One of our recent nature walks is featured on Imagine Childhood. We are grateful that our little local adventure attracted Sarah’s notice via our Flickr photos, and that she asked us to participate with other families from all over the world!

There are so many marvelous things to see and feel and discover when you hit the trails. Just pick a general destination, pack along some water and snacks, and let your children lead the way.

It’s weird how one can feel opposite feelings about the same thing. For example, I felt both

grateful

and disappointed

about doing this today, on Memorial Day:

So, to care for and console myself, I took a ten-minute break outside in my garden to look at these:

Green and purple hydrangea buds

Squirrel in my pecan tree

Nasturtiums grown from seed

Dusty miller buds about to pop

Pansies

Mexican primrose and African daisies

More nasturtiums grown from seed

Day lily

And now I feel

reenergized

amazed

galvanized

and happy.

I

This morning, Asher and I counted ten snails in a three-foot by three-foot area. Fortunately, they were in a neighbor’s yard and not mine. As we walked to school, we found shapes all over! Circles and rectangles and triangles and squares and even half circles. We found them in pavement, in lawns, on houses, on mailboxes. Two water department access openings in one lawn made two eyes and another circle was the nose, Asher noticed. We saw a brown squirrel hop up a telephone pole, using his claws to grip—hop, hop, hop—like a lumberjack with spiked shoes and a belt, and then he sat on the top of the pole. He booted a bird off this tall perch. Asher said, “Silly skwool!” We also worked on the concepts of near and far. As we get nearer to school each day he says, “We’re nearer, Mom. We’re getting nearer.” Counting cars went like this: one, two, three, four, eight, sixteen. (Sometimes it goes in the traditional order you would expect.) We made Important Observations. For example, one neighbor has a flowerbed with flowers of every color of the rainbow—even blue! Asher observed, “That tree is like a man. Why’s he all tall and fuzzy like that?” My hypothesis: “Because he’s a tree?”

II

After school, Asher begged to have a snack and a “couple minutes out of the bed.” That’s his delaying nap tactic. Fine with me. I know that if I try to put him down too soon after coming home, he’ll fake it. He’ll go through all the motions of going to nap, listening to three or four stories and snuggling close with his hand down my shirt, and then he’ll bolt the minute the last story is done. So today, we sat in the window seat and watched as the weird thunderstorm pelted the garden with rain, blew the trees about, and pounded on my flowers. Asher asked for some celery with peanut butter. But we were out of celery, so I gave him carrot and some peanut butter. He’s 3 and he isn’t set in traditional food pairings. And with rain pouring down, what else was there to do but pull out the camera?

III

Dinner was freezer pot sticker dumplings and organic broccoli—because sometimes you don’t get to the store for, well, too many days in a row. While we ate, Lucas and Daddy did math. We practiced our 12s times tables, the last set that Lucas has to recite to get the final star on his math chart. The after-dinner discos of the last few nights have been brought to us by They Might Be Giants and Schoolhouse Rock. My favorite? “Conjunction Junction,” which we heard tonight. Lucas wanted “Lolly, Lolly, Lolly Get Your Adverbs Here.” Ian’s partial to the patriotic songs, but then he’s weird. He played David Bowie (of course) singing the Door’s “Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar).” Asher’s question: “Why those creepy people singing, Dada?” Somehow the subject leaped from David Bowie to the film “Labyrinth.” Which Lucas has never seen. Nevertheless, he immediately registered his deep hatred of muppets. I might finally have hit on the key concept, might just have pulled out the lynchpin in the whole muppet phobia. “Lucas, you want to someday see ‘Star Wars,’ right?” He emphatically nodded yes. “Dude! It’s full of muppets! YODA is a MUPPET. Muppets are cool.” We’ll let him process that and see what happens.

Asher has been very musical today—well, he’s been musical a lot lately. He sang a song about mooshy, mooshy zombies over his oatmeal this morning. Ian jotted it down.

“I don’t like no (mooshy, mooshy),

No I don’t like no (mooshy, mooshy),

I don’t like no mooshy, mooshy zombies!!!”

