REESES and a SMILE

9:08pm ~~ 17 degrees (but feels like 8)

The garage door opens and the car pulls out. This man will drive down to the store to get his wife a treasured Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.

1991- this man comes home from Dessert Storm --into the early morning hours, we get in the car and take a drive. Among many other details, this drive includes a stop at a local gas station for a Reese'sPeanut Butter Cup

1993 - 8pm - after the I do's have been said and the pictures have been taken, I take step into the limousine and on my seat is a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.

Through the years, many heart felt exchanges and stressed discussions within our relationship - this man makes the argument that he might not be the perfect husband, but he *does* bring me home Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (smile).

Many times on his way home from work, I send him to the store to pick up extraneous materials -upon arrival home, sitting at the top of the bag is my Reese's.

This evening, after spending time with his family and the house quieted down from the clatter of his children, he places his hand upon my belly, nods knowingly and says, "I know what you want, I will be right back."

There are far too many facets to this man to list and I am not only clinging onto one that selfishly deals with my sweet tooth; it simply made me smile this evening to watch him get off the couch, grab the keys and say, "I will be right back."

New Day

I woke up this morning and made my way out to the kitchen. As my bare feet touched the cold tile floor, i overheard my sons practicing their poem for the week. They are currently playing legos, but waking up in the midst of learning is always heartwarming.

Today, we will go hear the Minnesota Orchestra pay tribute to Leonard Bernstein. His daughter Jamie will be hosting the performance. I love these outings to Orchestra Hall!


*I have a tremendous respect for our military and reading this poem outloud to my kids brings tears to my eyes.

poem for the week

The Blue And The GrayFrancis Miles Finch (1827-1907)

By the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Under the one, the Blue,
Under the other, the Gray

These in the robings of glory,
Those in the gloom of defeat,
All with the battle-blood gory,
In the dusk of eternity meet:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgement-day
Under the laurel, the Blue,
Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours
The desolate mourners go,Lovingly laden with flowers
Alike for the friend and the foe;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgement-day;
Under the roses, the Blue,
Under the lilies, the Gray.

So with an equal splendor,
The morning sun-rays fall,With a touch impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Broidered with gold, the Blue,
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain,With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment -day,
Wet with the rain, the Blue
Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done,In the storm of the years that are fading
No braver battle was won:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue,
Under the garlands, the Gray

No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day,
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray.

Typing in the Dark

I began a journal for this new life growing inside of me the day I found out I was pregnant. I have entitled the journal, Typing in the Dark. I sat in our dark sun room the evening that I wrote this first passage; the kids were asleep, john was at work, the TV was off and all was quiet with the exception of my pounding thoughts. Here is marking the first passage of Typing in the Dark.

Typing in the Dark

I am 40 years old and pregnant. The cursor blinks with impatience as my stare of the screen blurs. I am 40 and pregnant. I can’t seem to define this in any sense and I wait fervently for news of elated confirmation or saddened misfortune. I am balancing; balancing between the extraordinary possibilities unfolding before me.

This is you at 6 weeks gestation. Already I am building love for you. I look at the cartooned rendering and quietly say, “There you are, baby.” This already is a dream and I am blinded by uncertainty, but you are with me, there is no denying. I am 40. I am nauseous, I am sleepy and my insides are already shifting in great preparation. I close tonight, knowing I will visit the computerized ‘baby calendar’ to check on development. Doctor visits are already scheduled and future plans for your arrival are in constant thought and discussion. One day your siblings will be privy to this awe-inspiring life growing. They too will find a place for you in their hearts and our house will be a buzz with a renewed excitement. Good night to you.

Toying with something I know nothing about at this moment

Does Barrack Like to Read

Today, while discussing and comparing this incoming president to previous presidents before us, a discussion of the swearing in bible came up. We talked about how it will be the same bible that Abraham Lincoln placed his hands upon in 1860. This traveled into what we knew about Lincoln. Simon commented on how Lincoln loved to read as a child and Perry responded with, "I wonder if Barrack likes to read?"

