the tao of pooh

"While Eeyore frets ...
... and Piglet hesitates
... and Rabbit calculates
... and Owl pontificates
...Pooh just is.

This is one of my favorite books and one of my favorite passages. When I first read this book, I was caught by the first couple of lines and I knew I wanted to better my life. "Pooh just is..." This is a great place to be.

How can you get very far if you don't know who you are?
How can you do what you ought if you don't know what you have got?
And if you don't know which to do
Of all the things in front of you
Then what you will have when you are through
Is just a mess without a clue
Of all the best that can come true
If you know what and which and who

During this holiday season, when the majestic snow covers in beautiful simplicity; I take stock in the questions of Who and What and Why and Where -- but the snow slows this contemplation at times and calls me to be. Be. Just be. The snow knows no path, it does not question, it does not stress - it falls, it covers and we marvel at the perfection within. The perfection - a strong word to use, but nonetheless, adequate. Much like Pooh, the snow shifts and glides; lifts up and takes it's place within a spectrum of knowledge of it's destiny.

This is where I want to be.

Magic is Still in the Air

My children are growing and for that, i am mournful. It will not be long before the knowledge of Christmas magic is just a staged production put on by mom, (I would say, "and dad" but we all know the truth).

I think back to Christmas productions --- the productions of how to keep Santa alive and as magical as possible so that exhilarated kids awake upon the crack of dawn; eager to experience the mystery of Christmas.

As I write, i think of ........

* taking a picture of each of them fast asleep in their Christmas pajamas (weeks before, without their knowledge - they receive xmas pjs on christmas eve and where them that evening) On Christmas morning, magically there they were, pictured on pillow cases with their pjs on.

* Gato, our cat, magically arrived from Santa while we were out at a restaurant on Christmas Eve. Each year, as Gato as ironically found his sleeping place under our tree, the kids nod in agreement that this is the way it should be.

* Kids wanting to film Santa arriving and they hid a video camera from view. We took Gato, sat him in front of the lens (while kids were asleep) and made all the sounds that Santa would make and as soon as "Santa" left, Gato just so happened to leave the camera's frame.

*My son wanted a book that was not yet in print. As I investigated this further, I found that the book was in print in the UK and it had an entirely different cover than the one that would soon be published in the stated. The book costs me a butt load of money - but it was from Santa and Simon got the "first ever copy" of the book from the great man in red.

* Son, (when much younger) desperately wanting to "catch Santa in the act" waited up for Santa and had a note that said, "if i fall asleep, please let me know you exist by placing a present by my head." the next morning, Perry awakened with a string of pearls to adorn the tree, especially from Santa.

* This year, going back to the pillow case idea, they will awaken to hot chocolate mugs with their pictures on it ~~ in the NEW pajamas that they received not less than 12 hours prior.

These are just a few of the MAGICAL things that have taken place in this house on Christmas.

Christmas is magical.....it goes without saying - but in this house, i am sorrowful in the knowledge that a huge part of the enchantment will dissolve some of it's spirit.

Anticipation

A new fall of snow arrived within the quiet of night. This morning, I awakened with a renewed sense of anticipation. Being a native of Southern California, i giggle thinking that December is all about the snow. In the distance, a neighbor is shoveling out his driveway. I remember snickering at him 15 years ago (being new to all this 'stuff'') when he was shoveling his driveway and it was snowing outside. I thought then, "What is the point?" Now I get it.

December is all about the snow. Christmas is all about the snow. Kids are all about the snow.

This morning, I awakened with a renewed sense of anticipation.

Anticipation - a funny word.

I sit on this couch under a cozy throw, watching the wind tag through the tree branches and I think of Mary. This time, last year, I was pregnant with my now, 9 month old baby. Within erratic and unpredictable mood swings, we all survived. I think of Mary. How did she fare? What were the variables that set her off? How was she affected by her own sense of anticipation? How did the women of the day support her? Did Joseph put in more hours at work and come home late as to not face this women of unreliable state of being? Did Mary's voice raise when Joseph told her they had to hop on the family donkey and take a 'trip'? (I have yet to see a true picture of Mary upon that donkey. In today's vernacular, we would say she was airbrushed, cropped, trimmed, highlighted. She always seems to look glowing and at peace. I want to see a picture of a 9 month old woman who has been on top a donkey for a couple of days). Do we not hear of Joseph too much after the birth of Jesus because Mary kicked his ass to the curb? That has to be it.

How did Mary anticipate this time in her life?

So, my time on this couch must be put on hold as my 9 month old is clearly in need of his mommy. He beckons within his own parameters of anticipation. How did Mary do it?

Do's and Don'ts

Yesterday, I sat and listened to a montage of women talking. I sat and listening intently to word phrases, and expressions. within their lexis of speech, i was able to conclude a variety of traits about myself. I have since expanded upon this list, but this is the running method of transpired reflection:

What I Don’t Do

I don’t bake. I don’t scrapbook. I don’t sew. I don’t do winter outside things. I don’t “shop”. I don’t craft. I don’t iron. I don’t decoupage. I don’t have dinner parties. I don’t send out bday cards. I don’t take on spot light volunteer roles. I don’t match. I don’t have an MP3 player (well, I do, but I never use it). I don’t talk on the phone. I don’t play a musical instrument proficiently. I don’t work outside of the home. I don’t have a husband who complains a lot. I don’t have patience as my friend. I don’t ‘socialize’. I don’t french braid.

What I Do
I cook. I invent as i cook. I read to my kids. I have cool discussions with my kids. I write. I organize. I teach. I paint. I garden. I putz on the computer way too much. I take on a lot of ‘backdoor’ volunteer roles. I dance. I goof around. I laugh. I drink coffee. I do sarcasm well. I am artful. I do learn (or try). I’m eclectic. I email. I tink around on our piano and make up songs. I do keep up on my International Spy training whenever possible. I do find a nice pleasure in a good beer. I do parent to four kids. I do single parent quite frequently as I DO have a husband who works way too much for my liking. I DO get my patience tested because of this. I do blog.
I do photograph. I do cheer. i do support a great deal.

when you are not in control

I have to type fast for i am on the clock.

today, when i awakened; i had an agenda in mind....my agenda. items that needed to be addressed and completed in the fashion for which i had arranged. many moments, i am at peace being a mother of 4. I am grateful. I am content.

Today, however, i simply want to be me. i want to get my list done and i don't want to have any interference. I don't want to have to stop typing to tell two of my children to stop bouncing the ball in the sunroom. I shouldn't need to look across my shoulder and tersely remark, "He had the ball first, give it to him and leave him alone and get off eachother!"

I want to get my house clean, i want to get food in my cupboard, i want to brush my teeth over a clean sink - but instead, i am putting up a christmas tree and taking down decorations that kids have already put up being that they have investigated the *christmas box*. I want the phone to stop ringing. I want to listen to my shows on MPR. I want playdates to not interfere with "my" time. and yet...."HEY! Stop slapping your brother!" and yet, i need to stop typing because my infant is about to put a fake pine in his mouth.

TIme to Write

Time etched out just to write. All is well in the world. I have two children who struggle with writing and as I sit here typing out words in quick rhymic motion - i look over to my 10 year old son who is working within the same motion. Moving his body to the beat of Motorcycle Diaries (his favorite soundtrack) and typing in his blog (simonscoolthoughts.blogspot.com).