As Asher and I walked to school today in unseasonably chilly weather, he was on a hunt for a good, stout stick to carry. I steered him away from the sticks lying beneath the neighbor’s oleander trees and we found a perfect one about a block down the road. It’s got a gentle curve and two small branches near one end that look quite a lot like the hilt of a sword. Eureka!

(Now you have to imagine that all *s below are little tongue clicks.)

“I’ve got a sword!

I’ve got a good sword! * * *

It’s really, really big!

It’s got a sharp, pointy end! * * *

I like my sword!!!

I like to fight. I am strong.

I like to fight bad guys! * * *

I like to fight bad guys! * * *

Bad guys are BAD!

I fight them with my SWORD! * * *

I am a GOOD GUY!

I FIGHT THE BAD GUYS!

Sword, sword, sword, sword.

Sharp, sharp, sharp, sharp.

* * * * “

Today is my birthday. I’m 38 today, although last year my husband advertised my birthday as my 25th, so maybe this is my 26th? I can live with either, really.

During my 26th year, I was married to the man of my dreams, building life-long friendships, living a mostly carefree, earnest life, and working hard to make it in the world. It was a good year full of good times and good goals. We were building careers. We were saving all the money we could to buy a home together. We were talking about having children.

Yesterday as I was walking home after having dropped Asher off at his preschool, I had a few minutes to reflect on my life. It’s easier to think about such things when the ambient sounds are birdsong instead of little-boy laser-battle sound effects.

Wow. I am really fortunate and REALLY happy!

I don’t always feel happy. Small and big things get me down. I worry. I have anxiety and frustrations and limits that I strain against very often. Sometimes this coat of motherhood that I put on eight years ago feels itchy and too tight in places. Sometimes I get hot under the collar. These feelings I experience are all true, valid, and real.

But what a life we have made for ourselves! For instance, I have time to walk my 3-year-old to school in the morning. I can pick my 8-year-old up from school in the afternoon. I have the freedom to accept the work I want, and most of the time I can turn down the work I don’t want. I haven’t sat in a cubicle for six years. When my young son isn’t with me, he is with his father, a grandmother, or our dear friends of twenty years. Lucas goes to an amazing school, where he is learning every day. I have hobbies now that I never dreamed I’d have, and a garden full of green, growing friends. I’m learning to make things with my hands. I’m developing new interests and skills all the time. Our children are healthy, smart, and vital. We enjoy our family time together. I have talented, loving, patient friends. I’m profoundly in love with my husband and he with me.

It’s a rich and vibrant life and I’m so grateful. I think 38 is just fine.

Nana (my great aunt) turned 97 yesterday. She is so sweet and strong and easygoing. We gathered at a Chinese restaurant last night to celebrate her birthday. Unfortunately, Ian and Lucas couldn’t be with us because of Lucas’s piano lesson. He had a good lesson and then got some special Daddy Time instead.

Asher came along with me and was thrilled to see Grandma Syd and Papa, and to eat at a “ranstrant,” which is something he dearly loves.

My two cousins and aunt and uncle were there, too. They have the not-small challenge of caring for 6-month-old twins at the moment. Long story. It’s temporary. Never mind.

My point here is to tell how Asher reacted to these babies. He pretended not to even see them. He didn’t wish to acknowledge that there might be OTHER babies in the world besides him. Wouldn’t talk to them or play at all. And oh, when I held them!

“Put it back. Mom, put it back.”

“This is Girl Baby. Isn’t she small?”

“Give it back.”

“You used to be this small and I held you all the time.”

“Mom. Put it down.”

“Don’t you like babies?”

“No. I don’t.”

When I eventually handed this little person back to my aunt, Asher immediately climbed into my lap and thrust his hand down my shirt. “My mama! Mom, I love you.” My father and mother guffawed. My grandmother scowled. Nana reread her birthday cards.

No amount of flattery (“You’re so much bigger than them! You’re the big kid here!”) would convince Asher to care a bit about these babies. He’s more than happy to talk about his own exploits, however, or to charm you with stories of his imaginary friends. Such is 3.

How blessed I am to sit at a table and share a meal with family as young as 3 and as old as 97! My youngest cousin is now 18! How amazing to see a 6-month-old chunk of a baby boy (with an unfortunate nickname, thanks to my uncle) next to Nana, with her silver hair, tentative smile, and age spots.

