Sistership

For all of you for all of I.

2012-02-14T20:11:00.002-05:00

Will you stand with me?
Stand on sand aside of me
as we see stood by the sea
the dream of what will be.

The crashing waves come in between
the soles, the souls and then the dream,
and all will be as this will seem;
A moment where we’ve been.

We share the water in our hands,
a sip, a sup upon the strand
and watch the tide displace the sand
from the rock on which we stand.

Hand in hand and eye in eye,
a hold, a hold before the sky
we’ll swap a clasp by oceans sigh;
For all of you for all of I.
- Declan McHenry Dreams & Tidings

Happy Valentine's Day

Boxed In.

2012-02-12T22:19:00.013-05:00

Let it be known that for the millionth and one time in my life,

a lesson came at me, unexpectedly, from my children....

when something new appears in your living room, or in your life...

dig into it.

climb into it.
embrace it.

explore it - with every sense of your body.

don't be afraid of the unknown.
there may be a treasure waiting for you if you look hard and long enough.
or maybe

the treasure is the art of being open

to new experiences....
and not being or feeling boxed in.

Keeper of my gate.

2012-02-08T22:17:00.006-05:00

The other day the kids played in the yard while I walked in and out of the house with boxes.

To the car and back again. The process was smooth and I didn't mind it one bit since the weather was simply mild and sunny for this time of year.

But when Declan took to the white picket fence gate and held it open for a moment, I realized and was instantly grateful that my life was easier with him as my gate keeper.

Unfortunately, neither his attention span nor doorman etiquette lasted more than two trips through the passageway. So, before I lost him completely, I asked him if he could find something to hold the gate open for me and continued on to fetch my next box.

I walked out to the car a minute later, he was (politely) asking and directing Nonie to sit in the spot by his foot on the driveway, with her back propping the gate open. She clearly had no idea what was going on but followed his directions with wide-eyed excitement because her big brother was paying attention to her.

Then, in his sing-song voice - the voice he uses only occasionally when he talks to his baby sister as if he were her parent - he said:

There, now be a good little girl and make sure Mommy's gate doesn't close on her.

And she did.

And for the rest of my lugging of boxes I thought of only this:

Might my children be the gatekeepers of my life?

When I am with them it seems like my opportunities abound, my goals are clear and reachable, and when I need it the very most - my gate is always held open with an encouraging smile.

a mother's wish....

2012-02-07T07:21:00.005-05:00

I never imagined having two boys. I did not a have picture in my head of what my family would be, but being a woman and having three sisters, I just a figured there would be a girl in my life.

And there still may be, who knows.

But right now I am really enjoying my boys.

This morning I woke up with a bed full of men.

I have learned more about Star Wars in the past two months than I ever cared to know about in all my life.

I have been told I am as beautiful as Princess Leia and I know that is a compliment, and I can laugh because I know how funny and true it is when Xavy says his little brother is like R2D2 because of his noises and the way he moves his hands.

I have learned to embrace my love of camouflage and try not to cringe and yell when every single item is turned into a gun or a light saber.

Granted, I did have to paint my front door pink this past week, just in case I remain the only girl in this joint (I have been told in the past day that our first dog will have to be Eli).

I do think about the future, about them finding a mate and possibly moving away.

I hope for them a lifetime friendship, that is deep and goes beyond the wedgies and competition. I hope that for me too.

When I ran into a coworker last week she told me about her 2 boys, now in their mid twenties, friends. She beamed as she spoke about her boys and as I turned to leave she said to me,

and they are good to their mama.....

waited up for me.

2012-02-02T00:31:00.005-05:00

i came in late tonight and these two had waited up for me.

so i rolled into their room and recounted the funny story from this morning.

the minute i began to tell it, nonie realized she was the star in the story and perked up a bit.

this morning,

i opened the car door to let nonie out at school and she'd fallen backwards into the car.

when i swung the door open, all i saw were mary janes and heart speckled tights floundering in the air.

it was her backpack that kept her in that position for a few seconds.

it was as if a turtle was lying upside-down - flailing its legs.

my laughter was immediate and i was relieved to see that she was laughing too.

i laughed out-loud again this evening recounting the story.

and once more earlier today sitting under the flourescent work lights of my desk - i'd let my mind wander for a bit and found it took me right back to my little girl flailing like a tipped turtle.

my co-workers wondered briefly what it was that had made me laugh.

now, late in the evening, the kids were belly laughing too.

it helped that nonie re-enacted the pose right there on her bed in her purple flowered pjs.

Then I kissed them a million times each and snuck downstairs.

Declan tiptoed down the stairs about 45 minutes later with breaking news:

I've seen extra long feet in nonie's bed.

huh?

So, a bit nervous, but realizing this definitely falls under my mother job description, I followed him upstairs. We bravely made our way to the edge of Nonie's bed where she slept soundly.

I stepped forward and pulled back the blankets and revealed

A straight line of stuffed animals were standing guard by Nonie's toes. She'd positioned them just so. Most of the barrier was made from hello kitty kat stuffed animals. Together, Dec and I laughed...we laughed out-loud.

A good laugh is like candy for my soul.

My soul had lots of sweets today.

Then, as he crawled into bed I thanked Dec

for waiting up for me.

You’d be a Fool to Turn Down a Pizza

2012-01-27T22:27:00.011-05:00

So tonight, we’ve crashed Papa’s one-man party.

And we've crashed it old-school and downright hard.

HE THOUGHT, he’d be in bed by 6:30 PM.

To which we say: BOOOYAH.

Here we are, it is 4 hours ’til bedtime, entertain us Papa, entertain us!

HE THOUGHT, he'd watch Wall Street Week In Review in silence.

and we've said

Have you seen Rudy? Dec is dying to see it!

He THOUGHT, he’d eat leftovers from the fridge - but instead we stroll in with extra large “Roni Pies”......

Tonight, we expected Grouch but got Grace. We were warned about gray but got gold. Hard-shelled was replaced by soft-shelled soul. Sour skeptic replaced by cheerleader.

And I sat back, watched it happen, and wondered why I felt surprised..

On our way over this evening I asked Dec if he thought Papa would be mad that we

were bringing food with us.

To which Dec responded, "why would anyone be mad if you brought them a pizza?”

and as I drove along I realized that I had no response, he was right. You’d be a fool to turn down a pizza.

So tonight, with Roni Pizza, we came and lifted and propped the leg, told stories of Chicken Soup With Rice skits at school, and of PlayDates with Hive Camp Friends.

We told Papa that the weather was cold, dark, and windy. We talked of nothing really. But looking back on it all, it was everything.

And during it all, we shared and savored the roni pies. For a split second, I was home again - a twelve year old girl - on Friday Night, Pizza Night. That is how comfortable, warm, and good it all felt. Tonight, a kind and pizza-loving soul opened to us. And we were happy to be there for it all.

The next generation

2012-01-27T18:58:00.001-05:00

I stopped a little boy on the way into art today.
We had just finished a little math "check in" and I noticed that after 30 minutes of work he had answered 2 of the 20 or so questions.
I stopped him, test in hand, to make sure things were ok. He's a bright kid, not exactly a self starter. This leads to some idling.
"You wait here" I motioned to him as he walked by.
When the rest of his classmates were inside, he looked at me.
"I failed you"
What?
"I failed you didn't I?"
"What? No. I just want to make sure you understand everything."
I thought quickly of his home life. It's nothing I could ever know for myself. It's nothing I have ever wanted and if truth be told, it's nothing I could ever wish on anyone.

I sat with him on the floor in the hallway outside the art room. He did a page of his test with relative ease. I find that he loves for me to watch him do his math. "Soooo... it's 2+3=5 because they haven't used the 2 yet?????(!!!)"
His chocolate eyes reflected his inner joy. Successful math + extra attention.

"You know you could never fail me.
I'm very proud of you."

His eyes nodded.

And with that, he was off to art.

It Takes A Moment in a Mid-Town Hospital

2012-01-25T00:15:00.020-05:00

There has been a lot that has made me cry in the last few days.

Not the least of which is a short visit to a Mid-Town Manhattan Hospital to see dad

recovering.

It takes about a minute (and not much more than that) in the waiting room of an NYC hospital to put your life into perspective. I'm talking about really big, eye-opening perspective. And also, changing my perspective to see simple, little things differently. Like Dec's lego men as he sees them. In his mind, his lego men are larger and more powerful than they are in my mind.

On Sunday, I had my own gentle reminder that if we were all to throw our most dreadful problems into a large pot, we'd quickly scoop our own problems back out after taking a silent glance at the problems that our neighbors had thrown in.

Sunday, and some days, it all comes down to perspective:

Like that picture up there. It is a proud mother (I know this because she is me). But when I look at that picture, all I see is the smiling 7-year old who took it. She might just be President of the United States of America some day and, won't that just be amazing. Or, she'll be an owner of a deli that serves the most delicious cider donuts you've ever tasted. Either way, I'll love her to the moon and back.

And this picture?

He begged for that helmet kiss. He did! (despite what his shoulders might try to tell you).

And this pic below? This is not a jealous 6-year old, blocking his 3-year-old sister's spotlight. It is a proud older brother saying:

BOOYAH SIS! NICE SKIING!!!!!

I can't wait to ski the trees with you!

Oh, and in there somewhere you might just spot one cute dad in the background. Yup, my hubs works OVERTIME teaching his beautiful children about "perspective" and seeing the world from more than one view.

And this guy?

He's not just a nutty Giants fan.

He's a nutty Giants fan in my winter coat.

And that is something special.

Booyah.

AND THIS? It is NOT a snowy day mess.

It is snowy day brilliance.

And this pajama dancer below, she may appear self-sufficient,

confident,

and full of independence.....

But she still needs her Mommy.

There is one person in this world who she trusts to tie her ballet slippers.

And that lucky person is me. And I savor each tie.

Boy do I.

And this pic below? This is not just "cooking a chicken with Nonie one afternoon...."

(first of all, we cooked two - one was for leftovers...)

This was actually an afternoon of listening to her ask me "will the chicken bite me?", each time she brought the salt and pepper close to the chicken's soft flesh.

And in this skiing pic? Nonie is actually saying GO FASTER MOM!!!! (despite what you might think, given that temps were 100 below outside)

See this kid below? When he gets off the school bus, he's actually NOT an "I Have a Headache Today and All I Really Want To Do is Lie Down along" 6-year old. He is (second to me) the most snuggliest cuddle bug in our whole family. This kid needs a hug. Most minutes of most days, he needs a hug.

This child could sit on my lap for decades (especially while looking out the back window at the forest and in the early morning , with a cup of Earl Grey tea in his hands).

And I love him. Tea Cup and all.

Boy Do I Love Him.

And this picture - a family of four happy snowmen?

This isn't three happy snowmen with one crazy-haired snowman (second from left) melting in a mid-January thaw.

Rather, it is three happy snowmen surrounding one awe-inspired, lucky as lucky gets, super-grateful woman who feels like - even if she melted into the ground tomorrow, she's been blessed with the best of the best.

It Takes A Moment in a Mid-Town Hospital to realize that

life is far to short to take this serious world too seriously.

It Takes Just a fleeting second in a Mid-Town Hospital to confirm that

I'm blessed with the best, in more ways than one.

To "Papa", to my Dad,

Thanks for accepting the spice drops

I brought to you this evening with the grace of Sweet Toothed Man.

I love you for that.

And for so much more.

Brain Fart

2012-01-23T15:50:00.002-05:00

I am not sure of the statistics but I am pretty sure I am losing brain cells with every feeding. That and my ravenous appetite make for longs days while on maternity leave. When I am not feeding the baby or feeding myself I am staring off into space or watching the real life desperate housewives of any given city. Yup. That's what my last 2 brain cells can handle. Housewives drinking copious amounts of wine and wearing the most outrageous clothing screaming at each other about whose life is worse. WHAT?

Some hours are spent playing Star Wars vs Army Guys vs Firemen. In an attempt to quell the blood shed I like to lighten things up, like telling X that Darth Vader likes to drive the firetruck and he always needs his coffee before he battles anyone.