My vision is forever and always seeing as a writer. We go out to dinner and I peruse the surrounding tables; not taking in the cariety of people, but listening to the dialogue of characters. All are characters and all acts are potential for elaborated scenes.

The last time i was in California, I visited a favorite spot in Laguna and there sat two older women. As they sat and talked, I snapped a picture of the two and wrote a story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two seniored ladies sit across from me. Their polite conversation reveals a newness to their relationship. I am guessing the two are participants on some senior type tour offered by the airline industry; or they share placement within the same 'retired community' . I am thinking the first. They discuss husbands, youth, innocent times in the water, friends of yester-year, and days gone by. Flash back 30 years ago when the two women were close to my present age. Lively families, crying children, marital spats and optimistic futures.

One lady sits, legs crossed, white sensible, low heeled shoes and stark white cotton capris. Baubled rings, thick dark Jackie-O glasses and styled hair that is no longer soft to the touch, only coarse and stiff from the morning's aqua net regime. Her hair has aged well and is naturally blond/gray. Her older companion, sitting by, trying to defy her age. Rich copper colored hair absent of gray and mortician colored cheeks, vibrant pink.

Their discussion flows from youthful times to doctor's appointments, surgeries, numbness in the legs and arms and who can beat whom with prescription drug costs. I reach into my backpack, take out the small digital and if attemtping to take a picture of the Laguna Movie Theater, directly behind them, i focus in on the two, hand motions in the air and eyes intently looking at one another, i click my camera, close the shutter and put it back in it's dark home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This next one is from a time we stayed in a very shady motel on our long drive home from South Dakota. All were tired and we simply pulled over to the closest place.

~~Upon crossing the parking lot, you would expect to hear the distant hum of the Twin Peaks theme song; the slow and new age melody that eventually lures you into a building speckled with questionable and intriguing characters.

As i crossed over the black top, i assumed that Mr. David Lynch would soon be shouting, "Cut, cut, cut - will someone get that suburban mom off the set, please." but there was no such voice.

The older lady with hunched shoulders walked slowly with cigarette in hand. Her head turned slightly towards me as she circled back. She glided slowly about her small piece of claimed territory. Methodically back and forth, almost with a sense of anticipation of something better to come her way during this last phase of life.

I walked under the wooded archway of the Thunderbird Lodge and pulled open the heavy glass door; the clerk welcomed me. Everything fits in the scene but him. The dull yellow light casts an almost gray haze over the tiny glass enclosed room. Three seedy layered women look up from the 'free internet' computer to catch a glimpse of the I Love Lucy show playing in the corner. Long stringy hair mimics their gaunt appearance. I feel the theme song getting louder and expect FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper to make his appearance.

The clerk points me in the direction of my room - "It's right there, number 43" and yep, there it was, right in front of me, less than 20 steps away from the front desk. The hotel key he hands me is authentic - it hangs from a green plastic oval. I pass by the three women, and notice the small mircrowave oven with coffee pot - this will be for the guests in the morning- i conclude.

I pass by the small sauna and jacuzzi room, which is also adjacent to the front desk area. From the jacuzzi, you might be able to make out the dialogue of lucy and ethel, but the two occupance tonight are not intested. They sit close together, bodies touching. I fix my gaze and our eyes meet. I watch them through the almost steamed windows. They take their gaze off me and back onto eachother. To them, i was transparent and added nothing to the scene. I take 2 more steps out of my complete 20 and assess the locked up liquor store on my left;each bottle righteously displayed; almost like rental movies. 5 more steps and i unlock my door and inspect the room. It is as decent as one would expect; the window air conditioner is on to circulate the air. The bathroom is acceptable and the two beds will be fine for the night.

The Gingerbread House

This time of year, I fondly look back upon Christmas times past. This is a story that will never soon be forgotten.

December 20, 2001

This is a story written 8 years ago. Perry was 4 and Simon was 2 (Lucy was just 5 months old). I decided it would be a very loving and motherly moment to build a gingerbread house with my two boys. Here is the transpiration of that experience.

Below, you will observe the written instructions for creating a basic, “Kid-Friendly” gingerbread house. You will also experience my interpretation of such directions.

The Scene: Before all of this took place, I set the scene. I lined the kitchen floor with newspapers, took out all the kid friendly bowls and wooden spoons. Put the boys in their ‘it’s okay to get dirty’ clothes and show off the unopened, very fun gingerbread box to the boys

First: A two and a four year old are not the most desired of participants for this project. Hindsight is 20/20 they say!

Second: As I write this down from simple memory, I retrieve the “DIRECTIONS” to help in the writing process. Upon putting the paper down on the table, I notice the ‘Helpful Hints’ section on the back side. This clearly would have been helpful 2 hours ago.

Okay - let's look.

Direction #1: If you don't have a base for the gingerbread house, you can cut around the lines shown on back of box and cover with foil to use as base.

Katie's Interpretation: Unknowingly, cut around the *top* of box (the part with the pictorial reference), and cover completely with foil.

Direction #2: Beat contents of package in a small mixing bowl

Katie's Interpretation: A fool can mix contents in a bowl. Okay boys, we are on a roll.

Direction #3: Insert icing tip into decorator bag and cut end of bag to let tip come part way through.

Katie's Interpretation: What 'decorator bag?’ It must mean this white plastic bag that the powdered contents came in – that has already been ripped open. I'm supposed to insert the decorating tip into this old bag? Okay, if they say so. “Boys, let’s have mommy do this part. It’s a little tricky” Boys watch, quietly waiting for the okay from me to allow them to be actively involved.

Direction #4: Apply icing along bottom edge of back piece and stand up on base so there is room at the front yard of the house for decorations.

Katie's Interpretation: Okay, I can do this. I can do this. Somewhat of a foreign language, but I can do this. 2 and 4 year old look on as their ‘super-mom’ gets to work.

Direction #5: Apply icing on bottom and sides of walls positioning these pieces on the *Outside* of the back panel.

Katie's Interpretation: Okay, here we go. First of all, these side walls look rather large; but oh well. I professionally apply the frosting. While pushing the frosting through the 'decorator tip' that was positioned delicately within the reused plastic bag, I squeeze too hard and POP - bottom of bag breaks open and frosting goes in every direction. Perry and Simon, who were positioned so quietly as the attentive audience, seize the opportunity to begin scooping up splattered icing with tiny fingers and inserting them into their awaiting mouths.

Direction #6 Hold in place for several minutes until set

Katie's Interpretation: Cool. Quiet time. Things are cleaned up. Now we can sit back and relax and talk about how much we are enjoying ourselves.

Direction #7 Add roof pieces

Katie's Interpretation: Okay boys, here are the roof pieces. Ready? What is this, these pieces look awfully small. Hey, they don't fit. Oh-oh, looks like Mommy put the roof pieces on the side of the house.

"Mommy - nooooo. You did it all wrong!! Take it off!" says my 4 year old.
“Well, we can lay the roof down flat.” I respond with shaken confidence.
"Noooo. Take off the sides. We need our roof." The oldest says, while wiping away tiny tears.

Inhale – Exhale.

“Boys go downstairs to play and Mommy will fix this and clean up the mess.”

Boys come up when all is seemingly saved and fixed

Direction #8 Apply icing along all top edges of house. Hold both roof pieces in position for several minutes.

Katie's Interpretation: Slather on the icing. I don't care where it goes. Let's get this (filth and foul) project over with.

