Ottava Battuta

Twelve

2011-10-17T06:06:00.000-07:00

It's always a little bittersweet when kids grow out of their baby-talk.

Lovely little lisps of guileless imperfection morph
into sophistication and startling clarity in the blink of an eye.

Last night Twin Boy said,
"Oh I forgot, there's a crucial piece of information I left out
about my trip to the cider mill!"

Really? Who talks like that?

On the other hand, within the same hour his twin said to me,
of the yellow game-piece she moved deftly toward the Library:

"Colonial Mustard, with a lead pipe!"

ahhh
I love twelve years old.

*

Fantasy vs Reality

2011-10-13T10:06:00.000-07:00

Whenever I start feeling like I have it all together something humbles me.

Today, it was the making of rice krispy treats.

A double batch in one pot (not recommended).

There is no elegant way.

*

Busy

2011-10-11T05:41:00.000-07:00

In the past few months I have dropped my son off at college, driven back and forth to school endless times, joined a soccer league, played music at restaurants, gone to parties, attended a Homecoming game and prepped a girl for the dance, watched volleyball and basketball games, lamented my fantasy football team and cheered for Lions and Tigers.

Phew.

Students have returned, and lucky for me and my college bill looming, there are more of them than ever. So I'm back to scales and chords and theory.

In a few weeks I get to go see Tony Bennett in concert, celebrate College Boy's 19th birthday, dress kids up for Halloween and create lists and lists and more lists for the Christmas season approaching.

So that is the recap. I might keep writing, or I might just recap again in a few weeks. I never know.

But right now my leg is taped up from a strained calf muscle.
When I feel it tugging, it reminds me that with all the busyness and activity lately, I am still grounded, life is not passing by like a dream.

Achey muscles remind me that I'm still here.

*

A Sign

2011-08-09T07:32:00.001-07:00

I just poked myself in the cheek with a corn-on-the-cob prong,
hard enough to draw blood
while lunging my face toward a cob of fresh sweet corn.

It came loose and stabbed me just at the moment I was going to take my first bite.

What does it say about me, that I consumed the corn anyway,
one-pronged
before tending to my wound?

Apparently I will not be deterred.

*

He Left Me A Note

2011-08-08T12:22:00.001-07:00

I came home from dropping the Teenager off at work to find the house empty.
I went around calling his name until I found this that Twin Boy left me.

He is the most considerate kid ever
and his handwriting is so awful it's kind of wonderful.

*

He Broke His Lent

2011-03-11T06:16:00.000-08:00

Our family discussed the possibilities of Lent as we gorged on Paczki
Tuesday morning.

He said he wanted to give up his DS.

I said, "Are you sure?"

I said, "For 40 days, are you sure?"

He was so sure.

Yesterday we called home to check on the children,
who were left to their own devices because we had an event.

"How is the Teenager?" we asked Twin Girl.

"He's fine," she reported.

"How is Twin Boy?" we asked.

"He broke his Lent," she said.

He lasted a whole 24 hours.

He looks so very sorry, doesn't he?

:-)

No Thank You

2011-01-14T06:01:00.000-08:00

She ate all of her mashed red potatoes with the skins on.
She ate all of her green beans.

She left her fish alone and said,

"Is it okay if I don't eat the fish?"

Pan-fried tilapia, served with a dollop of butter
mixed with fresh lime juice,
lime zest, diced serrano chile and salt.

I was only thinking of the time I'd put into making that dish.

I said, "Oh honey, there are lots of vitamins in that fish,
you should eat a few bites."

She gave me a pained expression.

I said, "One bite of fish?"

She looked down at the fillet and turned a little green.

"Ohhh!" I said, understanding dawning.

She had some more mashed potatoes and smiled at me gratefully.

Sometimes I am so thick.

*

Weird

2011-01-13T05:28:00.000-08:00

We have a lot of conversations about being weird at our house.
We celebrate it.

I think it started when one of the kids had a bad day and came home from school saying,

"Mom, I'm weird."

Instead of disagreeing I said,

"That's okay honey, it's a good thing.
Also, normal is boring."

We say "normal is boring" a lot.

I have four children between 12-18, and these years are not easy peer-wise.

There is always someone cooler, someone better-looking, someone who has nicer clothes.

But we have a corner on the weirdness factor, and claiming that,
instead of denying it,
sort of helps ease the teenage angst.

Why fight it?

When you are a teen you feel weird all the time.
So let's be honest about it and just ride the wave of weirdness.

I was driving the husband somewhere the other day and stopped at the high school to drop Middle Child off at dance team practice.

There was nobody around so instead of parking at the edge of the ramped sidewalk,
I just pulled up to the door.

The husband sighed.

The child, who had been silently absorbed in her own morose back-seat thoughts,
grinned like mad and stepped out,
and waved,
and kept waving as I backed out again.

She likes it that we aren't normal.

We color outside the lines, and sometimes, we drive outside of them.

I had a friend once, who, when I tripped on the sidewalk,
did the exact same thing a second later so that I wouldn't be so embarrassed.

I feel my weirdness contribution to the world is sort of like that.

*

Morning

2011-01-05T05:12:00.000-08:00

More fish biting the dust...we have all sorts of hypotheses about why,
but it's our own fault for tackling the job without expert advice,
so,
as soon as the last one dies (morbid, I know),
we will take a trip to Preuss' Pets downtown,
to start over with the right water, the right fish, the right chemical balance.

She smiled when I told her what we'd do, and got that look in her eye again,
the twinkle, the excitement,
the belief.

It's the way I feel most mornings,
with a half cup of coffee under my belt,
waking up to a gray sky and a quiet house,
in my old unraveling chair,
calendar and clean notebook paper by my side.

I feel hopeful again, that the mess of the day that is yesterday
has died and gone fully,
and today,
I have a whole day
that is new and clean and fresh
and alive
to start over with.

Good Morning!

*

Aqua

2011-01-02T19:02:00.000-08:00

Twin Girl got an aquarium for Christmas, and happily chose fish from Walmart to fill it.

She has this way of beaming,
and this way of eyes-wide-open-trust and hope.

The fish did wonderfully until a few days later when we decided to add some more
from another discount, mass-market store.

Four died, two of the old and two of the new.

They had already been named.

She cried quietly and stopped looking at the tank.

She sends Twin Boy into the room before her to check to see if any more have died.
She makes him check first thing in the morning too.

She got a headache.
She couldn't sleep last night.
She can't sleep now,
and is on the couch reading a book,
trying to get sleepy.

The Teenager said,
"Leave the light off, and then you'll get eyestrain
and it will make you tired."

She ignored him and I watch her there,
so quiet,
so sensitive,
and I want her to feel better.

But I am also glad that she has that thing inside of her
that keeps her fresh to pain.

If that makes any sense at all.

*

G'morning

2010-12-06T04:55:00.001-08:00

I stood in the glare of the kitchen light
with my eyes squinted, hands reaching for coffee when
Middle Child intercepted me.

"Mom-do-you-have-a-black-shirt?"

I stood mute, in a pre-coffee haze, recognizing the tone of measured
trying-not-to-panic-we-have-to-leave-in-ten-minutes pace of her words.

"The dance team is doing our routine at lunch today and I looked
everywhere but I can't find my black shirt so I was wondering if I could
look in your room to see if you have one?"

I nod and move instead to the basement stairs, to begin the sift
through clean and dirty clothes in search of the black shirt.
I find it in the wash, transfer it to the dryer and lug clean clothes
back up to the main floor.

In the meantime I've found a mess left down there and send the twins
down to please pick it up before they leave for school.

The Teenager darts out the door to start his car and
the Husband declares that he is working in Grand Rapids today,
except that they have
"a foot of snow and are expecting a foot more".

I blink at this news and watch him help himself to an out-the-door cup
of coffee.

I say please drive carefully, but I'm thinking
please save me a cup of that coffee,

when Twin Boy emerges from the basement arguing with Twin Girl
only to stop short and stare at me with an awful look.

"My food."

I am still holding the basket of clean laundry, and glance at the clock,

"What did you forget?"

He is doing a report on Nicaragua today, and he completely forgot that
he was supposed to bring some sort of visual aid,
and had told all his friends that he was going to bring some traditional
Nicaraguan food for them to taste.

He looks like he is going to cry.

Twin Girl steps into the conversation and says,

"Oh yeah I have to bring something from Guatemala."

I am frozen, digesting the dilemma and the 3 minutes we have to work with
when the Teenager dashes through the kitchen again and says,

"Enchilada sauce."

I dart to the cupboard to find an old cool whip container
and tell Twin Boy to grab the can opener.

"Why do we have to pour it in there?" he says,
rummaging through the wrong drawer,

"So it looks homemade," I say,
reaching into the lazy susan for a can and
over his shoulder for the can opener
from in front of his sightless eyes.

Twin Girl sighs and says,

"I guess I'll just bring a soccer ball."

I nod, thankful, and send Twin Boy to the pantry
to find a sleeve of soda crackers.

"Pass around the sauce," I say,
emptying the can into the container,
"and give each person a Saltine,
and have them dip it in and taste it."

"What if it's too hot?" he says.

I look at the can and snap the lid in place.

"It's not hot."

I put everything into a plastic grocery bag
and hand it to him.
He stands there, grateful.

"You have bare feet," I say.

He looks down and then makes a dash for his bedroom.

"Brush your teeth!" I call up after him.
"Everyone's in the car!" I yell up again.
"What is taking so long?"

He darts down again, grabs the bag from me,
slips on his shoes in the garage,
mashing down the heels, and calls back,

"Thanks mom!"

I close the garage door and go out on the front porch
to plug in Christmas lights so they can see them on their
way down the drive.

When I come back in, somebody is pounding on the garage door.
The Teenager mumbles something when I open it
as he pushes past me to grab his backpack.

Finally the door slams again and I go to the front door to see them go.

They are grinning from the car at the lights and I wave back absently,
noting the beginnings of a snow shower,
and the fact that they will make it to school before it gets really bad,
and wondering if the kids will know or care that it is Old El Paso
enchilada sauce and that Twin Girl's visual aid is just an old soccer ball,
and whether I will ever see my black t shirt again,
and if there really is a foot of snow in Grand Rapids today.

I come back in and the silence feels temporary.
But I wait a minute and it stays.

I breathe,
and pour a cup of coffee.

*

You're In Good Hands

2010-11-13T07:51:00.000-08:00

I was helping Twin Boy with his winter coat
because the zipper had split,
understandable since he is the third child to wear it.

But it's a really good winter coat
and the manufacturers of this particular brand
are great about customer service issues.

I told him,

"Don't worry, if this zipper is broken,
they'll send us a whole new coat!"

He looked down at it with new appreciation,
eleven-year-old wheels turning,

"Is this coat insured?"

*

Serendipity

2010-11-12T04:59:00.001-08:00

I am making soup.

And just now the recipe called for 2 quarts of chicken broth,
but the can I bought was only 49.5 oz.

So I measured out one quart and poured it into the soup pot.
I poured the rest of the broth into the measuring cup
but of course it wasn't enough.

Then I found a leftover box of chicken broth in the refrigerator
and I poured all of that into the measuring cup
every last drop
and it came up exactly to the 1 quart line.

I think this bodes very well for my day.

*

2010-11-01T05:37:00.000-07:00

This morning I have a stiff neck because over the weekend I drove into a ditch.

Twice.

I was parking in the dark at my sister's house,
where I was leaving our car,
so I could attend the surprise party for my brother two doors down.

There was a car in the driveway already
but it looked like I could fit next to it,
so I pulled up and

ka-chunk

my right wheel went down into the drainage ditch
next to the driveway.

It was sort of covered in leaves so I thought it was just earth
not a ditch.

Things like this don't trouble me too much.
We were all surprised but nobody was hurt,
so I laughed and said something dumb like,

"I just drove into a hole!
And now I'm gonna do it again!"

But see I didn't mean to do it again.