Yesterday, our fabulous surprise adventure that started with a gorgeous nature walk ended with a surprise trip to the movie theater—our first as a family since 2005, when we made the mistake of thinking that 3-year-old Lucas was ready for this type of thing and tried to see a kids’ movie on a rainy Thanksgiving Day in Eureka, California. We managed to stay only ten minutes that time, before the noise and the frenetic film content thoroughly freaked out our kid. (Oh, the GUILT!) Needless to say, we learned a valuable lesson about Lucas and media that evening and we’ve been rather hesitant to try the movie-going experience since then.

But, you know, he’s 8 now. And begging for bigger boy experiences. (He is really wanting to see Star Wars, which is the BE ALL, END ALL for all second-grade boys (even Waldorf boys), and man!—if he were any other kid … ) Although I wish to protect my son from media influences that might upset him or be too mature for him, I also don’t want him to be the only kid he knows who has never been to the movies!

So, Ian and I decided to give the theater a try, reasoning that Lucas is much older now and Asher … well, Asher just isn’t as sensitive as his older brother. He also seems more media-savvy, and is quite keen to watch anything at any time. Moreover, he’ll follow along with just about anything Lucas does, which I suppose is the karma of the second son.

We didn’t tell the boys what was up until we pulled into the theater parking lot.

“What’s this place?”

“This, dear Lucas, is the movie theater. We are going to see a movie.”

“All RIGHT!”

We saw How to Tame Your Dragon and it was great fun! Some parts were very intense and I wondered if we’d be leaving before we got to the end of the film, but my kiddos stuck it out! Lucas laughed out loud a bunch of times and Asher didn’t seem at all fazed by the scary dragons, fire, dramatic flying/falling scenes, or angry Vikings (with mysterious Scottish accents). I was happily impressed with the film’s story, and as we left my boys were chattering about which types of dragons they liked best.

[My, my! Movie tix for our family of four: $33!!!]

I

It starts with a bed-a-bye snuggle, sometime before the morning music …

somehow, there we all are.

Four abed, snuggled under, breathing.

Daddy’s the bravest. He rises before the rest.

Then mama feels guilty, smells coffee brewing, and slowly emerges from the nest.

Big boy bounces up, right up!

Mama and big boy go to his room to pull out clothes for today’s many adventures.

“But I’m not ready!” he complains.

(Mama doesn’t blame him. She’s not ready either.)

So they sit together on the green carpet. Perhaps a cuddle?

Arms enfold ten wiggly elbows, ten knocking knees.

“Either this lap used to be bigger, or you used to be smaller.”

(Giggle)

And there she is, just an arm’s length away,

Emily Mouse, doing her “evening” chores, having a before-bed drink

of water from the upside-down blue bottle.

Gently, Mama says, “Maybe Emily misses you,” thinking, it has been a good long while

since you held your mousie friend.

OK. He reaches for her, cups her gently in two astonishingly large hands

lined and crackled with dirt,

graced with broken nails

and calluses—

curious hands

that move a bit too fast.

White mouse whiskers, sniffing, twitching.

“Wow,” mama says. “We have had Emily for a whole year.”

“Yep.” White mouse moves over dingy T-shirt,

is corralled back into workaday hands.

To herself, Gently now … careful …

“How long do mice live?” Mama wonders cautiously.

“Two years, or a little more.”

Hmmm …

Emily’s fur is stroked, ears scratched by one nubby index finger.

Even. More. Gently …

“What do you think that means?”

…

Blue eyes flash, then seek refuge in the green carpet.

She will die someday. Sometime.

“Maybe soon.”

“Let’s give her lots of love until then, OK?”

“Yeah, Mom.”

“And lots of petting. And kitchen scraps!”

“Yeah! I wonder if we gave her a whole sweet pepper, would she eat a hole and crawl inside it?”

“I don’t know. Let’s give her one and see.”

Eggs are ready. “Time for breakfast,” says the Daddy.

Littlest boy sleeps on …

…

II

Lucas and Grandma leave.

Existential dilemma faced and dressing for a rainy school day accomplished!

Phew!

Mama sips coffee

until …

“MAMA!”