Another couple of hours are spent kissing and staring at these faces. I mean, how can you resist? Kell loves to snuggle. So far that is his best quality. I am sure we will figure out more in these coming months but I pretty much spend my "free" time cuddling him. X is onto us that we do this most of the night too...

And this one can't get enough of his baby bro. He always wants to kiss him and I am pretty sure that is 99% of the reason that Kell has greasy hair. He is constantly being touched, caressed, cooed at and occasionally manhandled.

It's been fun.

Writing this is my first step at building my brain cells back.

Tonight I might even pick up a book.

Look out world.

cookies for breakfast

2012-01-21T09:50:00.000-05:00

Two of them.

Can you believe

that this is all I can put into words right now.

Nothing else wants to make sense.

So I'll tell you that I ate cookies for breakfast

and thought about my little angel

who watched me eat them.

"That Guy"

2012-01-18T21:21:00.004-05:00

Yes to all the sistas who were there for the story.

Let it be known that "this is the picture that Maddy took".

the other guys

2012-01-18T05:51:00.003-05:00

She is overweight and slightly dramatic,

she arrives late to retrieve her daughter regularly.

I have never given her life much thought before,

nobody has. It seems.

Her daughter is immature and behind in her homework.

She would rather color, or stare into space, or chat.

Fine with me, always has been.

But I have never given her life much thought.

They bicker at pickup, the two redheads... with white eyelashes. Stark white.

Never seen anything like it, and I have a red headed sister.

The mother is late, the night is dark, the wind is howling, the roads are ice.

The girl is whiny. The mother is tired.

She opens up to me, just a bit, in her exhaustion.

She dreads going home to the cold apartment across from price chopper.

She has no dinner prepared.

Just "junk food" which they eat too much of, she tells me, since they can walk to the market.

She can't afford this much longer. This school, this home, this life.

She tells me with tears in her eyes. It is hard. Very hard. She is alone with this girl.

This girl who is behind.

She has tried it all. Nothing is working. She is overwhelmed. The girl is loud.

Happy to see her.

The Mom is cold. Hard. Done.

They leave and the Mom hopes the car will make it home.

The girl laughs.

My eyes are finally open.

I will never be the same.

oui.

2012-01-10T10:27:00.003-05:00

yes.
yes i did.

she looked like an angel. like you.
she had your nose. your deep brown eyes.
she tilted her head down while talking to us.
she looked strong and healthy.
she looked sure. sure of her decision.
sure of us.
sure of you.
she looked like she loved you.
she looked like she'll always love you.
love us.
she looked ready.

HER

2012-01-08T19:23:00.002-05:00

i thought i would be prepared. i knew it would come some day.

i thought it would be a while from now-

i thought i would have time to discuss the answer with

honey.

not the little one, not the hairy one.

the one with whom i discuss all answers.

i didn't think the question would come today.

this morning.

with honey 400 miles away-

the clock screaming that we were late-

me sitting on the (closed) potty waiting to do her hair-

i didn't think it would come as i was hollering to hurry up-

i didn't think i would hear it from the next room

as she was feeding her hamsters.

"mom-

bugsy, i am not going to answer you until you get in here-

but mom, did you see her-

bugs, i told you, i am not coming into see them- we have to go- come on-

but mom- did you see HER??

bugs, get in here. see who?

my birthmother. did you see her?"...

to be continued

Let Your Acquaintances Be Many

2012-01-07T21:43:00.003-05:00

First Reading

A reading from the Book of Sirach

Let your acquaintances be many,
but one in a thousand your confidant.

A faithful friend is beyond price, no sum can balance his worth.

A faithful friend is a life-saving remedy.

**** Just cleaning out files and came across a copy of the readings we handed
to all the readers at our wedding ceremony.
(Typed in large font, of course - I was way more detail-oriented back then).

Let your acquaintances be many, but one in a thousand your confidant.

To dusting off old file cabinets!

Thoughts from a lucky student.

2012-01-06T22:29:00.004-05:00

Yesterday he asked me if the
box that I work in has a bathroom in it.

When I inquired about "what box"?
he explained, "you know, the small room with four walls that you sit in with your computer..."

And, after further reflection, the space is really best described as a box, though I've never viewed it that way.

Yikes! a box!
(It might be time for a change.)

Yesterday he declared that he knew what he wanted to be when he grew up.
Which, for the record, is a long way off since he is a sprightly 6 years of age.
Either that or he has already grown up cause the kid blasts me from reality with
age-old wise one liners on a nightly basis. In many ways, he is my spiritual guide.

Without further ado from behind the shower curtain,
he declared he would be an author. One day. He'd write great stories because he had
so many great stories to tell.

As my heart flipped and then flopped, I immediately declared to him that
I would faithfully read, and then own, and then cherish each of his books.
Clearly.

I learn so much from him.

I learn so much from him.

These are just two of many Lessons from Him.

Oh what an incredible teacher he is.
Oh what a lucky student I am.

His Last Gift.

2011-12-26T12:00:00.015-05:00

The usual calm after the storm had taken over Happy House yesterday.

Children played - fascinated with their newest toys.

Parents closed sleepy eyes and lazily flopped around the house picking at

leftovers. We had a few hours in between festivities.

We all seemed to breathe a collective and appreciative sigh for Christmas. For

each other. For Santa. For the leftovers calling to us from the kitchen.

But, the sun broke through the clouds in mid afternoon and the weather

became, simply put, too nice not to be outside.

Without thinking much about it, I said to the family -

"His last gift

is waiting for us in the back woods.."

And without further ado, the children

raced to that locale.... never asking who "He" is, and never asking what the gift could possibly be. They just took themselves there and the Hubs and I slowly followed.

Dec balanced, listened to a red-tailed hawk and used his new bow and arrow to aim and concentrate.

Nonie pointed her toes, transformed herself into an outdoor ballerina, and performed for restless squirrels and birds happening all around her.

Together, as the setting sun sparkled on the lake in the distance, we all discovered that

His Last Gift was waiting for us in the back woods.

And as I sat on the old stone wall cradling my camera, I lifted my eyes to the sun and marveled that our cup spilleth over on days like today. And, every day, really.

How could we possibly be given more, when we already have so much?

Perhaps a big part of being truly thankful, is taking the time to inventory all that we have for which we could be (and should be) giving thanks.

And how are our children not asking where the gift is right now - do they know that it is them?

And when I opened my eyes - I saw this. My angel. My beautiful Christmas angel.

I believe that our offspring somehow know what I'm just discovering as I sit here on the old stone wall basking in soul-warming Christmas sunshine:

His Last Gift,

is really

His Lasting Gift.

Of course they know this.

Of course I believe in His Last Gift,

and in so much more.

merry everything.

I Sometimes Call You My Mama.

2011-12-18T22:31:00.010-05:00

Tonight just might be the night the new babe arrives.

A tad tardy or right on time, depends on how you look at it.

To the hospital they went - after the pageantry and fueled by Sweedish

meatballs. Contractions came and went, then came again.

My hubs shouted out a stream of ridiculously silly baby names to them as they made their way down the path, to the car and onwards to labor and delivery.

And I? I was temporarily gifted their first born.

He stayed with me. Too late to head to the hospital,

but too early to go to sleep. It was time to treat him like a prince.

I tucked him into "his bed in Tar's house" upstairs and promised to stay right with him.

I sat quietly and folded the laundry that I had to clear off "his bed in Tar's house".

He squeezed his lucky reindeer and listened to the glowing owl play music just for him.

When he and I are together like this I often call him a sweet angel boy

because he is. I know he can run his own parents ragged, but for me - especially

on these kind of days, he is a sweet angel boy.

Tonight, early in the night, he half whispered to me, "I love you Tar". And I

didn't ask him to repeat it because my eye contact with him after his soft words met my ears

confirmed that he said what I thought I'd heard. And he meant what he said too.

But while I folded my t-shirt he whispered even more, "I sometimes call you my Mama."

And then he just looked at me with his hershey kiss eyes. And I looked at him for a long time -

And on this night - the night everyone in HIS WORLD had been talking about and planning for, his last night of being the baby in his family, and his first night of being a big brother - on this Silent and Holy Night, he didn't need to utter a single word more.

Because, I knew just what he meant.

So I whispered to him as his eyes slowly closed, "Goodnight my sweet angel boy!"

(Because he is.)

After looking at this picture...

2011-12-14T20:36:00.002-05:00

I'm thinking the baby might be scared to come out...

When Everything We Say is Christmas.

2011-12-09T15:35:00.007-05:00

We walked up from the lake the other day after decorating the flower boxes at the clubhouse

and a huge hawk flew overhead.

I shouted back to the hubs who was carting Nonie up the hill in the red wagon -

"is that a red-shouldered hawk?"

And before the hubs could reply Declan said (in his most serious bird-watching voice),

"I'm pretty certain that was the partridge from the pear tree."

And then,

He stole a line from the Charlie Brown Christmas movie and tried to convince Nonie

that the Angel who sings in glorious melody to announce Baby Jesus' birth - that

Angel is named Harold. As in Hark the Harold Angel Sings.

And then, there is the great debate going on in our house about the order we light the

Advent Wreath. Purple Purple Pink Purple is my method. However I'm out numbered

3 to 1 in favor of: Purple Purple Purple Pink.

I mean it does seem right that the pink would be Christmas. But I didn't go to 29 years of catholic school to not know how to light an advent wreath.

Christmas has infused itself into the very depths of our family routine. Our conversations

are laced with talk of the little baby Jesus. The brilliant star that lead the shepherds over hill and dale - yup, we made that star and stuck in on our Nativity Scene yesterday after Declan noted its importance in the story and lacking in our Nativity Scene. What is a Nativity Scene without the star?

We talk about silent nights, peace on earth, joy in this world, and how something

as tiny as a baby, can really be a King.

During a time when it seems the whole world is spewing forth Christmas, it is nice

to digest what it means as a family. We take bits and pieces of songs, conversations, stories

dreams and swirl it into our Christmas.

It is this time together, the time it takes to make sense of the lights, the songs, the smells of the season - that always becomes my greatest and most un-wrap-able present.

Right now, and during these days, everywhere we go, everything we do, everyone we see, everything we say is Christmas.

Perfectly Christmas.

Home-grown art shows.

2011-11-28T19:43:00.004-05:00

A family tradition -

when the pile o'art becomes too large ...

It is time for a family art show.

Complete with homemade tickets,

backstage passes, exclusive conversations with the artist,

an occasional cocktail, and lots of "oooooohing".

Sometimes we try to guess what the picture is:

"a turkey!" "a snake eating a watermelon!"

"an upside-down cheetah with one extra leg!"

Other times, the artist tells us all about the picture and how

it was made.

This month - Artiste Nonie put on a quite a show.

And to think I knew her when....

Raising the children.

2011-11-21T20:14:00.006-05:00

I made it in to first grade today to help out and was immediately asked to find a comfy couch out in the hall where students would come, one at a time, and read to me.

I picked my spot.

The first tentative reader walked slowly out of the classroom and up to me. We opened his reading bag, spread the books out and he picked one.

It was a startling and beautiful moment, when his tiny voice, stumbled through sentence one.

He forged on, despite his struggle, and made up the words he didn't know.

Reader 1 read bravely and beautifully. And it was by his side that I began to feel so thankful to have carved this time out of my "crazed" schedule to be with him. I was his audience, and I focused on his every word and each colorful page he filled. After a while, he warmed up to me -----by book 3, and even gave me a smile after book 4, on his way back to the classroom.

Between readers 1 & 2, I had a few moments to take in my space. Loud (joyful) classrooms lined this common area. Mothers raced in and out of classrooms with Thanksgiving treats and crafts. Teachers skidded from one classroom to the next, swapping books and folders. Some volunteers sat outside classrooms with students next to them working on quiet tasks. Just. Like. Me.... (I thought).

Reader 2 was another, nervous boy. He opened his reading bag and insisted that he was not able to read any of them. After convincing him that I was so looking forward to hearing the book called "Perfect Home", he began it with a nervous laugh.

It was hard to hear his little voice over the steady hum of the classroom villages around us.

Reading is hard.

I thought.

(Noise or no noise, reading is hard).

