Farewell Summer

The end of summer went out on a decided cold and rainy note.

We didn't get to much that was on our weekend wish list, with the exception of some fishing. Since our time at the lake, Gavin has been fancying himself an angler. Although the river was muddy and the day was overcast and chilly, he enjoyed his fishing time with his dad.

Autumn is seemingly upon us and truth be told, I'm happy about that. I'm happy about donning an extra layer in the form of a soft sweatshirt or sweater... and adding a heavier comforter to the bed. I'm happy that the garden is growing at a slower pace, almost as if it's waiting for me to catch up.

I did a little catching up this weekend and canned the first of our tomatoes. Seventeen pints in total. I think they look pretty. And I have to say that listening to the jars as they cool and pop is one of the most satisfying sounds.

They're difficult to see, but the little pink things on the right side of this picture are Ellie's toes. I just couldn't crop them out of the image. I love those chubby little feet. Ell enjoyed "helping" me clean and move the jars to the cellar. To tell the truth, I think she just liked all of the sound affects I was making each time she'd nearly drop a jar. I must have sucked all of the air out of the room at least twice.

So, summer is over. We're all ready for school to start tomorrow... Gavin was really getting bored. I know he'll have a great year at school. I think he'll be challenged and I'm excited to see what's in store for him.

Terms

I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that my house may not be as neat and tidy as I'd like it to be, for the foreseeable future. The little people seem to delight in the game, "Follow Behind Mommy and Undo the [insert cleaning term here]."

Meal time is especially trying.

Could someone tell me why meal time has to be so messy? I can't think of one single meal that can be prepared, served, eaten and cleared away without a mess of epic proportions. We had carrot sticks as a snack two days ago... and even those were messy! How can that happen?

Today, I gave in. Cupcakes. They ate. They spilled. They tossed crumbs to and fro... I say "crumbs" but with the two little ones, it's more like chunks. Both Ell and Benett have this really bad habit of putting anything they don't want to eat (or look at) on the floor. It. Drives. Me. Crazy.

Sweet Gavin isn't so messy... he won't let a crumb get away. He gobbles everything on his plate most days and then plays 'Feed the Dog' in order to get Benett to feed him things from someone else's plate. Ugh.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this. If you happen to stop by and notice that my house is a bit crumb-strewn, please just ignore it. I will be.

A Plan

We're making plans for our long weekend. Nothing elaborate... maybe just a nice combination of fun and relaxations.

Perhaps we'll even mix in a little bit of work to finish up a yard project or two... but only as long as the work doesn't come at the expense of the fun.

A few of the things on our agenda...
 > Trip to the beach
 > Selecting mums for our planters
 > Daydreaming and cloud gazing
 > Fishing
 > BLTs with fresh garden tomatoes
 > Bonfire and toasted marshmallows

We'll be soaking in this last bit of summer. Running through the grass, with bare feet and shoulders, filling our reserves with liquid sunshine. All to quickly the warm summer air will chased off by a crisp Autumn breeze.

Party

Birthday parties this year are taking on a simpler style. I'm quite sure what we'll cook up for Gavin's party yet... If you have any great ideas, let me know!

Since we celebrated part of Benett's birthday at the lake, and there were lots of cousins, we wanted to create a party that everyone could enjoy. A treasure hunt was just the thing. The older kids read the clues and everyone ran along, keeping things fast paced and fun. In the treasure box we had a bag for each child with small treats and toys.

To eat we made individual cakes in 1/2 pint canning jars. They were like cupcakes, only a little bigger, which was a hit with the boys. Sometimes a cupcake just isn't enough!

I made the cakes a few days in advance. While they were hot out of the oven, I put the lids on them to seal each cake. Then, just before the party we unsealed the jars, frosted and decorated each. The best part is that they were simple to make and were easy for big or little kids (and adults) to eat.

The decorations were very easy too. We created streamers by using a circle punch and sewing all of the resulting circles together. Easy!

We couldn't throw the long streamer away, so now it adorns Benett's bedroom walls. It adds a fun pop of color and is a great reminder of a fun day.

Aware

This chair was sitting by the dock, at the lake. It was perfectly situated under the shade of a large pine tree, and had an open view of the water.


I noticed this chair right away. It made me feel melancholy... a little like how I feel when reading The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein, to the little people.


The chair made me think of all the people who had rested in it's comfortable seat, enjoying a cool breeze and the lake view. Perhaps reading a newspaper while enjoying morning coffee... or readying hooks and lures for a day of fishing.


Years later, it now feels a little neglected. Full of character, most certainly, but sad and rusted at the same time. 


It's funny how a simple chair has the ability to make one more aware... and encourage an appreciation of the simple things. No matter how paint-chipped or rusted they may be.

Gray

My little Ellie is a fair child. Her hair is so blond and fine. On bright and sunny days it is so shiny that is almost seems to gleam. I catch myself frequently looking at her wondering how such a fair child could come from me. That's when I look at pictures of her father... she's all him.

