DS; and there's no one he's prouder of showing off than his cutie-a-tootie baby.

"Mama, everyone will love my brother because he is sooo cute."

These days Joe's home more but my life is increasingly busy. It seems like we're never in the same time zone.

Brennan likes to sleep in his crib with his blanky. Jack still likes to cuddle his way to sleep with Daddy putting him to bed after he's in dreamland.

The boys are amazing together. I wish they'd always be the way they are now. The purity of their relationship is almost overwhelming. I know there will be times where they won't see eye-to-eye so I try to file away the images of bath time; Jack explaining how things work and pretending he's a monkey to make his Baby Rex squeal.

And when one gets married I know for me that day will be filled with memories of Jack singing the Spider-Man song to get Brennan to do ... pretty much anything. And how Brennan always has to be wherever Jack is, painfully grabbing a handful of hair off his brother's patient head.

As I type, Jack is talking to Brennan about his messy face while he gives him baby puffs to snack on.

I lost a friend this week in a freak accident. Truthfully, I wasn't super close to him. I last saw him more than five years ago. I had tons of fun in college -- he was there many of those times. But he was part of a large network of friends I was a part of for my four years. He got a hug from me whenever I saw him -- and I am not a public hugger.

I was actually quite close to his older brother. I spent days at a time with that boy and loved every minute of it. He is who I focused on at the viewing. I realize firsthand as a mother watching brothers his loss is different from all others. I watched him float around the room suddenly all grown up. His long hair now short, wearing a blue suit. His face looking old. The sadness I felt for him was almost more than I could bare. Being the eternal optimist, I immediately thought of my boys. He will never fully recover.

And I watched their mother closely. She was in constant movement through the room, hugging and patting, making sure everyone had food being a mother of sons. It was too much for me to wrap around. She couldn't stop moving because then the reality of the day would've set in. This wasn't a wedding celebration for her second son. This was a goodbye she should never have to say. Six days later, I haven't been able to move on just yet.

The wake was a bizarre twist of a reunion with friends who I hadn't made time for in years and a sad flush of loss. Life goes on, right? We all headed to dinner, handed out hugs and went home. But how are they doing today? A week after the accident? Friday made me remember how fast it goes and how we're all barely holding on.

So I will try to grab my three boys more often; try not to worry about the daily stuff so much and tap those people who I should have been keeping closer tabs on. And I'll try not to let my life pass me by. And on those days I just can't shake the grey, I will remember the laughter between brothers.