His questioning finger scanned over some words and paused over most.

Reading is really hard.

But he read so well. We made it through all 4 of his books. He sounded out and worked through some tough words and I was impressed with his focus and ability to keep working at a word he didn't know.

I told him that I was impressed.

And, when I did, he shyly tucked his neck into his shoulders as deep as they would go.

He made his way back to the classroom to tap the next reader on their shoulder.

And so these readers came to me and left me. Oh, I was sad when they left me.

Each reader was markedly different from the next.

The 5th reader to walk out to me was my son. He had his smug smile on because he just loves to have me in his school (he told me this last night).

I pause right here to capture in word only what a picture can truly show **** Declan's proud smile *****!

Declan read proudly, occasionally looking around to make sure everyone saw him reading with His Mom. He too, made up the words he didn't know, just like the rest of them. It must be a first grade thing.

When we were done we met up with his entire grade in the cafetorium where they were rehearsing their Thanksgiving show and where I, to the tune of happy first grade singing, was to pin colorful corn husks to the curtains on the stage.

On my way there, I couldn't believe how good I felt to have just read with these tiny people. I felt so grateful to the other parents who had spent time in the classroom this year.

AND, of course, I felt a million times more grateful for my son's first grade teacher. I can't imagine trying to teach reading to 2 dozen students with vastly different reading abilities - all at the same time.

It is so cliche to walk the halls of an elementary school thinking that "it takes a village" to raise these children. But, that was my thought as I walked. Because it does, take a village.

My final first grade task was to assemble a book within an earshot of my son while he ate lunch with his pals. By this time, he'd forgotten I was there.

But I had not forgotten he was there.

I watched his every move.

When the lunch assistant came to him and reminded him to eat the rest of his sandwich before he began eating his cookie, I was as impressed with her as I had been with myself earlier on the reading couch.

If it doesn't take a village, I'm a firm believer that it takes, numerous, well-intentioned, people in our elementary schools.

This post is dedicated to all those who have helped me raise my children without me knowing it.

Watch where you wipe (your hands)

2011-11-18T19:44:00.000-05:00

Last weekend I was at a wedding that's was really hard for me.
Really hard.
I like to kick back and enjoy myself as much as the next gal but this time it was hard. Really hard.
After a day and a half of, let's say "dealing" I was back in the hotel room with my honey, coming undone. My poor honey. Sure, he has seen me come undone. But I do usually try to keep it together.
"I just wish I didint care so much" (heave) "but every time I'm around these people I just (heave) can't help it I get (heave) so wrapped up in everything."

I'm so glad I had the ability to recognize this experience happening to me. Unfortunately I didn't quite possess the strength of character to stop it from happening. I mean I tried, to stop myself.
My poor honey.

I know this about myself, that's why I'm here, I think. Way up here. If I'm there, I'm that. When I'm here, I can be this. I think this is better than that.

So I've come back into my own and thanked my honey and hung up my pink and green so I think balance has been restored. And then today trough the powers of Facebook I saw a girl that I met in new Orleans write "so, I don't wear anything I can't wipe my hands on" and I thought YES that's where I am. What an incredible arc my life has been.
Because, no, one wouldn't want to wipe ones hands on ones Lilly pulitzer dress would they?

And I've got chalk prints everywhere.

He Plays Soccer Each Saturday...

2011-11-17T21:43:00.008-05:00

With this motto etched into the bottom of each cleat:

"Soccer/life is not just about scoring goals...

it is about winning."

She Dances Each Wednesday...

2011-11-17T21:38:00.008-05:00

In A Studio Beneath A Sign That Reads:

Dance in the Direction of Your Dreams.

Of course she does.

Waffles.

2011-11-15T19:59:00.005-05:00

Bleary eyed after tossing and turning

for close to 2 hours,

Dec walked up to me last night and said he was having

trouble falling asleep but he knew just what he needed

to fix the problem.

"Just a couple of waffles and a few pancakes and then

I'm sure I'll go right back to sleep..."

It was close to 10:00 PM.

I did not make waffles or pancakes.

But he did, eventually, fall asleep.

First he made up a fake illness that had to do with a pain in his

right leg, one wiggly tooth, and a "bending in the wrong direction"

little toe.

Then he decided to mop the entire length of the upstairs hallway with his

pajamas (while wearing them).

He flopped around at the top of the staircase like a dying fish.

After a solid 30 minutes, he waltzed into bed.

Dreaming of....dare I guess? Waffles and pancakes...

Turning the Friend Switch On.

2011-11-13T21:53:00.006-05:00

Today, my son turned the switch to "on" and he found a friend waiting.

***

Let me back up a few steps.

It had been more than a year since we put batteries in his walkie talkie.

But this morning, a lazy morning (at best)....his father decided to load

his walkie talkie with fresh batteries so that he could banter from his

upstairs closet to his "in-the-kitchen-little-sister" until he either had

nothing more to say or lost interest entirely.

Either way, this was a solid 20 minutes of play between the two of them

and we did what we could to encourage it.

But, seconds after the batteries were placed into the tiny machine, Dec

heard a familiar voice on the other end of the line.

And it wasn't his baby sister.

I listened with interest or rather a "What the....?" in my gut.....

It was his classmate (wha?), playing walkie-talkie with HIS baby sister just

across the lake.

When I first heard this familiar, yet strange neighborly voice come through the walkie talkie

I thought to myself, "what is the mileage range on those gadgets????".

And after completing a quick calculation, I realized that it was indeed, possible (though quite

a surprise) that

our son Declan had just intercepted conversations between his classmate

and his younger sister.

Just under two miles. And so, we were.

There is so much that I loved about this amazing discovery between friends - classmates:

"Declan, where are you standing right now?" questions. And the "What did

your baby sister dress up as for halloween?" questions.

So adorable.

So earnest.

So sincere.

So - clinging to every last syllable of every last response....

In fact, I really loved the awkwardness at the end of their conversation.

The "how do I end this.... " as they kept saying "goodbye and over-and-out

to each other.

But most of all I loved that this radio wave exchange was

mind boggling

powerful

had little to do with me arranging it

keeps my son wishing to talk on his simple walkie talkie even more

and reminded me *SO MUCH* of the MANY

simple discoveries that I made when I was young....

and I loved that it taught me that

It is amazing what you can hear

and, of what you will find

when you

decide it is time

to turn the friend switch on.

Hope in a Box

2011-10-28T23:01:00.012-04:00

What I'd like to share tonight is called "Hope in Box"

You see, it all started when our financial institution decided to eliminate their "cash rewards" program - which I never paid much attention to anyway.

But recently, I noticed a lingering 3,000 + points in the periphery of my banking desktop window.

What's that????? I inquired. Innocently. Upon further inspection, I noticed that my rewards PROGRAM had been eliminated. But I had valuable points JUST WAITING for someone to take notice.

Others with more $, could have cashed their rewards in for cars, luxurious travels, jewels, and niceties... but my rewards? Wow. The best I could do with them was a game of Parcheesi.

So? Of course, I ordered it. And, upon its arrival at our home, I answered a million of these:

"what's in that box?"

"what's in that box?""what's in that box?""what's in that box?""what's in that box?"

you getting the idea?

And when my flat-toned answer resonated with the inquiring children, they would ask,

"Parcheesi? What's Parcheesi? Can we play, can we play, can we play Parcheesi now?"

"can we play Parcheesi now?"

"can we play Parcheesi now?" "can we play Parcheesi now?" "can we play Parcheesi now?"

We didn't play. Because, I asked the children to wait.

Wait 'til Friday (the game is not that much fun).

Wait 'til Sunday (the game is not that much fun).

But tonight, once the hubs had gone to watch game 7. .....and Nonie had ventured off to sleep. Dec came wandering downstairs asking if I would unwrap the game and play.

"NO!" I thought at first. (Because the game is not that much fun).

But, "Yes" (brightly, smiley, enthusiastically) and so..

Unwrap the box. I played. He played.

Together we played.

He rolled, and counted, laughed, and high-fived... (tiny fists).

I laughed, and watched, savored and loved..... (his whole old soul).

Parcheesi was all that. And then some. I think it may have been a little bit more.

And LONG before I knew it (or discovered it really), my child five times younger than me -

sitting inches away - knew that playing the game was really about... being together.

The two of us. Me and him. Him and me. Parcheesi, aka - "hope in a box".

A reason to smile

2011-10-27T18:39:00.001-04:00

I had just been thinking that I take myself too seriously. I mean, last night my Mr. Tried to do some weird high five thing and I told him I couldn't because my hands were busy with some papers.
Really?
This morning I was chatting with a second grader. We were having a fine time until she said

"I don't believe what my brother says"
(he is in my class this year)
"what does he say?"
"he says you never smile".

He might be right. Good grief, if I can't lighten up with 6 year olds what's in store for me?

I hope that little boy caught a glimpse of me later in the afternoon when a student returned to the classroom after his hour with his therapist-buddy.
"I have to tell you something kind of inappropriate" he said to me.
Hm.
"ok. Do you need to whisper it?"
So he said, right into my ear
"my buddy" meaning his counselor. And so maybe you can imagine the horrific scantiois that zoomed through my head of a six year old boy in a room on the third floor with just a twenty something year old gal. Forgive me.
"made me laugh so hard that I peed in my pants".

And oh, was I ever smiling.
I just needed to be handed a reason to.

To Do Lists.

2011-10-20T10:13:00.002-04:00

In the hope of feeling
like I'm accomplishing something,
I just wrote something
on my "To Do" list
JUST SO THAT I COULD cross it off.

There, see how productive I am?

They Got Me.

2011-10-19T22:51:00.003-04:00

Instead of their Mom last night -
they got me.

Because their Mom was in Michigan at the bedside
of her father who had quadruple bypass surgery the day before.

THEIR Mom stayed an extra day to be with her father
who happened to be celebrating his 72nd birthday.

So instead of her, they got ME.

And I was warned that they would be SAD, SAD, SAD that Mom wasn't home.
So I pulled out all the stops and we played and laughed and laughed and played.
(And managed to get all homework done, lunches made, and reading completed...)

But while taking care of them I realized that it is the subtle differences that make
a Mom a Mom.

And the way I Mom, isn't the way their Mom moms.

Like, my kids jump out of the tub and then I cocoon them in a big blue towel and
call them a burrito.

But, THEIR MOM lays a towel down on the lip of the tub, then they stand up on it
hold their Mom's hands and jump like a flying squirrel onto the slippery wet floor.
(Or, at least, this is what they told me usually happens).

When they are wrapped up nice and snug in their cocoon, it isn't called a cocoon.
Or a burrito.

So when I went to dress them in their PJs (which they call Jammies), we were missing
a key ingredient.

Underpants.

When I came into the family room with the wrong kind (?!) of underpants I went back
into their room searching. And searching.
And I knew they could hear me from their playroom because THEIR MOM still uses a baby monitor. So I kept chatting to them.

"Can you hear me, I'm searching for underpants la la la la underpants where are you????" I shouted into the monitor.

And I could hear their distant laughter from the other room. Far away. While they waited
for their underpants. Laughing at my antics.

For a moment, I think they were happy that they got me tonight.

So, when I came back into the family room waving my empty hands and telling them that I couldn't find any of the "right kinds of underpants". They laughed again.

Because the underpants were on my head.

And I'm pretty certain THEIR MOM has ever done that before.

Thinking 'Bout Getting Older.

2011-10-14T21:48:00.010-04:00

There are far too many thoughts whizzing through my mind to write a clear, and coherent post.
This would explain why you haven't heard from me much in the past few days/weeks. What an insanely busy 6 weeks.

I keep saying to people "life seems to be in fast-forward". My neighbor, she drives by while I scoop the mail up, my friends in town - while our grocery carts eek by each other in the pasta aisle, my not-yet-friends in the parking lot of Nonie's preschool.... they all hear my same phrase - "life seems to be in fast-forward".

And it does. Life seems to be moving in fast-forward. The bags under my eyes and my gray hairs are having trouble keeping up.

Can't believe we're halfway through October and moving full steam ahead into November.
Wait. What?!

I'm thinking about getting older. I'm thinking 'bout it a lot.