I meant to back out in a better way than I had pulled in,
but I didn't,
so I did do it again
and there was a harsh grating of metal
as my wheel went back down into the ditch
and the bottom of the car met the asphalt driveway.

It was sort of jarring, too, hence the stiff neck.

The first time I laughed,
the second time I smiled a fake smile
with lots of teeth and apologetic eyes
at the Husband who just blew out a bunch of air
that he had been saving for this moment apparently.

The kids were thrilled, as usual,
and sprinted ahead of us
two doors down to tell the gathered family
that I drove into a ditch.

I assumed a solemn face
and walked to the house quietly,
keeping my aggravating optimism
to myself.

*

Belated

2010-10-28T04:42:00.000-07:00

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago but didn't get to post this until just this morning,
and re-reading it, I re-lived it,
and it turned out just as I hoped it would:

We picked up his tux last night and he tried it on, and he is so dashing,
so very dashing.
He looks so good in black.

At 4:30 he will stand with the court and have pictures taken,
at 5:30 he will ride in a convertible down Grand River to the school.

We will tailgate and buy cheesy potatoes and carmel apples from the cheerleaders and the FFA down by the football field,
and they will judge the floats,
and our lousy football team will beat whatever lousy team they've matched us up with on this day, because you always win at Homecoming.
And the stands will be packed with old people and kids who graduated last year,
and we will shiver and drink out of our thermoses and sing, "Hail to Webberville!" and stand up when the band plays it, clapping to the beat and yelling, "Hey!" at the end,
all in unison with our fists to the sky.

And afterwards, the cars will circle the track and the court will be introduced,
ending with the four senior couples, and they will slowly and tediously read the bios for each one over the loudspeaker, as the boys escort the shivering girls to their places.

And the whole time I will not quite be able to take it all in,
I will be kept from seeing the big picture,
because for me, all I will see is him.
All night long, I will know where he is, over by concessions, down by the gate,
up at the top of the stands, I will just know it by my sixth sense.
And I will look at the other mothers, so relaxed, as if this happens every day, and I will think to myself, "Can't you see that my son is the best of them all? Can't you see how handsome he is, how beautiful, how he outshines every other one?"

I can remember like it was yesterday, holding him in the back of the church,
with his head on my shoulder,
glad that he fussed so I could stand back there,
so I could have an excuse to focus just on him,
legitimately,
feeling my place as his mother so keenly,
and enjoying it so completely.

I can remember the rush of feeling in my chest when I kissed his little lips,
like falling in love,
and how he was so utterly and completely mine when he could fit in my arms.

And now I am bawling here all by myself.

But I want to feel it,
I want to think about it,
because this feeling of seeing him bloom,
beginning to let him go,
is just as powerful a joy, although painful,
as when I was his possessor.

Does that make sense?

My heart is just so full I can't stand it.

It was his first dance, Homecoming Dance of his senior year, and it was Middle Child's first dance too, as a freshman, and she fit right in to the house full of senior kids getting ready around her.

So many endings and beginnings.

*

Sunday morning

2010-10-24T04:46:00.001-07:00

I am up early drinking the first cup of coffee
and delaying getting ready for church.

I just set my library copy of The Glass Castle on
the end table I searched for and bought at a garage sale.
It is scuffed but made from good wood and just the right shape.
It has a drawer that sort falls open because the
sliding mechanism is broken but I don't mind,
I just keep it closed.
Now I have a place next to my chair for a lamp
and to pile my books.

It is dark and the house is quiet,
and I just finished the book.
I was up late reading it, but I didn't want to finish.
Whenever I finish a very good book at night,
I can't get to sleep afterward.

So I left the very ending for this morning
and woke up early to read it.
Now it will speak to me for some days
unless I jump right into another good book,
which I am likely to do.
But if I can, I like to let it settle.

And this morning I am living dangerously,
because last week I left myself only
fifteen minutes to get ready,
and I made it.

Now, no matter how many warnings
I give myself,
somewhere deep inside I will know that I can make it
in fifteen minutes.

This is dangerous knowledge for my
robe-loving,
thrill-seeking,
independent
soul.

Cheers II

2010-10-11T06:25:00.000-07:00

Hundreds of shrieking girls fill the hot, overcrowded gymnasium
where parents and aunts and uncles and siblings have spent the last
four hours of their lives,
subsisting on lukewarm pizza wrapped in tinfoil,
coffee, popcorn
and overpriced soda, can by can.

They are waiting for the judges to announce whether they will receive
a gold, a silver or a bronze for their months of hard work.
They've donned blindingly white tennis shoes
and pulled their hair back so tightly into ponytails
that their eyes water.
It's a good thing that they don't allow a stitch of eye makeup.

All of those coordinated hair ribbons are bouncing to the beat
of the Electric Slide and even though I have my head in my hands,
elbows on knees, ears plugged and eyes closed,
I can still appreciate their simple joy.

Of a job well done,
of hard work about to be rewarded,
of beautiful youth and the boundless energy that comes with it.

So I smile and watch her ponytail bounce,
her scrubbed face flushed with pride and silliness and happiness
for this, her moment.

I am glad she is so healthy and strong.

And so I cheer,
something I never pictured myself doing,
cheering for my cheerleader,
I yell,

"Blue! Gold! White!
Blue! Gold! White!"

and all of us,
the Husband,
the Teenager,
the Middle Child
and Twin Boy
and me
smile.

*

Cheers!

2010-10-03T14:57:00.000-07:00

Today we were in a new church,
and at the end of the service
they served communion,

and I was closing my eyes in prayer
before drinking of the blood of Christ,
when I peeked at the twins

just in time to see them cheerfully clink their cups together
in a silent toast
to an understanding Jesus.

*

Cancellation

2010-09-25T07:36:00.000-07:00

I have two students on Saturday mornings.
A 10:30, and an 11.

And some mornings when I am in my pajamas at 10,
thinking about splashing some water on my face
and heading down to the studio to make a little plan,
I wish for a nice relaxing slow morning instead of lessons.

This morning, wish granted, both cancelled.

So here I am with a second cup of coffee.

And that's how my world seems to work itself out
because today was going to be a very busy day.

Middle child in the parade at 2,
tractor pull downtown all afternoon,
(a place to see and be seen of course)
working the front gate at the rec league football game
for my cheerleader at 4:30,
evening Ox burgers and dollar rootbeer floats
at the Fireman's Field Days gathering
down by the fire station.

Okay now that I've written it all out,
it doesn't seem so hectic,
in fact it sounds like a really homey, country way
to spend a Saturday.

mmmm, coffee.

*

Hideous

2010-09-24T07:01:00.000-07:00

I am wearing the most hideous thing imaginable.
It's a lime green tight jogging shirt with
lime green jogging shorts that don't quite match the shirt.

I can't explain its hideousness,
it's sort of like the pants come up a little too high,
and are a little too poofy,
and the top is a little too tightish and just not quite
the right shape.

And the top has to be tucked into the pants
because the shirt is too tight
and the shorts are too poofy.

All this to say,
I do not like these clothes,
and I am going to put them in the Goodwill bag,
but usually before I do that,
I like to wear the rejected clothing
one more time.

As if they know they are not wanted,
but I need them to know that no matter how repulsive
they are to me at this moment,
I still appreciate them.

And I do.

And I hope nobody drops over today.

The end.

*

Moon Train

2010-09-23T20:49:00.000-07:00

Ooooooh, catch the Moon Train,
catch the Moon Train.

Ooooooh, catch the Moon Train,
catch the Moon Train.

All aboard, passengers,
we will take you through the night.

Never fear, when you're here
You will travel soft and light.

Oooooh, catch the Moon train,
catch the Moon Train.

Travelin' girl,
busy days,
got a lot of things to do.

Never slow, but maybe you'll,
ride us for a mile or two.

Ooooooh, catch the Moon Train,
catch the Moon Train.

Whistle blows,
then you'll know,
soon we'll see the morning light.

Engineer says,
"All is clear!"
Hope you had a beautiful night.

Ooooooh, catch the Moon Train,
catch the Moon Train.

Ooooooh, catch the Moon Train,
catch the Moon Train,

Ooooooh.

*

Walk

2010-09-21T09:56:00.000-07:00

I was walking with the Teenager and then I sent him on home
and I took a detour
by of all things the lagoon system
because it's surrounded by lots of grass
and the Kalamink woods
and because the maintenance guy who always waves to me
from his mower, on my walks,
cuts a clean path through the brush,
right up to the creek.

It's a circular path, and nobody walks on it,
so sometimes I imagine he made it for me
and hopes I will walk there,
and see some beauty that is otherwise hidden by the scrub.

So I climbed a tree by the creek and put my head back
against the big limb that angled up behind me,
and I watched the geese fly south.

They formed an imperfect V,
and there were stragglers
and loud ones and quiet ones
and they kept coming
group after group.

And once I saw a lone geese calling
frantically, headed north,
and I thought,
he is late,
maybe he got preoccupied by some beauty
and now has to catch up.

I think that
the wrong direction
right then, for him,
was the right direction.

It made me feel good.
And then I went back home.

*

Friends

2010-09-19T20:44:00.000-07:00

I heard singing.

So I looked around the corner in the basement
and they were singing together.

The Teenager and his sister,
Middle Child,
laughing and singing softly
all the words to some pop song
that I didn't know.

They are enjoying each other,
and it makes my heart glad.

*

Students

2010-09-14T07:58:00.000-07:00

She walks in with a long string of plastic pearls double wrapped around her neck.

"I like your necklace!" I say.

"If I wrapped them three times around I would be choked!!" she answers.

She is six years old, my student returning from a summer off.

"I missed you so much," she says, "I haven't seen you in a WEEK!"

We sit down to play at the piano, side by side,
our eyes closed, hands on the keyboard.

"Now just play whatever notes your fingers fall on, and just listen
to what comes out," I say,

"Don't worry about what it sounds like, just listen.
Some things you will like, and some things you will not like."

"I don't like bees," she whispers, eyes screwed shut in concentration,

"or mosquitoes."

"Me neither," I whisper back as we play.

"And I left myself on the bus," she says, opening her eyes and dropping her hands.

I do the same and look at her.

"What happened?"

"I didn't get off at my stop," she explains,

"I blame my brother."

"That's what I would do," I say.

Later she is sounding out words in her workbook.

"It's Wolfgang," I say helpfully when she gets stuck.

"Hahahaha!" she laughs, "What is that?"

"That's Mozart's first name!" I say.

"Oh," she says,

"What is his last name?"

*

Fantasy

2010-09-12T18:58:00.000-07:00

First weekend of football almost over.
And I'm getting creamed.

Flacco and Jamaal Charles to watch tomorrow night,
but,
it's not gonna be enough.

Really? Pro football?

I don't even know who I am anymore.

*

A Cool Thing

2010-09-11T06:19:00.000-07:00

My Florida cousin, Kelle, appears in this month's issue of Parents magazine
and I can't tell you which page because I left my copy at a dinner party last night
where I took it to show all of my friends.

But this is what the magazine looks like:

And she posts about it on her blog here.

I love reading her blog.
When there is a new post it's like getting a present.

Peace!
*

Surveys

2010-09-09T08:04:00.000-07:00

My cousin over on Go Green challenged readers to contribute to these surveys. Choose a question and give me your best answer!

What's a video you'd recommend for staying in on a cold, rainy, fall night?
There's a video I saw a long time ago that I'd like to see again, it's called, "Finding Neverland". I remember at the end during the credits there was this really pretty piano piece, and I want to hear it again.

What's a song you listen to when you want to get pumped up?
Beat It, Michael Jackson

What's a book you've read over and over?
I'd have to say, "Little Women", I really love that book.

Where do you go in the fall for a little day trip?
BEST MAZE of course! It's a corn maze right here where we live. They have a super scary one and then a regular one for wimps like me.

