two weeks until the chop is four, i have been browsing through photos of liam and izzy.
they have been together since they were a few months old!
they aren't babies anymore...
*brothers from another mother.
CSA pickup
woo-whee! we're 24hours-a-day diaper free!
playground hydration
quiet time
today's challenge has had us playing this song over and over!
for more rainbow connection, click here and here.
clomp!
clomp!
clomp!
i could hear him in the hallway.
what the...?
i thought he was hammering something.
i put my coffee down and peeked down the hallway...
i love these long, summer mornings.
no rushing around to get ready for school.
doing what we want.
when we want.
more blue going on over here and here.
why are you waiting? jump in! the water is warm...
tomorrow: rainbow
friday: red.
he is on to me.
he runs as soon as he sees the lens.
nooooooo don't take my picture!
so. i wait until he wants something.
mama? may i play with those chopsticks?
then i bribe him.
honestly. when did he become so camera shy?
see what other peeps are contributing for today's color here and here.
perhaps you care to join us? come and show off your true summer colors!
what are you waiting for?
monday: yellow
tuesday: pink
wednesday: blue
thursday: rainbow
friday: red
liam, explaining what he is drawing:
mama. this is a guy, and he is dreaming about all of the names in the whole world.
and this is the world...it has legs and a mouth. and it's eating granolies cereal with his big mouth...
i want my child brain back.
i have the best partner in the world.
and liam has the best papa-bear ever.
the end.
he still calls me mama.
i can still scoop him up and
hold him in my arms.
and he still sleeps with his face smooshed up against mine.
he reminds me that he is not a baby anymore,
(even though he lets me call him "baby").
he makes up songs as a soundtrack to his daily events.
he loves skippy jon jones, bacon, and dinosaurs.
he builds animals and monsters out of legos, writes his name,
crack an egg like a pro, and sets the table for our family meals.
he is a magician, a warrior, a chef, and a bumblebee.
he is a mighty hunter of (mama and papa) bears,
a powerful superhero, and a fierce pirate who knows his letter sounds.
his many personalities are: bob, fudge, una-tuna,
mama's windup-toy, and joe-the-robot.
he is a sucker for chocolate and a good drumbeat.
and he is going to be four at the end of july.
four, people...
rest in peace, dear vera.
your love of life, and your mischievous sparkle will never be forgotten.
and every time i listen to conway twitty,
or cook a meal for people i love,
i will think of you and how grateful i am to have met you.
the dance halls of texas will never be the same. xo
long time, no write.
the warmer weather calls for
playgrounds and wagon-pulls.
playdates and photoshoots.
working five days a week in a job
that doesn't fill my heart but thankfully provides
health insurance to this cancer-survivor
and her family.
my to-do list is growing:
letters to write regarding unfair health insurance handling.
graduate class registration to figure out and
red-tape to update my teacher certification.
more health insurance craziness.
house repairs longer than our budget
and my old cat is starting to forget where his litter box is.
i know this is life. i know i need to take care of these things,
but i am not feelin' it.
all i want to do is
hula-hoop under the moon
and curl around my boys each night.
i want to have time with the people i love.
i want to breathe in life and
go a little crazy.
i want to find myself again.
"cupcakes,
popsicles,
pizza,
ice cream cones,
and chocolate.
those are 5 of my most favorite things, mama."
mine are:
bacon.
time with my boys.
new shoes.
perfect light.
and lemon bars.
what are five of your favorite things?
i will buy you a ticket.
come. relax. heal.
beeeeeeeeep.
that was the message, back in november,
from my dear friend, keno.
tomorrow, i fly to albequerque,
(without babychop and papabear)
detour to santa fe for groceries,
and then north, on the high road
to angel fire.
angel fire.
the place that heals me.
the clay-dirt and sky that makes
my heart pound hard
and brings clarity to what
is really important.
after the sun sinks into the magical sangre de cristo range,
the stars drip from the sky and the air is silent and dark.
their light sinks deep down and reveals la verdad
you never knew existed.
dear angel fire,
i am counting on you.
of the dog days of summer.
summer days when the air feels like velvet.
the lovely hot-sauce days when you sit very still,
trying to catch any and all bits of breeze.
popsicles and icy beverages cool the inside of your head.
your hair curls with sweat
from the humidity as it plasters to your cheeks.
fry-an-egg-on-the-sidewalk warm.
run-through-the-sprinkler-all-day kind of hot.
snow-cones-for-breakfast-lunch-and-dinner...
sigh.
when i graduated from high school, i received a
beautiful hand-sewn quilt from my ma-maw in texas.
my cousin told me to wrap it up and put it away.