Direction #9 Use photograph as guide only. Be creative and make your own design.

Katie's Interpretation: “Photograph….photograph? Boys, do you see where there is a photograph of the house?”
This is when I realize that the 'picture' is being used as the base of this project and is all covered up.
**Be creative? ** "Okay boys, here's the candy. Have at it!" Boys translate this to mean, devour the hard candy pieces.

"Oh, I haven't tried the red one yet. I haven't tried the green one too!" Excitedly speaks the two year old in his two year old voice.

Direction #10 Glue decorations on house using icing. Spread base with icing for snow and decorate yard as desired.

Katie's Interpretation: Well, the majority of the icing splattered on the floor. Whatever we had in reserve was used to glue this monster gingerbread thing together. We have no more icing for side walk, door or yard….. Wait a minute. I have some old cake frosting in the cupboard. I'll use that (learns later, it does not do a thing but make a mess)

Direction #11 Clean up

Katie's Interpretation: As I am cleaning, I spot this folded piece of plastic on the kitchen floor. I unfold it and voila, the DECORATING ICING BAG

Katie's Interpretation: Tell boys that this is the most beautiful gingerbread house in the whole wide world.

Merry Christmas.

Journal Time

This morning, Lucy and I sit at our dining table. I have some music playing and freely type away, while my daughter sites with tears in her eyes. She doesn't know what to write. I took the liberty of bringing out a couple of my journals for her to see. One from 4th grade, one from 1987 and one that was begun in 2003 (The last entry was February 2008 on an airplane home from San Francisco....a weekend away to celebrate turning 40 with my friends.)

I currently have three working journals - and this blog. I am passionate about words and I wish i was able to retain the eloquence of this language. It impresses me. While Lucy hides her words from me with her book upright; hiding within what she assumes to be the judgement of her mother.

I look out to the sunroom and Simon is at it on his own blog. He has the gift of words as well.

I have never planned to do anything with these words that spill out from me as they are just that....spillage from the mind. Hardly significant; just doin' my thing and finding small celebrations within chosen text.

Last night, I played Scrabble with the kids. The 12 year old, who has struggled with words, performed with three letter and four letter words: Bone, Cat, Did. The 10 year old added words such as: Newt, Judge, Simmer, and Wharf.

Daybook time is over. Thanks for listening.

Today is Whatever I Want it to Mean

Step through any brilliant shades....it's fine just as it is. Today is whatever I want it to mean. Everything I took for granted - I want to see it through.

act justly
love mercy
walk humbly

---------------------------
People are walking and talking resumes. Upon impression, selling in short order; living up to inflated potential. i admit, i catch myself walking in that same long line with others, showing off my best assets in thought that it will matter somehow to the other.

Tossing again and again...falling to my knees

Walking in circles, we do - (getting lost in where we start and where we begin). The music drones on and on in the head - louder and louder with each beat - we continue to walk, animate, and perform for the other. Topping out the list each time we step with who has most to offer, who has the most to balance; the most experience, the loudest voice, the biggest heart aches, and the music fills the gaps with excruciating rhythm that we can no longer concentrate - and yet, we continue, because that is what we know. We are fed. we are freed.

the pace quickens at times and there is a rush to succeed but again. The music finds a steady note and keeps its constant; allowing for a second in time for you to think and take notice of you. simply you. not the others around, not the feet you are following, not the circle within the performance. The music trickles and finds you at a stop. a complete stop. you don't notice the fall of the others. you are able to find yourself once again, take yourself out of the circle and BEGIN and START anew.

Drawing a line....jumping over....looking back at the others dusting off and continuing in their circuitous (i love that word) walk. You. Within your time of solitude, you break away with tensile strength; cognizant of that time to come - the time, without warning, you will be back within the circle, wondering how you got there.

act justly
love mercy
walk humbly

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Fly.. .... .... ....

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'cause i came here with a load and it feels so much lighter since i met you.

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Where do we go? Nobody knows. God give me style and give me grace.....God put a smile upon my face :) (smile)........ya!!!!

What Matters

We are currently reading The Magician's Elephant by Kate DiCamillo. There is a character named, Hans Ickman. This quote from Hans has struck me. "It is important that you say what you mean to say. Time is too short. You must speak words that matter."

I believe in this. Speak words that matter. Interpretation....interpretation...interpretation.

Life it too short to concentrate on one's misery. Life it to short to place fleeting expectations. What matters? What matters is.....

In my memory - i wrote about a river...a river that nearly drowned my intention...a river that almost drowned my narrow interpretation of life.

I am still standing. That is what matters. My journey continues......

Sing a Simple Song

Disclaimer: It is daybook time and I will try my best to take thoughts and transpose them onto this blog while a Radio Disney CD plays in the background - picked by Lucy. The lyrics leave little to the imagination.

We all ride waves in our journey. We continuously navigate through raging waters towards a more serene and acceptable scene.

On most days, I plot the course and steer us in a successful fashion; and by days end, our expedition slows with the trickling pace of the water.

In the past few weeks, the river has clashed in buoyant animation. It's waters have been unforgiving - punishing - grueling - demanding all I have to give and it has defeated me.

Quick Report

Perry's report card:

Science ... A (97%)
Phy Ed ... A (96%)
Social Studies ... A- (89%)
English ... A- (93%)
Chorus ... A (98%)
Math ... A (94%)
German ... A (98%)

Mommy's proud meter.... A (100%)

If you twist and turn away
If you tear yourself in two again
If I could, you know, I would
If I could, I would
Let it go

Surrender
Dislocate

If I could throw thisLifeless lifeline to the wind
I'd leave this heart of clay
See you walk, walk away
Into the night
Through the rain
Into the half-light through the flame
If I could through myself
Set your spirit free
I'd lead your heart away
See you break, break away
Into the light And to the day

So let it go
And so fade away

So let it go
And so fade away

I'm wide awake
I'm wide awake
I'm not sleeping

Oh, no, no, no
I'm not sleeping
Oh, no
If they should ask well maybe they'd
Tell me what I should say
True colors fly in blue and black
Bruised silken sky and burning flag

Colours crash, collide in bloodshot eyes
If I could, you know I would
If I could, I would
Let it go

This desperation
Separation
Condemnation
Revelation

In temptation
Isolation
Desolation
Isolation

Let it go, aha
And so fade away

So let it go, aha
And so fade, fade, fade away

So let it go
And so to fade away
I'm wide awake I'm wide awake
Wide awake
I'm not sleeping Oh, no, no, no

u2

Shhh, the Baby's Sleeping

All is quiet. The bathroom fan is heard down the hall.

My thoughts:

Last night, during dinner, john and ....(officially, he is still a 'pre-teen,' but in all aspects of behavior, reaction, and mood, he *is* a full bodied teenager) had it out. It was quite entertaining, I must say.

It all stemmed from something simple - yet consciously annoying. John decided to pick the fight and tell Perry to be quiet; as he was humming during the course of his brother talking about the day. Perry stopped and in the middle of the sentence, asked if he could clear the table - we said yes. He quickly added that he wanted to be excused afterwards, and we said, no.

This did not sit right with the teenager and in full momentum, charged with words and behaviors at his dad.....and consequently, his dad fought back. The remaining audience members (kids and me) knew full well who was going to win this battle of words, wits and physicalitys but the teenager was non the wiser and continued in his quest...full speed ahead.