Unsystematic

To my right, Lucy is filling in the 5 Straight Board with pegs. We just finished a 2 round game and now, as i watch her systematically plug in the colored pegs into a set pattern of choice, I type on this blank page in a very unsystematic fashion.

LEADING WITH.....
Al Potter died last night at 7:26pm after a very short battle with Bile Duct Cancer. No one on Access Hollywood will be reporting on this tonight and it won't even make the local news. He was a humble teacher in Northern Minnesota and married to one of the 9 Avenson children (2 brothers, 7 sisters). This weekend, we will head up for his funeral - all of which he arranged on his own during his last two weeks on this earth.

SECOND IN LINE
My gaze veers off to the left and it ponders upon Simon. My 9 year old who, for all intense and purposes, is a couch potato. The claimed spot on the couch is where one could find him on a daily basis..reading, reading, reading. These are sophiticated books - typically 300 - 400 pages. His aunt came to visit the other day with more books for him and he jumped up and shouted with great exasperation; ran to the couch and opened up the first of 5 books. He has a full school day ahead of him and at 11:00, he chose SSR (super silent reading). It is now 12:36 and he still sits. Soon after I am done, I will have to squeeze myself through his silent bubble of thought and remind him that there are still agenda items that need to be addressed.

I mention this only because of my own working memories of his toddler years. My first born had all of me; physically connected on the floor, reading books, doing puzzles, and singing songs. Perry was an avid puzzler and loved to be read to. If we did nothing more than read and do puzzles until daddy came home, it was a perfect day. Perry was my 'flash card' baby; white 3 x 5 cards on appliances, stating their names, hi-frequency words on the cupboards, and having him site read board books,eventually leading him on a solid reading road before entering kindergarten. This was my, "I've dun gooood" moment as a mom.

Simon never followed that path. He would rather chew or throw the puzzle pieces, he would rather play with his toes than look at a book, and a good day was snuggling with mom, rocking in the chair and playing with my ears. My "I've dun gooood" mantra was replaced with a wide-eyed, mouth agape, "How can I fail my child like this?"

It should go without saying that all three of my children are inquisitive, curious, happy and avid readers. Books, or bookstore gift cards as gifts are met with enthusiasm. Trips to the library fills answers the question of, "What am I going to read today?" At this point in time, Perry seems to be transitioning himself out of the traditional book and has immersed himself into the world of catalogues, easy chapter books and lucy's early picture books. This is not a competition, but an observation as well as life study. By the time Lucy was born, I was the laid back mother who let her little girl chart her path as I supplied all the necessary arsenal - music, books, art, conversation, etc. All three (as babies) were raised and required a difference within my mothering. All three seem to reflect these differences to some varied degree. How will it be with this 4th baby? The answer remains...

THIRD AND FINAL
I am off to "snuggle time." Perry has me today and from what I understand, there is a table set up in his room with two cupcakes, two cups of milk and a lego catalogue to pour through together. I will have to take my 'oohs and aahhhs' out of the locked vault soon and meet him with the same intense excitement he seems to have for this moment. This is my moment. what is yours?

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs

This is a funny book with an imaginative concept--the people of the town CHEWANDSWALLOW eat what drops from the sky--orange juice rain, pancakes floating down, hamburgers on a stormy day. The climate goes awry and the people set sail on stale bread boats to move to a world where food is bought in the supermarket. The illustrations are very funny, moving from line drawings in black and white to lovely colored illustrations as the fantasy story begins. While looking for a book cover to paste into this selection, i found out that there is a movie in production based on this children's book. I really have no reason to begin this blog with this story; but as i follow my stream of thought, I did as told.

The picture to the left is a portrayal of Peer Gynt. We have been learning quite a bit about Edvard Grieg, the Norwegian composer. Such as Tchaikovsky and The Nutcracker, Peer Gynt was a famous play composed by none other than Edvard Grieg.

