Even in a Subdivision

It's no secret that in my ideal life I'm living on 10 acres of property where dogs and children roam free, make tire swings, dam up creeks, and climb high into trees.

My ideal dreams do not ever delve into the resulting chiggers, water snakes or the time it would take to maintain such property.  So, the ideal reigns supreme.

The reality is far different.  We live in a clipped and manicured subdivision with a list a mile long of all the things one must never do to violate homeowner association policies.

I love my house to bits . . . spacious, light and airy, perfect floor plan.  My setting . . . well, I do chafe a little.

So, I'm effusively thankful that there are ways that my kids can still interact with nature . . . even in a tightly controlled subdivision.

There are the woods not so far away, a small creek that actually has running water when it rains and a pond across the street.

A pond in which to find tadpoles and turtles of all sizes and designs

And lately turtles have been all the rage.

Oh, the scurrying when a little head peeks above the water.

The evaluating of the catches.

The pouring and combining of buckets.

The execution of water quality control.

The mad dash of the specimen inspection committee.

And the inspecting itself.  Amazing one-on-one investigation of awesome creation.

And can I even begin to express my delight that this is the current footwear of choice?

p.s.  All turtles were returned safely to their pond habitat at the end of the day's activities!

The Day I Was Waiting For

I have always loved to read.

Maybe too much.

Maybe some of it was escaping to the more fascinating worlds of Jo March or Anne or the Little Colonel.

Unfortunately, this love of the other worlds to which books are an entryway never so infected Youngest Daughter.

We would be reading along in the intriguing mystery of Sarah Witcher, and I'd ask her about where Sarah might be, and she would respond, "Oh, are they looking for her??"  ::sigh::  Yes, dear.  The whole point of the book.

Or we'd finish reading aloud the heartbreaking section where Charlotte dies, to the great anguish of Wilbur, and she'd say, "Is Charlotte the lamb?"  What??  

Books just weren't drawing her in.  They were a mild, annoying buzzing in the already intriguing world of her own thoughts.

Until today.  

Today, ah today!  The wonderful, splendid, shining day when at last a book drew my child in.

She was dutifully reading along about a young boy's dog, when (without the boy's knowledge), the dog slipped out of the parked car's rolled-down window and ran away.

What???  The dog was lost?

The chapter ended.

And they (oh joy of joys), I heard the words, "We can't stop here!!  I HAVE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS!!"  

Really??  Really??  The book held your attention?  You want to read more?

Yes, really!!  She really did. 

She read and then  . . . flipped . . . another . . . page!!

And read . . . and flipped another page.  

Where was the dog??  What would happen??

At last the dog showed up . . .

. . . albeit in the bed of the wrong truck.

But what's to worry about?  He had showed up again on the pages of the book, making it very possible that by the end he would wend his way back to his proper owner.

Right??

Will he???  Aaaah, you can never tell.

(Please, oh please, may there be another cliffhanger tomorrow!!)

Perfect Storm

It's a perfect storm that's been brewing all summer. 

I should have thought when in the early '90s I had my first 2 children 20 months apart and my next 2 18 months apart, that not only would the early years of multiple diapers, car seats and sippy cups be difficult (multiple baby challenges condensed) but the transfer to adulthood would be difficult as well (multiple growing up challenges condensed).  Oh my heart.

It all started when this one decided to leave the warmth of home and go live in the dorms at college, chose a roommate and started her first job.  Wobbling in heart began.  Slight emotional instability.

This was followed up by Child #2, who traveled all summer on basketball teams, lived at the gym, made new friends, and will soon turn 18 and enter his senior year in high school.  Increased heart palpitations.  Feeling a little panicked around the edges.

And then, Child #3 (who in this picture looks like a bad kid but is really a good kid) got his driver's license and essentially drove away from home for the summer.  I mean he's always been gone a lot in the summer, but the wheels let him go a little further . . . without me taking him.  Enter full-on anguish.  And by yesterday the full throes of tears and morbid moping about.

Dratted kids!!  You love 'em so much, they about rip a giant hole out your heart as they start to leave.  I thought Bill Cosby said this was going to be easy!









Summer Badminton

It's a roasting hot day out on the courts. 

The fans hold their breath as the badminton set moves into action.

The birdie is served.