"don't use it because you don't want anything to happen to it."
after ma-maw died, i would lie in bed and think about
the thick, colorful gift, carefully folded on the shelf in my closet.
it seemed crazy not to use the quilt.
i am cold. my grandmother made it to warm me.
years later, i unfolded it and spread it across my bed.
i loved the heaviness of it, pressing down on me as i slept.
her arms are around me. i can feel her warmth.
it was like getting a daily hug from my grandmother.
and i knew that she would want that.
i thought of this memory when the poem, below, was read to me last weekend.
i thought of how often we save things, or events, until the time is right.
we save the good stuff for special occasions.
the good china.
the linen napkins.
the bottles of wine in the basement.
pampering ourselves.
this past summer,
after receiving a very somber diagnosis,
i was faced with the reality of how-much-time-will-i-have
and what-about-my-family and
this-is-bullshit-because-i-want-to-see-my-boy-grow-up.
and, since then, i have tried to accept each day as a blessing.
and when i start to lose ground, and get scared,
i remind myself that my feet are on this earth.
i am here now.
so do what you love, with the people you love, NOW.
that is my focus on the coming year.
that, and to stay here.
breathing.
alive.
and cracking open that rare vintage
while eating grilled cheese, with my sweet boys,
on my parent's fine china.
happy new year.
peace, love, and health to you and yours.
Putting the Good Things Away,
by Marge Piercy
In the drawer were folded fine
batiste slips embroidered with scrolls
and posies, edged with handmade
lace too good for her to wear.
Daily she put on schmatehs
fit only to wash the car
or the windows, rags
that had never been pretty
even when new: somewhere
such dresses are sold only
to women without money to waste
on themselves, on pleasure,
to women who hate their bodies,
to women whose lives close on them.
Such dresses come bleached by tears,
packed in salt like herring.
Yet she put the good things away
for the good day that must surely
come, when promises would open
like tulips their satin cups...
read the rest of the poem here.
babychop, trying to put on new slippers: aaaaargh! oh NOOOO! i can't do it!
me: be patient, you can do it!
babychop: i am being patient!
me: no. you're getting upset.
babychop: but i AM being wonderful!
me: yes. yes, you are. *kiss*
christmas is a reality check
for what matters.
love.
peace.
health.
afternoons with neighbors.
playdates with kids.
playdates without kids.
cookie-dough kisses from the chopster.
egg nog and the magic of little, white lights.
the smell of a freshly cut tree.
time to reflect
on what feeds our soul
and our hearts.
i hope yours is full.
merry christmas. xo
last year, on the winter solstice, i met some friends to celebrate the promise of longer days and warmer toes. after we said our goodbyes, i headed out for my last holiday errand.
driving down a very snowy road, i saw the sweetest message.
oh! i wish my camera had been in my hands!
passing it, i drove for another mile, the whole time thinking,
"you have to go back...but there are other cars!
you can't turn around. but you must turn around!
it is too much of a hassle...
no.
go back.
you'll kick yourself if you don't."
so i did.
i turned around.
yes! good move!
i pulled off onto a snowy bank and grabbed my camera bag from the back seat.
i tromped through the snow, giggling at myself.
breathing in the icy air, i took in the sweetness and let the word fill my heart.
click.
joy.
joy, indeed.
*see how others are viewing the hustle and bustle of the holidays at shutter sisters.
wise words sent to me from my old roommate, ed,
who used to fill our apartment with lovely smells of
butter, melted cheese, creamy sauces and stews, baked goods
and chocolate everything.
to ed, it wasn't good unless it had at least two sticks of butter in it.
and boullabaise? *drool* don't get me started.
we would stuff our faces and wash it all down with a coke.
(you have to say "coke" with a baltimore accent)
xo i love you, ed.
HOLIDAY EATING TIPS
1. Avoid carrot sticks. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday buffet table knows nothing of the Holiday spirit. In fact, if you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they're serving rum balls.