What's your best easy recipe?
Every once in awhile we have "Nachos Italiano", which is a recipe we copied from this cool place we used to visit when we lived in Florida. It was a movie theatre with little round tables and soft swivel chairs. During the previews and during the first few minutes of the movie, waitresses snuck around in the dark and took your food orders. So you could eat dinner and watch a movie at the same time!

Nachos Italiano
Tortilla Chips
Pizza sauce
Mozzarella cheese
Pepperoni
Aluminum Foil

Cover a cookie sheet with foil.
Spread with chips
Dollop chips with pizza sauce and pepperoni.
Sprinkle plenty of shredded cheese over the top.
Broil in oven just until cheese melts and starts to bubble.
Put the tray on the table and everybody just dive in
immediately before it cools!

What website do you visit just for fun?
Recently I've been visiting www.woot.com for their daily deal.
The descriptions are funny, and the deals can be really good!

*

All By Myself

2010-09-08T18:59:00.000-07:00

Today the Husband said a funny thing happened.
He thinks I accidentally called him from my cell phone,
because when he answered all he heard was me
having a conversation with somebody about Canada.

I must have sat on my cell phone weirdly,
but it was just me in the car alone,
practicing my Australian accent.

"So you were talking to yourself about Canada, with an Australian accent?"

"Yes," I said.

It's really disappointing to have to explain yourself like this all the time.

*

First Day 2010

2010-09-07T15:24:00.000-07:00

The Teenager (Senior)

Middle Child (Freshman)

Twin Girl (6th grade)

Twin Boy (6th Grade)

Every "first day" since Kindergarten, we have walked them to school.
It gave us time to talk and calm the jitters,
time to see them to the door with one last hug.

This year they all went off without us.
They are really growing up.

*

Best Kids Ever

2010-09-06T10:33:00.000-07:00

This weekend I had an incredibly busy schedule,
and the Husband was working.

It was also the weekend of the first game for Twin Girl.
She cheers her heart out, and a parent always attends,
sitting through two long hours of rec league football,
stale nachos and lukewarm coffee,
because we love her.

I didn't make a big deal out of the fact that we'd both miss her first game.
The children would be alone all day, and I just matter-of-factly went over
the schedule with her -
what time she would hop on her bike,
to remember to take her water,
to lay out her uniform the night before,
and to not talk to strangers of course.

She's eleven years old, and the school is only a mile away,
an easy bike ride, and I wasn't worried
but I did have a twinge of guilt about missing the game.

Anyway, later that afternoon I called from out of town
to check on them and got a breathless Middle Child on the phone.

"Twin Boy and I just got back from the game," she said.

I was surprised, "You went to her game?"

"Well, yeah, we wanted her to have somebody in the stands. It was so cold
though, so we walked back home after half-time. The Teenager is still there."

I said, "Where did you get the money to get in?"

"Oh yeah," she said, "I took my own money because I was going to buy us all snacks,
but then when I got up there I remembered we had to pay to get in."

"So no snacks?" I said, "and you used your own money?"

"Yeah," she said, "that's alright."

Later I talked with the Teenager, because Saturday was cold,
and I couldn't imagine him voluntarily giving up his warm spot on the couch
to go sit for two hours on the hard bleachers,
with no other teenagers in sight,
only a bunch of little kids bumping into each other on the football field.

I said, "Did Daddy tell you you had to go?"

He said, "No, I just thought someone should go with her. I sent the other kids home after half-time. It was really long."

I sat there with tears in my eyes, holding the phone.
He rode his bike up with her a half hour before the game, stayed with her the whole time
and then rode her home afterwards.

My kids,
little Boxcar Children for a day,
supporting their sister and taking care of her when we couldn't.

They love each other.

It makes me so happy.

*

Lap of Lux

2010-09-04T20:34:00.000-07:00

I am sleeping at my parents' house tonight.
Busy, busy weekend, with performance last night,
memorial service this morning, wedding rehearsal this afternoon
and a wedding tomorrow.

My parents are "local" to the events so here I am and I must say
it is always good to be home.

When I got here, my parents weren't back yet
but I found a tupperware of homemade oatmeal raisin cookies on the counter.
I ate four.

My mom made my supper, but I wouldn't let her cook me up something fresh.
I said I wanted the mysterious thing in the pyrex dish in the fridge.
All I knew is that it was a leftover of my mom's cooking.
It had chicken and cheese and stuff in it.
mmmmmmm

She grudgingly warmed it up for me
but kept asking what else I wanted to go with it.
What did I want to drink?
Do I want chips?
(heck, YEAH!)
"Let me get you dessert!"

Was my life really like this when I was a child?
If so, when did I lose my mind, grow up and leave this luxurious place?

Later I plan on getting stung by a bee.

*

I Knew This Day Would Come

2010-09-02T08:46:00.000-07:00

I was trying to post every day for 30 days,
but if there's one thing I know about myself it's that if I ever say
"every" when it comes to a resolution,
you can be sure I will break it as soon as possible.

I'm not an "every" kind of person.

I'm not even an "every other" kind of person.

I'm more like a
random-when-the-spirit-moves-me-resolutions-are-made-to-be-broken
sort of person.

And last night my band played a song that I wrote.
And I'm really excited about it.

And I think that if I were the kind of person who could post every single
day for a month without missing, ever,
or if I were the kind of person who always turned her library books in on time,
or the kind of person who didn't forget appointments
or rush around being late to everything,
then maybe I wouldn't be the kind of person who could write a song.

That's completely not true, the song would probably be way more awesome -

but it's the kind of thing I tell myself when,
as happened just two minutes ago,
I leave the sprinkler on overnight

and realize it only while gazing out at the yard the next day,
spying it sprinkling there to and fro, to and fro,
steadfast and sure,
beneath the drizzly gray skies of a morning rainstorm.

*

Can I Live At Grandma's?

2010-08-31T20:18:00.000-07:00

She got stung by a bee at Grandma's house.

It was her worse fear, next to tornadoes.

I know Grandma and Grandpa felt bad,
as if maybe they could have prevented it.
But they couldn't, it was just bound to happen sometime.

And I'm pretty sure they did everything they could
to treat the injury.

For example:

They googled bee stings,
they put ice on it,
they put an onion on it,
they put meat tenderizer on it,
they gave her a baking soda bath,
they gave her Benadryl,
they gave her ice cream,
they helped her limp downstairs to the big screen tv,
they gave her a pillow and a blanket,
they checked on her in the night to be sure she was still breathing,
and then her cousins down the street
gave her crutches.

They gave her money even though her job was interrupted by the bee,
and called it "worker's compensation".

But she is home now,
and she is no longer on disability.

She had to clean the bathroom for no money at all.

I am an ogre.

*

Big Barn Jazz

2010-08-30T20:20:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday a band I'm in played at the Big Barn Jazz series,
which is basically a bunch of couches in the basement of this big barn
where people come and play jazz once a month,
and other people pay ten bucks to come hear it.

It was fun because the singer who we opened for, Sunny Wilkinson,
had a huge crowd.

She was really super nice,
the piano player (her husband) was so good,
and their cool bass player called me, "girl,"
which made me feel very hip.

That's me the third from the left in the pink shirt,
along with my band, iZwicky.
Sunny is tall and blond and her husband/pianist
is right next to her.

At the last minute iZwicky asked me to talk,
so I did most of the talking between songs
and introduced our band.

I pretended I was somebody who does stuff like that
all the time. :-)

*

Carbon

2010-08-29T20:02:00.000-07:00

Twin Girl is working very hard, doing odd jobs for anyone who will take her,
trying to save up enough money for an iPod Touch.

So I told her that she could straighten the bookshelf and I would pay her.

I told her that my two shelves were already done, so to leave them be.
I told her that all she really needed to do was to look through the books for any
that we might want to get rid of, and put them in a pile for me to check over.
I told her to straighten up the rest.

Now this is the girl who is so much like me.

Instead of taking 15 minutes to do a quick straighten,
she pulled every single book off of every single shelf,
including my shelves,
and put them in a huge pile in the center of the room and then left
and forgot about the whole thing.

Later she put them all back on the shelves,
this time in alphabetical order,
not by author but by book title.

We have Magic Treehouse books mixed in with
Annie Dillard and Mark Twain.

It took her hours.

But she was pleased and I paid her,
sighing,
acknowledging the genetic footprint I have left behind.

*

Weird and Happy

2010-08-28T15:36:00.001-07:00

Today at Walmart the grocery cart guy was standing near my car,
grinning and basking in the sun and he said,

"I'll take your cart for you!"

I said, "hey thanks!"

Then he said, in his thick Mexican accent,

"Glory Hallelujah, Jesus Christ, dju are wonderful!!"

haha. It was such a weird and nice thing to say.

I don't know if he was talking to me or to Jesus!

Either way he seemed really happy.

Stuff like that can make my day. :-)

*

Space Laundry

2010-08-27T08:39:00.000-07:00

Well now I am officially a geek because I watched a
video of Ken Bowersox doing his laundry in space.

And I thought it was cool.

Where do astronauts get water?

What's it like to sleep on a space station?

How do you take a shower and use the restroom in space?

These are questions that plague me and keep me up nights.

I found the answers here.

Brushing off my ham radio license to listen in on the astronauts conversations.

I realize that this is either

a) creepy
b) geeky
or
c) super cool

*

Cool Space

2010-08-26T19:25:00.000-07:00

Just saw the International Space Station pass over.

We stared with mouths open and quiet oohs and ahhs for a minute
and then,
as if we all had the idea at the same,
we jumped up and down waving and hollering.

Silly. :-)

If you want to see it in your area, look here.

Lansing friends, don't miss it tomorrow night at 8:50pm!!

*

Song

2010-08-25T15:22:00.000-07:00

It's my ya-ya nickname.

I got my name because I'm always making up songs.

Mostly little things like lullabyes and half-thought out melodies.

For the past two days though I've been finishing up a real song,
and it's been hard and life has been a blur.

I feel like when my children talk with me I am so far away,
and my brain won't stop,
and the pressure to finish moves me past mealtimes and bedtimes and people times.

I have been with pencil and paper
and looping machine and bass and keyboard
for two days now without much of a break,
and I feel numb.

The thing is, I am past the point of thinking it is very good.
Now I am just to the point of getting it done.

For someone like me, who chases butterflies
but doesn't like to catch them,

who begins books and projects and resolutions and to-do lists and new adventures
but abandons them when the first wind of change turns my head,

it is a task of elephantine proportions.

*

The Good With The Bad

2010-08-24T14:04:00.000-07:00

Today I was inspired by my cousin to get off my duff and write,
just write.

No matter if I'm brilliant or boring, I gotta get out of this funk.

To see how she puts it, look here.

And what I have to say today is that Mockingjay was released,
and I was ignorant about it,
but Twin Boy let me know.

So we set off for Tuesday Books at 3,
and he sat down with a bunch of kids who were strangers to him
and talked excitedly about the first two books,
and frosted cookies and did a trivia challenge,
and shot water guns at targets that dripped colored marker down the side of the building.

And he and I split the cost of the book,
because he only had half.

He never has any money because
he always buys ice cream.
One for himself, and one for whatever lucky soul is with him.

And the other thing that happened today
is that I had a fit when I found all of my best books
piled in the middle of the front room,
bent and folded up where someone had tossed them.

Only I didn't know that a teenager friend was playing video games at our house,
and I didn't see him slip out until his car was pulling away.

I would have left too.
sigh.

So every day brings a little pride in myself for doing good
and a little shame at myself for doing bad.

I hope it evens out.

If not, there's always ice cream.

*

Back To Glue Sticks

2010-08-15T10:04:00.000-07:00

I miss rubber cement.

I miss cardboard pencil boxes.

I don't miss covering my textbooks using old grocery bags.

I miss back-to-school shopping.

All four children begin school September 7th at the same building.

There will only be one drop-off point, which is good for me because I can tend to forget about the second one and drive right past the elementary school amid cheers from the back seat.

Two sixth graders, a high school freshman and a high school senior,
all housed in the same building in our little town.