Sleepy one emerges into a quiet house.

“My jammies are wet. I want a kiwi.”

Never before. “A kiwi? Really?”

“Yes.”

Well, then. Diaper change and then Mama goes looking …

Hallelujah! A kiwi. One.

“I have to peel the fuzzy brown skin off.”

“And then I eat it up.”

It vanishes before Mama’s eyes. Three gulps tops.

Then the cold eggs follow.

Mama sits by his side.

“I’m ready for some holding now,” he says with certain faith, and climbs over.

A small egg fills her lap.

“I’m a baby bird in my egg.”

Ah. “And I’m the nest?”

“Yes. And the Mama Bird.”

Pecking. Peck. Peck.

“I’m pecking!

“I’m hatching! Hatch!”

“Hello, Baby Bird! Welcome.”

“You’re my Mama Bird?!”

“Mmmm-hmm …”

“I hatch again!”

(Repeat)

“Are you ready to fly, baby bird?”

“Yes!”

“Let’s put on your red rain feathers.”

“Hurry, Mama Bird! Let’s fly!”

All the way to preschool.

My Mother’s Day weekend was delightful! It was full of flowers, yummy food, a pedicure, and art. My family lavished attention on me and we were able to do things I really enjoy.

Like take a trip to Capital Nursery to buy roses for me and Mother’s Day presents for my mom and Ian’s mom.

Of course, I had to drool over the selection of clematis vines. Must have one soon, but how do I choose?

Here is one of the roses we came home with; it’s called “Daybreak.” I’ve really been wanting an apricot rose! I got three other new roses: a pink one called “Passionate Kisses,” a second “Hot Cocoa,” and a violet rose called “Wile Blue Yonder.”  We bought my mother a yellow rose called “Monkey Business” and bought Ian’s mom a lovely hanging fuschia with pink and red flowers for her shady patio. Fuschia flowers always make me think of little ballerinas.

Then my sweet hubby planted my roses for me, after I picked out where they should go. Poor Ian! He used to think he’d never have a yard so he’d never have to do yard work. Then he met me.

Asher practiced some new skills, like climbing up the slide. He mentioned something about one of the other boys at preschool doing it…. Lucas played with his new tennis racket and fetched mishit balls from the neighbor’s yard. We weeded and planted vinca and red and pink iceplant in the troublesome spot in our front yard flowerbed in the hopes that it will hug into the little hillside and make it prettier.

We also did a fun art project that I’ll write about later.

Raindrops fell just as we were finishing up the gardening so we all went for a dip in the hot tub in the rain. It might have been peaceful and romantic if not for all the water monkeys splashing around! Ian painted my toes for me while I read a magazine and drank a cocktail. Bliss! Then we went visiting, to deliver our Mother’s Day gifts to our moms.

So you see how well I am treated, how well I am mothered?

To all the people in my life who have mothered me, inspired me, challenged me, picked me up after I failed, taught me to take good care of myself and others, who modeled self-worth, strength, and courage, who are dedicated to their own ideals and pursuits of happiness, health, and making the world a better place, who have taken care of those I love—I honor you and THANK YOU. Mothering is a calling, a practice, a crucible, and a responsibility, and we all do it—female or male, with children of our bodies or without. It’s an expression of our humanity.

I hope your Mother’s Day was as lovely as mine!

Round the May Pole Now We Dance
Nancy Byrd Turner

Round the May Pole now we dance
(Over with blue, under with white),
Wind’s in the ribbons, oh see them lift!
Light’s on the ribbons, oh feel them shift!
While we braid overhead
Colors fair and bright!

Round the May Pole gay we move
(You with your ribbon, I with mine).
The colors cross and the pattern grows
(Over with red and under with rose)
On and on, till we’re done.
See the tall pole shine!

Who doesn’t love rainbow ribbons against a blue sky?

Lucas skipping with his classmates. The second graders blessed the circle with their May song and bouquets of flowers.

The girls gather their ribbons.

Eat your heart out, Degas!

Aren’t they lovely?

So precious, so rare. Every year, it is such a gathering of joy and celebration of spring, of life, of beauty, and of youthful promise. I’m grateful to be a part of this community, and the festival makes my heart sing.