I sat, quietly, with legs propped up on a chair and watched the scene - oddly enough, thinking of my time with John 13 years prior; before 'said' teenager was born. The time when WE had space to have our voices heard. The time when 4 other humans didn't vacuum all existing energy from our day.

This morning, I dug up some old journals of "john and katie." Sentences like, "We ate Corn Flakes on the porch, finished the newspaper and were off on our bikes." "John and I saw a very bizarre play last night in Los Angeles; which consequently didn't start until 11:30pm." "Today, we just pulled out the futon, warmed up corn tortillas and watched movies all day long." "Last night, after dinner at the restaurant, John and I spontaneously drove up to Duluth for a weekend in a B&B. We didn't' arrive until after 11pm, but the owners left the porch light on for us." "Tonight, on the coldest night of the year, John bought me my dream car....a convertible Alpha Romeo Spider...."

Last night, i giggled inside during Perry's heated words - words that were a novice tool to him and words that will only get better with time and maturity. I laughed, and thought, "Perry, you don't know this man. You are completely unaware of who he is. And, this man, whom I have now loved for 20 years is trying to teach you how to use your words, your movements and your tone in a sophisticated manner - to only assist you later, when you need it.

'John and Katie' have filled many journal pages of our own torments, heated moments, blissful events, and entertaining days. Pages are continuously being filled with each passing day. It was fun last night to see a new set of events transpire; an inauguration of sorts into the next chapter of 'John and Katie.'

Lull to the Day

There is a lull to my day. It is evident. Chai tea warms in the microwave, the baby is asleep, the kids have friends over and are occupied. I sit within a vacuous bubble of peace...moving within an ideal state, cognizant of it's delicate condition.

The microwave dings.

I think of the dress; the dress everyone admires in the store and remarks, "This would be a perfect dress to wear at a garden party." The garden party never comes. It doesn't exist; and you are now stuck with the dress. This time, this condition of presence is the garden party...I grasp at the exclusivity.

I think of the books I buy, the romantic beginnings of sitting on a couch, 'curled up with a good book.' The couch is jumbled by legos and diapers and the 'good books' get shifted from one dusty table to the next.

There is a lull to my day and anything is possible. I begin to plan curriculum for the following week - grabbing books, paper, pens and computer. I stop, set the books at rest, fill the fireplace with logs and make a chai tea....for the tide is out and there is ample room to move, roam, and see. Soon, a multiple of influences will begin a roll of the waters.

If I don't move fast...i may be be washed away.

88.5

88.5 fm is a public jazz station in Minneapolis. I thought of this as I glanced down at the spedometor when pulling into our driveway last night at 9:30pm. I had been in the car most of the day and had traveled 88.5 miles round trip.

The morning began quietly. 6:15, sitting with my coffee, a homemade waffle and my 12 year old son; yawning and waking up as he ate his breakfast. The conversaton was quiet as we both took in the other.

By 9:30, we were in full swing. The remaining family members (simon, lucy, sidney and me) piled into the car and headed off to TEACH for Simon's writing class. the class ended at 11:00. We were able to get into the car (it was pouring rain by this time) and feed and quiet down Sidney. We then made our way to the Arboretum, where we were to be participants in a Mother Earth class 12:00 - 2:00. During this time, Lucy began to feel a bit funky. I pulled her out and gave her some medicine. During the class, Sidney and I traversed the halls as well as escaped to the bathroom, for some oddly positioned nursing moments.

At 1:40, I pulled the kids out of class. We ran to the car in the rain and we were off to art class. This is a parent led art class that meets every Tuesday. One of these weeks, I will have to do my part and teach a lesson. We made a bee line to McDonalds for lunch. The last time we had McDonalds was when i was 4 or 5 months pregnant when I went through an odd craving for fast food. I ate a lot at Arbys during those months.... and hence, so did the kids.

Made it to class shortly after 2pm - dropped off the kids and went back to a close gas station to get Lucy some cough drops. Sidney was asleep by this time. Treated myself to a Caribou Latte.

Kids made "leaf' bowls out of cement and will paint them next week.

3:00 - told simon and lucy to clean up, as we were in need of picking up Perry.

3:20: met perry at his bus stop and took off for down town. Minnesota Twins vs Detroit Tigers. This was the playoff game for Central Division Champs (Twins won by the way).

3:50: Text onto my Facebook status that we were STUCK in traffic downtown and would be missing the first pitch.

4:10: Pulled into Dome parking lot. Put Sidney in front pouch/sling thing and the kids and I took off to the game.

We arrived home at 9:30pm. our day was done. 88.5 miles.

Delete

so, i deleted my last post. too much complaining. never gets you anywhere. no need to have it on there.

and so it goes

Batter Up!!!!

All jobs are predicated upon ebb and flow of people's decisions; whether it be consumerism, health care, development, etc. Our life is solely dictated by a game of baseball. Many games of baseball for that matter. Who hits the ball, how the ball is hit, how many wins in a season, who is buying tickets, and lately, who is ahead in the Division.

John is the Vice President of Technology for the Minnesota Twins Baseball Team. He is now involved in his 16th season. Currently, the Twins are 2 games behind the Detroit Tigers for Division Champs. This has thrown our life into a whirlwind of question. Each night, our family plans are dictated upon 'the game,' even if the game is not played locally. Today, I will be watching the game (played in Detroit) and if the Twins win, I will know John will not be home this evening, as he will gear up for possible Post Season. If they lose, I can plan on him for dinner.

Each night, when the kids set the table, they know to ask, "Will Dad be joining us, tonight?"

We are not a 'baseball' family by any means. We enjoy going to see the games, but my children are not 'into' baseball like some kids. They can tell you some of the players names but that is about it. Stats are not attractive to them, standings are not part of their dialogue. Even John is not immersed in the All American Past Time as much as he could be. He does his job, he does it well, and that is how he supports his team (smile).

The Twins will play in a new ballpark next season. A new ballpark that is near completion - and just like Ty Pennington handing over the 'keys to the house,' the Twins front office will soon be able to move into their new home. John Avenson has his stamp all over the new ball park. It was he, who decided and conferenced about what technology was to be bought, created and applied for the entire park. I can't even begin to go into the enormous detail of what he has had to decide--- from the cabling system of the entire ballpark to the cellphone company that will place it's towers near the park. Many early mornings, getting up to feed our infant, John was already up, sitting at our table with blue prints spread out --- counting mundane things such as Cat 5 outlets and so many other 'things' that had to be thought of to complete the puzzle.

Our life works within the season of baseball. During the 'off season,' daddy is home more frequently. During the season (April - October), we see a flickering of his presence. this is what we have grown accustomed to and now as we near the season - our energy is ramped up. We are watching the games, we are marking off the days, we are waiting to see when Daddy gets to come home for dinner!

Thanks for listening.

Never Thought I'd See the Day

Blogging is trivial; i stand corrected....MY blogging is trivial. I have mentioned this before and I am mentioning it again. It is mundane and it keynotes day to day dribble from mind to monitor. I am keenly (or like to think that I am) aware of my world; it's troubles, it's woes, it's dispairs, and ironically, it's triumphs.

However, with that said....

My son has a milk allergy.

What does that mean? Well, in essence, it means that he can not be exposed to any milk protein from a cow. What else does that mean??? NO MORE REESE'S PEANUT BUTTER CUPS for mom!!!!