And they don't need much, not like yester-years.

We have all of the rulers you could ever hope to own,
thin markers are starting to become childish,
and the 10 cent notebooks that we stocked up on last season
will last us well into the 22nd century.

Nobody needs a pencil box anymore,
and now they have sturdy backpacks that will take them through college,
without any "character" designs to date them.
School lunches are bought, not carried,
so I walk right past the new cool fabric lunch totes
and recyclable water bottles.

But I still love to look at all of the school supplies at the store.
They're still fresh and new looking, and not messed up and
scattered around from frantic last-minute shoppers.

It makes me feel like I want something to organize.
I think I need some sort of polka dot index card holder
and of course a fresh pack of cards to fill it with.
I'm pretty sure that I need a Trapper Keeper,
filled with folders and tabs and things that can be labeled.

I want to pick out five shiny folders
with pictures of kittens and puppies and maybe
Zach Efron on the front.
I want to draw a mustache on him and
sharp pointy teeth from the kitten's mouth,
blood dripping down,
and horns on the puppies head and a text bubble
saying, "Feed me!" coming out of his mouth.

But instead, yesterday I bought a little plastic thing
with two drawers and a compartment for three dollars,
and I put it in my music room and filled it with
a bunch of small items that have been cluttering the place up
and now I feel better.

*

New Tactic

2010-07-22T11:41:00.000-07:00

Now when the Teenager says something obnoxious,
I repeat it back to him immediately
except in my Fozzie Bear voice at top volume.

He may or may not stop
but this has definitely become
a win-win situation for me.

*

Reminder

2010-07-16T13:14:00.001-07:00

I've been wearing my MoMA tshirt around the house today
and when I looked in the mirror just now it said plain as day:

"A MoM"

:-)

*

Insult to Injury

2010-07-11T13:13:00.000-07:00

I was trying to look on the bright side,
noticing that the poison ivy dots on my elbow have formed themselves
into a perfect smiley face,

but then I got a mosquito bite right in the middle of the rash
and it seems that my natural optimism has finally run its course.

*

Rolaids

2010-07-07T20:26:00.000-07:00

So tonight the Twins, Middle Child and I drove into the city
to see a musical production at the community college where my cousin teaches.

We sat together in the outdoor ampitheater
and ate all of my cousin's chocolate chip cookies,
accidentally making loud noises with our water bottles,
laughing at the funny parts and
clapping with the songs.

Twin girl had a stomach ache so she laid on her back on a blanket
and braided a piece of string that she found hanging underneath
Middle Child's lawn chair.
Twin boy sat behind us in his chair, coming alive when the cookies were passed,
and kicking his sister's chair by accident with his too big flip flops
every few minutes until she hissed at him to stop.

After it was over, we said goodbye to our cousins
and the twins wanted to go sit by the koi pond, so we did,
lugging our chairs over there.

Middle child groaned but I said,

"What else do we have to do? Where else do we have to be?"
It was near 10pm, but so warm they said it felt like Florida.
We weren't tired.

I sat in my chair on the koi pond deck and they dangled their bare feet in the water
for the koi to nibble, but none came that close.
Then we picked up our things and trudged back to the car,
taking our time as the campus emptied and darkened.

I was almost out of gas, so I got off the highway right away
at a lonely Sunoco to fill up.
Twin girl opened the back door and the sounds of conflict leaked out.
All three were rummaging around the front and back seat of the car.

"What did you lose?" I said, pressing Yes for a receipt.

A shoe.
She lost her shoe.
Just one.

"How did you just notice that now?" I asked, but right away I knew
it was one of those questions that was sort of moot.
Either she had walked to the car unevenly with only one shoe on,
or had gone barefoot, but either way, one shoe was still back there.

"We'll just go back and find it," I said.

Back on to the highway, then to the interstate,
around the stadium, through the detour we went.
"Maybe it's by the koi pond," she said.
"Maybe we'll have to wrestle it away from one of the koi fish!" I said.
"Maybe we should look for a koi that is shoe-shaped," said Twin Boy.

The campus was dark, but some office lights were still on,
and a security guard walked past us as we scoured the grounds
for a green shoe.
None at the entrance, or in the ampitheater,
none in the grass beyond,
but then Middle Child started to run.

There in the middle of the sidewalk by the pond,
under a little campus streetlight was the shoe
and they grabbed it up,
laughing at its prominence there in the middle of the walkway,
where so many people would have had to step over
or around it to get by that night.

In the car again, Twin Girl talked with our cousin on the phone
to tell her the story of the shoe
and to tell her thank you for the cookies,
and thank you for the Rolaids that made her stomach feel so much better.

She got off the phone and we all tried to stop her, saying,
"You forgot to say thank you for the Rolaids!"

She said, "I was going to, but I forgot what they were called,
and I almost said, 'Thanks for the Rolodex,' but I knew that was wrong."

So we laughed even harder,
and we were glad that she had lost one shoe,
because it was so weird,
and we were glad we had to go back there,
because we didn't really have anything else to do,
or anywhere else to be,
and it was warm
and we weren't tired.

*

An Old Post I Forgot To Post

2010-07-04T11:15:00.000-07:00

The Teenager was SO not into it tonight when the twins wanted to play Charades
and escaped to his room.

A little bit later he emerged and we threatened him with all sorts of stuff
in order to get him to play.

Then we said he could leave if he just performed ONE Charade,
so he stood up and had us guessing and yelling for a full three minutes
before I realized he was just doing random things.

I started to get mad, but then I had to laugh.
The other kids were having such a good time yelling out guesses
and he just kept accumulating props, racing around the room
earnestly motioning to them with each one.

You really had to be there.
The yelling, the laughter,
his whole obstinate charade of Not Participating,
resulting in the weirdest pantomime ever.

He had a dog sweater on his head,
a red mixing bowl on top of that, an Ov Glove on one hand, a spatula in the other,
high-stepping across the living room just to thrill and confuse his younger siblings.

Thrills and happy confusion abounded.

It's a pretty good way to spend a Friday night.

*

Summer

2010-06-22T10:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday twin boy wanted to do something just with me,
so we walked a mile to the tennis courts,
carrying two tennis balls, two rackets and walking two dogs.

He never played before, but was sure he could do it.
And with signature style, he showed
that he could, indeed, volley a tennis ball back and forth over the net.

Wanda surprised us by
sitting at the net and returning balls to the server.
Sometimes we hit it off the courts into the grass
just to see her tear after it happily.

Buddy, the dachshund, sat looking away from us,
long back end twisted lazily on the concrete,
uninterested and uninspired by Wanda's energy.

One time we hit the ball into the bushes and Wanda
went in after it and we followed,
lured by the sight of wild blackberries ripening
on a thorny vine.

We abandoned the game without another thought,
dropping our rackets to pick and eat,
circling the bushes until we were out of sight of Buddy,
who howled at our absence.

Returning to him we cupped hands under the drinking fountain
to give both dogs a drink,
the lazy one and the working one,
and then headed home sweaty, mosquito-bitten
and berry-stained

just like you should be
in the summer.

*

Freedom

2010-05-27T06:19:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is their last day of school for the year.

I know that feeling of freedom that will wash over them
as they leave those stuffy halls, break open the big double doors
and burst out into the sunshine.

I know that feeling.

When the stuff that's been nagging at you is over, and just falls away
and you feel light again,
and the world seems like it's new again,
and possibilities are everywhere.

When you feel sorta reckless and giddy with
the power that comes along with feeling free.

So I'm celebrating that this morning
by eating chips and salsa for breakfast.

Because I want to, and I'm allowed.

Because I SAY I'm allowed.

*

A Nice Combo

2010-05-23T05:00:00.000-07:00

Last night I wanted the Teenager to go for a walk with me,
but on the way out the door saw a bag of Combos on the counter.

We never have junk food around, so I called out, "Who got the Combos?"

"You can have it!" yelled the Husband,

and the Teenager and I both lunged for it at the same time,
grappling with each other,
crunching the bag up,
until he held it high above my reach

and I jumped up and down grabbing for it.

I finally crawled over him from the back and reached the
bag, almost completely smashing it,
and we wrestled for a few seconds until I finally
ripped it open.

The Husband rolled his eyes, but the Teenager and I
were in serene congeniality about it,
mutely agreeing

that we would be sharing these while exercising,
and completely okay with the irony of power-walking down the street
sharing a crumbly bag of Combos.

So we ate them while we headed down the road,
and we laughed and talked,
and stopped being mother and son,
as we are accustomed to doing.

It is a relief for both of us to drop our roles,
and I think
that for a little while in the moonlight,
some nights a week,
two jokers ambling around in the dark together,
as friends
is an okay thing.

*

Cell Phound

2010-05-20T06:26:00.000-07:00

I misplaced my phone last night,
so I had to set my inner alarm clock and
woke up this morning just before it rang.

I scattered the children throughout the house,
so that they could hear the alarm when it went off,
and within minutes someone yelled,

"Got it!"

I like it when things work out like that.

*

Backstage Pass

2010-05-02T21:10:00.000-07:00

My head has been spinning these past few weeks, and this is just one of the things that has kept me too busy to write!

My band, Thom Jayne and the Nomads, was invited to be the featured performer on a televised special called, "Backstage Pass". The show has recently gone national -- I don't know exactly what "national" means, or where it will be able to be viewed, but it sounds impressive! This episode of "Backstage Pass" is due to be aired in January or February of 2011. I will keep you posted!

I guess pictures are better than words for this event, so here goes:

All the bands that participate in Backstage Pass over the course of the year are asked to sign the banner in the lobby.

We took that opportunity to take a group pic! Apparently I had to go to the bathroom. What is wrong with my legs??

One of my favorite parts of playing with any band :-)

Kelly and I dress and make good use of the Makeup Room - yes they had one!
A whole wall of mirrors surrounded by lights, very fun.

It was cool to see the stage setup!

Another picture once we got all dressed up!

In the green room waiting to go on:

Finally the cameras roll!

Then I came home, scrubbed a pee stain in the carpet,
did a load of laundry and attacked the pile of dishes in the sink.

But it's all good, ya know? :-)

*

Hour Glass

2010-04-09T04:44:00.000-07:00

I have these jeans.
They are my favorite jeans.
They are so forgiving, and soft, and they look good all the time.
When I gain a few pounds, they still fit.
When I lose a few pounds, I wash them and they fit again.

I love these jeans.

But then my daughter wore them and put a hole in the knee.

I think she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,
but I was still not very happy,
because these jeans have been with me for years.

I knew they were getting old, but hadn't been able to find them in any store,
and that hole propelled me to call the 800 number for Levi's.

The nice woman on the phone said yes they still make them,
and she would send me a pair with no shipping fee.

When they arrived I pulled them right on, right out of the package,
and ahhhh.....they are just the best jeans ever.
And they get softer every year.

Until they wear out.

I stood there in my new jeans, pondering this.

I thought, "One of these days they are going to stop making these jeans."

And then I had the brainstorm of ordering enough jeans to last me the rest of my life!

I thought how great it would be to pull on a fresh pair of my favorite jeans when I am
in my eighties.

So then of course I had to do some math in my head, to figure out how many pairs of jeans I would need to order.

And then I had another thought.

I pictured this tall, orderly pile of plastic-wrapped jeans on the shelf in my closet.

I imagined myself, every few years, pulling out a fresh pair.

And every few years, seeing the pile get a little bit smaller.

So then of course I imagined myself being very protective of my jeans,
carefully preserving each pair, making them last as long as possible,
trying to tweak a few extra months here or there along the way.

And then I thought about how I would feel when I opened up that last pair of jeans.

The last pair.

They will be horribly out of style by then.
But they will be soft and they will still fit.

And I hope that I will wear them out.
Literally.
I hope I finish up that last pair with a huge hole in the knee.

