hand games

so many hand games to play to decide who is going to be the solo person "it" in a game, or who will be chosen first among friends to participate. This evening, we all gathered to play a family game and Lucy was to decide who was to be first. She signaled for our hands to all be together in the middle of the table and she would chant some age old chant to decipher the leader.
As i wait and listened, I began to think of the chants I used as a kid

*Bubble gum, bubble gum, in a dish...how many pieces do you wish*
*Eenie meenie mienee, moe - catch a tiger by the toe...*
*Cinderella, dressed in yella, went upstairs to kiss a fella*

Lucy comes to the table, points her finger down at each of our hands and begins the innocent rap ---

"Kirbey Puckett
pooped in a bucket,
what color was his poop?"

I thought this was so funny, i had to jot it down and now i am being summoned back to the game.

The beat walks on with methodical steps
Slow..slowly trudging with heavy thoughts
One step -- two step---three step..watch the beat...watch it getting faster.
There she goes..running and running
Round and round in circuitous pattern
Arms wider now - jumping within a renewed rhythm.....watch her dance!
The graying statue stays behind - tears falling from the hardened face.
The water begins to move and with its force, she is swept away.
Gone, gone, gone. she is not afraid anymore. there she goes.

Time of Transistion

My present position: Dunn Bros Coffee House in Minnetonka, Minnesota.
My present company: 11 week old baby - nestled into my chest, covered with blanket, and feeling cool breeze upon his infant toes.
Present Senses:
Sight: road ahead of me, cars passing by
Smell: Coffee and Lilacs and Sidney's head.
Feel: Sidney's soft hair.
Hear: People's remote morning conversations, construction hammering, wheels turning, birds rhythmically chirping.

Transition

As i caress the head of my three month old son, my 12 year old is at the local Jr. High taking his math placement test. I can't help but look at my van parked in front of me and see the emptied seats - currently vacant, but characteristically bursting with children conversing, singing, crying, and fighting.

Transition

My oldest born is entering into a world i cannot fathom. As an onlooker comes by to dote on Sidney, she asks me if this is my first. I laugh, thinking… this is my last. My oldest is out there, demonstrating a valor step in independence and I hold this little one who clings through his daily dependence. My oldest says he is neither nervous nor excited; but when i advise that he walk ahead of me and check in, he says, "No, i will help you with Sidney and walk with you."

I quickly reminisce back to a little boy walking into All saints Nursery School with his clean sandals, sharp and ironed shirt and snappy back pack – tangling his little fingers within mine as he assess his world. Today, he is older - smudged shorts, wrinkled t-shirt, barely combed hair and I question if his teeth are brushed - but in his own way and time, he is holding my hand....or am i holding his?

Transition

I admit ~ i don't want to let him go. I, too, am transitioning and growing and as i look down at my youngest, as he smiles and coos at this alone time with mom - i grow a tad solemn; knowing this time shall pass and it won't be long before this little boy is in his starched new shirt and his snappy back pack, standing in front of the preschool sign being asked to smile before we head on in to his new classroom.

Transition

My oldest just called on the cell phone and is ready to be picked up.

Present smell: my babies head
Present feel: Apprehensive, tentative and tearful
Present sight: I take a step back and watch my first born begin to lead me instead of the other way around
Present Sound: the birds continue, the cars persist, the conversation has not died out, and yet, i can only concentrate on my oldest who says, "Mom, come and pick me up, I am done with my test."

My world is now quieted as I make my way through this transition in time.

a reference to day

Today began mild and typical. Fitting in my world. When the morning was still within it's quiet awakening, my oldest son asked:

"What are we going to do today?"

I hate this question.

Somewhere within the depths of me came Julie McCoy, the cruise director. Options were stated.
1. I want to go swimming!
2. I want to go roller skating!
3. I want to go to the Chutes and Ladders Park!

I slowly slumped further in my chair, as I simply wanted to 'hang out' as I always do.

We called some friends, but they had already made plans for the day. I latched onto this "Oh well, we tried" moment and I began to relish the day's quiet.

As I was taking in the scene from our backyard deck, my oldest suggests that we all go bowling.

I quickly calculate this in my head and with loud question, i think, BOWLING? bowling? hmmm......bowling.

Okay.



The three run in all directions - grabbing shoes, money, brushing teeth, putting on socks.

We pick up some lunch and eat it outside before going in. We bowl our one game a piece and the day's FUN was over within the hour.

We head home. I pull into the garage and quietly leave the chattering dialogue of what to do next.

As a unit, we made the decision to go to Minnehaha Falls. We made it there just fine, but learned, after the descent down the 134 steps, that the falls were under construction and many of the trails were closed. SO, we went back up the stairs - with baby in tow. The oldest son leads us onto another trail and we find ourselves deeper and deeper on a long and windy trail.

Meanwhile, baby is getting hungry, so we pause to take a break for Sidney's lunch.

As soon as I get settled with Sidney and the kids

seem to be content, Simon says, "I have to go poop!" I advise the woods and he denies my option. "I can run to the top!" I encourage the woods again and he continues his denial and makes a run for it. Two minutes later, Perry says, 'I hear Simon crying!"

I whip the family into shape and we head back. we all take a bathroom break and head on home -but first, stop on over to a friends house who just finished up a remodel. we hop on the freeway and it is backed up with traffic.

Sidney begins to sound off and I pull off of the already crowded freeway to a fairly emptied parking lot and feed him again.

Soon, (but not soon enough) we are back on the freeway heading home. we make it home - i send the kids outside and open up a beer and head on back to my back side deck to take in the remainder of the day!

Now, it's time for ice cream!