Now, talk about significant times??? I say this within the jester of the moment ---i am a sarcastic being.

So, no more chocolate (milk chocolate), no more caramel rolls from the store, no more cream in my coffee - at least the cream that I like!, no more cheese (this will hurt), no more REESE'S PEANUT BUTTER CUPS!!!

20 YEARS

I will someday remind myself to write a substantial entry in sweet reflection of 20 years together with the man I married. We met on this date in 1989. Last night, as we ran a couple of errands together (with the baby...quiet baby), we thought it apropos to grab a quick coffee and take a slow drive around the lakes. The moment seemed ideal. Our older kids were at home and in bed and the youngest of our offspring was quietly asleep.

We parked, I went in the storefront and grabbed our coffees. Upon approaching the car, I heard the evening's distraction. Of course, the cries increased in sound once the door was opened.

My 20 year mate and I decided to forge ahead and go on as planned with a minor stop to feed what seemed to be the hungry child. We stopped, I unbuckled and brought the infant to the front seat. it soon became clear that the baby with smiles was not hungry but only had intention of 'joining' us for our evening of 'Us.'

Legs set in jumping motion, voice set in squealing song, eyes alert with excited anticipation on what was to be shared next. My husband took in the scene with a sip of coffee and a question of , "Aren't you sleepy?" The squeaked response said enough. No.

Setting him back in car seat, arming him with arsenal of toys, i buckled myself in the front seat. 50 feet into driving, 50 feet into beginning of adult conversation, 50 feet of one half sip of coffee, baby begins to sound off. His amplitude of sound increases with each raise of the radio volume (classical music of course). As intelligent beings, we assumed this would die off. We assumed he would tire himself out. In time, we realized, we assumed wrong.

We pulled over, i put my coffee cup in place and buckled up in the back seat. The baby smiled at my appearance but continued to show his disfavor of his placement. The decision was made to take the quickest route home -- turn right (off the lake pathway) and make all the green lights.

My coffee was 1/2 full and cold as we pulled into the driveway. Baby was taken out of his car seat, changed into pajamas, put in crib and less than 5 minutes, was quietly at rest.

This is the culmination of 20 years together.

We will try again tonight.

Time is Circuitous

I don't have much to say this morning; but the time is presenting itself and I must take advantage. Presently, Lucy is learning her state capitals, Simon is quizzing himself on a book, Sidney is asleep and Perry is in Science class.

I observe time; my time, time around, the wavering elements of it's beauty. In quiet contemplation, i reach back within it's continuum; and it's space within.

The markings of who we are and to whom we shall become, perform within this expression of time; each second marking it's permanence upon us within its fleeting moments.

One word, one suggestion, one body movement, etches with indelible marks; creating, masking, hurting, seeping, building upon the other.

I see this time affect on my children as they grow. As they grow and experience each step that leads to conclusion. I look to the past and reflect upon my own life, my own time as a young girl, a naive teen, a curious adult. I am a director of time. I am a conductor to it's orchestral ensemble and in reflection, begin to think of my children's time.

the 12 year old expands within his world and as he enters the teenage continuum, we see a repetition of time. The vocabulary is the same, the tears are the same, the confusion is the same. The time that 'once was' is now apart of a family's dialogue. How will Time ease it's presence into the 12 year old existence. What will this time bring within later journeys - strength? character? darkness? confusion? understanding? Only Time will tell.

Thanks for listening

Through Weary Eyes

I sit ---this is uncommon. Within interludes of reality, i tame the Hellion that chortles and churns within. With each extended breath, I am able to keep it's desires at bay; but with spontaneous momentum, it seeps out without warning; surprising the most innocent of us all.

I sit with a moment of quiet to my day. A moment, like this is all it takes: eyes through nature, sensuous smells of Fall, tickling wind around. An influential period to my day to capture a piece of the quiet me

Ordinary Days

The last couple of postings, i have documented my days; My days as a mother of 4. This morning, I am quietly observing a rare moment of ordinary focus.

Sitting on one of two leather chairs in our living room; lap top resting on my legs and checking email. Simon and Lucy sitting on their father's lap, who sits in the twin leather chair to my right; laughing and giggling over the silliness of their daddy. Sidney down below chewing on a fluffy toy, kicking his feet,rolling around and being laughed at as he rolls onto the wood floor and off of his green polka dotted blanket. Occasionally, he looks up to his siblings, gurgles out his dolcet song and once again, finds enticement with his 4 legged furry friend.

The oldest boy, recognizing it is Labor Day, has not made a sound. He is up, but enjoying the independent moments of solitude and quiet his downstairs room offers.

The clock is ticking just a little bit slower this morning, the sun has taken it's time in rising to it's day. My children revel in their father's presence and I take it all in with another sip of coffee.

Soon, I will be compelled to sit up a little straighter, close the lap top and in top drill Sergeant fashion, I will ask what the plans are of the day. By days end, things will need to be checked off the lists, materials will need to be in order and I will find rest with satisfied conclusion.

Time has shifted. Simon is at the bar eating breakfast. Lucy is still nestled within her daddy's arms, and the 6 month old is battling with the green polka dotted blanket -- reasoning out the blankets 'consumable factor.' Every now and again, his gurggles get louder as he gets lost wtihin the blanket that covers his head. There is still no sound from the depths of the pre-teen room.

I close my lap top, take in my surroundings. It is time for me to enjoy the quiet. Another cup of coffee, some solitude on my deck with quiet reflection. the day will be picking up speed and i will become lost within translastion.

Stop.

New Journal Entry

Today, we turn the page to a new chapter in Perry Avenson's book, "The Consequence of Decision." Today, we reach both the conclusion obtained by a line of reasoning as well as commence upon a staggering life transforming moment.

The bus arrived a little late this morning. A fellow neighbor and I watched from afar - as to not be seen by the two pristine and un-tarnished jr. high students. I watched him round the corner from the driveway - new backpack, new clothes, new attitude. I jokingly shouted, "Honey, I'm only a phone call away!"

I'm only a phone call away......

Caressing his backside in early life, sharing gleeful moments of 'garbage man' making his way; taking kindergarten pictures at bus stop with smiling and goofy friends, bringing him home to engineer new confidences within. Now....I am only a phone call away.

In silent moments, i breathe it in, capturing the essence of memory, intersecting moments of time - bringing him to today..his day, his decision, his moment, his new chapter.

----- But at night time, when that teenager was sleep, the mother opend the door to his room, crawled across the floor and looked up over the side of the bed. If he was really asleep, she picked up that great big boy and rocked him back and forth, back and forth. While she rocked him she sang:

I'll love you forever

I'll like you for always,

As long as I'm living

my baby you'll be

http://www.rogerknapp.com/inspire/loveforever.htm

Let the Mill Run

Just the run of the mill day...

I have decided to document my day, for no particular purpose. Each day, my husband comes home and at dinner, when the kids ask how daddy's day was, he responds, "Oh, just another busy day, just like any other day...really busy." I can easily concur; but no one seems to take interest. By dinner time, I really have nothing to say or show for it. The kids are sitting down, the hands are washed and they are typically in good spirits. To the naked eye, the day seems insignificant.

I thought today, I would write down what goes on in a typical day. Each day brings upon itself a momentum of energy. Some days, you barely escape the towering waves just waiting to envelope you and yet, other days breeze by without significant recognition.

