Happy Mother’s Day!

The great Old West “Ghost Town at Sundown” birthday party was last weekend and it ROCKED! It took two solid days to get everything ready and make the place presentable. I had help from Dakini, Parnasus, and my mother-in-law and sister-in-law. Ian worked his tail off before, during, and after the party.

We had 10 small, charming guests and a few parents who stayed to enjoy our Wilson Ranch dinner of hamburgers, baked beans, corn on the cob, strawberries, and salad. The kids had fun lassoing our cows, which were the greatest thing ever made: Ian, my brilliant husband took my cryptic instruction (“Take these sawhorses and make ’em into cows”) and did it well beyond my wildest expectations.

It was hard waiting for the party to start at 4 p.m. We spent the day decorating and shopping for food. Asher enjoyed playing in all the red bandannas.

Still waiting for friends to arrive.

They’re here, finally! We built this teepee from dead birch trees and a canvas painter’s dropcloth. In the morning, we painted “American Indian” symbols on it with termpera paint, such as rivers, bears, salmon, corn, a sun, a rainbow, a thunderbird, a moon, snakes, etc.

E and M ride on the cows.

A ties on his bandana to avoid breathing campfire smoke.

R takes a turn. Sun poses in his fancy costume.

M is M’s younger sister. Here’s M, too. They are both in Lucas’s kindergarten class this year.

R is rambunctious and Lucas admires him a lot. Here’s beautiful E; Lucas has been friends with E since they were 3 and 4 years old.

We had a campfire in the backyard for a while. The children ate their dinners and birthday cake while sitting around it, but we didn’t time the fire right for roasting marshmallows, unfortunately. Still, the novelty of having a backyard fire made quite an impression. Nobody got hurt, either.

Sun liked roping the cows.

Lucas loved being the center of attention. He basically thought the whole day should go perfectly, that is his way. It kind of sucked when he hit his head really hard on the swing set. Still, he got over it. (Those are healing mosquito bites on his face.)

Lucas got lots of wonderful presents, including new fancy Stockmar crayons, a paint-a-dinosaur kit, plastic cowboys and indians (alas, with guns), WWII die-cast airplanes, Dr. Doolittle and Mary Poppins books, original story books by a special 8-year-old nicknamed Snow, leather horsey reigns with bells, and an adventure pack/sleeping bag with a flashlight.


Snow had new, shiny red cowgirl books. I was jealous.

Snow played with Asher and let him wear her hat. Asher thinks she is dreamy.

Here’s Lucas showing off one of his presents. He is flabbergasted that the cowboys have guns in their hands and I have so far not taken them away from him. He keeps looking at me and wondering if I’ve noticed them.

I bought enough cowboy hats and bandanas for every child at the party to have one. Many came wearing hats already, so we still have a few left over. I’m happy with the cowboy cake I ordered from the Raley’s bakery, and even happier that I didn’t try to make it myself. The food was great, thanks to Cookie Daddy! And it was really nice that some of my favorite parent friends stayed for the party. Their presence made it more fun for me and Ian.

All in all, it was a great day on the Wilson Ranch!

The great Old West “Ghost Town at Sundown” birthday party was last weekend and it ROCKED! It took two solid days to get everything ready and make the place presentable. I had help from Dakini, Parnasus, and my mother-in-law and sister-in-law. Ian worked his tail off before, during, and after the party.

We had 10 small, charming guests and a few parents who stayed to enjoy our Wilson Ranch dinner of hamburgers, baked beans, corn on the cob, strawberries, and salad. The kids had fun lassoing our cows, which were the greatest thing ever made: Ian, my brilliant husband took my cryptic instruction (“Take these sawhorses and make ’em into cows”) and did it well beyond my wildest expectations. 

It was hard waiting for the party to start at 4 p.m. We spent the day decorating and shopping for food. Asher enjoyed playing in all the red bandannas.

Still waiting for friends to arrive.

We built this teepee from dead birch trees and a canvass painter’s dropcloth. In the morning, we painted “American Indian” symbols on it with termpera paint, such as rivers, bears, salmon, corn, a sun, a rainbow, a thunderbird, a moon, snakes, etc.

Ella and Mitchell ride on the cows.

Andrew ties on his bandana to avoid breathing campfire smoke.

Ripley takes a turn. Sun poses in his fancy costume.

Mia is Mitchell’s younger sister. They are both in Lucas’s kindergarten class this year.