*

Sometimes My Life is a Movie

2010-03-29T04:59:00.001-07:00

This morning on the way to school I think we were all a little tired.
I was thinking of all the stuff I have to do this week,
and regretting shoving my slipper-socked feet into the toes of
Twin Girl's silver princess ballet flats on the way out the door.

In the back of my mind I was thinking as we turned onto Main,
that usually at this point in the drive on a Monday
I am giving a little positive pep talk to everybody,
so that the week starts out right.

But this morning my toes were crunched into those shoes
and my mind was on the busy week ahead, and I felt no inspiration,
no words of encouragement came to me.

Just then, and I promise I am not making this up,
Twin Boy started singing "Don't Stop Believin'",
really softly until he didn't know the words anymore.

Then there was a pause and somebody else started in on the verse,
and everybody gradually joined in, with hushed, sleepy voices,
one picking up the words of the verses where somebody else left off,
until we were all joined together on the chorus:

Don't stop, believin,
Hold on to the feelin!

I dropped them off as the song dwindled out.

Okay, that will do.

*

Picky

2010-03-17T17:48:00.001-07:00

"Depending on the taste, I may or may not ask you to buy these tortillas again."

The Teenager just said this to me while fixing his bean burrito in the kitchen.
I tried a new brand of tortilla and he was suspiciously hopeful.

The Teenager doesn't talk very much, and most certainly not about food.
If he comments about food at all, it is to say that he hates it,
or he just gives a thumbs up while chewing.

These are the things he will eat:

Ramen Noodles (chicken flavor)
Cheerios
Macaroni and Cheese from a box
Bananas
Bean Burritos
Pizza
and Toast

Anyway, from the kitchen he just yelled the above comment and my ears perked up.

"They're really big!" he called out.

Then he said, taking his burrito to the table to eat it,

"It's been an honor working with this tortilla.
It is a fine tortilla.
But it really all comes down to taste."

A connoisseur of fine foods in my midst.

*

Starry

2010-03-10T21:03:00.001-08:00

photo courtesy of Kelle Hampton Photography

My cousin is a star.
No, she really is.
She wrote an amazing birth story (here)
and her blog became almost instantly famous around the world.

Although the story is compelling and gut-wrenching and honest and beautiful,
I think people are coming back to the blog
because they have read further into it,
and found that she is just about the most honest girl they've met in a long time.

She kinda lives life starry-eyed.
Expecting the best.
And she takes everything that happens,
and she looks at it from all angles,
until she sees it's best side.
And then she chooses that.

Kelle has always just wanted to live life to the fullest,
whatever it brings her,
and her words inspire the people around her to stop racing through life
and instead,
to remember to celebrate the moments that they have here, now.

I realize, when I read her words, that I really do have what she has - Love.
And it makes me think that I can live it better.
Live my love better.

Love you Kelle.
Can't wait to see you on CNN this Tuesday.
Just smile if you can't think of what to say.
The whole world will smile back.

*

Needed: Brain

2010-03-02T20:19:00.000-08:00

One day earlier this year, when I stumbled late out of bed,
I realized that they were all ready for school.

They had eaten and brushed and tied things without me.
I was no longer needed!

So I began to sleep in until the blissful hour of 7:30am.
I have grown quite wonderfully lazy.

But this morning, when I jammed my feet into boots
and staggered out the front door at 7:35,
fumbling for my keys and blinking my way down the driveway
in the early morning darkness,
slowing my car to match the speed of my pre-coffee brain,

I arrived at the high school, the first drop-off point,
where I was supposed to let two of them out of the car.

And only one got out.

I checked the back seat and scowled.

There were two imps grinning at me and pointing at the empty spot
where number 3 should have been.

They live for this stuff.

*

Closure

2010-03-01T05:51:00.001-08:00

Some things need to be let go, eventually.

Sometimes you know it's leading that way because things get all out of kilter,
and there is wrestling, and letting go, and taking back up again.

And pieces of the puzzle that have fit before
don't fit anymore.
They can't be jammed back into their spaces.
No matter how hard you jam.

I know that as my children grow up,
all of the skirmishes, the discipline, the laughter, the coddling,
leads to this moment of letting go.

And I see it in my oldest, I can see it happening.

He is seventeen years old and wanting to be free,
but not ready yet,
squirming in his ill-fitting childhood clothes,
wrestling with his status,
clinging to infancy in some ways,
doffing it so completely in others.

"Me do it!"
he would say, at age 2.

And I would step back
and let him do it,
so clumsily and independently
and beautifully.

Like I am now.

*

Going Back

2010-02-25T16:33:00.000-08:00

It's funny how lives twist and turn and get tangled up into each other.

When I was four, my daddy built a church in Jackson
and I remember going to Sunday School there,
sitting in the tiny chairs,
putting together Jesus puzzles in the basement cinder block room
just for preschoolers.

I remember having a tantrum in the narthex,
the staggered stained glass windows built into wood paneling,
wrinkled, smiling faces,
the half-doors of the nursery.

Later we moved to Dearborn, and that's where I grew up.

I met Cyndi in the ninth grade.
My earliest memory is of
making homemade flip-books with her,
on the sly, behind our notebooks
in the back row of English-French.

Stick figures danced their way through conditional tenses
and Parisien architecture,
sometimes bordering on the burlesque,
but mostly dwelling on the silly,
entertaining two naughty girls
and passing the time.

Passing the time.

Many, many years later
I attend her funeral, back at that old Jackson church.

It's funny how things circle around.

Because my brother eventually married her sister,
and Cyndi graduated from college,
found out she had Huntington's Disease,
had a baby,
ran away sometimes,
came back home,
remembered church and friends,
lived in a series of adult foster care homes until
she ended up in Jackson.

And the last nine years of her life she attended
the church that my daddy built,
and that's where they said the final prayers over her today.

So after most had left I walked down into the old basement of that church again,
the old section,
the part that holds up all the new remodeled parts.
And I stood in my old preschool classroom and I looked at those tiny chairs,
and I smelled that good old smell of glue and waxy crayons and faint mildew.

And I had the thought that maybe everything
always, eventually comes back around.

Stick figures dancing,
we pass the time from childhood on.

Our paths criss-crossing,
in pain and in joy,
touching each other sometimes
only so very lightly.

But touching each other just the same.

*

I Thee Wed

2010-02-17T12:43:00.000-08:00

I do not like this pairing up of children who are age 11 into girlfriends and boyfriends.
The drama, the ridiculousness, the peer pressure.
But Twin Boy has loved Erin since the 1st grade when they used to kiss each other behind the cubbies.
Both sets of parents were alarmed until we realized that "kissing" meant smacking their hands and then planting it on the other's cheek. We said that was enough of that, but apparently the love of two 6 year olds has survived five years worth of our parental prudishness.

On the way to school this morning,
Twin Boy, Twin Girl and I had the following conversation:

Me: TwinGirl, why are you taking the cell phone to school?

TwinGirl: To take pictures

TwinBoy (interrupting): Oh yeah! Mom! I forgot to tell you that we're having a wedding today!

Me: A wedding?

TwinBoy: I'm marrying Erin! At second recess.

TwinGirl: But don't worry mom it's just for pretend.

Me: Oh, phew, yeah because I was worried...

TwinBoy: And instead of "You may kiss the bride", Isaac's gonna say, "You may hug the bride."

Me: Phew again!

pause.

Me: Um, is this something you have to dress up for? (eyeing his shirt...)

TwinGirl: I have a tie.

TwinBoy: You do?

TwinGirl: In my backpack.

TwinBoy: Oh. Thanks.

TwinGirl: Mom and after school today there's a safety patrol party but it's going to be SO BORING because all they do is turn off the lights in the gym and put out balls and stuff. And then they play football and I just CAN'T STAND football.

TwinBoy: I was thinking maybe I'd join football this year.

TwinGirl: No.

TwinBoy: Yeah I'm probably not going to join football this year.

After school I got the update:

TwinGirl: Mom! (breathless, on the cell phone) This was the weirdest day of school!

Me: Tell me.

TwinGirl: Well first, Mrs. Slater (principal) found out about the wedding. And she took them into the multipurpose room and she told them that they could have it as long as there was NO kissing, NO hugging, NO even high-fives!

Me: Alright Mrs. Slater!

TwinGirl: She said all they could do was a fist bump. But then Erin was crying, and Leo Fuller was going to be best man but now he couldn't, and James was sad.

Me: So, the wedding's off?

TwinGirl: I guess. But that's not the weird part! We were in Mrs. Perry's class and Mrs. Slater came to the door and she said she needed to speak to both of us and I was so freaked out! I thought I did something wrong. But she said that she had an honor for us, because she has known us since Kindergarten, and also because we are her favorite twins, and also because TwinBoy wore a tie today. She said she had chosen us to ring the bell a hundred times for Hundreds Day! And then everybody was crowded around us, and Leo was saying, "I wore a tie, I can't help it if I'm not a twin, why can't I ring the bell??" and we got to ring the bell a hundred times and it was so great, and I was so happy.

So of course then I was so happy too.

And I relayed the story to Middle Child who sighed a deep, excruciating sigh right from the depths of her fake Converse tennis shoes.

She attends middle school inside the high school that is right across the street from the elementary school. We only have around 600 students K-12 in our little country school.

Which I love.

So Middle Child sighed again and says,

"Yeah I was in band and Mr. Franks looked at the clock and he saw it was 1:50 and he said, 'Aw, I'm gonna miss the wedding!' I just put my hands over my face, Mom. Apparently in elementary band today all the boys came in to class with ties on and Mr. Franks asked what was going on and they told him about the wedding..So then he told everybody in my class about TwinBoy getting married at second recess and I just covered my face I was so embarassed."

I really love my life.

*

$3.50 Well Spent

2010-02-14T07:14:00.000-08:00

I have this phobia/resistance/avoidance thing going on with things like birthdays and other special holidays.

Christmas I can handle.

Let me rephrase that.

Christmas is about all I can handle.

I have so many people in my life that I deeply care for.

And so many opportunities to forget about special days,
and hurt all of their feelings.

There are SO MANY areas of my life where I just can't seem to get it all together,
and remembering special days is just too overwhelming for me.

So I try not to think about them.
But I secretly fear them.
They dog me.
They hover and remain, even though I ignore them.

This morning I was at the grocery store after early morning
rehearsal at the church,
standing with two other middle aged guys,
staring at the slim pickings in the Valentine aisle.

We never looked at each other,
but one guy, hands in pockets, sorta slumped over,
spoke up,

"I'm kind of last minute,"
he said, embarassed.

I kept looking straight ahead at the cards,
but I said,
"Yeah but we're here with ya, buddy."

It made us all feel better,
last-minute strangers,
sharing our shame in gentle camraderie.

Peace, man.

*

Comfy

2010-01-25T18:40:00.000-08:00

On Saturday afternoon I found a great shirt for Twin Boy at the Goodwill.
$1.99 - yeah!

I brought it home just as he was leaving for an overnighter.
Spotting it, he tore off his shirt and put it right on.
It smelled a little like fabric softener so I let it go - hopefully it was clean.

We picked him up in the morning on the way to church,
and he appeared at the truck door in the same shirt, but what can you do.

Right after church we drove to the in-laws for lunch and spent the day loafing there.

I wasn't feeling particularly well, and woke this morning with a terrible cold.
I waited until the last possible moment to get up,
then threw some clothes on and hustled everybody out the door to school.

Just now I looked over and realized that it's the first time I've properly looked at him today.

And yes.

"You're still wearing that shirt?" I asked -
it was one of those questions you already know the answer to but you ask anyway.

"I love this shirt!" he says.

ApparentLY.

*

Keeping An Eye On The Situation

2010-01-22T06:03:00.000-08:00

Twin girl got a necklace from Nick the other day.

A gift.

Her friends informed her that
"those diamonds aren't real".

Really now.

Twin boy's take on the subtleties of
courtship:

"If a boy teases you,
that means he likes you.

And if a girl asks you to chase her,
that means she likes you."

This pretty much sums up love in the 5th grade.