So, with coffee in hand and random thoughts sporadic as dust particles in the air, I sit and write during daybook time. Keeping in line with his long running theme; Perry has put on a CD and playing it at random. He has asked us to write whatever comes to mind during each song..."just go with the flow," he announces. 'Going with the flow' takes a concentrated effort on my end. It does not come easy to me. I am not sure if it is the level of patience that might be missing from this equation, the unknown of control, or the bafflement of time. But, something gets in the way. I have mentioned this before, but my kids love it when 'snuggle time' is on their agenda and it is my least favorite because it is literally 20 minutes of unscheduled time (laughing).

Perry's music of choice is fast paced and electronically tech(ed) out. As for his daybook time, he draws pictures and writes little words. I am not sure how this will play out. At his age, I was almost finished with my first 'diary' and my stack of journals strongly depicts the events in my life: elementary, highschool, through college, dating john and getting prepared for my wedding day. Each child has their own special journal that was kept as babies and even this no name baby has had a journal 6 weeks after conception - tracking thoughts, feelings, future predictions. Writing is a strong part of who I am and when I have moments to myself, I am either writing on this computer or pulling out a working journal.

So, I have accomplished Perry's direction....to be random. This passage is nothing short of that. Yes, i do believe this chosen theme of music has clearly defined itself within these written words and thoughts.

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs!

Katie

Books kids are currently reading:

LUCY ~ Call of the Wild (Jack London)

SIMON ~ Redwall series (Brian Jacques)

PERRY ~ Captain Courageous (Rudyard Kipling)

Waitng Within the Stillness

Each week, Thursday afternoons to be exact, an email arrives to remind me how many weeks I have left before this new life force nestles himself into an already existing and often chaotic environment. I am now 30 weeks; and with scheduled c-section in place, I have 9 weeks for countdown. 9 weeks of countdown!

I look at the blinking cursor and attempt to minutely comprehend any or all of this. The placement doesn't fit. The friend who has wanted nothing more than another child to love, the uncle who, potentially, has less than 9 weeks to live, the monumental life choices that now scream to a stop and the soulful journey it has taken to accept and love this being...that just doesn't fit. 9 weeks to countdown. Humanly, I am frantically fitting my own life together. Spiritually, i am frantically fitting it all together - but my heart can not deny the acceptance of it all.

I have to cut this short. The counter top for our bathroom sink is now arriving. Another piece to fit together as this 9 week countdown continues.

Cold Mountain

Finally, another day book day. We have been absent from this aspect of the day for quite a while. The sound track to Cold Mountain is playing in the background; epic movie from the Civil War, and being that we are studying the Civil War, this seemed apropos. So, as i sit here and nod my head to the rhythm, i listen to the lyrics of this first song and think of the strong connections in my life. The mandolin acts as a fueling aspect to this song and feeds energy to my soul. "I'll soon be free from every trial, this form shall rest, beneath the sun . I'll drop the cross of self-denial and enter in that home with God. I'm goin' home to see my savior, i'm going home no more to roam, i am just goin' home to jordan, i am just goin' just over home."

As the song passes to the next; so do my thoughts. I look at my three children on the couch with daybooks open, toes tapping, eyes soaking in thoughts and concentrated attention. The days unfold where I continue to complain about self imposed and chronic situations; but when i am here, in this sun-lit room, three babies adjacent to my soul, with me in the moment, i can not deny the unbelievable synchronicity to this life.

Although, as the music presses on and this daybook time comes closer to a close, by 9 year old interrupts this perfect moment to address how many Star Wars Clone movies there just may be. It is funny - from Civil War to Star Wars.

Alison Kraus - Scarlet Tide
VIDEO - Click here

Well I recall his parting words
Must I accept his fate
Or take myself far from this place

I thought I heard a black bell toll
A little bird did sing
Man has no choice
When he wants every thing

We'll rise above the scarlet tide
That trickles down through the mountain
And separates the widow from the bride

Man goes beyond his own decision
Gets caught up in the mechanism
Of swindlers who act like kings
And brokers who break everything

The dark of night was swiftly fading
Close to the dawn of day
Why would I want him just to lose him again
We'll rise above the scarlet tide
That trickles down through the mountain
And separates the widow from the bride