My hair is dark and unruly and thick. Recently I've also begun to notice some gray hair. A few strands are beginning to silver, right where I typically part my hair. (Quite convenient, no?) Actually, the gray doesn't bother me so much. They add a little character to my plain hair. I feel a little like I've earned the gray. Like my experiences and life lessons have lead me to them.

My grandmother, in her 89 years has developed beautiful hair. The combination of black and silver is lovely and speaks of a life filled with moments... It's not covered over with anything false. It's true and real and makes me hope that my hair, and thus my life, will be filled with many moments as well.

What does bother me about graying is that it's most predominantly appearing in my eyebrows. I'm quite disturbed by my gray eyebrows. I'm not sure why, but these hairs grow overnight with the speed and ferocity that seems like it should wake me from my slumber.

Most mornings, I wake up only to find a two-inch gray hair shooting straight up, making me look like Martin Scorsese or Doc from Back to the Future. These hairs stick straight up or out or any which way they choose, making me look disgruntled until I can promptly remove the offending follicle. It's quite disturbing.

In the crazy eyebrow category I'm envious of my fair-haired daughter. Her delicate and dainty eyebrows will most likely never conspire to take over her face one hair at a time.

Intruder

The days are decidedly shorter. In order to get the chicken chores done before dark, our whole evening routine has been accelerated. Even so, the sun has usually set by the time I've finished up outside.

Tonight as I was wrapping up and getting ready to head up to the compost heap, I heard the dog growling. It was a low, yet insistent sound that grew more intense as I approached. That made me a bit nervous. You see, I've been expecting intruders since the gals arrived. They must smell irresistible to coyotes or raccoons or the like... so I've been on the lookout. And Jackson being the good protector that he is, I know he's been on the lookout as well.

Well on this dimly lit night, with the dog growling and the sun fully set, I figured the time had come. By the time I'd processed all this; the dog was jumping and barking. Lunging at the intruder. I grabbed a spade from the barn and headed over to see what he was after. I had an image of a big lumbering raccoon in my mind's eye.

As I walked closer and still couldn't see what the dog was after I became confused. By now Jackson is barking hysterically and slobbering profusely. With spade in hand I cautiously approached.... to find a toad.

Although the toad pictured above was found yesterday at Benett's birthday party, the offending party tonight wasn't much bigger. Apparently, to a dog in the waning light of a summer day, they look ferocious.

Three

All day long I've been looking at Benett and thinking about what was happening three years ago, at that particular moment. How we woke in the morning with no power... How the contractions felt at 10 AM... How they felt at 3 PM... How the epidural felt. How I told the anesthesiologist that I could kiss him.

I know that just before11 PM tonight I'll be recalling the same feeling I had three years ago at that same time... the feeling that my heart was now on the outside of my chest. That my life was forever changed. That this small person is my reason. My reason for everything.

It sounds very cliché, but he really has grown so fast. I look at him today and see this boy. A funny, smart, sweet little boy. He's not a baby any longer.

I've been there for as much as I could have in these three years... but I feel like I didn't soak it all in the way I should have. He's three already, but how did that happen? When did he grow up? I can't remember. I just can't recall... enough. I want to replay it all.

I know that if I did have the ability to rewind things, I would still have this feeling. I would still feel like I don't have enough. Like I've missed something... maybe something small. Maybe something really big and important... but something nonetheless.

Birthdays have become very bittersweet for me. That is probably true for all mothers. These days take us back... to reflect and feel. To think and love. To enjoy.

I love that the little boy who came much too quietly into the world three years ago, is now entirely too loud most of the time.

I love the boy that Benett has become. I miss the baby that he was. I look forward to enjoying what he will still become. And tomorrow I'll miss today... So I'll try even harder to commit as much of the now to memory. To take the time to relish each moment. The big moments as much as the small.

Sand

It was a beautiful afternoon and sitting inside, or being at home for that matter, didn't seem right. So we took the little people to a local park for a picnic and swimming.

There were no people there, we had the place to ourselves. The kids ran and played. Made sand castles and hauled pail after pail of water to make rivers and moats around their castles.

Ellie had a great time too... but her idea of a great time consisted mainly of eating sand. By the handful. Every time we'd turn around, she'd be licking sand off her lips and her cheeks would be full of the stuff. She'd then promptly run off, with a sand muffled giggle.

I just don't get it. How she can stand to have sand on her mouth, much less eat the stuff... it's beyond me... So Monte and I ended up taking turns on sand patrol.

That made her feisty.

Her feistiness makes me pray... mini prayer after mini prayer. I've got my hands full with her and she's not even two. I don't want to think about what's in store for me in the years to come.

Pause

Yesterday, late in the afternoon, we returned from our time at the lake. We had a nice time.

It was especially fun to see all of the cousins interacting. At many times, they seemed to act as one. Like a flock of birds, flitting from one thing to the next.

They boys spent most of their time in the water. Gavin just couldn't get enough of it. He'd jump off the dock and swim to the beach... over and over. They had so much fun, much of the time they couldn't be troubled to come in and eat.