And yet apparently Nick seems not so subtle.

hm.

*

Matthew 7:1-5

2010-01-16T15:25:00.000-08:00

When Middle Child argued that Twin Girl could NOT be hungry
because she just ate "like a half hour ago",
Twin Girl spun on her heel with her nose in the air and retorted,

"Don't judge my hungerness."

I love that.

And while you're at it,
don't judge my domesticness,
or my hairstyleishness,
or my faithness
or my heartness.

*

Cold Snap

2010-01-02T19:22:00.000-08:00

I was trying to think of something good about this weather
and the only think I could think of was:

I'm pretty sure I wouldn't love Springtime so much,
if Winter weren't so long and bitter.

Something New

2009-12-19T11:12:00.000-08:00

I started playing with a little jazz group this summer
and last Friday we spent the day in the studio,
making a demo CD.

The recording guy said that a photographer was stopping by
to take pictures for an online magazine that was doing a feature
on his studio and would we mind if he caught us in action?
I said fine but I would have combed my hair and worn something cool had I known.

The singer chick Abigail and our band leader Keith:

Ed the drummer:

Randy on keys and me with apparently no makeup on.

All of us:

Listening to a rough mix in the control room -
You can see my shoes, I'm sitting on the couch exhausted,
eyes closed, with my head back.
This is a typical posture for me. :-)

Home by 5, had my pajamas on by 5:15, in bed by 9 that night.
It felt like a good day's work.

*

Making A Point

2009-12-16T15:20:00.000-08:00

I've been getting this simple joy
from picking up everyone's water glasses that they keep leaving around
and emptying them into the Christmas tree stand.

Nobody is noticing
and it's sort of ruining the whole thing for me.

*

It Takes A Village

2009-12-15T14:49:00.000-08:00

The husband was quizzing Middle Child for her American History test.

I was only vaguely listening as he hammered away at the questions,
spitting them out in a merciless staccato
while Middle Child murmured her answers with her head down on the table,
tired and bored of memorizing words.

"What was the French and Indian war,
who fought in it,
where did it occur,
who won it,
and was the indian in the Village People an actual native american?"

She sat up and blinked.

He cracks me up.

*

Jessica Watson

2009-12-13T19:07:00.000-08:00

This girl inspires me.
I read her blog every day,
and every day it does the same thing to me.

It gives me hope.

She is sixteen years old,
and she is sailing, unassisted,
around the world.

Why would this make me hopeful?

I think that I just need to see her succeed at this.
I think the world really needs it too.

Read about her here.
Her blog is here.

Sail on!!

*

Amazin'

2009-12-12T14:10:00.001-08:00

I just love Amazon.com.
It saves me at Christmas.
Free shipping on orders of $25 or less,
and great prices.

It makes me want to buy and buy and buy and buy...

Okay maybe "it saves me at Christmas" is not the right phrase.

But it sure saves me time and gas.

Today just for fun I searched "stocking stuffers".
Not because I'm going to buy any of course,
that's Santa's job.

And the number one item listed?

The Pull-My-Finger Fart Pen, $1.99

Followed by:

Slingshot Flying Chicken with Cockadoodle Scream Sound, $5.10

I especially like the suggestion of:

Meatball Flavored Bubble Gum Balls, $8.95

Yum!

Last but not least?

Bacon Bandages, $3.50

Ho Ho Ho!!

*

Day

2009-12-08T06:50:00.001-08:00

2am-8am - be awake
8am - get children to school
8-ish to noon - learn music
noon-1 - attend rehearsal for concert
1-2 - rest head
2-3 - transport child to community college, back to pick up the rest.
3:30-6:30 - students
7pm - concert

That's how my day looked yesterday,
and things were going well until I went out to start the car
at 11:55am,
because of course I left myself only 5 minutes to get to the rehearsal.

Battery dead.

I pulled a stocking cap down over my ears and zipped my coat up to my neck.
I balanced my notebook of music on the handlebars of my bike
and rode it through the winter cold,
with tires slightly flat,
up to the school.

Breathless, I pedaled up to the back door where a custodian was unloading chairs
in preparation for the concert.

"Can I leave my bike out here? Do you think anyone will steal it?" I asked him.

I should say that my bike is a beauty to behold.
It is huge, and red, and completely rusted by being left out in the rain too often.
It is a Pee-wee Herman style one-speed bike,
with wide handle bars and big round tires and a big, big comfy seat.

The custodian looked over and sort of laughed,
"No, I don't think so."

After the rehearsal, I came outside and sure enough, it had not been stolen.
The fifth graders were lining up outside the building and one called out to me,

"Sweet ride, Mrs. K," in a dead-pan voice.

I saluted her and pedaled off to the wonder of my own two fifth graders,
who didn't have the information about the car,
and just took it in stride that on that freezing day their mother decided to ride
her bike to school.

On the way home after school, in a car the husband had jumped back to life,
I found out that girl twin won the Student Council election,
and boy twin had been given the threat, "You're dead meat" on the playground,
53 times by the same kid, because he counted.

In response to my questions regarding this information,
they pummeled each other in the backseat yelling, "Slug bug! No slug bug back!" over and over,
while middle child sighed in the front and rolled her eyes.

I drove home with a steady hand,
checked off the remaining items on the list for the day,
and marveled at the end of it
that everything turned out okay.

*

Sleepless

2009-12-07T03:14:00.000-08:00

It happens sometimes.

Went to bed at 10, woke up at 2 this morning, with a gasp,
remembering a particularly painful moment from yesterday.

In the middle of the night it's hard to let it go, you know?

Had a first gig with a new little band and for the most part it went well.
If I can look at the overall picture, it was a good first time.

But there were a few train wreck moments courtesy of me,
and in the middle of the night, the big picture fades away,
the spotlight zooms in,
and my heart starts banging around.

Today will be particularly challenging.

A rehearsal at noon, a piano gig tonight.

In between those, there is a child transportation issue,
and several students.

I've been taking things one day at a time,
and it has been working,
but the sleepless night means that one day
is sort of
bleeding into the next.

You know?

*

Out of Sync

2009-11-25T09:16:00.000-08:00

*Twin girl ate a bowl of the froot loops we were saving for making gingerbread houses tomorrow before anyone could stop her.

*Roger the 7 year old piano student asked to use my bathroom yesterday (upstairs) and only later did I find that the sink had a pair of underwear soaking in it.

*I can't find my calendar, and I have that dreaded suspicion that I have double booked a gig and a family outing.

It feels like my timing is all off.

Sort of like when the dog starts to do his business and right then a car drives by.

*

Ugly Shoes

2009-11-09T08:22:00.000-08:00

Middle Child has a savvy fashion sense
and I do not.

Today while shoe-browsing after her orthodontic appointment
I asked,

"Hey do you think these are cute?"

She looked at them,

"For me or for you?"

Okay nevermind.

*

Fire Starter

2009-11-07T12:47:00.000-08:00

Got a letter in the mail asking us to participate in a
twins study at the University, so I filled out the on-line survey.

I had to ask the twins if they minded and they both said no,
and Twin Girl said,

"I like it when people study me."

Then I asked Twin Boy if he remembered who was born first, he or his sister and he said,

"MOM!!! I'm your SON!!!"

Yes, but it was ten years ago, dear.

The survey was a series of yes or no questions
that I had to answer for the "First-born Twin", the "Second-born Twin",
the "Biological Mother of the Twins" and the "Biological Father of the Twins."

There were health questions and behavior questions,
but the best part was a series of four questions at the end:

1. Smoker?
2. Ever convicted of a felony?
3. Participated in dance, cheer or gymnastics for at least one year?
4. Starts fires?

Something about that list just strikes me as odd.

*

Crazy

2009-11-02T06:15:00.000-08:00

A band I play in does covers of some cool tunes
and this is the latest one.

Been listening a lot - a little bit to learn the song,
but mostly because I like it:

Wild Thing

2009-10-31T10:15:00.001-07:00

So last night I was out walking in the dark,
in the warm, wet night,
and I was feeling soooo sad about nothing in particular.

Maybe I was feeling sorry for myself
because the wind was whipping my hair everywhere,
and the rain was falling on my face
and I was all alone.

Who knows where these mysterious moods originate?
Usually a nice long walk zaps them.
But this time, the more I walked,
the worse I felt.

Coming back home,
seeing the house all lit up,
I didn't want to go back in,
and that is a very, very bad sign.

Emergency measures must be taken
when one is reluctant to go back home.

Three children inside,
in their jammies,
late getting to bed
because mama is walking way too long...

So I opened the front door and hollered.

"Get your shoes on!"

The older one recognized the drill and
helped monitor the confusion of the twins,
who were concerned with unimportant details
like whether they had to wear a jacket,
change into real clothes
or whether slippers counted as shoes (they do).

Once they appeared - more or less clothed -
I said, "Ready-set-go!" faster than they could process
and dashed toward the backyard.
They tailed me, not wanting to get left behind
in the creepy pre-Halloween black of night.

We tore for the back field and cut through
Gillespie's backyard for the subdivision.

We ran down the road with our arms held straight up in the air
for absolutely positively no reason except that
we were wearing pajamas and slippers in October
at 10pm and it seemed like a crazy thing to do.

Then we came back and played Popowitch in the yard,
hiding behind trees and screaming.

The warm wind was glorious,
the rain and the dark felt dangerous
and when we fell in the front door laughing,
it felt so good to be home.

*

Cupcakes

2009-10-30T05:57:00.000-07:00

Last night on an emergency run to the grocery store,
I walked by the display of Halloween cupcakes from the bakery.

Then I walked back to them.

I looked at the cool green witch's finger on the top of each one.

I looked in my cart
at the cake mix,
the frosting,
the baking cups,
the decorations.

I did math in my head.

And I realized with sudden clarity
that $15 for 36 cupcakes,
the night before the school Halloween party
is really money well-spent.

*

Laughter

2009-10-29T15:38:00.000-07:00

Uncontrollable laughter...
the kind where you can feel it coming, and you know it's going to be bad.
The kind where at some point you might worry that you are going to pee your pants.
The kind where you make loud noises and tears come to your eyes, and you know you're embarassing yourself, but it's just out of your control.

It started last night at the choir concert when Twin Boy fell asleep.
It just struck me as so funny, because he is SUCH an animated being, and seconds before he was asking to go run around with his friends, talking a mile a minute.
One slow song in and he was OUT.

I looked over and it was a sudden burst of hilarity.
I felt it coming, I was shaking, trying not to snort,
doing the silent laugh that hurts your stomach.
I could feel the people behind me wondering. It was just not THAT funny.
But looking over at him, with his head lolled to the side and his mouth open, just - boom - asleep. It just flipped a switch in me.

That's the way it is with that kind of funny moment. It doesn't really make sense.
It triggers some nonsensical part of you that nobody else understands, and that's part of what makes it so funny.
To you.

Maybe it's hormonal.
I remember attending my first Lamaze class, and going through the motions of breathing.
I looked around and all of the couples were so SO serious.
It just struck me that we were all sitting there pretending to have a baby.

Like, acting it out.

I don't know why, but it just threw me and I started giggling.
At the first glance toward me from some dour serious parent-to-be, I knew it was over.
The look that said, "Rude. You are rude to laugh." It put me over the edge. I snorted.
I tried to stop. The husband shushed me and smiled apologetically to the others.
By then I was in full out laughter - loud, long, gasping for breath and what made it even more funny is that the whole class was silent, continuing on with their exercises,
completely ignoring the maniacal laughter from the one lady who was now lying prone on the floor, hiccuping and not even trying to stop anymore.

I mean, wouldn't you stop, sit back on your heels and try to catch the joke?
Nope. They wrote me off. And I laughed all the harder.

So twice now the Teenager has joined me in an "episode".
The first was when he had to get pictures taken of his mouth just before getting braces.
We had no idea what was going to happen.