Text messages between husband and self during day

They call me Julie McCoy, the cruise director *(katie)

*?? (john)

We are bowling at the moment.....perry just hit simon (katie)


Off to Minnehaha Falls (katie)


Falls under construction This of me with a crying baby and going up and down steps. (katie)


HELP!!! (katie)

* What's up? (john)


I am stuck and frustrated (katie)


*On your way home? (john)


No, go back to work (katie)


* Just in a meeting. I will call you when done. (john)


Far, far away from civilization and simon has to go poop Sidney is presently nursing and I am laughing. (katie)

* Find a tree, use a wipe and head back to the car. It worries me that you are sort of alone with the kids. (john)

No big deal...packing up ..he is making a run for it and we will meet up with him...Sidney is still hungry - but sorry. Still smiling. (katie)


All back together. Simon turned around and began crying out really loud. Now I am not smiling. (katie)


Stopping off 62. Traffic. Need to nurse and change diaper. Unhappy baby. (katie)

Appreciation

Presently, i am sitting at the head of our kitchen table, looking over bills, scheduling field trips, summer outings and letting our cat in and out of our door. Nothing that would elicit an exciting response by anyone.

On the other hand, to my direct left, all three of my children have the radio blaring in the next room - "I'll tell ya want i want, what I really, really want....." "Who let the dogs out....who? who? who?" "To the left, take it back now ya’ll 1 hop this time, right foot let’s stomp Left foot let’s stomp, Cha Cha real smooth..." All three in rhythm run to the bathroom, drop a handful of gel in their hair - which is never enough - and run back out to groove on!

"Hey, look at this move!"
"Hey --- do you know that i can do this?"
"Mom???? I don't want you to watch me right now!"

In my peripheral, i see my son changing into his hipper and freely moving 'dance clothes', hair spiked and baseball hat positioned sideways.

I can only appreciate this significant time from afar. I made the failing attempt to show off my cool mom moves and I was quickly told that I was not invited. I countered with some 'hip' banter and again, affirmed that the old lady simply could not match their eclectic energy.

So, I slumped back to the kitchen table, where bills and calendars awaited me. I turned back, closed the pocket doors and poured myself another cup of coffee. I can appreciate this free and spontaneous 'kid' time. It makes it's way through out house like the comforting aroma of a savored dish.

The dance moment will soon be replaced by the in depth world of legos. Battles will be held, stations will be captured, treaties will be formed and with every sound imaginable, lego ships will fly about the room with set missions. I will be asked to come into the room to agree with my ohhs and aaahs but then dismissed. Dad knows how to play legos; mom, clearly does not (smile).

Another sip of coffee, another sentence in the blog and now it is time to close for the day

The Dance

Step, step, step. step to the rhythm in the darkened room; barely enough light to see your soul, and yet you dance - shaking your head from side to side.

The smell is clean and you are electric on the aluminum dance floor - moving and flying like a bird with your arms swaying freely in the air. Eyes closed~~resigning to the music. You listen to the song of the dark voice and thesteel drums; this is truth and all are watching.

Up on stage you stand in front. Your head tilts up and your eyes open, just to look for your partner. He is somewhere out there in the sweaty, bobbing mass of flesh. You find him and smile; close your eyes and continue in your meditatively euphoric dance. You are on a hypnotic plane with no desire for reality. You bump into someone or mistakenly cross a path and a simple wave of the arm or the nod of head excuses the blunder - the music builds and your body responds.

transition

Another song pulsates through the speakers. You pound your feet harder and your arms spread wider. Your knees bend, your back curves to each deafening beat.
Front 242 brings me back to Club Post Nuclear, a dance club in Laguna Beach. 20 years later, I look back with a desirous yearning in my growing years. It is 10:25 pm and I am yawning.

3:52 pm – time alone = 1 hour. Start timing……NOW!

Sitting at my coffee shop and wondering when the aspiration of trends and fashion transpires to sensible khakis up to my belly.

Age and time and understanding. Three mediums sustaining their polished and poised play with the other; balancing, harmonizing and complimenting.

I can’t tell what age I am. My current disposition defies definition.

A lanky woman flouts about with dazzling orange pants. She walks the path and as she saunters by, she tips her woven sun hat with her walking stick. Her age dares her. She tilts her head back in laughter as she continues her stroll with friends.

Sitting to my left, an aged couple talk – each contributing 2 to 3 words of thoughts to sentences. There isn’t much conversation needed when you are that connected. The little grand children toddle up to greet grandpa. He cautiously makes his way out of the chair, adjusts his hat and twists his shorts in place. His son now takes the drink orders while ice cream drips down the small arm of the 4 year old.

Age….time….understanding.

The four year old wiggles the metal table and taps swiftly against it. The son nervously tells his daughter to tap quietly while the grandmother encourages the enticing muse.

When time presents itself and looks down at me with expectation; how will I respond?

I continue my revolution around the sun and with each marked passing, my body and soul progressively disengage from the other; leaving me with grappling questions of How, When, and Why. How did I get this old? When did my body begin to ache? Why do I not look as young as I feel?

It is hard to eaves drop when the zoom of traffic continues.

So, with certainty, I spin around the sun and as gravity continues to pull; my infant son contradicts. His energy forces me to run up the down escalator and my three older children encourage me in my stable path. I am aging through my time and trying to understand.

My reality is here. My infant is home asleep, the older children are entertaining grandpa and with constant appreciation; I remain, constant in my rotation.

4:52pm – time alone = 1 hour. Stop timing……NOW!

sidney

Too Much Noise to be Quiet

I know the title doesn't make any sense.

I sit on my bed, legs crossed, laptop upon them. TV is on, but on mute. I am quickly catching up on the news as I listen to Sidney cry it out in the adjacent room. Gary Lamb plays his piano lullaby and kids are literally running around the house, trying out new squirt guns.

I can not think! It is horrible.

and the crying continues.....

3:37 in the afternoon....