2. Drink as much eggnog as you can. And quickly. It's rare... You cannot find it any other time of year but now. So drink up! Who cares that it has 10,000 calories in every sip? It's not as if you're going to turn into an eggnog-alcoholic or something. It's a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two. It's later than you think. It's Christmas!
3. If something comes with gravy, use it. That's the whole point of gravy. Gravy does not stand alone. Pour it on. Make a volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat the volcano. Repeat.
4. As for mashed potatoes, always ask if they're made with skim milk or whole milk. If it's skim, pass. Why bother? It's like buying a sports car with an automatic transmission..
5. Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to control your eating. The whole point of going to a Holiday party is to eat other people's food for free. Lots of it. Hello?
6. Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and New Year's. You can do that in January when you have nothing else to do. This is the time for long naps, which you'll need after circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate of food and that vat of eggnog.
7. If you come across something really good at a buffet table, like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of Santa, position yourself near them and don't budge. Have as many as you can before becoming the center of attention. They're like a beautiful pair of shoes. If you leave them behind, you're never going to see them again.
8. Same for pies. Apple, Pumpkin, Mincemeat. Have a slice of each. Or if you don't like mincemeat, have two apples and one pumpkin. Always have three. When else do you get to have more than one dessert? Labor Day?
9. Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, it's loaded with the mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I mean, have some standards.
10. One final tip: If you don't feel terrible when you leave the party or get up from the table, you haven't been paying attention. Re-read tips; start over, but hurry, January is just around the corner. Remember this motto to live by:
"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand and wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"
Note: This holiday eating advice not condoned by health professionals.
after eating our chocolate from the advent calendar,
we plugged in the white, twinkly lights that hang over our bed and climbed in.
"are you excited about santa coming to our house?"
i lay there, facing our sweet boy, waiting for his answer.
an enormous smile and a giggle came from behind his hands
that were covering his mouth.
"what do you hope he brings you?"
the answer, barely a whisper: i don't know!
more giggles as the possibilities filled his head.
piling on the sofa with my boys,
watching the macy's thanksgiving day parade,
i can feel the tears well up.
i am so thankful for this life.
there is nothing else i need.
love.
a warm house.
my health.
my sweet family.
friends-who-are-like-family.
community.
more than ever, i am grateful.
thankful for every day.
travel safely.
soak in all of the goodness.
and if you don't see the goodness? then look for it.
it is all around you.
when he first started going to school,
i would ask my sweet babychop,
who did you sit next to at lunch today?
before he knew the names of his classmates,
he would describe them to me.
"the one with the pocket on his shirt."
"the one with the crazy hair"
"the one with the boo-boo on his face."
and my favorite:
"you know, mama...you know the one? he says, 'NO!!!! not you! ME! not you, MEEEE!!!'
you know that one mama?"
yes,sweetpea. i know that one.
we all do.
i so ess-ited to go to school today!
he ran down three flights of stairs, naked,
and was waiting by the front door.
bye! i love you, mama!
he shouted up to me as my husband
carried our boy's shirt, pants, shoes, raincoat,
lunchbox, and monkey backpack, down to babychop.
c'mon, papa! let's goooooooooooo!
it wasn't such a sunny beginning.
two weeks ago, after his first day, he begged,
i don't want to go to school!
i don't want to go to school!
i don't want to go to school!
please, mama. please, papa!
i just miss you so much!
(repeat at least 20 times and you'll get the picture)
after the first two days, he solemnly stated,
i already went two times.
not five.
just two.
and that is enough.
at the end of the first week, he threw his face into my neck, and sobbed.
i just want to stay at home with
mama, and papa, and a cat called paprikash!
it was awful. he would start pleading
from the moment i picked him up in the afternoon,
all through the evening until bedtime.
it began again the moment he opened his eyes in the morning.
the begging-not-to-go.
the refusing-to-get-dressed.
the pleading-and-declaring-his-love, trying to change our minds
as i tried to hide my own tears.
and then, CLICK.
something shifted.
maybe it was the crocodile and monkey song that won him over.
or maybe it was the chickens that live next to the playground.
it may have been the school garden, where the snacks come from.
or maybe it's the comraderie with the other boys after
learning how to stand up and use a urinal...
as i climbed into bed last night
i pulled babychop closecloseclose,
curling around his warm sleepiness.
i buried my nose deep into his blonde curls
and inhaled.
campfire.
the smoky remnants of the evening infused in each lock.
the end of summer.
roasted marshmallows.
good friends and family.
i breathed again, matching my
inhale and exhale with his.
eleven days before his first day of school.
the long, lazy days of summer are fading fast.
the crisp scent of fall is right around the corner,
mixing with promise, new strength, and growth.
hey! i know! p-p-p peanut sounds like p-p-p-papa!
right?
right?
