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.

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!!!]

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.

I’d been saving up this hammered botanicals project ever since I saw it on a blog I read, called Dim Sum, Bagels, and Crawfish, last March. (How could I not read it, with a marvelous name like that?) Oh, here it is! I was afraid I might not be able to find it. (The Internet is AWESOME!) Anyway, the Dim Sum author, Lucia, found it in a terrific book called Nature’s Art Box, which is on my wish list.

Anyway, I thought that these smashed flower prints would be a perfect project for my boisterous, bashing boys. I learned a lot during this project, not the lease of which was it’s best to follow directions. Alas, I’m the dive-in-and-figure-it-out sort of person.

We used:

• white cotton fabric
• scissors
• pinking shears
• hammer
• scotch tape
• flower cuttings from our garden
• phone book
• watercolor paper
• watercolor paints and paintbrush
• dollar store certificate frames, 8.5 x 11 size

Lucas enthusiastically helped with the hammering, but I couldn’t get Asher to join in. When dealing with a 3-year-old, timing is everything! And the time I had set aside to do this project was All Wrong. Asher wouldn’t even come outside to see what we were up to.

We found that the roses and pansies gave brilliant colors. The mallow flowers and Spanish lavender were subtler. Creating the watercolored mats fell to me. (Are they really mats if the fabric print goes on top of them?) I didn’t want to try to cut the mats precisely; laying the fabric on top of the watercolor paper seemed just fine.

Originally we made six of these. Then I read online that a mixture of alum and water would help keep the colors fresh. Fortunately, our friends had some alum that we could borrow. Unfortunately, three unexpected results happened when I lightly sprayed the fabric prints with the solution.

1. The color from the smashed roses bled like crazy, running down the hanging fabric (which you can see in the photo below in the center)
2. The color from the dark purple pansies bled outward (I learned not to spray as much solution, and still the capillary action of the water caused the dye to spread)
3. Unbeknownst to me, the fabric on two of the prints had actually taken up a tiny amount of newsprint from the phone book pages when we were hammering the cuttings. It was invisible before I sprayed the prints. Afterward, ack! Some of the newsprint words appeared in our lovely botanical prints. (You can see a big black W and other type on the right-hand print in the photo above)

None of those three surprises made me happy. And if I were to do this project again, I’m not sure if I’ll bother with spraying them with alum. Perhaps the colors from the flowers and stems will oxidize or fade over time. I don’t know. Also, I’ll make sure to put white paper between my fabric and anything with newsprint on it.

When all was said (cussed) and done, and after two pieces of glass from our frames were broken (more cussing after the children were asleep), we ended up with three pretty prints, ready to give out to grandmothers on Mother’s Day.

The grandmothers seemed pleased. 😉

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!

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.

Lucas and his friends celebrated his birthday at Sunrise Rollerland, a roller-skating rink that has been open since the 1970s. Ian and I both learned to skate there as children, and we spend many a hot, Sacramento summer day inside the roller rink letting the “wind” from skating keep us cool (of course, we didn’t know each other then). So it was kind of a surprise when Lucas said he wanted to have his party there. This was the first year that we didn’t host his birthday party in our home, and it was a little weird (for me) letting go of important things like the food and birthday cake. But the novelty and specialness of the party were just the ticket for my big boy. I think he really felt wonderful!

A bunch of Lucas’s school friends attended the party and they were all relatively new skaters. Yet they all had a great time and were very brave. My favorite moment was watching four 8-year-old boys all skating hand in hand together (and falling in succession).

Lucas is still pretty unsteady on his wheels, but my how brave he is! He fell over and over again and yet never quit. He kept getting back up and trying again. It was inspiring to see him tackle this with such determination. Thaemos came along and was a great help. I was pleased some of the parents stayed and skated, too!

It was really tough getting good shots, the light was so dim. Asher didn’t want to skate at all, and didn’t want me to skate either. But I did and he threw a tantrum. OMG! It was sooooooo fun to be on skates again! I missed the Air Supply, Journey, Boston, and Rush that used to blast out of the sound system. (Disney princess music really isn’t my favorite.) I tried to get the DJ to play the Star Wars theme music because I thought the boys would just burst if it came on, but she didn’t have it! Lucas’s buddies were more successful when they requested the theme from Indiana Jones.

By the end of the party, all the boys had new bruises and blisters on their feet, which I take to be evidence that a good time was had by all. Lucas sure did!

Later that day, we saw most of the same kids at the school’s 50th anniversary family picnic, and Lucas got an extended playtime with his friends.