I was sitting supportively opposite him.
I was smiling encouragingly as the technician fitted his mouth with.....a medieval torture device.
When she backed away, I was staring at my poor son, who was looking at me questioningly, his lips peeled back away from his teeth with some sort of metal clamping gear - top and bottom.

It was the most hideous grimace I had ever seen. And I just burst out laughing.
Then he did too, and we both went through the whole gamut - the tears, the loss of breath, the guffaws.

The technician just stood there, kind of taken aback.
The more I laughed the more he laughed, and the funnier he looked and the more he drooled.
He had tears streaming down his face - his little Joker face - and I....could....not....stop....

Fast forward to today.
This is SO not that funny.
I hadn't eaten yet and was on my third cup of coffee and I could feel the tremors beginning.
The inner quivering of my stomach. The woozy head. It was coming.

We were sitting in the oral surgeon's office, waiting for the doctor to come in and consult about his wayward wisdom teeth. I told the Teenager of how my brother had posted a question on Facebook: Which would you rather have, a head twice its normal size, or half its normal size?

It set us both off, and we could barely talk, laughing at the question and then laughing at the other person laughing, egging each other on, topping each other with just one more layer of stupidity, just one more silly "what if"....

We were crying by the time I said,
"When that doctor walks in, all I'm going to be able to see is whether his head is proportionate to his body."
Again with the gasping, the falling out of the chair, the wiping of the eyes.

Then he walked in and he was so normal looking it was a let down.

All this to say....

I have no idea why I said all of this.

It's just....sometimes, it feels really really good to laugh.
I highly recommend just letting go. Letting it rip.
Life is funny.
There is laughter to be had.

*

Math Balloon

2009-10-22T08:46:00.001-07:00

After an hour of stressful mathematics,
tears,
depression,
feelings of failure,
twin girl disappeared upstairs.

She came back down and stood half behind a door
to tell me she was making something.

"It's to help with my math facts,"
she said with a grin.

"Show me!" I said.

She pulled out a balloon from the Teenager's
birthday celebration this afternoon,
and said that while she is lying in bed,
she can toss it up in the air.

When she catches it, she looks at whatever fact
is facing her,
and she says it aloud three times.

Then she throws it up again.

Unconventional.

We may not be good at math in this house,
but we are good at shaking off the bad stuff
and trying to make it into something happy.

*

Life is Short, Wear the Dress

2009-10-18T17:10:00.000-07:00

This summer I bought a dress on impulse.
It was completely unrealistic.
But I came out of the dressing room with it over my arm,
and I marched up to the register.
My girlfriends raised their eyebrows with pleasure.

I said,
"I know. I'm never going to wear this.
Never.
But I'm going to buy it.
Because it makes me feel like a Princess when I put it on."

It hung in my closet for months.

Then early this month I had a wedding to attend.
Sadly, the husband had to back out.
Work.
I was depressed about attending alone.

I was standing in my closet in my underwear,
getting even more depressed because I couldn't find anything to wear,
and it was getting late.

Middle child walked in and innocently fingered the Princess Dress.
"Why don't you wear this?"

I explained to her that it was October,
and that dress was too skimpy,
and I'd have to wear sandals with it,
and it was just not the right dress for an October wedding.

The pile of castoff outfits on the bed started to grow.
I kept looking at the clock and getting more manic in my search
for something right.
I was growing more and more depressed about going to the wedding alone.
I got that familiar weepy feeling, sort of a
"boo-hoo I don't have anything to wear" thing
that only girls understand.

Middle child came in again and it felt like she was the grown-up.

"Mom, please, why don't you just wear the dress?"

I stopped and looked at the dress.
I thought about how I bought it
knowing I'd never have any reason to wear it.
I thought about how it felt when I put it on,
the soft fabric, the slinky feel of the skirt.

Something in me just kind of relaxed in one second.
I grabbed the dress and I put it on.
I strapped on the sandals.
I draped a black cover-up over my shoulders.

Middle child oohed and ahhed, and grinned at me.

The thought that had gone through my head,
is one that keeps returning to me since that night
when I swirled into the wedding, late,
slipped into the back row and crossed my legs.

Life is short,
Wear the dress.

*

Pickin' and Grinnin'

2009-10-06T07:57:00.000-07:00

So I was on my way to rehearsal last night and
I looked in the rearview mirror to check my nose
because something was tickling it,
and I was driving and checking, and kind of wiping,
NOT picking,
and I look down and there is a couple walking their dog
and the man is looking right at me.

I made a left turn and I'm thinking,
"SHOOT! That guy thinks I picked my nose!"

Well I am here to state emphatically that I
was NOT picking my nose last night at 6:55pm on Grand River
just before turning onto Elm.

Checking your nose in the rearview mirror
just before meeting with people is a long-standing
practice and should be encouraged in my opinion.

It doesn't have anything to do with picking your nose.
When people pick their noses, they lean their head DOWN.
Think about it.
They do not angle their noses upward,
which is proper nose-checking procedure.

Nose-checking: acceptable, desirable behavior.
Nose-picking: completely different and I was not doing it.

Thank you.

*

Tractor Pull

2009-09-28T19:07:00.001-07:00

Time for the annual Pedal Pull during Fireman's Field Days in our little town.
This will be the last year that the twins can compete.
We never really stand a chance against those farm guys and gals.
Fun anyway.

I lost track of twin boy, but soon spotted him in a tree.
Silly me, I was looking on the ground.

There he is, waiting anxiously in the 4 Square shirt...

There he goes!

She's so excited!

Good Sports.

Now the real contest begins...the Tractor Pull

This is serious business.

Small Town, U.S.A.

Style

2009-09-25T17:06:00.001-07:00

I like the idea of everybody having a style.
Attractive, repulsive, popular or weird...I think everybody does.

When I was teaching first grade, the bad kids always intrigued me.
I loved their style.
They were so tiny. Such little people,
and yet they were distinctive - different - they stood out in the crowd.

Not their clothes or their face...
their style.

I knew they were naughty, incorrigible,
sometimes stinky,
erratic and compulsive.

But they had a certain flair to them.

Being the big person in the room, it was easy to step back
and see them for who they were.
Little beings just pounding around inside their bodies,
trying to get noticed, trying to yank some love out of somebody.

They fascinated me.
I secretly loved their style.

I had to carry one down to the office once and he kicked me in the leg.
It was easy to love him. It barely hurt.
And it sorta felt like...he finally reached out to me, you know?
Even if it was his sneaker to my shin.

How come it's so much harder to love big people?
Maybe it's because we're the same size,
in the same class,
competing for the same attention.

I betcha it's not so hard for God to love people.
Big ones, small ones.
Dirty, selfish, proud, silly ones.

He'd probably like to help us out more than we let him.

He probably really likes our style.

*

When They Can't Sleep

2009-09-25T17:02:00.000-07:00

When they can't sleep, it goes like this:

I cuddle them for a few minutes,
listening to their sad tale of bad dreams
or scary thoughts, or stuffy noses or just general discomfort.
I make low, sympathetic noises and nod my head.

Then I suggest that they put a pair of pajamas on,
instead of the jeans and shirt that they are still wearing.
I say maybe the ponytail can go too.
I ask about whether the teeth have been brushed and then
send them on to complete these tasks, asking them
to come back down when they're ready.

I give them my full attention after that.

I point to the dog and say he needs to go out.
When they come back in I show them
the laundry by the stairs because it needs to be folded.
And after that I send them down to the basement
to throw the wash into the dryer.

As they complete each thing, they return to me a little slower,
a little more sleepy,
a little less happy about being out of bed.

Finally they ask me
if they can try to go to sleep again,
and I let them,
because I am a good mamma,
and my babies need their sleep.

*

Grocery II

2009-09-24T07:47:00.000-07:00

Just a few comments this morning about grocery shopping:

1. I love shopping at Walmart, because I don't feel like I have to comb my hair or anything before I get there. This isn't a commentary on the people who work or shop at Walmart, it's just the subliminal message Walmart seems to send to all of us, like the good old church tune,

"Come Just As You Are."

2. I saw these Slipper Genies again, (pictured) and stopped to check them out.
Last time I was there my kids begged me to get some for myself. I can just imagine from their point of view what it would be like to have a mother who glides across the floor
in her Slipper Genies to clean it instead of kneeling on hands and knees, muttering to herself.
Such a happy picture.

3. Cereal is way way way way overpriced. Seriously, 7 bucks for two boxes of cereal?? Seriously??
I got oatmeal.

4. Jiffy's Corn Muffin Mix is still one of the best buys around.
I bought 2 boxes. I don't even need any Jiffy Corn Muffin Mix.
I just wanted to buy something that cost 33 cents.

5. I didn't injure myself, but the incident of the day was making a big pen mark on my face with the ballpoint I was holding. I had my cell phone in the same hand and tried to make a quick call.
Sigh.
I spent a couple of minutes hiding in Office Supplies rubbing it off with my finger and some spit.

Have a great day and Happy Grocery Shopping!

*

Cookie

2009-09-21T19:10:00.000-07:00

I haven't had a cookie in a really long time.

Wait, I had one at church a couple of weeks ago,
but that doesn't count because I hadn't had breakfast
and I was starving, foraging in the church kitchen
right after I played music for the service, but before the service got out.

It's like my regular little jaunt after walking off the platform.
I just keep going, right out the back door of the sanctuary,
on down the stairs, in search of a bathroom, some coffee and stray food
before I go back in to sit with the family.

So anyway, the cookie doesn't count because I was so hungry
I barely even recognized its edible-ility
before I mashed it into my mouth and swallowed it.

Sometimes I get like that.

Anyway.

Do you know how sometimes you just
need a cookie?

You can be washing dishes, or typing on the computer
or walking up the stairs and suddenly it just washes over you and you think,
"I need a cookie."

That happens to me a lot,
but I can almost never find a cookie right at the very moment of
my greatest need.

Until tonight.

I was sitting here checking my mail when suddenly that familiar feeling rose up.
I was about to push it back down, because there are never any cookies around here,
when it dawned on me that in the bread drawer was an entire package
of Cool Mint Creme Oreo cookies.

I had bought them for Company yesterday, unsure of whether there would be enough desserts. The ice cream and cookies were the dessert back-up plan.

It was too good to be true.

I wanted a cookie,
and I had a cookie.

And I have never tried a Cool Mint Creme Oreo Cookie before.

I took a bite of it.
A slow warmth spread through my chest.

"This is wonderful," I said as I took another bite.

I looked at the little piece left in my hand.

"You are wonderful," I said to it, aloud.

The dog looked at me funny.
The Teenager called, "What?" from the other room.

But I am not ashamed.

*

Grocery

2009-09-20T09:55:00.000-07:00

It is a known fact that when I go to the grocery store, there will be an incident.
I can't help myself, I am incident-prone.

Yesterday, dropping in after church to pick up Ice
and one other thing that I could not remember no matter how many aisles I wandered,
I checked out.

Except that I zipped the ribbon from my shirt-sleeve into my purse.

Immediately I was surrounded by store personnel.
One was carrying my Ice,
one was holding my receipt,
one was asking to help.

I said to none of them in particular, "This is awkward."

The bagger was kind and forthright,
treating my incident as completely normal.
His large fingers closed on the tiny ribbon and expertly yanked it out of the zipper,
sending me on my way.

I think he had been standing there waiting for me.
Maybe they had all been alerted as soon as I stepped into the store.

Would she upset the pyramid of pears?
Would she have another incident involving a shopping cart?
Might she injure herself today?
Will she become light-headed in produce
or hyperventilate while choosing cereal?
Will she run over her own foot or
catch the edge of the diaper display as she is rounding a corner?

Will she even make it out alive??

*

Funky Blogger

2009-09-19T06:28:00.001-07:00

I'm so fickle.
But I love that the blog allows me this.
It is a free expression of me - not a job, not a requirement, not an expectation,
not a duty.
There is a beauty about being able to leave it undone, without consequence,
when I need to.
That's probably why I've kept up with it,
not left it abandoned like so many other projects in my life.
Because I don't have to do it.