During these weeks, and days, when I keep saying to myself:

Slow Down.
Look Around.

Your Children Are SO YOUNG.
And Full of FUN. And they WANT to be with YOU.

So, in full awareness of the "getting older" mindset - the other day,

I said to the hubs - let's take the children for a bowl of soup at our favorite spot....
and then to the Res for pictures.

And then to the res for pictures. A photo shoot -

So that we won't forget this day.

This day when I'm thinking 'bout getting older.

***

So, when we got there the children laughed and ran and played about -
as they always do.

And when they got tired we (me and the hubs) taught them all about echos.

You know the echos that come from the sounds we cry out from the depths of our timid souls especially when we think about getting older???

The sounds we hear reflected back at the most unassuming and unexpected times.

-those echos. We had an impromptu field lesson about them.

First it was funny to get the children to scream as loud as they could.

Then,

we each took a turn - howling to the wild blue yonder and carefully listening to each echo as it returned from the distant valley.

That night,

I howled. And howled and howled.

My echo responded. And responded and responded.

And when the howling was done,

In my mind, in my heart, and in my soul...

I never did feel quite so young.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE FAMILY JOY!!!!!

2011-10-13T08:59:00.003-04:00

Even when you have BLUE LIPS we love you sooooooo MUCH.

xoxo

These Are a Few of My Favorite...

2011-10-12T21:25:00.001-04:00

things.

Diagnosis.

2011-10-06T22:41:00.004-04:00

I just love the one shoe on, one shoe off look.

*image not mine - i only wish i could be that clever

not for the teary, a stroll down memoir lane

2011-10-05T11:20:00.004-04:00

I REMEMBER,

and I

repeat every day...

"I appreciate this day, this age, this act,

I will not look back with regret, punishing myself for not loving every moment

Life gets better and better"

statement . x two

2011-09-29T20:30:00.002-04:00

"are you trying to make a statement?"

she asked, as I made my way down the hall

this morning with Bugsy on my arm.

She is sweet, and quick with a compliment.

Almost one a day for me,

and I have become used to responding to her with a smily "thank you"-

and then stopping for a chitty chat.

We still chitty chat, she and I, just like we used to do

when she had Bugsy in her kindergarten room.

Her room full of chickadees,... she is a sweet lady.

But this morning, more than a smily thank you was in order.

"Are you trying to make a statement" she had asked.

Huh.

A statement.

Huh.

I had to think about it.

Hmmm.

But only for a minute.

"YES"

"yes, I am. "

"I am trying to make a statement".

Isn't it obvious???

My sister loves me.

Pocket Notes

2011-09-21T21:12:00.006-04:00

During the past few weeks getting out of the house has been a challenge in the morning.

Even though we have not started a new school and we did not have a nice long 2 month summer break from school, X has shown a major case of schooliosis.

The fits start when it is time to get dressed and don't end until I have calmed him down, pumped him up, and repeatedly reassured him in his classroom that I will return.

He started calling me "mama", and Bri "dada" again, and drop offs have been peppered with sobs and intermittent wails of, "don't LEAVE me MAMA". If any words could ever fracture a heart for real those would be it.

And then I start my day, already a little beaten down.

I sit in my car, in the driveway of my patient's house, stalling. I don't want to go in. I know the questions that are coming, they are the same ones she asked me two days, two weeks, and 2 months ago. And I know my replies are the same. I try to come up with different ways of answering, so she has no reason to ask again, but alas.

She lives alone, 91 years old, and is slowly dying. She refuses aides, showers, help with shopping and driving. She wants to know why she is tired. What can she do?

Finally this morning, after watching George, eating french toast on homemade white bread, laughing and joking while getting dressed, we were ready for school. I try to make the mornings relaxed, not a constant rush to get out the door. There had been no tears yet as we grabbed our bags. At the last moment I grabbed a piece of paper, and wrote I LOVE YOU in big letters. I told X what is said, folded it and put it in his pocket. On the way into school I asked what was in his pocket, and what it said. He remembered. As we walked into school a group of classmates commented on how cool it was that X had a batman shirt on, he let go of my hand, found his place on the carpet, and said "bye, bye, mama".

I walked out of the building like I was floating.

Once again I sit in the car. Once again, I know what awaits me. A lonely lady who seeks my advice, my wisdom, my expertise. I am frank. Again. You have X disease which has Y symptoms which need Z treatment.

Or you could sit here. And let yourself be tired. And wait to die.

In not quite those words, that is what I say. And she seems accepting.

And as I walk to the door once again, she asks me what I "have" for her.

Should she got to the store for some groceries?

And so I tell her something that sounds so easy.

Do whatever you CAN do, and ACCEPT the things that you can't.

And I am gone.

We will see what tomorrow brings. I am prepared for tears, tantrums, hugs and smiles. Whatever it brings, I will try to heed my own advice, keep it in my pocket for the day, and try not to forget it.

Opus.

2011-09-19T23:17:00.003-04:00

Dearest Nonie,

On the eve of your third birthday I must say -

not a day goes by when I don't look at you, laugh with you, love you, and think...

you might just be my

Magnum Opus.

I think I know what it feels like to be complete.

You are my sweet, sweet girl. (Even when you pee in your bed 3 nights in a row).

Love,

Mommy

Overwhelming Responsibilities Realized. Hopefully not too late.

2011-09-17T11:27:00.000-04:00

At 2:40 the bell rang. I thought I was in the clear.
And then there he was on the rug. Flopped on his back like an upside down turtle.
Refusing to put his jacket on (properly, mind you, which spurred this all) and leave the room.

So close.

It took some coaxing to get him down the hall and under the watchful eye of his grandpa.

On days like that I feel relieved to go home to a childless house.

Later on, long after I was home and settling into my weekend, it hit me.
Just as the hard part of my day was ending, his was starting.

Little things for me, rationing water intake because I don't have a spare second until 11:30. Frantically getting papers from mailbox cubbies to folders to backpacks and out the door.
Big things for him, who will pick me up from school today. Will my dad be home when I wake up in the morning, or will he have decided to leave again.

I thought of the day just before, when he melted in the afternoon and I walked him down to the nurse for a nap. I asked him if he wanted me to sit with him for a minute while he closed his eyes.
He said yes, and grabbed my arms from his lying down position.
He looked at me like he was drowning and I a life vest being thrown to him.
The tiny smile you can muster up when you are so glad someone is there but it does not overtake the fear and sadness that is pulling you down. His eyes wide open, staring at me. Studying.
I sat on that bed until seconds before the tears would have come, from me, if I stayed there another second.
The sadness I had for his exhausted little body. For the confusion that starts when the school day is over. For the overwhelming feeling of responsibility that I know I have toward him, and the twenty-two others just like him in the other room. It hit me right on the plastic coated bed.

For some of these kids, this year, in years past and in years to come, maybe I am the only thing they've got. The only consistency they know. The only smile they get that day.

I realized, when I was back in my cozy house, that he might not have wanted to leave.
While I was looking at the clock, waiting for the bell,
maybe he was dreading it.
He wanted to stay here in this school, in this classroom. He knows where his desk is and his spot on the rug, right next to me.
"You know, everyone in this school likes me". He tells me at least once a day.
What about at home?

That, that should be the way that I teach them.
From that completely selfish, overwhelmingly egocentric, unbelievably narcissistic piece of my heart that feels like I am the best thing they've got.

Some mantras that sit above my desk.

I have a feeling there will be many more to come.

You'll know why.

2011-09-16T22:08:00.003-04:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKIl-v18mgo

catching my breath

2011-09-13T06:07:00.002-04:00

did I tell you...
my baby went to second grade...

Actually, she goes every day...

this one is so good I had to share it twice.

A Hasselhoff Dive.

2011-09-12T11:08:00.005-04:00

Yesterday his kayak squirreled away from under Dec's bottom. It drifted to the deep.

Without hesitating I peeled off clothes and did a Hasselhoff Dive into the not-so-warm lake to fetch it.

A few strokes of butterfly, a few fresstyle and I was there.

With no intention of swimming yesterday, I found myself in the crisp clear water splashing about like an otter. A September 11 Blue Sky smiled above. My freckle face boy was alongside.
My happy surfer girl was on the beach yards away. My mother was kayaking the perimeter of the lake while we played....and I felt so alive and lucky to be.

A Lady You Should Know.

2011-09-10T11:28:00.000-04:00

There's a lady I have to tell you about.
But I don't know why.
Really I can't figure out what her purpose is to me.
Doesn't everyone in your life serve a purpose? Or is that some ideal...

She's my in-laws neighbor at camp. She lives alone and drives herself around. To town to get supplies for her meatloaf. To visit her great-grandchildren.
She turned 93 on Thursday.

My in-laws invited her over for cocktail hour and dinner. Her contributions were too heavy for her to carry, she said to everyone... or no one because not one of them offered to go get them.

"I'll go get them." I looked around. Up to her house and back down again with a box of wine and a salad. Extra onions.

She had her first glass outside. It started raining but no one seemed to do anything about it.

"Let's move inside, it's raining." I said.

We gobbled up our food and everyone was up from the table soon after that. She kept eating. I stayed at the table so she didn't have to eat alone.

She said she knows people must think it's weird that none of her children came to visit for the weekend. She understands, they're all very busy. She told me this 4 or 5 my times over the course of the night.
I don't think other people thought it was weird.
I'm pretty sure she did.

I sat with her for 15 minutes.

She's a fish, that old girl, and my heavy-handed father in law filled glass after glass for her. She usually gets Sunset Blush because there's less alcohol but they were out. White Zinfandel seemed to be her new favorite.

"I should go, I should go" She said after dessert. Everyone seemed to ignore her request so she sat and watched us play a board game, thoroughly confused by the references to celebrities and reality tv.
The next day there was a big picnic, "it sounds suspicious" she said to everyone. I prayed for her that they had thought to make it a birthday party.
Finally, my hubby escorted her home.

Around 1 o'clock when people started gathering I watched for her to come out of her house.
"I hope she didn't die last night" by husband said.
"Why would you say that?" I asked him.
Horrified.
I had been thinking the same thing.

She was collected and came down with the remainder of her White Zinfandel.

She was found a seat next to my in-laws and promptly deserted. I saw her sitting on the porch, by herself. I looked around at everyone. No one seemed to notice, so I went up to sit next to her.

She was making a move to get up. "Oh I didn't know if anyone was coming back."
"It's just so strange, I'm so much older than everyone here."
"I don't really know these people."
I felt totally, completely, and solely responsible for her. Where was everyone? Why aren't they sitting with her? Where are the damn party hats?

I told my hubby this as we left the picnic to take Drake for a walk.
"I feel responsible for her. I think you're all just used to having your Grandma around and take it for granted that there is this really old person here. Everyone is ignoring her."
He shrugged.
I wanted to cry.

When we got back the party was still in full swing. She had not been abandoned, nor had her wine glass.
She saw an empty chair next to me and sat down. She asked me if I wanted some wine.
"I'll have one if you do" she said.
I poured her another glass.

Around 6 o'clock she said it was about time to go home.
Some ladies grabbed her elbows and she tried to protest. They stayed latched on.
She gave everyone a giant hug and kiss.
"I just love everyone" she said.
"And we love you."
"I know it may seem like I'm drunk but I'm not.
I really love everyone."

And with that they walked her home.

She didn't say goodbye to me.

You Know Your Exercise Regime Has Slipped A Bit...

2011-09-08T21:16:00.005-04:00

When you decide it is time to Google "1/2 marathon training 3 weeks".

Yikes.

I may as well Google "running for dummies".

#runningoutofexcuses (oh wait, this isn't twitter?)

And also, this S-Ship is feeling a bit lonely. Where the heck is everyone?

And one more thing, I could take it no longer - I just paid for this book's replacement $3.99 though the librarians begged me not to do it.....there, you can sleep well tonight.

Am I Brave?

2011-09-07T21:33:00.005-04:00

When I was in first grade, I had a best friend named Claire.

She and I put on a Frog & Toad skit about seeds growing.

I wore a green sweat suit. She wore her brownies uniform with brown paper warts taped to it.