Enjoy the experiment.

8:00: Woke up with 10 year old saying, “I can’t open my right eye.” The day before, he hit his head on the concrete steps and the protruding goose egg has drained into his eye. His face is a wreck

8:15: The kitchen sink is backed up from the evening before. Husband trying to snake out whatever might be stuck.

8:20: Infant wakes up. He had a decent night. Only up maybe 3 times??? That is pretty good! Put him on my bed with other children who are allowed to watch cartoons this morning because of 10 year old’s misfortunes. I have to say, with each passing child, the TV has become more familiar. The first born was age 2 before he ever laid eyes upon the screen. By the fourth child, my husband plopped him onto our bed and with sarcastic tones, said, "Get used to it."

8:50: A call is made to Roto Rooter to ask for an appointment. They respond by telling me a truck will be in my neighborhood within the hour. In that hour, I must get all kids fed, infant nursed and dressed, myself looking 'presentable' and the kitchen cleaned as it has dishes stacked from sink to ceiling.

9:30: 12 year old boy begins to get ready for Grandma to come and go school clothes shopping. There is a lot of back and forth: "No, you are not wearing that." "Your socks need to match." "You WILL brush you teeth." as well as coaching and reminding him of all the appropriate manners to display with his Grandma; "Remember to say thank you." "Don't order the biggest thing off the menu."

Baby begins to cry, as he is hungry ---only had time to nurse on one side because the kitchen still needs to be cleaned in preparation for plumber

10:00: Caring for my road rash 10 year old who still seems to be a bit shaken from the day before, the doorbell rings and it is the plumber. Carrying hungry baby around; how refuses to be autonomous at this moment, making sure 12 year old is looking presentable for grandma, and running downstairs to answer both the doorbell and turn off washing machine that is in constant beeping mode; as it is also broken and can not go through a full cycle without stopping and beeping and beeping and beeping.

10:15: "Knock...knock: says grandma - opening the door and coming in. Plumber is in need of my attention. I take infant, pass him off to Grandma and possible get out a, "Good morning, " before I rush off to see plumber.

10:30 House is quiet. Grandma and 12 year old are out the door, Plumber is almost done; but needs to give me direction and further advise me on the maintenance schedule of our very old sink. He is a methodical plumber, takes his job very seriously and now I am captive to his history lesson on 'Plumbing in Old Houses." Meanwhile, the baby I am holding begins to nurse off my face, trying to find anything to satiate it's appetite and the 8 year old interrupts the scene to ask if she can have a friend over.

11:00: The baby is nursed and set down for a nap. First load of laundry is taken out of dryer and is plopped onto bed. Begin folding.

11:10: Doorbell rings again. Twin boys from across the street, want to come in to play.

11:15: The once quiet house if again, filled with noise. I call the Pediatrician to see what needs to be done with 10 year old. The neighbors up the street are away on vacation and I will soon need to go and feed their cats.

11:30: I sit down for a small break – get second cup of coffee from the morning’s pot. Already cold.

12:00: Laundry folded. Pediatrician calls back and advises that we take child into ER. Baby is still asleep. 12 year old is still out and about. 8 year old has arranged a playdate – but it will conflict with ER time. Husband innocently calls to check in on the day and begins to tell me that his day is very busy: meeting here...lunch date there. Send friends home as it is getting too loud and I do not tolerate kids standing on my couches. Make kids lunch.

12:30: Typing my day up and off to fix laundry machine and put kitchen back together after the plumber left as well as begin a puzzle with 8 year old.

1:12: In the past 45 minutes, infant has awakened, and in the middle of nursing him, I have called a couple of medical facilities and have decided upon the emergency room at Southdale. Husband calling back and forth as he is trying to arrange his day to help out. Calling Grandma and leaving a message on her phone. Infant is hungry and thinks, of course, that the entire day should be all about him. Thinking that I should get some breakfast in my body as I have had nothing to eat. Calling Lucy’s playmate friend to see if we can arrange either a different time or can she watch Lucy while I sit in ER. Husband on his way home to take 10 year old to ER. Called friend to watch infant, but she is not home. 10 year old currently is in need of my help……

Today is a bit ramped up – but in all honesty – there is always something. I really don’t understand how people have time to read books, have a clean house or breathe…for that matter (laugh)

1:34: Shoving down a cold piece of peanut butter toast and the phone rings: father in law calling to see if he can come over today. He is also without transportation and will need to be picked up….20 miles north west of here. I tell him that today is relatively crazy. He begins to tell me about his jr. high days and tells me about his youth.

3:08: On the phone with my mom – who just came out of a pancreatic procedure to rule out cancer. She has been on my mind all morning long.

12 year old, who is now home, shouts from adjacent room, “Mom, I just unlocked the bike!” Meeting that statement with great (silent) resistance, I go sit out in the playroom and watch him play Mario Kart Wii for 20 minutes while he shows me all his great moves and short cuts. The Wii is a thorn in my side.

I have had a glass of orange juice. Nursed infant again. Set him down to nap – but his loud crying proved that he was not up for this. Friend came to pick up lucy for playdate. Stayed a while and visited (nice). Husband reports that all is well at the ER. Swelling will take up to 10 days to come down in 10 year old. Off to get infant who is still crying in crib.

3:25 I nurse infant and place him gently in his crib, as he is now falling asleep. 10 year old comes in house, “Mom!!??” I say in low tone, “Hold on, I will be right there.” I begin to cover up sleepy infant. “MOM!!???” Infant begins to cry. I address the 10 year old and then begin to rock baby again and calm him down. Phone begins to ring on the changing table, as i had left it there earlier. Almost calmed infant looks around for ringing phone and loses concentration of FALLING ASLEEP. I place him in his crib anyway and out of pure exhaustion, he drifts off.

12 year old gets MP3 player in the mail that he has been waiting for – purchased on his own. I take opportunity to vacuum under the table, clean up dried baby puke off living room rug and make bed.

3:31: Burning a David Byrne CD for my son onto my computer so he can transfer it to his new player

3:44: Eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. All is reasonable quiet and at peace. I think I will breathe it in.

3:45: Just squirted grape jelly all down the front of my white linen shirt.

4:07: Infant up. I was able to empty half of the dishwasher

4:15: Feeding the beast again. I am not sure why he wants to nurse so much today…probably sensing my need to be a little independent from him and he is protesting in great force.

4:45: Taking walk over to Lucy’s friends and picking her up. Mommy and Sidney taking an afternoon stroll

5:22: Back home. Sidney in jumper. Kids on their own. I do believe it is time for half a beer!

7:40: I never had that beer…although, I may now. 10 year old needed attention…some TLC. Now he is finally outside, playing with friends. Made kids dinner (as husband staying late at work). Acknowledging the fact that the day was not all about him; and quite upset by it, Sidney made certain he was paid his rightful attention. 7:20, put him down to sleep. Went to neighbors to pick some tomatoes (as they are on vacation) and tried to tend to my own garden…mosquitoes, mosquitoes, mosquitoes.

7:50: Scratching all my mosquito bites and opening up that beer.

DISCLAIMER: I am incredibly cognizant of the world around me. I am completely aware that there are those who fight each day simply to survive. Others are trapped in an environment they feel they will never escape. The following passage is trivial, at most. I am completely enveloped within this family and so fortunate to have these experiences.