Rowan is rambunctious and Lucas admires him a lot. Here’s beautiful Ella; Lucas has been friends with Ella since they were 3 and 4 years old.

We had a campfire in the backyard for a while, but we didn’t time it right for roasting marshmallows, unfortunately. Still, the novelty of having a backyard fire made quite an impression. Nobody got hurt, either.

Sun liked roping the cows.

Lucas loved being the center of attention. He basically thought the whole day should go perfectly, that is his way. It kind of sucked when he hit his head really hard on the swing set. Still, he got over it.

Lucas got lots of wonderful presents, including new fancy crayons, a paint-a-dinosaur kit, plastic cowboys and indians (alas, with guns), airplanes, Dr. Doolittle and Mary Poppins books, original story books by a special 8-year-old nicknamed Snow, leather horsey reigns with bells, and an adventure pack/sleeping bag with a flashlight.


Snow had new, shiny red cowgirl books. I was jealous.

Snow played with Asher and let him wear her hat. Asher thinks she is dreamy.

Here’s Lucas showing off one of his presents. He is flabbergasted that the cowboys have guns in their hands and I have so far not taken them away from him. He keeps looking at me and wondering if I’ve noticed them.

I bought enough cowboy hats and bandanas for every child at the party to have one. Many came wearing hats already, so we still have a few left over. I’m happy with the cowboy cake I ordered from the Raley’s bakery, and even happier that I didn’t try to make it myself. The food was great, thanks to Cookie Daddy! And it was really nice that some of my favorite parent friends stayed for the party. Their presence made it more fun for me and Ian. 

All in all, it was a great day on the Wilson Ranch!

Today was the Big Party Day. I do not have enough energy to write about it yet. But I want to record this birthday wish that Lucas received from one of his very best friends in the world. It is perhaps the most wonderful birthday wish ever wished.

From Snow (8 years old) to Lucas on the occasion of his sixth birthday:

“I hope the sun will keep you warm. I hope the moon will guide your way and every twinkling star. I hope the wind will keep you calm. I hope the water will be there when you need it. I hope the fire will make you strong. I hope the earth will make peace in your life. I hope you will always be safe with your family.”

I can add only this: Me too. Thank you. Amen.

Here’s the rootin’, tootin’ party invitation that went out to Lucas’s friends a couple of weeks ago. Today’s the big day! From 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. we will be surrounded by many, many children wearing cowboys hats! 

Here’s the rootin’, tootin’ party invitation that went out to Lucas’s friends a couple of weeks ago. Today’s the big day! From 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. we will be surrounded by many, many children wearing cowboys hats! 

http://www.dooce.com/2008/05/02/newsletter-month-fifty-and-fifty-one

Quoting from Dooce, Newsletter: Month Fifty and Fifty-one (The author is speaking to her daughter in a newsletter she writes every month since 2004—except for month fifty—about criticism she receives from readers who think it’s wrong for her to write about her child on her website):

“Will you resent me for this website? Absolutely. And I have spent hours and days and months of my life considering this, weighing your resentment against the good that can come from being open and honest about what it’s like to be your mother, the good for you, the good for me, and the good for other women who read what I write here and walk away feeling less alone. And I have every reason to believe that one day you will look at the thousands of pages I have written about my love for you, the thousands of pages other women have written about their own children, and you’re going to be so proud that we were brave enough to do this. We are an army of educated mothers who have finally stood up and said pay attention, this is important work, this is hard, frustrating work and we’re not going to sit around on our hands waiting for permission to do so. We have declared that our voices matter.

“These are the stories of our lives as women and they often include you, yes. …
…

“I will not be discouraged from continuing to document the beauty of life with my family or supporting them with an income from doing so. Leta, some people will one day try to convince you that what I’ve done here is some sort of sickening betrayal of your childhood, and what those people fail to recognize is that I am doing the exact opposite. This is the glorification of your childhood, and even more than that this is a community of women coming together to make each other feel less alone. You are a part of this movement, you and all of the other kids whose mothers are sitting at home right now writing tirelessly about their experiences as mothers, the love and frustration and madness of it all. And I think one day you will look at all of this and pump your fist in the air.”

EDIT: I wrote this post late last night and I’ve been thinking I must add to it. I must add a little about why I do it. I write about my kids and my feelings about my kids in the hopes that someday they will know who I am. That I am human and full of flaws, and still beautiful. That I start every day with hopes and good intentions. That I strive for goodness and warmth, honesty and love in our family. 