Her big sister helped us rehearse after school one day, and though I

was shy, she really helped me memorize my lines. Also, Claire's warts fell off a lot.

To say the very least, the experience was memorable. And Claire is still my best friend.

This evening I picked up the Frog & Toad book she gave to Dec on his first birthday.

I read the inscription from her to him.

He sat clean and cozy in his bed tonight, the first night, of his first day - of first grade.

His baby sis sat up on his bed with him.

The story we read was about being brave in the face of dragons and in the shadows of giants.

I love the story because it begins with Frog and Toad wondering if they

are brave. "Are we brave?" They wonder. And it ends with the two saying to each other, "I am glad to know a brave person like you!" Then Frog hides in a closet and Toad hides under the bed. They stay there for a long time. Feeling very brave together.

Earlier today I combed Dec's hair, re-buttoned his shirt, watched him leap down the front path to the huge awaiting school bus...helped Nonie straighten her skirt, tightened her backpack straps and lifted her out of the car in the school parking lot... while my eyes overflowed with tears. I cried because the completion of each tiny morning task - from serving up their granola and yogurt to snapping their first day of school pics - meant I was one step closer to saying farewell to the ones who help me feel brave.

Too Good Not To Share.

2011-09-03T21:59:00.002-04:00

A perfect hike with mom.

At the Res. and to the top of the top of the spot that Dec reached at Camp this Summer.
The spot he promised to show us. Before the summer ended.

We ate together - gourmet food of sorts from the new local shop down the road.
It was nearing sunset.

On the hike to and fro we laughed, slipped, marveled at buttercup's new "kneesocks", laughed,
listened, did some heavy breathing and loved. Each other.

At the top, mom handed over the pound cake she insists she "finished half of" during the storm.

I take it willingly. I know the recipe well, and recall that the word pound is not figurative.

Especially when it comes to the butter line item.

Yum.

Two proud and exhausted hikers sat in the back of my car as we made our way for home after the hike. They quietly munched on Granny's Cake and passed the luke warm water bottle back and forth between each other.

The open tub of pound cake sat next to me in the passenger seat the whole ride home.
Tempting? But of course.

During the drive home, we all used the same word to describe the evening, the stroll in the woods, the walk with Granny....

Perfect.

It wasn't until we rounded our last turn to home that we slowed.

Flashing lights and large cherry picker trucks were blocking our road.

I took a bite of the pound cake calling my name to the right of me. Darn, that is good stuff.

Then I turned my attention to the traffic delay.

My first thought: I can't believe they are still out here working at dusk - a full one week after IRENE hit

They seemed to be moving on from this post.

Three trucks went roaring past our idling car.

WISCONSIN DEC AND NONIE! DID YOU SEE THAT PLATE?! THEY ARE FROM WISCONSIN.

Without much thought I found myself frantically waving my flabby white arm out my car window just in time to catch the fourth truck.....

WHAT AM I DOING? I KIND OF THOUGHT. Then, my next thought was: I BET HE THINKS I'M GOING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT SOMETHING. Since everyone has been grumpy without power.

The ginormous truck slowed and then grinded to a halt, just in time for our windows to line up perfectly.

I took a glance at the driver.

HE'S YOUNG - A KID! (I THOUGHT).

And this darling young thing with a crew cut and midwestern accent lowered his window as I offered up some pound cake.

DO YOU CARE FOR SOME POUND CAKE (I SHOUTED - OVER THE ROAR OF THE ENGINE)?

Gee, sure I'd love some. THANK YOU! Said the young kid (couldn't have been older than 19) and he grabbed a slice and roared away.

Then came the next, fifth and final, truck.

I put my flabby white arm to work.

MY MOM MADE THIS POUND CAKE. WOULD YOU LIKE A SLICE?

And he said

WOW! SURE! THANKS!!! and he grabbed the tupperware and was off.

(Gran, sorry - but the electrician from Wisonsin has your tupperware. However, I think it was my container anyway. I recognize the lid, which is all I'm left with as I type this post up.)

In every way imaginable....this evening, buttercup's mud stockings, eating really close to a copperhead snakeskin, Gran's pound cake, and offering up all I had at the time (WHICH IS A LESSON MOM HAS ALWAYS TAUGHT ME) the whole day really -

was too good not to share.

My husband doesn't believe in.

2011-09-02T12:53:00.004-04:00

My husband doesn't believe in units that wind-up hoses for you, he insists that we are capable of doing this ourselves. For years I've enviously looked at those rolling hose thing-a-ma-jiggers that our neighbors all have.

My husband doesn't believe in training wheels or ski harnesses for the children. He calls these gadgets "crutches".

Come to think of it, he didn't believe in using pacifiers for the children when they were babes.

My husband doesn't believe in pre-boarding for families, and often leaves the airport gate to fetch a cup of coffee or go pee while the plane fills up.

My husband doesn't believe in calling professionals to fix things - unless it has to do with electricity. Shockingly, he takes a back seat for all things electrical.

My husband doesn't believe in parking cars in direct sunlight if there is shade available nearby. Yes, this means grass is preferable to driveway if it means parking in the shade.

My husband doesn't believe in wasting product - as an example, when the toothpaste's end is near, he cuts the long strip off the end and swipes his toothbrush into the tube to eek out every last drop.

My husband doesn't believe in leaving an extra big tip for the waiter who was really nice/cute.

My husband doesn't believe in eating the ends of the bread. Even when I turn the end side in and smear peanut butter on it to disguise it - he catches on and turns up his nose.

My husband doesn't believe in dessert - or cheering for the Yankees or Giants - and those are quirky things about him that really perplex me. He also doesn't believe in cleaning up after his breakfast or shutting his closet door. But I think those are observations for a different post.

To summarize: my husband doesn't believe in some things that I believe in.

And this makes me believe in him even more.

*balanced rocks - the hub's creation on the shores of the Irish sea -

My students will eat my ALIVE if I act this way.

2011-08-24T15:30:00.000-04:00

Today, common sense is following about 5 seconds behind every decision I've been making.
After closing the door to the house and (1, 2, 3, 4, 5...) locking my car key and house key inside, I wondered the direction the day would take.
Break the screen window and go right in?
In a heap of patheticness, call the hubbs for help? Locksmith? Husband? The line is blurry.

Here is a question that will help this story along...
where do you keep your spare car key?
Is there a right answer? If you keep it in the car and get locked out you're doubly troubled.
Inside the house is not helpful if you're locked outside. Purse? I'd rather own 50 but carry everything in my hand (as was the problem this fateful morning).

Here is my answer.
My spare key is in the car.
Saved!

So I head to hubb's office to pick up his house key because poor Drake is locked inside and we had a playdate with Honey to get to later and Drakedog is nothing if not playful and prompt.

It seems as though the day was salvaged once I had the house key so I set off to do my errands at the post office. I locked the car and went inside (1, 2, 3, 4, 5...) where I immediately doubted my key's ability to get me back into the car without the beeper part attached. Do I even have keyholes on the doors? I tried to peer at the car through the window across the lot. Don't be silly! I told myself. You have the key you are not locked out!

Well, I was locked out. Who would have guessed that the key wouldn't open the door? (Actually, I guessed it inside, but it was too late, remember? )
I struggled with it a little bit pretending that I was proactively reacting appropriately but it wasn't budging. I could always call hubby to test his car-burgling skills but (1, 2, 3, 4, 5...) my phone was locked in the car.

An elderly gentleman saw me struggling and came to my rescue. A knight in a green Pontiac coupe! Hey, I thought, I'll take it. Same man who held the door for me on my way out of the post office. Read: not a total stranger!
He told me to try the trunk (no keyhole) and passenger door ( .... no keyhole) so he said "Guess I can't help you then!" (glad his day was salvaged). He asked if I lived close and could get the other key and forgetting I had just been to hubb's work I told him that in a series of locking myself out of things I could not get into the house anyway. Plus, how does that help? I live the next town over. But I only thought those things because he was far too nice and attempting helpfulness to be snarky to.
I said I'd call my hubby to help but oh! if I didn't have my phone locked in the car. So he handed me his and I stared at it because I don't know his work number and he turns is regular phone off so here I am in 2011 and every modern convenience is failing me. When I told him where he worked he said "Well I'll just drive you there".
So he cleared of the seat in his coupe and I sat down and (1, 2, 3, 4, 5...) realize I'm as good as dead because I'm in the car with a stranger (but not total stranger because he had held the door for me) and I'm trying to remember everything I can about screaming fire and sticking my finger up my nose and detaching the taillight wires when we pull up to the hubb's office and he lets me out.

Here I was, back at the office confessing helplessness in dire need of being rescued and trying not to remember that that sometimes he falls too

because it seems as though today, there's only time for one of us to stumble.

All She Keeps

2011-08-23T19:24:00.016-04:00

In the kitchen of a modest house in Tipperary, there is a beat up and cracked old toy.

Few would think it is worth keeping, especially with space at such a premium.

The kitchen is the heart of this home, and any who come to visit - rarely leave this space.

It has a huge and always piping hot old stove, a table bursting with seats, and a handful of scattered armchairs. Once your eyes have gotten beyond the pastureland, the Galtee Mountains stand tall in the distance outside each rear-facing window.

We come to this kitchen for stories, for warmth and of course, for the incredible food. Hot apple pies, traditional Irish breakfasts, and soul-warming cups of tea. Despite the close quarters, there is magically always room at the table for one more.

In it's prime, this house was home to 2 energetic parents and 9 children.

Eleven people in total, shared just four bedrooms. Well, three actually, since one room was always reserved for special guests. Today, far less frequently of course, it is the grandchildren who bustle through the doors.

I walked slowly through the house this time, it is simply bursting with memories of kittens at the back door, siblings swinging from bunk beds, and walking the family herd of cows to pastures on the way to and back from school. There are religious figurines and crosses visible at every turn. There are tables filled with pictures of beloved grandchildren in America. And, there are closets that ooze worn-out wellies in every shape, size and color imaginable.

Look at all she keeps.

This visit I couldn't help but focus on a haggard old water-filled toy. How had I not seen it before? I used to play with the same toy when I was younger. Pushing a button shoots rings through the water and the skilled handler shifts the toy around to catch rings on the hooks.

I learned that this faded orange gadget was the youngest child's toy. She played with it during her battle and ultimate surrender to leukemia. It was her hospital toy. It was her home toy.

As her mom kept caring for her and comforting her day in and day out - as she watched her little girl's hair thin and eventually fall out....the water-filled, ring-toss toy was played.

And her mom kept watch. Over her. And her toy.

Now, 25 years later - her mom keeps watching over the toy and the mirky water that fills it.

I'm amazed that she even lets visiting children touch it, but she does. They delight in the simplicity of it - bubbles, gurgling water, colorful rings. It requires no batteries, just attention.

Do my children remind her of her courageous little girl when they pick up the toy to play? I wonder.

When the children lose interest or turn careless with the toy - she removes the toy from tiny hands and returns it to the place of honor very near her kitchen sink in the back corner of the room. The taped side faces out.

In this cozy house the mom keeps watch over the wellies,

the homemade pies,

the statues of Mary,

the memories of bunk bed wars,

the dairy cows mooing in the distance,

the picturesque mountains,

the kittens at the back door,

her courageous baby girl's water-filled toy....

and me.

This is all she keeps.

These Boots Were Made For....

2011-08-17T20:28:00.003-04:00

Resting.

(Cape Clear Island. County Cork. Ireland. August 2011)

Declan loved this lady.

2011-08-16T19:46:00.002-04:00

And all her other friends.

They are good girls indeed.

I think my son may grow up to be a farmer after all.

The Post to Make Me Remember...

2011-08-15T19:55:00.004-04:00

We are just 5 hours in from a 2 week stay in the Motherland.

Our Holiday was all we could have every hoped for + a great big big bowl of cherries on top.

In so many ways, I return from two solid weeks in Ireland and think that Americans complicate life more than they need to.

Let this be the post to make me remember that

bigger isn't always better

closer doesn't always mean close

a shortcut isn't always

families stretch far beyond the limits of bloodlines and lineage.

We (Dame and I) joked about the amnt of photos we'd taken along the way....