Thanks for listening.

a little wine and conversation

The weather was perfect last night for a little wine and conversation. Cool breeze, leaves rustling, crickets chirping, frogs croaking, and john and katie talking.

honorable mention

This has to be said - before it escapes the mind forever. For each waking minute we walk on this earth, we constantly check in with ourselves, "Was that a good decision?" "Was I too rude?" "Would this be a good purchase?" "I wonder how my comment was interpreted?" "Am I doing what is right?" Quick analysis is in constant motion.

So, within this time of monitoring of self, where do dreams factor? How does one 'analyze' or 'interpret' the mind when it;s on it's own at night. Are dreams for entertainment sake; giving the mind something to do while the soul sleeps? Should credence be paid to these times of unrealistic directions?

Last night I had a dream and to even begin to peel apart the layers of interpretation is impractical.

~~ Angelina Jolie needed my help. She was about to go into labor and her nurse needed to clock in for her 15 minute break. I stepped in (as any non medical professional would) to assist. She had arranged for a water birth; so i pulled in my large cynlindrically shaped aluminum container and i filled it up with 'warm' water. She was somehow able to fit most of her torso in the bin ( she was very agile at 9 months). I told her that for a water birth, she would have to have her face submerged. I told her that this is what she has been preparing for and her breathing techniques will prevent her from drowning. And so she did. She submerged her face underwater and by now, the rest of her body was sticking out of the container and she was ready to give birth.

Her face (under water) created an obstacle for communication, so - in my best efforts, i signed to her the directions. I was completely calm and relaxed and surprised at the fluidity of my sign language.

Angelina's delivery was without significance. She delivered a healthy 12 year old, long blond haired (with dread locks) girl who named herself Elizabeth. When i went to cut the umbilical chord, (Elizabeth wanted it extra long so that she could put some plastic beads on it), i was unable to find decent surgical scissors, and reaching into my own personal diaper bag, i was able to attain a very used pair of Fiskars Kid Scissors. It took effort and muscle power of course, but in the end, the umbilical chord was cut!

Meanwhile, the water was getting cold, and Angelina wanted to get dressed. A lab tech came in, assessed my job and Elizabeth was on her way to meet up and introduce herself to her new family members. She showed great interest when mentioned that there was a Wii at home.

The remains of the dream alter within a feeble story line and not worth mentioning (smile).

These involuntary ideas, emotions and sensations are quite speculative. How does the waking mind even begin to interpret these captivating neural processes? And what reflections of self do they portray?

Thanks for listening.

a showering

tonight, into the late evening, as the rain gathers in it's expressive descent upon my flowered deck; i think back to the past couple of hours.

All children were being watched by our fantastic neighbors and friends.

Tonight, I declared to my husband, "I need to be filled up."

Tonight, the two of us took off in the convertible jeep and made our way to a very grown up restaurant...not a child in site. (www.northcoastwayzata.com)

Tonight, my husband showered me with compliments on all spectrum's.
1. mother
2. wife
3. friend
4. katie

it doesn't take much to re-energize when the other to whom you feel so passionate about shares feelings of worthiness, love, adoration and appreciation.

Tonight, i laughed within adult context. I shared educated views. I listened with an intelligent ear. I conversed within a knowing and welcoming theme.

Tonight, our table was void of milk (white or chocolate), pasta, dried chicken, straws and crayons. The waitress did not once say, "Now, hon, watch it because this plate is hot."

The breeze off the lake complimented the clinking of our toasting glasses and the murmuring of adjacent adult conversation mimicked our own song of verse.

Tonight was an exceptional evening to be John and Katie.

Thanks for listening

Will I Miss These Moments?

My infant son and I rock in his chair as the U2 Rock-a-Bye Baby Cd plays at my feet. As he slowly closes his eyes and his brain is lulled by each passing rock; i wonder, "Will I miss these moments?"

He is now asleep and my mind wonders to my children. In present time, what will I look back upon and truly miss.

Lucy:


This morning, as we gathered in the van to depart for the day, I asked, "Do you have your water bottle?" She jumped out of the car and back inside the house. Minutes later, she emerged from the garage door, and in her crying jags, i hear, "I can't find it anywhere."

Lucy has a dainty spirit and it does not take much to shatter her world (an irony prevails with how she dresses and presents herself and i will get to that later). Everyday mishaps bring her to full on tears and i have to wonder, "Will i miss these moments?" On what occasion, will I fondly look back at this time. What family gathering will we be at when it is appropriate for me to say, "Oh Lucy, remember how you used to cry at every little misstep in life? Ah, good times."

At night, Lucy reminds me to come in her room for a hug and a kiss - even though we have said our good nights, and i have kissed her and whispered sweet nothings in her ears , she still waits for me to come in. This has been a ritual for many years - the process has changed a bit and the rhythm of the evening has changed - but I am always and forever asked to come into her room. Presently, it is because she has to kiss me all over my face. Forehead, chin, each cheek, nose, ears and finally lips, with a final hug at the end. There are evenings i dread going in because other mundane aspects of life seem to trump her willing desire of loving contact. Other evenings, i revel in our presence with the other. Today, as i look at this and know this ritual will one day pass, I have to say, "Yes, I will miss these moments."

She is quite the individual and has always had a flare for dress. It began with unmatched socks that have now disappeared for almost a year now (and i forget at times to 'miss' those moments). Now, it is boy shorts and a very worn, ugly brown 'happy t-shirt' that is donned on daily. Her friends and peers have ribbons in the hair, braids, cute pony tails and fashionable clothes that a mom might say, 'hey, she really looks cute.' Lucy has on knee hi's, plaid boy shorts and her happy shirt - accompanied with her hair down and often in her face. I can not deny that when her outlook on fashion changes, it will be bittersweet. I treasure her unique style. it gets old at times and there are moments i wish i could go out and purchase a new wardrobe for her - but she is her own person and she declares it perfectly with her dress. Yes, I will miss these moments!"

Perry:

I had to skip Simon for a moment and jump to Perry. I am wondering when will there be a time when i will say, "Oh ya, i forgot that you used to play with Lego's continuously throughout the days." If I look around me, I see a computerized Lego bob-cat sitting in front of me on the dining room table and just behind me, escaping my view for the moment, is a room capped with Legos.

Perry and his dad got up at 5am this morning to build Lego's together (as was promised by dad who had an early conference call to attend to and 5am was decided upon as a decent time to play together). I find myself closing the door from view, and I am not able to navigate my way to the couch without stepping on something plastic. John and I used to build fortresses out of duplo blocks when Perry was a toddler. He is now 12 and building with his Lego's offers him an exceptional pleasure that I can not see being matched by anything other. Today, he has an offer to go to a friends house and swim for the afternoon - and there is a hesitancy about him because he wants to do some programming for his NXT bob-cat he just built (I just got him a programming book for his set). I am not sure what will change in Perry's life and I am not sure when the time will come when i will say, "oh, how i miss those moments of Lego's in my sun room." But i know i will!

I walk a very fine line with Perry as a parent. It has been one of my most challenging tasks in life and I once wrote that God had not intended great things for me with the exception of being a mom to an extraordinary boy. the cursor blinks as my mind flashes to a multitude of 'moments' that have passed and that i truly miss.


* baking odd creations that john and I ate in his presence -- some good, some horrid - but he had a love of baking.