 

It is gracefully returned.

 

Even with lightning quick reaction time and the flexibility of a ballerina, the birdie slips past.

Team One once again waits for the serve.

And easily flicks it back.

The crowd goes wild!!

Post-Easter Thoughts

#1 - Having both yours and your husband's church volunteering responsibilities converge on one day, and that day being Easter, will not serve to make for a calm and peaceful holiday.  It might, indeed, result in your husband and the older kids eating at Ruby Tuesday's while you and your younger child serve in the church nursery, entertaining 2 year-olds who had too much candy before coming to the 3rd service.

#2 - Hiding Easter eggs inside the house is a sure way to find all the nooks and crannies of the house that have not been cleaned in the last year . . . or two.

#3 - This may be the last year for this particular child to hunt for his Easter basket.  He's 12.  I know how the eagerness pales with each progressive march into the teen years.  ::sniff::  As you grow up, things change!  But for this year, he was still eager!

(No, Youngest Son, you do not need to look through the clean 

laundry sitting on the living room couch to find your Easter eggs!)

#4 - I am very happy that I still have a little one that gets positively ecstatic about Easter.  There is definitely joy to be had in having babies after 40!!

(Wait . . . a tattoo on this child's arm?  At Easter?  How did that clear morning inspection?)

#5 - Apparently the brilliant engineer who designs Christmas lights so that the wiring disintegrates as the lights are stored in the attic over the summer and subsequently brings millions of Americans to tears of frustration approximately one month before Christmas has now been assigned to designing Easter eggs.  

Easter eggs with a little plastic hinge that joins top and bottom.  Easter eggs that cannot be snapped closed except by holding down one's left thumbnail against the egg's bottom lip, squeezing the egg top together while inserting into the egg bottom at a 45 degree angle, bumping the rounded egg bottom with one's right knee, and pressing at exactly 11 pounds of pressure both upward and downward on egg top and bottom with the heels of both hands. 

Youngest daughter and I worked hard to fill the eggs for the baskets and the hunt.  The teens of the house may have acted like they weren't interested in Easter goodies, but they all waited like famished lions pacing outside a wildebeest lair as we worked on filling, sequestered inside the large master bathroom.

We had about 10 kinds of candy, split into even piles of 5 (1 pile per kid) and we filled the appropriate color of each uncooperative egg for each child.

As we filled, we thought mean thoughts about the Easter egg engineer and muttered mild epitaphs at him/her under our breath.

Or at least I did.

Of course, buying 220 made-in-China eggs for $10 at Wal-Mart the night before Easter may have also been part of the problem.  Sometimes you just get what you pay for.

In March???

Can you imagine the delight . . .

Of two girls . . . 

That can play in the sprinklers . . .

In March???

Learning Flexibility

There's something to be said about large families and flexibility.  I'm going to believe that learning flexibility in a large family is a good thing so I don't completely go over the edge in guilt over my failure to keep my good intentions.

Case in point was the Valentine's Day baking with Youngest Daughter.  Here is the timeline:

February 13th - I promise to make Valentine's sugar cookies with Youngest Daughter.  We make the dough, chill the dough, and then she trots off to bed with the promise of baking them tomorrow.

February 14th - After dinner, cookies are cut and baked.  While cookies are baking, I run to the upstairs to handle a crisis, missing the beeping of the timer.  Cookies are remembered about the time they are the color of weathered wood.  Youngest Daughter trots off to bed with the promise of trying again tomorrow.

February 15th - Youngest Daughter once again anticipates the baking of the Valentine's cookies.  The calendar now says we are one day past Valentine's day.  After dinner, Older Brother #1 remembers he needs Mom to take him to the store for an item that must be purchased before the next morning's class.  Youngest Daughter trudges off to bed with the promise of trying again tomorrow.

February 16th - Cookie baking is once again anticipated after dinner, at which time Older Brother #2 has an algebraic meltdown, swears he cannot remember one thing for the test tomorrow, and requires mom's attention for 2 hours of angst-filled studying.  Youngest Daughter rolls her eyes as she is promised that we will try again tomorrow.

February 17th - The dough is finally made for the second time and chilling in anticipation of baking.  After dinner, Mom must leave for football registration.  Youngest Daughter begins to make plans for the baking of cookies in the year 2013.