I guessed a good 700+.

As the computer churns out the 1,500+ pictures, I have nothing to do but await them....

Humbly.

Ever so Patiently.

And of course, above all...

Anxiously.

I think I know my favorite photograph already.

(But only time will tell).

Ireland was spectacular in every way. Do I even need to tell you that?

At nearly all crossroads, I felt a first line of a blog post brimming up inside me and I felt a tug on my heartstrings to set down and write.

So here is to the pots of gold awaiting my little ones,

and me,

and you...
at the end of each rainbow.

May we appreciate them and
May we know them

when we reach them.

(More pics to follow....God willing).

To all things green, gold and everything in between.

And to our super lovely leprechaun of a chauffeur this afternoon who helped us through the transition from dreamland to reality.

We love you Mr. O'Rourke.

And then some.

I couldn't wait....

2011-08-14T20:05:00.003-04:00

I couldn't wait for the day for X to start talking. When he was a baby I used to try to imagine what his voice would sound like.

And now, his voice never stops.

And there are some things that come out of his mouth that are the cutest.

What you have in your mouth, mom?

I have gum mom, I'm Brett Gardner. (a Yankee who chews a WAD of gum)

What smells like mom? (while taking a long sniff)

And there are others that I could do without. The curse words he has picked up on are outrageous. And its not that I can be angry at him about the words. Obviously it comes from those around him (I will not name any names here)...but it is just shocking to hear it coming from his mouth.

I couldn't wait to to hear the words come from his mouth, and now they don't stop coming.

As X lolled about in his bath tonight, he was non-stop talking. To his trucks, to shampoo bottle, to his body parts. Along with singing BOOMBOOMPOW he was diarhhea of the mouth.

And I loved it. I organized my jewelry box, cleaned my room, and loved listening to his musings. It was music to my ears.

By the way, on this lovely summer rainy day, remember this? Ahhh, I hope summer lasts forever.

why we live here...

2011-08-14T17:36:00.004-04:00

... because on any given evening...

we can walk from our home

on a path full of art

and cartwheel through a field

into town-

together...

tbc...

believe

2011-08-12T13:29:00.003-04:00

so, we're in the kitchen,

my baby and I.

We have just begun listening to a new CD-

an african band with lots of steel and rhythm.

I am walking toward her thinking about how much

she doesn't look like me

with her click clack braids

and her mocha summer skin

and she says-

"mama.... mama- I have actually heard this song before. "

and before I can tell her she is wrong- this is the first time either of us has heard it-

she says-

"my birthmother used to sing it."

And after I catch my breath I think-

Wow.

I am doing everything right.

to be continued...

Love this Lady.

2011-08-02T15:10:00.000-04:00

Obeying Signs.

2011-08-01T23:11:00.009-04:00

Thanks Mom - for a wonderful 4 days.
Not sure how we'll get on without you.

random- literally

2011-07-29T19:44:00.006-04:00

there is a random folder on my hard drive.

in it are random pictures. some i remember having taken.

some i don't.

but they each tell a little story- or open a door for the imagination

to tell it's own story-

let's have a looksie-

first we have the cupcake tree on a diet...
then, there is pretty jess. hey jess, you are pretty...

okay. here is xave's cake. last year.

this year he likes baseball. both cakes were delish.

xave's mom can bake !!!!

hmmm. not really sure about this one.

i think i will just skip to the next-

this one is titled:

two beauties and a mom...

again, we may just let this one go unexplained...

but if you want more info

email me...

i think they take it on the road

this is a summer afternoon with a friend. also known as

"mom is a freak and thinks there might be lightning in the next day or two so she isn't coming out on the boat with us but I am not afraid, let me just have one more bite of my lunch and we're off...."

this one i called

"happy birthday muzzy"

4th of july. 2010.

muzzy's first birthday in heaven.

the lightning bugs danced that whole night.

okay. what have we here???

i know who this is,

but not where he is,

what he is eating,

or where his parents are.

i mean, what kind of parents would allow this mess???

this one is called

"paper dress".

you heard me right.

it's so good i might treat you to another-

here is

"paper dress in the kitchen"

which is not recommended as it is not a

waterproof paper dress.

it is just a plain paper dress.

random enough for you??

oh, there's more.

tbc

Spewing.

2011-07-28T21:13:00.003-04:00

Here are a few things I'm spewing tonight because (quite honestly) I simply don't have time to organize a real post. There is packing to do gosh darnit.

1. I have no idea who took that picture (above) but it must be a cousin. See post from 7/25/11 for reference.

2. I like that picture. Dear Cousin, you can borrow my camera any time.

3. Dec, in the midst of picking out "American" t-shirts today at Target to bring to all his relations he doesn't know in County Wicklow and County Cork and Tipperary - asked

"Does Auntie Una have any babies?" No. I replied. "Why?" Dec asked. She and her husband decided not to have babies. I replied. "But how do you make a baby mom?" Dec asked.

4. I was not prepared to answer him in the discount t-shirt aisle of Target so I wheeled (quickly) in the direction of the new CARS II toys and avoided the questioning all together. Was that bad parenting? I'm beginning to think yes.

5. Dec paddled his new (birthday present) kayak in the lake for the first time today and within about 67 seconds had an older (7-year-old) girl asking to hitch a ride on the back. He obliged. Of Course, he did. Because he is the best kid ever born (and Nonie too). But, should I be concerned that his new yellow (banana boat) kayak is a chick magnet.

A chick magnet?!

I was not prepared for this.

Please, discuss amongst yourselves and advise ASAP.

Over and out.

another life lesson

2011-07-26T20:13:00.004-04:00

it's not everyday

one gets the invaluable opportunity

to be reminded

that

despite cultural and geographical differences,
despite differences in opinion, religious beliefs,

and laundry techniques,

despite different taste buds,

choice in nail polish color

and sleep habits...

we are all pretty much the same.

Life lessons come in skinny little packages

from the bronx...

I Will Always Have...

2011-07-25T21:36:00.007-04:00

When Declan was a peanut (days old)... my BFF Claire flew in from Brazil to meet him.

As if it were yesterday, I can still picture her holding Declan down at the edge of the lake.

I took pictures as the sun set off in the distance, silhouetting Claire and Dec.

And, I can still hear her softly spoken words to my 12-day-old-son, "I am your Auntie

Claire..... and I will always have gum....".

At the time, her not-meant-for-me-to-hear-words melted my heart.

This was my best friend, who had flown in from a hemisphere away,

to hold my dear son in her hands and to tell him, in a simplistic way,

that she'd always have something exciting to offer up -

even on his darkest of days.

For anyone who has ever tuned in to the sitcom "Friends", you'll know that our Dear "Auntie Claire" borrowed her lines from "Aunt Monica", who offers the same promise of a never-ending supply of gum to her nephew Ben (her brother Ross' son).

Regardless, Claire's words meant a lot to me. And they have meant a lot to Declan in the days since, when Claire has filled days with creative and enthusiastic FUN and on occasion, gum.

****

Last night, I lay in a tent in the middle of my backyard with 4 nieces and nephews, 1 son, and 1 daughter.

I'm so proud of my little campers.

They did a beautiful job relaxing under a star-filled sky, snuggling into their soft sleeping bags, and giving way to the power of falling asleep with a cool breeze on their face and far-off animal cries in the distance.

During the night

I helped Cormac scamper from the tent and pee just before dawn.

I made sure Aidan wasn't suffocating himself as he nestled deep in the corner of the tent.

I became surprisingly proud of Anna, who was on her first official sleep over and was the first to give way to her exhaustion. She got my unofficial vote for "best all-around-camper".

I was comforted by the calm, still, presence that Mags exuded from the far edge of the tent. I knew she was one of the last to fall asleep, but I also knew she was enjoying the view of the star-filled sky from her cozy spot.

I was happy to have Declan snuggle up between his cousins on the night of his 6th birthday.

And, I was amazed that Nonie fell asleep so soundly, long before the cousin tent winded down.

****

While the cousins fell asleep, I recounted (outloud) the number of nights I've spent in a tent:

(must be close to 400) - from Glacier Peak in Washington, to the frozen lakes of Minnesota and Ontario, to the Alpe d'Huez in France, and the chipmunk overrun beaches of Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia - and of course, the sandy beaches of the Vineyard and South Carolina. For a moment I was impressed with the amount of time I've logged in tents. Intense.

I encouraged the cousins to listen for new sounds. NOTTOSLEEP.

And, to try to ID familiar ones. They listened for a long time and finally came the question I was waiting for:

"Can we stop listening and start sleeping now?"

To ease anxiousness,

I twirled the hair of my 6-year-old nephew.

I unzipped and zipped and unzipped and zipped the tent for tiny bladders.

I shined the light on the grass to direct the mid-night peeing.

I sang out-of-tune-songs like "You are My Sunshine" "This Little Light of Mine" "ABCD -" Nonie's request)....and "50-Nifty-United States...."

Just to be sure that you're sure. I did sing each song out of tune... though I had them begging for encores.....

****

In the midst of all this, I paused

and realized I was so happy.

I took a deep breath of fresh, fresh air.

Then, I took a deep breath again.

I gazed at the stars and at the blinking lights of planes flying high above.

For a moment, I wondered where the planes were going. Ireland?? Maybe.

After a while, I couldn't hear much of anything.

Except the sounds of amazing children sleeping.

Once I knew all the tiny little children around me were asleep,

I whispered to them in the dark of the night:

"I am your Auntie K,

and, I will always have room in my tent for you."

Charlie Brown Wins

2011-07-20T21:27:00.006-04:00

We go to the library every week.
Sometimes twice.
Visiting the library has become part of who we are.

I love taking out armfuls of books - 99% of them are easy readers.
I really love when the librarians call my children by name.

I really don't love the way libraries smell. But that is neither here nor there.

In the 6 years that Dec has been with us, we've rarely missed a week
and we've hardly ever had an overdue book.

I'm a bit neurotic about this. I'll be the first to admit it.

So, when we went to the library last week to check out books
and learned that we have one overdue, I was surprised.

Really? I'd asked.

Yes, the computer lists it right here.

Really? I'd asked again. Just to be sure.

After tearing the house apart, pulling everything out of my car
and even searching under the fridge - no luck.

So this is my plea to the family: has anyone seen "It's a homerun Charlie Brown".
Dec claims he never even saw it come out of the library bag.

This is the great unsolved mystery of the summer.

Where the h-e-double-hockey-sticks is it?!?

Charlie Brown, it's not just a home run.

You knocked it outta the park.

Good grief.

2011-07-18T20:01:00.001-04:00

I just can't
decide

what I like best

about

SUMMERTIME

A DSI Can't Compete With This.

2011-07-17T21:10:00.007-04:00

Just before Xmas of 2010, we asked Dec for a Christmas list.

More interested in getting him to practice his penmanship than actually directing

"Santa" in his Christmas gifting.

Then, the hubs and I sat down to enjoy a few quiet moments while Dec worked on his list.

We smiled at each other.

(We thought his listing would take longer than it did.)

Within a minute, Dec waltzed in and handed us a list.

There was a snarky smirk on his face. It reminded me of my second oldest brother.

His list.

Dec's list.

We were eager to read it because he'd just started the fine art of writing, and we weren't sure he could EVEN SPELL THE NAMES of the toys he wanted.

The hubs and I huddled together. This was exciting.

We unfolded it and read together:

The list was short.

Just one thing?

Number 1. DSI

My first thought: Oh, he can spell it alright.

Second thought: Uh-Oh.

The hubs and I looked at each other.

We weren't entirely sure, but kind of certain, that a DSI

was a hand-held video gaming device.

I won't go into the boring details, but after many conversations Dec eventually learned that Santa wouldn't bring that to this house, so he may as well do a "Do Over" Christmas List.

(Which he did -and well.)

So yesterday, I sat upstairs typing up a press release for work and found myself having to shut down my laptop and just listen to Dec and his daddy play "Cars" downstairs.

They do a complete Piston Cup race, with each car talking/shouting in the appropriate

accent - and I?

I just crack up listening to them.

I just crack up.