If that bus with my name on it claims me before my sons grow up enough to remember me and our experiences, I hope that eventually, they will read what I have written here and know I loved them imperfectly and completely—in the very best way I could.

http://www.dooce.com/2008/05/02/newsletter-month-fifty-and-fifty-one

Quoting from Dooce, Newsletter: Month Fifty and Fifty-one (The author is speaking to her daughter in a newsletter she writes every month since 2004—except for month fifty—about criticism she receives from readers who think it’s wrong for her to write about her child on her website):

…

“Will you resent me for this website? Absolutely. And I have spent hours and days and months of my life considering this, weighing your resentment against the good that can come from being open and honest about what it’s like to be your mother, the good for you, the good for me, and the good for other women who read what I write here and walk away feeling less alone. And I have every reason to believe that one day you will look at the thousands of pages I have written about my love for you, the thousands of pages other women have written about their own children, and you’re going to be so proud that we were brave enough to do this. We are an army of educated mothers who have finally stood up and said pay attention, this is important work, this is hard, frustrating work and we’re not going to sit around on our hands waiting for permission to do so. We have declared that our voices matter.

“These are the stories of our lives as women and they often include you, yes. …
…

“I will not be discouraged from continuing to document the beauty of life with my family or supporting them with an income from doing so. Leta, some people will one day try to convince you that what I’ve done here is some sort of sickening betrayal of your childhood, and what those people fail to recognize is that I am doing the exact opposite. This is the glorification of your childhood, and even more than that this is a community of women coming together to make each other feel less alone. You are a part of this movement, you and all of the other kids whose mothers are sitting at home right now writing tirelessly about their experiences as mothers, the love and frustration and madness of it all. And I think one day you will look at all of this and pump your fist in the air.”

EDIT: I wrote this post late last night and I’ve been thinking I must add to it. I must add a little about why I do it. I write about my kids and my feelings about my kids in the hopes that someday they will know who I am. That I am human and full of flaws, and still beautiful. That I start every day with hopes and good intentions. That I strive for goodness and warmth, honesty and love in our family. 

If that bus with my name on it claims me before my sons grow up enough to remember me and our experiences, I hope that eventually, they will read what I have written here and know I loved them imperfectly and completely—in the very best way I could.

Lucas, you are six years old today! Six years ago we held you in our arms for the first time. You were tiny; only 6 pounds and 8 ounces. You had lots of dark, dark hair and a wrinkled up face and red skin. We dressed you in mismatched baby clothes—because you surprised us and we didn’t have all the new ones laundered yet. Somehow, we were so focused on the birthing, we forgot that at the end of it, we’d have a baby and a photo op. Somehow, you were both early (two and a half weeks) and late (productive actual labor didn’t start until 48 hours after my water broke). We danced you into this world; we tranced you into this world. When you arrived, you cracked open the sky and all the light of heaven flowed into my life. 

This is not your birthday letter; I need more time to create that. This is just your birthday post, to say “Wow. We’ve made it so far!” Today was stormy, intense, wonderful, aggravating, and sweet, just as six promises to be. I’m looking forward to learning all the amazing and soul-splitting things you have to teach me this year.

Happy Birthday, Star Child. You are the whirl in my whirligig, and you’ve got me spinnin’ right ’round. I love you to the moon, all the way past Pluto, through the next hundred galaxies and back again.

Lucas, you are six years old today! Six years ago we held you in our arms for the first time. You were tiny; only 6 pounds and 8 ounces. You had lots of dark, dark hair and a wrinkled up face and red skin. We dressed you in mismatched baby clothes—because you came early and we didn’t have all the new ones laundered yet. Somehow, we were so focused on the birthing, we forgot that at the end of it, we’d have a baby and a photo op. Somehow, you were both early (two and a half weeks) and late (productive actual labor didn’t start until 48 hours after my water broke). We danced you into this world; we tranced you into this world. When you arrived, you cracked open the sky and all the light of heaven flowed into my life. 

This is not your birthday letter; I need more time to create that. This is just your birthday post, to say “Wow. We’ve made it so far!” Today was stormy, intense, wonderful, aggravating, and sweet, just as six promises to be. I’m looking forward to learning all the amazing and soul-splitting things you have to teach me this year.

Happy Birthday, Star Child. You are the whirl in my whirligig, and you’ve got me spinnin’ right ’round. I love you to the moon, all the way past Pluto, through the next hundred galaxies and back again.