Benett enjoyed the water too. He's much more cautious about it, but loved floating in the tubes nonetheless. He also played in the sand... hauling and driving his imaginary implements. I thought he'd enjoy collecting some of the mussel shells... but he did not like the shells. He didn't like walking by them, so I didn't even try to get him to pick one up.

Ellie was less fond of the water. She screeched the whole time I tried to pull her chubby legs through the openings in a floaty. Once she got in it and we started to wade in the warm water... feeling the ebb and flow of the lake... she relaxed. She smiled. But she would not let go of my finger.

Coming home from all of that activity was a let down. Even though I was ready to sleep in my own bed again, I felt that sadness too. Gavin was especially down in the dumps. He's such a vibrant boy... to see him like that was tough.

I just wanted so much to see him laughing and smiling again. But the mom in me paused. Making him smile would have made me feel better, and it might have made him happy in the moment. It may have even made him forget that he was blue. But he needed to be able to feel those real feelings. To be sad and know that those feelings are okay to feel, and to think about why he felt that way. It was a lesson for both of us.

We all awoke this morning rested. Ready to tackle the day, and happy to be home.

Magic

The water is like magic... it's like a potion for children that calls them to play and laugh and forget about everything else.

Forget about meals.

Forget about video games.

Forget about what it's like to not have water in the back yard at home.

It's a little bit of magic for us adults as well. It magically wears children out. Makes them hungry enough to eat their meal without complaint and to fall happily, sleepily into bed.

The children begged to be in the water, as soon as they opened their eyes  this morning. We managed to hold them off until 9:30... They stayed in the water until nearly 3:00 this afternoon. No lunch. No naps. No worries.  It was glorious. It was magic.

Planet

This was the scene from the deck this morning. It is so vastly different from home that it feels like being on another planet. A planet where obligations and commitments of the domestic nature are non-existant.

On this planet children are so excited about the day to come they hardly remember to fight.

On this planet the lake becons the boys to cast their lines... promising a catch if only they give back a bit of patience.

On this planet the fridge is filled with vacationy food and meals happen haphazardly.

On this planet the we're enjoying the now... and that is the little piece of this place that I'd like to take back with us when we return.

'Cmon Mom

We're hitting the road, this time with the children in tow. It's a huge task getting everyone, and their copious amounts of stuff, ready to go.

This process is has been a bit too lengthy for Benett. He's ready to go. Now. Right now. He can't wait a second longer.

"Okay, my darling-my dear. Let's get in the car. Will you be a quiet boy there?" (I know he won't, but I have to ask anyway...)

"Wave bye-bye, Benett. We're on our way!"

Fred

Fred Flintstone wasn't the cure-all we thought he'd be, for our little lint-eater.

Here she is selecting a particularly delightful bundle of fuzz from a wool blanket.

It's not uncommon to find her with a bundle of fuzz grasped firmly between her thumb and finger. Especially in the morning when we pluck her from her crib. More often than not, she has a little fuzz tumble weed in her hand or lost in her hair.

It's crazy. I think she knows that her habit is a little 'off.' Which is why she runs away when we catch her harvesting lint.

Miss Ellie is a healthy, vibrant little girl. I'm not concerned that her fuzz eating is a symptom of a greater issue. More than anything I think it's a.... colorful habit. (Literally.) But a habit that we need to move away from, nonetheless.

Fear not, Fred Flintstone. We haven't given up on you. We'll continue to purchase your candy vitamin product. After all, everyone loves you and if it helps Ell even a little bit, we're all in.

Moments

I knew there would be moments in my life, as a parent, that would be difficult. Teaching moments. Talking moments. Tough situations. Somehow, I thought these things would happen later... when my kids were older.

But since we don't get to decide when these opportunities present themselves, we have to roll with the punches. Try not to look surprised. Try to make the most of the situation.

Today Gavin learned a new word. A frightful word. A furious word. A foul word. A short word, with four little letters. A word that is easy for a smart seven-year-old to sound out. A word that was angrily scrawled into a picnic table on a play ground.

He knew it was wrong. His smart little brain told him he shouldn't say that frightful, furious, foul word aloud. Yet, he gave it flight as it formed in his mouth and floated from his lips... for all in his friends to hear.

The 'Gaggle' (group of girls in the daycare program who are inseparable and seem to speak and act as one unit) let the cat out of the bag... not to me directly, but without a doubt for my benefit. I could tell by the steely look in Gavin's eye... he was trying to tell them to quiet themselves without saying a word. Like glaring at most girls... it rarely works as intended.

I steadied myself. Took a deep breath and began the conversation. He didn't want to say that word as much as I didn't want to hear him say it. He panicked. But with tears in his eyes we had a conversation. It was a moment to show him that the space between us is safe. We can trust each other... even if the topic is so unsavory.

He understood that using that kind of language, whether intentionally or not, is cowardly. It's offensive. It's not who he is. He's smart. He knows how to use words. Words that mean real things. Words that convey and express and explain.

We talked. It was good... until he asked me the definition of that frightful and foul word. I told him it didn't mean anything which was when he proceeded to tell me his thoughts on the definition. Ugh... I was elated when the subject of conversation changed. Elated.