Dec has spent countless hours with his cars and his wooden JENGA racetrack. He beelines for these toys when he enters the house and puts up a MAJOR FIGHT when he's asked to pack them up before bed.

3 dozen racecars, a racecar track, jenga pieces to make the race course, and 1 enthusiastic dad to make every wise-crack joke,

every funny 1-liner,

and the goofiest Mater voice any of us have ever heard.

Though Santa ignored Dec's (FIRST) XMAS list last year....

I know Santa made the right decision.

A DSI just can't come close to competing with these magical moments

Dec has had with his simplest toys,

his wild imagination,

and his one goofy daddy who

makes silly soundtracks for every skid-out, flat tire, checkered flag, draft, and course record.

A DSI just can't compete with this.

Not this year, at least.

summer hair

2011-07-17T08:18:00.001-04:00

guess who

What I Found.

2011-07-14T21:47:00.014-04:00

In the living room tonight, Declan and Nonie sleep side by side.

They are camping out.

In doors.

It is summer.

Isn't this what kids do in the summer?

Sleep in different places, and giggle with each other while they feel special about sleeping in exciting and usually off-limits places?

At least, this is what my kids do in the summer.

Just for kicks I took their glowsticks from the freezer (which had been there since the concert the other night) and hung them to the light fixture above them for instant summertime ambience.

It is in the dim glow of fading light sticks, that I'm taking time to reassure my babies that I am with them while they fall asleep in this new and mysterious place.

I pause to think about how, in the future, there will be many new and mysterious places they choose to rest their heads - and I won't with them, to stand guard over them, 4 steps away.

Also, I am using the quiet time to

download my camera. It has been a while.

401 pics to be an exact count of how long the long while has been.

Without further ado, here is a sampling of what I found:

sunny sunflowers growing along the white picket fence - a sure sign that summer is here

at long last.

surfer girl brushing her teeth in front of her

favorite audience and biggest fan.

cousins sharing secrets at the seashore.

fathers standing guard.

little rascals getting herded for a group shot.

no comment.

the hubs, hiding from my lense -

oh I'll find you every time my dear.

the best we could do.

after a few seconds of jostling around, the youngest ended up at the bottom...
like a tiny grain of sand.

and I agree with the look on her face - it ain't fair.

hand holding.

a daughter's sparkle.

we weren't even playing charades.

fences in bloom. 02539.
hats with personality.

anniedeux.

running bases played by the adult relatives. with one token youngster thrown in the mix.

average age of runners? 36.9

in my mind I call this picture "life is a game".

1/2 a picture.

1 story.

high five for granny.

t-shirt competition.

summertime silhouettes.

practicing for his first day of school.

practicing for his first day at school.

jumping in at mile 4.99.

celebrating at mile 5.0.

A treasure trove of memories.

What I found.

oh and as if you didn't notice - a very persistent smudge on my camera lense
yup, I discovered that too.

Old Friends.

2011-07-13T22:14:00.004-04:00

I have spent some good and long overdue (like decades overdue) time with old friends this summer.

Dec and Nonie are perplexed by the idea that mom has friends. Mom has "non-family-member" friends. Can't blame them really. Nearly 100% of their days and mine, are spent with family. It is unusual when we spend time outside our DNA circle.

Are you sure they are not our Aunts that we're visiting today? Dec queries on our long car ride to my college roommate reunion. Despite his initial hesitation, I think he was quite pleased to find that my old friends showered him with attention and warmth. So much so that by the end of the night it felt like they were family.

2 hours into the party, the 10 years we'd just spent apart from each other had dissipated.

3 hours into the party, the college style antics and banter had commenced.

Old Friends.

Just the other night, in the midst of her east coast whirlwind adventure - a dear friend originally from Australia and more recently from Maine crashed upon our quiet house and entertained the kids to no end. The children were so smitten with her every move. Dec even offered up his most prized Cars toy and Nonie tried to stand in the bathroom with her while she showered. On her way out the door and back up to Maine, each child tried to out-do the other by quickly drawing pictures for her and shoving them into the half empty duffle on the front porch.

Old Friends.

These short, but sweet summertime visits have reminded me that I don't need more friends.

I don't really need new friends.

What I do need is to make time for the friends I have.

They make me laugh (really, really hard).

Just a few minutes with them and I learn a lot. A ton. About myself.

We have so much in common.

Dear Old Friends,

I am grateful for you.

Sometimes in the Summertime....

2011-07-07T19:42:00.009-04:00

Sometimes

in the Summertime....

it is too hot for "real PJs" so I dress the kids in Daddy's big t-shirts.

Sometimes

in the Summertime...

our quick trip to say "goodnight to the lake" is the opposite of quick.

Sometimes we forget to say "goodnight to the lake" because we're so caught up
catching up with our neighbors.

And, sometimes

in the Summertime...

I swing by my sissa's house and grab "the" (her) Costco card so that I can pretend I'm her for the
afternoon.

And sometimes, before I leave her casa, I pull open the fridge door with the hopes that I'll find a
refreshing bevvie inside.

Sometimes

in the Summertime...

I not only find a refreshing bevvie inside (a lemon fresca), but

I also find a salted caramel too.

Sometimes

in the Summertime...

I pause and feel REALLY FULL FREE AND HAPPY about my summertime sometimes.

How to mother a jar of coins.

2011-07-07T15:23:00.000-04:00

Just hours ago I set off on an All-American morning of errands. Wal-mart, laminating at work and earring shopping. But first, to the bank to cash in ~2 years of Eric and my coin jar collection. It's a big jar. Like, if you think the costco bin of pretzels is a big jar, imagine it filled with coins.
Well, actually, you don't have to imagine.

Ok, off we go, the money jar and I, tucked safely under the seat next to me as we drive along, then I haul it into the bank, visible strain on my face. It's a big bank, huge lobby. The one giving us $$$$$ (+$$$$) for our house tomorrow (and the next 30 years). I should have thought more about impressions.
Well anyway, over I go to trade in my bounty only to hear a teller gently say from across the lobby "Unfortunately the coin machine is down". Surely I couldn't have heard him right. So I make eye contact with the far off voice. Yup, he's looking at me. And my coins. "But the one at the Pearl Street location is working" (this means hardly anything to me at this point, as I have safely gotten the jug this far and am not sure how much longer I can be trusted with it without a) dropping it b) it falling over while driving or c) having it stolen, admittedly not the easiest grab, but still).
To regain my dignity I sashayed (it's hard to imagine that I sashayed given the weight of the coins, but I think I did, or tried to. Which actually might have appeared as more of a limp) right on over to Mr. Bad News and say, well as long as I'm there can I get an account balance.
Actually, I was going to do that anyway but he didn't know that!
Well I get the balance which must have seemed funny because in that account is all the money that we're paying tomorrow (plus hopefully a little extra) and that's not a little bit of money, at least to me. And then here I am with my coins.
Account with lots of money.
Jar filled with coins from between the sofa cushions.

Off we go, my coins and I, next stop Wal-Mart and I was quite unprepared for this. I'll be honest with you, we were worried (the coins and I) to leave such treasures in the car whilst I ran in for some cleaning supplies for tomorrow's Ultimate Scrubdown.
So I buried the jar, you know, under a pile of things that were in the car. I know each and everyone of you reading could also bury a jug of coins under useless car accessories. You could probably bury your children, too. So don't judge.
Well I buried my coins and did what any level-headed nervous wreck would do in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I found the nicest car I could and parked right behind that.

It was a Lexus, if you're wondering.

Me: 1

Wal-Mart parking lot coin stealing thieves: 0

This story is getting a bit long and let me be straight with you, I'm getting sick of telling it. So here's the rest. We get to the next bank. The coin machine works! And then stops working. And then works again! So now instead of hauling around coins I'm hauling around cash which I am desperately wanting to spend on my earrings but I don't know that the Mister would really appreciate that, so I didn't. I mean, I still got my earrings so don't worry about that.

I know you are just chomping at the bit to know what we're going to spend all that moo-la on so I'll just give you a hint.

Friday night:

My Mister

A carpet shampoo machine

and pizza hut.

Stay tuned.

sneak peak at a messy apartment

2011-07-06T18:40:00.000-04:00

There's nothing glamorous about living in a stuffy ol' apartment 2 days before closing on a new house.

There are boxes everywhere and when I feel like I'm done with something for a while I just throw it in one of the boxes. I'd say they're strategically placed for that purpose but really they're just everywhere so I could pretty much throw anything anywhere at anytime and it would land in one of my boxes. It's a bit funny to have this flexible deadline for being switched into the new place. Drake is confused and follows me around. That's him sleeping on the rug from his crate, which is set up on the back deck because who can be bothered with things like that inside. But I didn't want the carpet to get wet in the rainstorm. So that's that.
There is zero rhyme or reason.
Here's what I'm going to show up with at the closing:
a carpet shampoo machine (I hope)
some scrubbing supplies
2 stools that I have to retrieve from my classroom
the dog
sleeping bag and pillow
toothbrush
# to the nearest pizza place.
I think that should do it. That might even be over packing. Really all I need is Drake and the pizza number. We'll see what else fits in the car.

Did you know that I have been dreaming of an orange bathroom for about 2 years?

Except I think I'd do wainscoting on the lower half of the wall and then orange up top. I can seem mom rolling her eyes. IT'S OK. I don't think I'll pull the trigger quiet yet. I think the bathroom would need to be really small.
Here's what I'm picturing though...
bathroom

kitchen

See, no orange. So relax.

The flower's shadow.

2011-06-29T22:18:00.008-04:00

When I took this picture today...

I was at work.

I missed Nonie desperately.

I had to time it just right, because the wind was blowing, and the shadow was hard to catch.

When I took this picture I was walking with a man who retired from our organization 2 weeks ago after 2 1/2 decades of work on the land. Yesterday, he closed on the house he built with his bare hands. Tomorrow he moves to a condo an hour away.

I was kneeling in white linen pants in dirt.

I didn't know the name of the flower.

When I took this picture I was hungry.

And sad.

For Nonie,

and for my co-worker.

When I look at the picture now,

I can just hear the wind

that moved the canopy of leaves,

to allow the sunlight,

that made the flower's shadow appear.

Tight Lines.

2011-06-26T10:21:00.021-04:00

When I was a little girl,

I set off on a fishing outing with my brothers and remember

Hearing someone call after us "Tight Lines!!! Hope you have Tight Lines..."

I can also remember the day, many years (decades even) later,

when I actually understood

what that Tight Lines Fish Wish meant...

When your line is tight...

it means...

you've got a bite.

PS: Happy Birthday Ginga, I love you.

No more teachers, no more books....

2011-06-25T21:22:00.003-04:00

No more work for the summer?

I wish.

Every year about this time, I get a pit in my stomach.

Or maybe it's an itch in my brain.

Whatever it is, it tells me:

"Quit your job, summer's here and you need to be OFF".

This is an annoying little voice.

But it is also a great reminder to me to slow down.

And try to embrace the best parts of summer, the ones that make me want to drop everything and revert to being a child.

I think I write about this every year, it's like the magic of Christmas or the February blues. The thoughts that go by the wayside when the season has past, then come flooding back, taking over your thoughts upon its return.

But I will not quit my job, (maybe school nurse though)?

I will try my best to continue the summer traditions that I love with my family.

So far I have done my best to:

- eat lots of ice cream

- ride bikes

- stay up late (X finds this very easy)

- go to the candy store

- get lots of bug bites

- eat blueberries

- smile, laugh

and of course,

catch fireflies.

So, this is why I don't diet.