February 18th - The happy day of baking finally arrives.  The calendar now says that we are 4 days past Valentine's Day.  Youngest Daughter does not care.  The day involves a friend, gooey pink frosting, 12 different types of sprinkles and pale, creamy cookies glittered, goo-ed, and glopped within an inch of their lives.  Youngest Daughter slips off to bed knowing that some things in life are, indeed, worth waiting for.

Either that, or she is planning her first appointment with her therapist.

Can I Be Thankful on Valentine's Day?

There it was right on the teacher's web site when I pulled it up at 11:30 p.m. on Sunday night.

"Please bring valentines for your classmates on Monday.  Remember those sweet bags we made last week?  Well Monday we are going to fill them up with valentines from all of you."

Unbelievable.  Valentines needed first thing in the a.m.  No time to shop.  Valentine-less child not an option.  ("All of you" does not mean "all of you except Youngest Daughter.")

So, even though it is not the 4th Thursday of the month of November, I would like to express my thankfulness on this day-before-Valentine's-Day.

*  I am thankful that in my distant past I thought I was a scrapbooker.

*  I am thankful that 2 weeks ago I hid these dye-free lollipops high in the cupboard because the children appeared to be eating them instead of their 3 meals a day.

* I am thankful that while digging through a craft box I found small cellophane bags from a craft so far in the distant past that its memory completely escapes me.

* I am thankful that I bought the red curly ribbon giant jumbo roll at Target instead of the small, do-one-gift-only mini roll.

* I am thankful that since Valentine's Day specializes in sappy, corny sentiments I didn't have to try to be clever.

* I am thankful that under great emotional strain Middle Son agreed to plop all the lollipops head down in the cellophane bags.

* I am thankful that Youngest Daughter was willing to be 5 minutes late to school and help me tie red curly ribbon while waiting in the car.

* I am thankful that I have gotten through another school event without the teacher ever finding out how very much this mom doesn't have it together.

The Good and the Bad of the Signs of Spring

I do feel quite guilty rejoicing over the signs of a coming spring!!  After all, here in the South we've had a very mild winter.  Our neighbors from Buffalo, New York scarcely can bring themselves to call it winter.  I can see them trying to keep the chuckle out of their eyes on the several days where the weather hits freezing.

But, still, when those first daffodils pop their heads up, it's all I can do to keep from squealing, jumping up and down, and ordering bathing suits.

And then there are these shoes, fresh from Target for Youngest Daughter.

If those don't just announce spring and start you packing up your wooly sweaters!

There is, of course, another side to the signs of spring.  And that would be the spring fever that gets in to teen-aged boys when the weather starts to warm and the daffodils start to bloom and the flowery shoes start to show up in Target.  It's the fever that assures them that now that it is warm, surely school is over, surely the play time of summer has begun.

Do you see the child above trying to look diligent?  Five minutes before this picture was taken, he was hurling a pen at the cork board to see if it would stick, wrestling his brother, petting the dog, gazing empty-eyed out the front window.  Not addressing the matter of the comparative and superlative forms of an adjective.

Spring Fever!

I hate to tell you, my dear, but you had better close your eyes to the daffodils, ignore the warm breezes blowing up onto the front porch, and turn a deaf ear to the chirping of the birds.  We've got all of February, March, April, and May yet to go.

Cute Cupcakes!

If life was perfect . . . or maybe if I was two people instead of just one . . .

Then when birthday times came, I would make dreamy cupcakes with jaunty little buntings on top of them . . . or decorated to look like little be-whiskered bunnies . . . or elegantly piped, sparkled and jeweled within an inch of their lives.

But life is not perfect . . . and I am only one person.

So, this year when it came time for Youngest Daughter's birthday, I was so glad that a friend had given her the most adorable box of "Cute Cupcakes" decorations.

I could feel the stress of making the perfect cake un-knot itself from my shoulders, as Youngest Daughter's delight in creating her own cupcakes became our new birthday focus.

Love the vintage feel in the colors.  The swirls the polka dots, the sweet little picks.  The fun of doing it all by yourself.

They went to school the next day . . . simple white cupcakes, simple white frosting, beautiful wrappers, sweet picks.

And a happy birthday girl who had made it all by herself!

Let's hear it for simple!