All that said, here I am back again.
If you read this blog, you'll find that sometimes it lets you down.
Doesn't follow through.
Doesn't keep up.

There you go.

Today is a Saturday and ahead of me are two hours
of sitting under the Spirit Tent
selling Spirit items.

I don't know what these things will be.
Maybe insulated soda can holders.
Maybe t-shirts and hats and keychains.
Maybe a big foam "number one" finger.

I will sit there proudly, with the cash box.
I will pretend I am one of the gang of mothers
who always volunteer at these games.
I will nod and smile, waving "hey" to passerby acquaintances.

But I will always be a half-step out of sync
with the rhythm of this rec league machinery.
My head will not really be in the game.
My Spirit shirt will be a little too new,
and my hat will not quite be broken in.

She will look over for reassurance
that I am there.

And that is why.

*

Conflicted

2009-08-28T17:38:00.000-07:00

Okay.

Sometimes I think the word verification
is completely and randomly computer-generated,

and sometimes I just don't know what to believe.

*

Quote of the Day

2009-08-27T11:25:00.000-07:00

At Walmart, walking cheerfully through the home improvements section,
twin boy glanced up and read the sign aloud,

"Do It Yourself.

(pause)

Boy, that's kind of rude."

*

Unplugged

2009-08-13T05:30:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, we felt the storm coming.
So we went out onto the front porch and watched it blow in.
The trees bending with wind gusts,
lightning flashing, the air growing still again, sky slightly green...

We stayed out there until the power went off,
and then trickled inside to light candles and wait for bedtime.

I got my guitar and the children grabbed theirs and we each played something.
And we really listened, enjoying each other.
Because there was nothing else to draw us away.

Then we started singing a made-up song,
and twin boy invented a little descant,
and we kept singing it over and over,
making little changes each time.

And it went something like this:

Summer rain is falling down.
And it lights up the night sky.
We count one-two-three, Mississippi.

She is scared, and wants to go inside.
But we beg her to stay for a little while.
And we count one-two-three, Mississippi.

In the darkness we play our guitars.
And we watch the candles burn down.
We count one-two-three, Mississippi.

Autumn soon,
Winter next,
Spring then,
Summer now.

Summer now.
One-two-three, Mississippi.
Summer now.
One-two three, Mississippi.

*

Ribbit

2009-08-09T11:26:00.001-07:00

We've had tadpoles living in an outdoor plastic "pond",
and recently have begun letting them go 'cuz they're jumping out.

Freedom is a scary thing.

But new friends await.

Slugfest

2009-08-05T09:08:00.001-07:00

Last night, a mission to destroy the bean-plant-eating slugs
with salt.

Had to wait until after dark.
Had to use flashlights.

Mission accomplished,
headed home.

And home always looks so good,
'specially after hard work.

A Walking Run-On

2009-07-27T10:29:00.000-07:00

Walked behind the twins on rollerblades, dragging the dog,
carrying books and the water bottle, past Kalamink Creek and the deerfly
who always circles me, buzzes me, bites the top of my head
until I am safely past the Gardziella's house and into the village limits,
tugging on the dog leash at every shady tree where
the dog goes prone and pants, begging for rest, when finally we reach
the library and deposit books and rummage a styrofoam cup out of the garbage
to pour water into, helping the dog revive,

and starting back we cross with the light and call out to Mr. Nack who is unloading
industrial furniture into the school, and he waves back, recognizing the twins
because it is a small town, but I am still surprised at that after all this time,
and then we are kind to Duncan, the white retriever who is tied to a tree by
giving him a wide berth and stepping into the street but he still barks with hysterical joy and our dog keeps his head down,
until he sees at the next house the black lab behind the invisible fence, resting demurely, and then our dog is all snarls and raised ruff,

and now we stop talking as the heat bears down and walk the last stretch of road
circled by Brandon on his Huffy, and stopping only to estimate the worth
of the riding lawnmower parked for sale in a yard and we deem it not worth a
hundred bucks, but quietly, because we are silent walkers now intent on home and
rest and shade,
for our water is gone and the deer fly is back.

*

A Close One

2009-07-22T13:44:00.000-07:00

If I hadn't cleaned the fridge last night,
I may not have realized how dangerously low we are on
parmesan cheese.

And jelly.

phew.

*

Slug Strategy

2009-07-21T16:33:00.000-07:00

We are getting rid of our garden slugs by drowning them in beer.

Apparently they smell it,
are attracted,
slither in to the little beer-filled tins
and drown.

Getting ready to go out and add a few more tins around the bean plants,
I asked twin girl if she thought we ought to pick out the dead slugs
that are already floating in the existing tins....

Middle child piped up that yes we better do that,
in case some slugs happen to look in there and go,

"uh oh."

*

How I Do It

2009-07-17T05:11:00.000-07:00

Let's say you have to fill in a form
regarding the number of hours driven for Driver's Ed,
the number of minutes read for the library summer program,
or the amount of time spent studying your spelling list each week.

Let's just say that you hadn't been completely diligent
in keeping these records along the way,
but you are really, really, mostly sure that
the numbers you are filling in are nearly and probably mostly accurate.

Let's just say that you fill that form out in one sitting,
like before you dash out the door to school,
or idling in the library parking lot or whatever.

I feel it is useful to use several different color pens,
crayon or pencil to fill in the circles,
varying the style of your shading -
sometimes on the diagonal from left to right,
sometimes right to left, and sometimes in a circular manner.
No more than three circles filled in with one color at a time.

It lends credibility to the completed form.

This is my method.

*

Pain

2009-07-15T19:51:00.000-07:00

I don't ever cry when I think I should.
Sometimes I seem cold, even to myself.

But life has always felt like a dream to me.
So when pain comes, I become an outsider,
looking in, observing.
Disbelieving, really.

I try not to make any sudden moves.

I don't want to jar something loose,
or dislodge anything that might just be
holding me together.

My friend.

I have not really cried for you.

But today I found myself stopped,
as the heaviness grew heavier
and heavier,
and I crawled into bed,
turned off phones,
put the fan on high,
and buried myself.

I could not move.

The heartache that has been placed in your hands
is too much for my mind to comprehend.

But something in my body knows.

*

My Fifteen Minutes (okay maybe forty)

2009-07-10T19:05:00.000-07:00

I finally have time to write down the saga....

Wednesday night we were interviewed by Channel 6 news and met Karl the awesome videographer (found out he is a musician too). I wanted to decline the interview, but instead found myself listening to, "Okay don't look at the camera, just look at me, what is your name and how do you spell it?" I still haven't seen the tape but my sister says I actually spoke some coherent words.

The next day we met again to rehearse, have some video taken, and then load up for the Common Ground Music Festival.

After a very strange vehicle procession of three cars trying to stay together, lost parking passes and the assurance that we could "talk ourselves in", we finally made it to the grounds, and unbelievably talked ourselves in! Apparently an SUV filled with amps, guitars and music stands was enough to fool the security guards.

Except...one band member, stranded at the Saginaw gate and not allowed to come in. I have to say that I will take full credit for rescuing him (commandeering a security golf cart and rushing out to get him while fielding frantic phone calls from the stage saying, "where are you? where's Greg? we're doing the sound check NOW!" )

I may also have to take full credit for getting him stuck out there in the first place, but let's not dwell on the negative...

I ended up going onstage, grabbing a crewhand (they were so great) and pointed out my rig, "I have the 1x12, the 2x10, and this amp. I have to go retrieve a lost bandmate, can you just set it up for me?"
He was on it.
I was on it.
I plucked two credentials passes from Thom and dashed off to save the day.

Finally, we were on stage for the sound check, and did all that jazz. I had my camera with me, and decided to forego the cool rockstar persona in favor of waving wildly whenever I saw a friend in the audience and snapping pictures of them, the sound people, the stage, the gathering crowd, the rafters of the hugongous stage...I was a geek. At one point I accidentally stepped on Greg's guitar pedal and something very very bad happened. A very very loud, very very bad sound reverberated through the echoing canyon of a spectator area. I quickly shut it off and made my sad worried face at Greg but he just shrugged and said supportively, "Glad I didn't do that."

I was also texting my yaya and suddenly looked down to see a picture of them on my phone, standing next to the Common Ground sign. The text said, "Do you really think your yaya would miss this??" They came. Diane from Georgia, swooping in and gathering up Joann so that at this very cool moment we could all be together.

Sorta.
I had to get back to the sound stuff and oh yeah I had a set to do!

But first, supper.

We went to this big tent with a huge spread of all sorts of free stuff to eat. I love free food.
I was standing undecidedly by the drink table when this girl comes up to me and says, "Where's the water?" She had a little ponytail, no makeup, jogging shorts, and looked like she really needed some water. I shrugged, "I don't know," I said. She gestured to the igloo container on the table and said, "Is that water?" I said, "No I think that's fruit punch or something."

And thus ends my entire conversation with Sheryl Crow.
Memorable.

Only I didn't know it was Sheryl Crow at the time.
Thus my stunning repartee.

Sheryl Crow has long blond hair in ringlets.
And she's tall and glamorous.
She's not tiny and cute and regular looking.

Only she is.

Keeping in mind that I had no idea who had just asked me for water, I went to sit down with my bandmates in order to poke my salmon, push my sweet potato slices around on my plate, and gnaw on the pineapple upside down cake, feeling slightly ill but in a good, probably-not-going-to-throw-up kind of way.

I glanced over at the table next to us and then whispered to Jon, "Hey, I think that's Sheryl Crow's bassist." I had done my research and checked him out on her website before the gig. "Yeah, probably so," he says, noting that Sheryl Crow is sitting right next to the guy...

Yes, I saw the tiny ponytail girl sitting there, but I didn't connect the dots.

Later in the dressing room Jon would say, "You mean you recognized Sheryl Crow's bassist but you didn't recognize Sheryl Crow?"

Yes, that would be me, over here in the dork corner.

Speaking of the dressing room, oh my goodness there was a dressing room!
More free food. Free snacks!
Just lead me to the tiny Snickers, the cold bottled water and the soda my dahlings...

I was just standing there enjoying the moment, when another band entered the trailer. They had a room on the other side and we shared the common room. Only they weren't hunkered over the free food panting and fanning themselves, they were solely intent on primping.

And primp they did. I looked down at my outfit, which I had thought fairly stylish and watched the girl singer talk about how she needed TWO HOURS to do her hair and makeup. She had a miniskirt and really long boots and really long hair. She had two girlfriends hovering over her with mascara wands and curling irons.

I had fanned my armpits, lined my eyes and dusted my face with powder to get rid of shine.
Yes, stylin.

Anyway, we dashed out the door and they wished us good luck while adding a couple of extra feet to their already amazingly extended eyelashes. I think I felt one brush my back as I tottered out the door in my sensible shoes.

Well I could go on and on.

Anyway, we played the set and it was amazing - the crowd was so great - the drummers played their heads off (pun intended), we all smiled and just enjoyed the vastness of the moment. It was over way way way too quickly.

After the gig it was so great to be able to pull my yaya backstage for a few minutes, and then to just hang out with the band - enjoying some of Sheryl's show, staying too long at IHOP to just wind down (and to get some food, I was suddenly starving, and kept worrying that my platter would not be large enough,) but oh, viva la french toast it was GOOD at 1am!!

Some of the band members...I have no idea why they are holding shorts.

My yaya...

The entire day was so so so good.
One that I will not likely forget very soon.

My favorite part?

All of the well wishes from friends and family, and those amazing people who actually spent their hard-earned money on tickets for this event!

Wow, talk about cool.
Now THAT's cool.

I'm feelin' the love.

peace!

*
For more pics, go here
or visit my facebook profile!

The Daily Grind

2009-07-09T04:41:00.000-07:00

Things to do today:

Stake the tomatoes
Scrub the upstairs toilet
Open for Sheryl Crow

*