Boxed In.

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.

All She Keeps

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.

on conditional love

There is a chance I might be addressing the wrong crowd here
please excuse my rudeness.
I blame my insincerity on the lack of motherhood my life's resume.

It's just, sometimes I don't get kids. And sometimes, gosh, sometimes they bug me.
Is that okay to say?

I just wonder how you do it? As a mother? Because when my day is over all those kids who stared at me
and said my name over and over
and asked me questions they already knew the answer to
and made a mess on the floor
and didn't pick it up
at the end of my day they leave. And that's when I breathe.

And I come home and run with the dog and I shower and put on my pj's. I watch the news and get carried away in "open in new tab" world for minutes (hours) on end. I read my book and go to bed when I'M tired.

I love them. I do. They are sweet and growing and changing and caring and excited about life.
But at 2:40

they are gone.

And sometimes that makes me love them more.

Things that Simon Doesn't Say

I carry props.

Cars.

Colors.

ChooChoos.

Money for video games.

I am prepared to entertain my little one when venturing out to a restaurant.

But when there are 8 children. That takes on a whole new bag of tricks.

So I called out to start a game of Simon Says.

To entertain the little ones and keep them from running amuck in the restaurant (no matter that some of their parents own the place, still need to have a sense of decorum).

Apparently either I NEED to be SIMON for all the rounds,

or kindergarteners who ride the BIG bus aren't allowed to lead the round.

Cause Simon NEVER says...

I'll Take Mine WITH Seeds. Please.

Where did seeded watermelons go?

It is now summer. Today. Finally.

Everyone knows that Summer & Watermelon go together like....

like...

Fine, I'll say it even though you were all thinking it:

Twigs & Berries.

(that was for all you brothers who DON'T read this blog).

Anyway. Why can't I find them?

Watermelons with seeds!

Seeded watermelons!

The seeds were always the best part.

If you find one, tell me.

I'm just a Stoweaway up here at GrannyCamp

but I do know a few wee ones I'd like to spit seeds with

(at).

Little Person spotlight #2

Another rainy, windy, gloomy, slumpy, frumpy, bumpy night.
Another cute little kid.



He's no ordinary boy, he is a wild bundle of fun. You might know him as Javier, or Chooch, or even fOx, I know him as the coolest pink helmet wearing kid in Sanibel. Though I suspect he's pretty cute in other places too.



Never one to miss a party, he is a guy who loves a good theme and prop. A munchkin after my own heart.



I won't hold it against him that it only took him 18 months to become a better skier than I am. It's just a part of the cycle.

Final verdict on the fOx: Pretty dern cute.
Best thing he gave me, and gave me, and gave me: Green flav-or-ice.
Things he likes that I don't like: Wearing a t-shirt, and nothing on bottom.
His favorite accessory from the FL house: Sweet cheeks rug.
As he put HIS sweet cheeks right on it.

Well done Emah!

Little Person spotlight #1

The thing about kids is, they're just little people.
Starting to figure themselves out.

I see hundreds every day.
I work with them closely.
I know what they like to eat and how they spend their time away from school.
But I don't have any emotional attachment to them.
I mean, some of them are cute.
But they're not my people.

When I get to see my little people I get to see the changes.
Relearn about them and who they've become since the last visit.
They are always changing.
ALWAYS cuter.
It's magic.

Here is a spotlight on one of my little people.

Lumpkins.

She likes to stick things on my head and then let me eat the crusts of her pb&j sandwiches.She lets me sit next to her in the way way back of the car and let Emah take pictures of us.
She rocks the house at bowling and doesn't even rub it in your face when she beats you. Like her dad does.

(I think that's a strike)

Final verdict on Lumpy: cool kid.
Best story she told: saving a kid on the playground.
Uncool thing she tried to do: give me a wedgie.
Cool thing she let me do: give her a big one.
What I didn't know about her before but do now: she doesn't like icing.
What she might be figuring out about herself: she's easy on the eyes (how does a first grader handle such revelations?!?)