2011-06-25T07:51:00.000-04:00

First of all I must give a large props to KWheels for successfully cleansing for multiple days.
This is how the cleanse went up in VT...
Day negative one:
   Buy the ingredients.
   Hands in ladies. We can DO this.
   Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream.
Day one:
6:45 I wake up and take the bull by the horns. Lemons, syrup, cayenne pepper and water. TASTES   GREAT!!
7:00 Granny wakes up. "Just have to have my cup of tea before I start."
7:30 Where's T? Hiding in bed so as to avoid unnecessary evils awaiting her cup.
8:30 Let's all fill up and be ready for the morning. Whew! This is great! Meet back here at noon for lunch. (Yum lunch)(Oh, just for the kids)(**#@@*!)
10:00 Me driving to Big Lots (sorry K) thinking that my first bite tomorrow will be one out of a honking bagel. Maybe even the first of two bagels. Uh oh, I'm getting hungry.
11:45 T leaves a message reminding me of her and Emah's trip to DQ on MV with the 3 heavy ladies smoking ciggs talking about the sand they got stuck up their you know whats. Voices and all. I am laughing. I am also really craving a blizzard. With snickers. I'll just have A wheat thin. That should hold me over.
   12:15 Bible campers come home to an enormous lunch of fresh bread, cheese and turkey. TEMPERS ARE FLARING (from me). Gran eating a smoothie. That looks good, too. Tese falls off the wagon and pulls me off with her. Just a few bites of bread, cheese and turkey. Then I'll get back on. Lemon, cayenne pepper and syrup. Mmm. Pancakes.
   Afternoon: Enjoy a few more wheat things to satiate the temper. Oh, and hunger. This is getting hard.

Phone call from KWheels. "I AM INTO MY SECOND DAY AND LOVING THIS!!! I FEEL GREAT!! I'M NOT EVEN HUNGRY!!! I MIGHT DO THIS EVERYDAY FOREVER!! I AM MAKING MEALS AND SNACKS FOR THE KIDS AND I DON'T EVEN WANT A BITE!!!" Me: "She's lying." Lemon, syrup, cayenne pepper by the pool. Gals and kids go to library then market for dinner supplies (I cannot be trusted). Come home with potatoes, salmon, snap peas, more bread (?). Lemon, syrup, cayenne pepper for me while they're out (would turn out to be my last).

6:00 Kids elbows deep in salmon. Phew, don't like fish anyway. Snap peas (discovered I'm allergic) and potatoes (well, just a helping for me).

Well there you have it. By the next morning I have completely sworn of lemons if not in lemonade, syrup if not on pancakes and cayenne pepper just ever, ever, ever, no.

I'm sure if I called up K right now she's be mixing up a big ole glass.
But a smile on her face?
Well,
I'd have to see it to believe it.

Sista.

It's not every day you have chickens in your kitchen.

2011-06-24T21:51:00.005-04:00

"It's not every day you have chickens in your kitchen."

I said this phrase to Dec and Nonie many times during the past four days.

I mean, it is almost every day that we have chicken in our kitchen.

But, it's not every day that we have chickens in our kitchen.

I can't figure out why I liked saying this so much.

And the kids, they never complained about me saying it.

Perhaps because it rhymed? (Poet didn't know it.)

So we got home from the WHIRLWIND COUSIN END OF YEAR CELEBRATION...

and Dino, Wilma, Betty, and Diamond had moved on up

"Moving on up...

To the east side (to the east side)....
To a deluxe apartment in the sky (oh yes the sky).....
They're movin on up (movin' on up)
To the east side (oh, the east side)
They finally got a piece of the pie............

Now they get to see how the other half lives.

I bet you that....

Granny will spoil them.

Because she's good at spoiling itty bitty fluffy lovey things like babies and chicks.

And I admit that I

miss them.

and

am sad to see them go because I no longer get to stroll about the house pecking out the words....

"chickens in our kitchen.."

(Though it still rolls off my tongue).

It just doesn't work anymore.

Today so far...

2011-06-20T13:59:00.004-04:00

You serenaded me with an unrecognizable song.

You did downward dogs on Granny's mat on the front lawn...

shouting "Namaste" to neighbors and the house sparrows who fluttered by.

You've asked for an icey pop about 30 times. For the record, it is 2:02PM and

I've yet to give in to your demands. Go me.

When coaching you in gymnastics, I convinced you to sit on my lap for a few

fleeting moments, and I called you my baby and the prettiest girl in the world.

You got dressed for the day at about 11Am. It was a cute button-up dress and remarkably,

you put it on with the buttons up the back, not the front.

I'm still not sure how you succeeded in doing this.

Then, you ate your lunch naked because we didn't want to ruin your pretty dress.

Now your body and mouth are both stained in tomato sauce red.

So, to compliment the face stains, I painted your toes hot pink.

No hairdo yet - it is wild and free, just like you.

You waved goodbye to the big schoolbus driver this morning.

And didn't welcome Dec off the bus this afternoon. Instead, when he dared to touch the cup

of chocolate milk on the outside table on the way into the house after school, you

greeted him with an enthusiastic and fierce: "my chocolate milk, Dec that is MY CHOCOLATE MILK PUT IT...DOWN DECKY!!!!"

and you tried to hit him in the head with a red wooden block (but missed, thankfully).

Oh Nonie.

Nonie Nonie Nonie.

So far

today.

The night the strawberry drizzle fell on my head...

2011-06-17T07:17:00.000-04:00

Two nights ago when I walked into the end of the year dinner, the vice principal made a comment about me being such a fashion plate.

"What's that, J.Crew page 7?" He asked.

If only he knew I stopped being about to afford J.Crew years ago.

Later in the evening after we filled our bellies with steak (but before the waitress poured the strawberry sauce from the cheesecake all over my hair) the president of the board went around to each person in the room and said something about that person. It was a toast/roast depending on how well she knew the certain lady or gentleman. Most of the words were kind, misting the toast-ees eyes, speaking of their deep faith and commitment to the school and the children. I wondered what she would say about me. I didn't have any of her children or grandchildren (yes she has both in the school) in my class and so what could she know? The Wednesday sighting on lunch duty, the day she followed me around the school begging me to go eat the teacher's appreciation lunch (leftovers) outside in the windy parking lot, because I was secretly just trying to eat my yogurt in a quiet classroom.
I'd call it a roast, I suppose. As she started off by saying she couldn't believe the administration had hired a 13 year old to run a class of students. (You know, when I was 18 I minded that, now that I'm nearing the next decade I can appreciate the laugh). She went on to say something about how I can manage a classroom with the snap of a finger (I do run a tight ship) or something equally as impressive, and one or two other things before she got to the meat of it. When she switched gears and said above all, despite all those things, what she really admires about me are my accessories. The chiffon flowers and the peacock feather headpieces.
My accessories.
Luckily, for her case, I had chosen lovely coordinated earrings and bracelet for my teal dress. My bag matched, too.
So I got it. And you know what, I do put effort into it.
But maybe what she REALLY meant is that I accessorize the students with hope and patience. I accessorize their brains with a thirst for knowledge and their hearts with the love of self, others and God. I accessorize their dinner conversations with Drake stories or butchered sayings, about teaching men to fish and broken clocks being right twice a day.
I put effort into that, too. I know it doesn't go unnoticed. I am a type A perfectionist from my classroom to my jewelry. I am not done here because I haven't done my best here.
I know my teaching
and my outfits
aren't perfect.

Yet.
But you know I'll try. And when I get there, you know, to perfection, maybe I'll move on. Go somewhere else and start from scratch, climbing my way up the latter from newbie to veteran.
One well accessorized outfit at a time.

Email Exchange With A Sister (aka New Home Owner), June 16, 2011

2011-06-16T21:13:00.002-04:00

----- ORIGINAL Message ----
From: Older Sister
To: Younger Sister (still glowing from purchase of new home)
Sent: Thu, June 16, 2011 8:00 PM
Subject: NEED YOUR ADDRESS

(no content in body of email)

From: Younger Sister
To:Older Sister
Sent: Thu, June 16, 2011 8:50 PM
Subject: Re: need your address

Now? I just bought a new house but we haven't moved in yet.
Are you not aware? This is the biggest buzz-kill in the world to send my current address when all I want to type to you is my NEW, NEW, NEW address.

Fine. Here it is:

1234 Old Address

Boring Town, USA

On Jun 16, 2011 9:10 PM, "Older Sister" wrote:

okay,
just addressed two letters to you that have been smooshed in my bag for 2+weeks.
sending up bday present (what you asked for) in mom's car.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXO,
K

did you get that? it was a double X O at the end.

From: younger sister (aka NEW HOME OWNER)
To: older sister
Sent: Thu, June 16, 2011 9:12:14 PM
Subject: Re: need your address

Got it. XX back. Don't remember asking for anything.... Should be a fun surprise. Xoox

Re: need your address

From:	Older Sister
To:	Younger Sister (owner of a cute yellow house)

if you don't remember asking for it

then you probably bought it for yourself by now.

I love you.

Do it right.

2011-06-15T21:46:00.003-04:00

If there were ever a time to dare,

To make a difference

To embark on something worth doing

IT IS NOW.

Not for any grand cause, necessarily –

But for something that tugs at your heart

Something that is worth your aspiration

Something that is your dream.

You owe it to yourself

To make your days count.

Have fun. DIG DEEP. Stretch.

Dream big.

Know, though,

That things worth doing

Seldom come easy,

There will be times when you want to

Turn around

Pack it up and call it quits

Those times tell you

That you are pushing yourself

And that you are not afraid to learn by trying.

Persist.

Because with an idea,

Determination and the right tools,

You can do great things.

Let your instincts, your intellect

And let your heart guide you.

TRUST.

Believe in the incredible power

Of the human mind

Of doing something that makes a difference

Of working hard

Of laughing and hoping

Of lasting friends

Of all the things that will cross your path

Next year

The start of something new

Brings the hope of something great.

Anything is possible

There is only one you

And you will pass this way but once.

DO IT right.

- AU

On, Why We Relayed.

2011-06-13T23:15:00.023-04:00

Three days ago, my family relayed.

Boy, did we relay.

And I'm happy to report, Nonie can relay with the best of them

We relayed for Stan and Nan, of course.

Two of the best of the best.

But, throughout the night, our hearts opened up. Our original tears for Stan and Nan, gave way to big, salty, stingy tears for Others.

Most, we'd never even met.

We relayed for all that we don't understand.

About cancer....

about life.

And, we relayed for the little boy

there in all the dusty and sunshine-filled corners of our world asking us to explain

that which we don't understand.

We relayed for friendship.

We relayed for those friends who don't have our matching shirt to morph them into our team.

And for those friends, who will wear the team shirt with oodles of pride if

only given the honor.

There is so much that we relayed for.

But as we flip through our pics from the memorable and emotional evening we realize that....

Above all,

we relayed for love.

And, we especially relayed for...

the mother-less children in the crowd

and the child-less mothers in heaven.

This is why we relayed.

When play finds us.

2011-06-12T22:07:00.018-04:00

Sometimes, our play is organized.

"Decky doo, go get your racket!!!!"

Sometimes, we drive really far to watch others play...
"Hey daddy, how long is 20 more minutes?"

Our drive is so far, in fact, that we are obligated to stop in Mystic for ice cream cones.
Happy to report that more ice cream now goes in (the mouth) than on (the clothes).

And the players who play? They are the best in the world.
"Ole, ole, ole, ole...."

We play around in the car during the long drive home.
okay, Mommy and Dec play, Nonie practices her anti-cavity regime.

We play with Fred.
Have you met him yet? He is Nonie's soul-mate.

And speaking of Nonie, she plays too.
"Mom watch, Mom watch me, Mom do you see me? I summersalted"

Oh buttercup will play.
All day, if you let her.

Of course, all that playing works up an appetite!
How bizzzzaaarrrre (as in ice cream & candy).

Sometimes. We don't even TRY to play.
Really, we don't - we just jump off rocks.

But then, play just finds us.

So, here's to all things al fresco and summer.

And here's to letting play find you.

onomatopoeia

2011-06-07T20:54:00.007-04:00

I came home tonight to a formal note from the health department at the school warning of an outbreak of coxsackie - you know, hand-foot-mouth-disease. Awesome, I thought, as I flipped the notice into the recycling bin.

Anyway, just that word: coxsackie, makes me cringe a little.

Could we all just agree now that coxsackie sounds like its meaning?

Admittedly, fizz & hiss are better examples of onomatopoeia, but I think coxsackie is right up there.

For those still reading, the real highlight of the evening was coming home to these incredible eyes, this scattering of cute freckles, and this huge heart that sometimes spews forth passion and emotion that can bowl and unassuming mother right over.

Which leaves me with the point to all this:

Coxsackie?