Our morning walks to preschool have become really special to me. Asher and I only have to walk five blocks, but blocks around here in our country-like suburban neighborhood (without sidewalks!) are variable in length. We get to talk about all sorts of important things, like where the water goes when it drains into the grate and the different birds that we hear, including chickens, woodpeckers, and songbirds. There’s plenty of chatter from him, too. He tells me what colors the pine cones in Dreamland are and how he is a brave knight who has a sword and a bow with which to fight the bad guys. We watch the frisky squirrels chase each other, pick up sticks and unwanted dandelions, and feel the bumpy plants (sedum murale?) growing in a rock wall.

The only kind of bad thing about our morning walk is that we have to be careful of the traffic from parents dropping their children off at our local public school, which is just a couple of doors down from our home. Our neighborhood is normally very quiet, but the daily getting-to-school time is busier. Still, it’s good practice for Asher. He’s learning how to stay on the very edge of the road or walk along the verge. And more often than not, I see smiles on the faces of the drivers that pass us with wider than necessary berths. I have to admit, Asher’s pretty damned cute as he marches merrily along, blond hair bouncing, or balances atop a curb or wall with arms outstretched.

Today it was something new.

“I gonna run! I gonna get my exercise.”

< Mama evaluates the traffic situation >

“OK.”

“You run too, Mama! You could run fast like me.”

< running >

“I faster than you!”

“You are very fast. You’re a good runner.”

< Mama jogs >

“Faster, Mama. Run faster! You run faster like me.”

< Asher pauses >

“I really exercised!”

“Yes, you did.”

“I gonna rest a minute.”

“OK. You catch your breath.”

I can’t really get in shape by walking five blocks and back twice a day, but I sure can enjoy the trip.

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.

* * * * “

I can see why fabric collecting is addicting, especially to someone like me who is totally invigorated by color. This is most of the stash I’ve gathered little by little over the last year. Via the Glorious Internet, I’ve come to find that I actually have some favorite designers. Wacky!

I’m hoping to make some groovy new shorts and pants for Asher. The ones that I and my mother made in past years were such a success and fun to make. I bought these fabrics with Asher in mind. It’s more challenging that I realized at first to find fabrics suitable for boys. I now realize I have way more fabric for sewing than time for sewing.

Fortunately, some shorts and pants we made last summer look like they’re going to fit another season. The pants are now clam diggers, of course, because Asher has grown so much taller.

I’m kind of waiting to see if this summer Lucas will grab for the shorts grandma sewed for him in the past, or if he’ll gravitate to the more conventional, mass-produced shorts instead. He is probably just on the cusp of not wanting to wear sewn garments anymore. Although, if Lucas wants some for himself, I’ll probably have him pick out the fabric, and most likely it will be much more subdued than these.

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.

Inspired by SouleMama {this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

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.

I bought this lovely little book from a used book seller on Amazon recently. Asher and I have been enjoying it at nap time, and the more I read it, the more I fall in love with it.

The author is Lois Lenski, who is one of our favorites. Among many other books, she wrote Cowboy Small and The Little Fire Engine (featuring Fireman Small), both of which are frequently chosen by my boys at story time (Asher more so than Lucas nowadays).

Our copy is an old school library copy from Our Lady of Hope school in Baltimore, Maryland. It’s got that crackly old library plastic cover to protect the jacket, a manila check-out card holder pasted in the back, and that thick library tape with the white fibers in it to make it strong. I don’t know when this particular book was printed because it doesn’t have a printing date, but the copyright is 1945. This book was withdrawn from the school’s collection in May of 2004. It was published by Henry Z. Walck, Inc. in New York. Some Internet research suggests that Walck published it in 1960. The words are calligraphy by Hilda Scott. The book is small—perfect for little hands at 5 x 5.5 inches.

“Mother’s clothes go dancing~Spring is everywhere!”

I wish I knew more about the printing process used, and whether the three colors plus black was just Lenski’s design choice or if it was motivated by the technology of the day and/or printing costs.

“Pretty Robin Redbreast Laid eggs in her nest. Now there are Baby birdies three, Hungry as can be, For me to see.”

In the book, the children are shown flying kites, skipping rope,  swinging on swings, rolling hoops and playing hopscotch, catch, and marbles. I think it’s just adorable.

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!!!]

A tidal wave of work is coming my way, so the projects I presently have in hand consumed some of my weekend. This isn’t really so bad, except the weather was heavenly and my darlings headed off to the zoo without me on Saturday. I realized after they left that I’ve missed rather a lot of Asher’s zoo trips. This must be corrected soon.

Two strategy guides are hitting my inbox this week. A development task that was pushed off in favor of helping another editor with an urgent deadline is now coming due. My novel edit is due on Friday. Whee!

And still … I walked away from all of this to join my family on a little surprise adventure. We have a lovely book called Best Hikes with Children Around Sacramento and today we tried out a short, easy hike in Granite Bay at a place called Miners Ravine. It’s only a half-mile loop, but it sure was pretty! Honestly, California in the springtime—even in the Central Valley—is fantastic.

The bees were out in force! Many wildflowers were tickled by their buzzy paramours today. I took lots of wildflower/bee photos. Cuz I’m that kind of girl.

I don’t know for sure, but I think this white bubbly stuff might be spittle bug spittle.

We found a granite rock with lots of acorn grinding holes used by the Native Americans of the area—Miwoks, I believe.

Isn’t the automatic timer on the camera cool?

Purple lupines and pink clover.

Lucas found a treasure! And see his gappy grin? He lost another top tooth last week. The seventh, if I’m not mistaken.

We came across a shadowy pond with yummy reflections of the live oaks overhead and ceaseless ripples from bugs’ movements.

This granite boulder was enormous. Wherever Lucas goes, Asher must follow. ‘Twas ever the way for brothers.

It was such a great day! I’m glad to be taking advantage of this cool, comfortable weather while it lasts, and am very much looking forward to trying more local hikes recommended in our book. Our adventure ended with another exciting surprise, but I’ll save that for a different post.

The same day I noticed all those orange Chinese fringe flower leaves in my backyard and made the orange leaf “flower,” I also realized that the photinia leaves scattered on the ground were quite colorful. It was surprising. It’s spring, after all, and one expects leaves to be green, or maybe red like the new growth on this plant. When the photinia leaves lie haphazardly where they fall, it’s hard to notice their color variants. Gathering some together revealed almost a rainbow. My gratitude goes out to the land artists who made me realize that leaves, even from the same plant, are not all one color.

Seeing—really seeing—is something that comes naturally to some. For others it requires some discipline. We often interact with our surroundings using a kind of visual shorthand, taking in only the most general details as we move through space. Seeing is something I’m working on because really seeing sometimes leads to finding. Discovery gives one quite a marvelous feeling, don’t you think? Over time, I’ve come to understand that discovery is very often a simple matter of tilting your head to the side, brushing off the debris, and revealing what was there all along. To my way of thinking, this is proof that miracles are all around us—and within.