"yes! and also p-p-p-popcorn!"
yeahyeahyeah! right! and also p-p-p-pizza, right?
"you are so smart!"
and you know what else, mama? p-p-p-plove.
our boy turned three on monday.
36 months since he was handed to me.
156 weeks together.
our lazy mornings and unstructured days
together are coming to an end in septmember
when he starts pre-kindergarten. (wait. what?! eek!)
he is so ready and excited to be going.
my mama-heart wants to hold him next to me forever
but i know that he has a whole world that is his.
full of his experiences.
seen from his eyes.
three.
t-h-r-e-e.
th-th-th-three.
please browse through my winter photos and meet me halfway
between here and there.
thank you.
p.s. also, in case you think i am not appreciative of your hard work, i am totally digging your efforts in helping out the farmers with their produce.
(20-ish empty quart-containers from the strawberries we ate in may.)
xo,
kathleen
babychop is one lucky little dude.
and i am one lucky mama to have
this sweet man to share the adventure of
parenthood with me.
singing songs, reading books,
playing make-believe,
being a jungle-gym,
encouraging, teaching,
cheering, snuggling.
you are the best papa ever, my love.
happy father's day to all you papas out there.
he had the ring in his pocket the whole time.
waiting for the right moment,
it was tucked away, deep down,
as we walked to peter's inn for dinner.
he had his arm around my shoulders, contemplating
the perfect words to accompany the perfect ring
when i asked, "how do you know we have what it takes?"
what are you talking about?
"so many people in the world fall in love. but not everyone lasts.
what makes us so special? how do we know we will last?"
without answering, he kissed me on the cheek and opened the door to the restaurant.
earlier that afternoon, i opened my mailbox to find the march 2000 issue of the sun magazine.
the theme for the "readers write" section was "the marriage bed". while waiting for paul to pick me up for dinner, i read about what the marriage bed meant to the authors of the submitted entries.
one woman wrote about receiving her marriage bed as a gift from her mother. her mother's wish was for "many blessings on their new marriage and many a good night's sleep." breakfast in bed and lazy weekend mornings in the beginning, turned into the couple sharing their bed with their newborn daughter, all three curled up together.
a widow wrote about missing her largerthanlife husband and feeling the void in their bed after twenty-something years of loving him.
a man wrote about making a bed, for his new bride, from trees he cut down himself!
but the other stories painted a different picture
of betrayal, neglect, abuse, and depression.
left on a curb for the trash collectors, a marriage bed was hauled away.
the author wrote, "it was as if all those joys and tears and angry words
had never been."
"how do we know that we won't end up like that?" i asked paul as we walked.
we won't.
being the youngest child of a father who was married five times,
i wasn't convinced.
my mind was all over the place when we got home from dinner.
come out on the roof and look at the stars with me. (setting up for the popping-of-the-big-question)
"i am going to bed," i answered. "i want to read."
the next night, paul cooked.
lying on his sofa, i continued to read, convinced that true love
didn't exist in the real world.
or, if it did, it was fleeting. not something that stayed.
and certainly not for someone like me.
i read, out loud, to him while he set the table and piled pasta onto our plates.
pausing between mouthfuls, he took my hand.
do you want to know how i know we will last?
faith.
i have faith in the love that i feel for you and i know
that i want to spend the rest of my life with you.
that is when he put the little black box on the table.
the one he had carried while listening to my rants about failed marriages.
the one that he, bravely, still gave to me after hearing my doubts.
we got married sixteen months later.
nine years ago, today.
june sixteenth, two thousand one.
and our marriage bed? we bought it when i was pregnant with our son.
and the three of us curl around each other every night.
i am so glad that ring didn't stay in his pocket.