* his early love of geography. packing up his clothes at the age of 4, bringing a suit case into the living room and saying, "mom, when i am in 4th grade, i am going to be leaving and going on a trip to many places around the world. here is a picture of me so that you don't forget what i look like." The picture was a hand drawn picture of him on a piece of scratch paper and i left the 'packed' suit case in our living room for a couple of weeks.

* His love of puzzles at such an early age, he couldn't get enough. I quickly look at his life today and see his multitude of 'first place' chess trophies on his book case, the Lego's he has formed that are mind blowing. Oh, what a mind.

There are many aspects of perry's personality that are ingrained within - some attractive and others quite questionable and as mom, i am thinking...ya, i wouldn't mind 'missing those moments.'

Simon:

Simon, Simon, Simon. I am not sure where to begin. This boy wears his heart on his sleeve and is fragile to the core. This is what i am hoping to look back upon and truly NOT miss. He is delicate in every way and I often tip toe around his brittle self. When I stomp in front of him with my monsterous steps at times; i crumble within the aftermath and this is where i find myself today. Filled with question on 'how could i have handled that situtation better with my son?'

At night, when we hug our good nights, i feel my baby. I feel his innocence and his desire to be cuddled and i feel an almost ardent desire from him to be young again. At times I think this world is too much for him and the pressure of 'where to be' presses too much upon him. He is a boy in constant search of himself and at times he reaches out to me to save him - and this is where i falter.

What are the 'will i miss these moments' scenarios with Simon? I am not completly sure.

Will I miss that he goes to bed with two tiny rags that were once his baby blanket? Yes.
Do I miss that he used to wear a hat every single day of his life (and still does in the winter time). Yes.
Will I miss those moments that he changed his core character to mimic someone else's near to him? No.
Will I miss - "I will just go with the crowd" mentality he often takes part in? No
Will I miss those fleeting moments when he is purely happy to be himself? YES!

(Tangent: Parenting is the hardest job on the planet and I can only pray that I am up for the task...tears).

These moments are not to be taken for granted. each passing second in life builds upon the next and I have to hold on to what I can before it fades away.

Will I miss these moments?

It's Party Time

I am in the midst of planning a party for my friend's 40th trip around our sun. Expected: 40 adults and 22 kids. I am thankful that it is not at my house. I am doing most of the cooking and the planning, however. It has been really fun planning it with the husband....who so wants to try his hardest in getting things done, but doesn't know where to begin. i have loved taking him by the hand and guiding him.....to only make this a success for his wife!

Sidney has thrown up on my arm, but before this posting, i have been making all kinds of pasta dishes. Pesto Cavatappi, Baked Ziti, Fettuccine with a special Alfredo sauce and the list goes on. She is an exceptionally picky eater; but is passionate about Italian!

Lucy's Scavenger Hunt

Lucy celebrated her 8th birthday not too long ago. I quickly made a scavenger hunt for her the evening before and this is what she woke up too.

#1.

Happy Birthday to our Lucy Bean
You are 8 years old today!

Your first clue will take you to a familiar scene.

It’s in a place where you get squeaky clean.

There is just one place for you to go
and make sure you scrub between each toe

#2
So, you are on your way with clue number 2
And looking nice is the theme for you
It seems your clothes end up in this machine
This is where you put them if you want them clean

#3
Well done to our Lula-Bug Girl
You are solving these clues all in a whirl
your next clue won’t be as easy
and you'll find it attached to something cheesy!

#4
So, you are smarter than you think!
And you found the Crazy Bugs box without many blinks
You will need to plug your nose for this next clue
and it is under something that STINKS

#5
This box is mostly filled with things
that rarely bring you glee
Like bills, and junk, and other stuff
perhaps a clue or birthday card, you may see

#6
You play the Wii, you read a book
You are never considered a slouch -
but this next clue is where you sit
go inside and look under the?????

#7
Hmmm, it is hard to throw you off
You are one smart girl; there is no denyin’
Your next clue is in a small house
Where your Pet Pets are in the windows….spyin’

#8
Okay, you have done your job so well
and it is time to celebrate with Hollandaise eggs and juice
Run to the table girl…run – run – run!
your presents have been LET LOOSE!

New Post

I am slowly booting up for the day. I get up early for the sole purpose of having quiet time with just me and my cup of coffee. Three sips in and the screen is still a blur and I am cognizant of my fingers typing away; but only realize what I am saying when I see the letters appear upon the screen before me.

Another sip....where do i start....where do i begin

wiping the sleep from my eyes, i focus on later today when my daughter will be coming home from her first weekend away. She is in great loving hands, as she has gone with friends, but the absence of her little body has had an affect upon this family in her short time away. I look up from the monitor and my mind fades to Lucy. Her warm body nestled in mine each and every morning as she hobbles out of her bed and into my arms. Forever and always, I greet her with a soft voice, tender kiss and accepting embrace.

time for a refill, a stretch of the muscles, and a walk outside to get the morning paper....life is good.

Present status:
Perry - asleep on the couch. Woke up early, but couldn't quite stay awake.
John - woke up at 4:30, did some work and now back in bed, only to be awakened in a moment to get ready to go into work for the day as the Twins are playing.
Simon - asleep on his belly. He did this as a baby (as does Sidney) and this is the position you will find him in most times. I will need to get him up to get ready for the early church service this morning, as he is singing in the choir.
Sidney - asleep in our bed....i stand corrected. I just heard his little cry out and as i did, a weakly muttered "Good morning, Mom" came from the adjacent room from the tall boy on the couch.

So, I tie back my hair with one of Lucy's hair bands (my hair is getting too long) and I stare out the window for one last quiet reflection of my self, this time, this morning and this life. My fingers are still typing, but my mind is a little more awake and it is already buzzing with preparation for the day.

Enjoys yours!
Katie

I breathe it all in. I know this place and I honor it's time, it's past, it's present and it's future. The Avenson Farm; I am swaddled within it's rich history.

It is early morning and I sit on the home porch. A new home as the original is long but gone. The home of old stories and tales is replaced by another that will certainly build moments for new stories and new perspectives.

The cool breeze plays with my toes and blows my hair from face; I take in the aroma of the coffee and immerse myself in sound. A cow in the distance welcomes the morning while a loon counters it's response with it's wailing laugh and mournful cry. Tractors performing morning tasks with drivers already accepting the bustle of the day and a bedlam of birds competing with the next for most vibrant sound.

My infant son sleeps, unaware of the historic place he lays his head.

My senses are alive with dynamic fusion and my eyes take it all in. This farm, that was at one time, just as active as the distant tractors i now hear. The early risings, the big and fattening lunches and late suppers; all prepared by a mother of 9. In her part, supporting the family industry. Presently, this place is satiated with ghostly remnants of the past; forever being memorialized by conversation, pictures, and physical reminders.

My eyes veer off and smile at the large pines my husband once played hide and seek in as a small child.

In a slow, steady gate, Dan and his yellow lab, Connor, walk in quiet rhythm to the old barn.

My gaze is affixed on them, but short lived when my daughter emerges from the house. I turn to look at her, take another sip of coffee and welcome her to sit and take this morning in to build upon new memories and new experiences at the Avenson Farm.

My time is cut short. The morning still lingers and the cool breeze fills my soul like that of good, morning coversation. The quietness of time is being filled by sounds of breakfast being made, cinamon rolls being fought over and my infant son cooing in the bedroom below.

Another morning, another evening, and another time of reflection.