You know what’s great?

Having buddies that are into the same kinds of things you are into …

Having some time to sit and imagine and build and laugh, side by side …

Enjoying the play without thinking about the fact that you’re learning stuff …

Sometimes there are setbacks. Stuff breaks, but when friends are there to encourage you, it’s OK.

There’s always a new way to try it, and sometimes new environments to play in. Why not?

And the delight in achievement is so very nice.

In a way, it was kind of his night. Independence Day celebration + 9-year-old boy + adults with fireworks money = Opportunity!

Because you have to test,

have to experience things with all of your senses,

as close as you dare.

You need to observe others displaying both prudence

and risk—to figure out why and when and how.

Sometimes you have to feel danger in your own hands

to learn exactly what makes it dangerous,

learn to harness and create with it,

learn to celebrate it, and ultimately to transmute it into experience and beauty.

Yep. Tonight I begin. I was delayed slightly in this, my most recent, foray into madness. But that was a temporary setback, a mere postponement. Tonight I step into my first oil painting class with a humble, fearful heart. Nevertheless I step because my friends believe in me—so much so, they’ve funded my class fee as a birthday gift.

Yesterday evening I went to the art store and bought $200 worth of oil paints and canvas, much of which was on clearance.

OMG. That’s a lot of money for a lark, a whim, a hobby!

Yep. The voices in my head are really loud about all this, and mostly they are unkind. The harpies are out in full flight, screeching about how ridiculous is it to start this. Who am I to think I might paint? They’re dive-bombing me with doubt and scornful comments. It’s too expensive. It’s impractical. I don’t have enough time to fold all the laundry or work to earn my living, so what in the world do I think I’m doing taking a painting class?

And yet, I’m going. I’m going to try this because I’ve always, always wanted to. And because if a girl cannot find a way to fulfill a dream once in a while, what’s the point?

Both art and living share this: they are a messy, dangerous process. Might as well get messy.

Yesterday was Asher’s last day of preschool. My angel boy is moving on from StarBright Garden, where Ms. Pati has taken such good care of him and provided so many opportunities for growth and friendship. We will miss her very much, and will miss this glorious garden that was so nourishing and beautiful. This swing is where Asher has spent a great portion of every day.

These girls are some of Asher’s best friends. We are delighted that they live in our neighborhood, too. In this photo they are helping work on Asher’s Fairy House. He only wants to do crafts sometimes, but when the girls and Lucas and I got involved to help him with his Fairy House, he finally got into it for a while.

Here is Asher’s Fairy House up close. There is a bark house and a bark fence, with a glass cobbled pathway. It’s got pinecone “bushes” and dried flower “trees.”

Chip-chop, chippity chop. The kids cut up vegetables for their Friday soup. Having meaningful work to do as a group is so great for them. They feel like big kids when they are given responsibilities, especially those that involve using tools like knives. After two children at preschool I now realize that it’s perfectly normal for kids this age to be very helpful with chores and household tasks at school, while they are doing it alongside their friends, and to be resistant and uninterested in such tasks at home. I try not to take it personally.

This is one of Asher’s very best buddies. They’ve been at preschool together for two years now.

Snack time is outdoors at school on lovely summer days.

Table centerpiece: a Fairy House. The kids have been working on these all month.

They’ve eaten up all the cherries, but the plums are getting ripe now and the kids have been snacking on these beauties.

These lemons hang so heavy and low, if you’re not careful you might bonk your head on them.

The bunnies and chickens get all the veggie scraps. There are seven chicks this year. The beans are growing up long poles in the garden. And little S can often be found among the raspberries, picking and snacking.

Matches gets lots of love every day.

This beauty is the one Asher says he’s going to marry. Can you blame him?

We are hoping to have play dates with friends over the summertime. I haven’t shown all of our beloved friends here, just a few. I’m so pleased that he’s made good friends at StarBright, and has learned to socialize so well.

Some of these children will be in Asher’s kindergarten next year, and that will make for an easy transition. So much of what he’ll do next year is like the StarBright rhythm, soI expect it will be like slipping on a familiar hat: story time, circle time, snack, outdoors play, indoors play, cleanup, etc. They are beautiful days full of discovery and joy, rhythm and seasons. What a lucky boy he is!

I love to paint. So far, I paint only wall murals and eggs and the occasional watercolor. But I have a dream …

My loves pooled resources recently to buy me a spot in an oil painting class for my birthday. I mentioned my desire to take this class a few weeks ago and, although I didn’t know I was doing it, in hindsight I realize I was saying out loud what I want—and doing so despite the considerable cost, or the impracticality of it, or all the million and one other reasons not to do it. It’s quite amazing and I am (repeatedly) blessed to find that often when I do that, someone is listening, and ultimately I somehow get what I want. I never dreamed that my darlings would do this for me and was/am totally awestruck by the thoughtfulness of the gift.

Me. Oil painting.

I have wanted to do this since I was 9. No kidding.

This week I popped over to the gallery/art studio and paid for my class. I have six evening sessions (6-9 p.m.) to use over the next four months. I have a materials list in hand, and some cash left over from my patrons to put toward the supplies I’ll need.

The painting teacher is on vacation now but will return at the end of June. So next month, I will be painting. With oils. On canvas. And if it is even half as sublime and satisfying as I’ve always imagined it to be, I will rejoice. Even if I suck.

Thank you.

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.

Our third-grade class at Sacramento Waldorf School recently completed a bock of study on clothing. As part of this block, they helped to shear one of the school’s sheep, Misty. Then they carded the wool and spun it into yarn. This is Misty and I must say, she is a good sport.

The March morning dawned beautifully on the school farm. The children lined up along the fence rails of Misty’s pen. The former handwork teacher, Ms. C, greeted the children and shook their hands. Farmer S instructed them on how to behave around Misty. In small groups the children cooperated to shear her. Some children held Misty’s legs, while Farmer S, Mrs. P, and several children began shearing, using scissors.

Mrs. P instructed each child how to use the scissors so that Misty wouldn’t be cut and so that the fleece was cut very close to her skin, preserving the long fibers so that they could be used for handwork.

She taught Lucas what to do. One must hold the scissors horizontally and be able to see the points before cutting. One mustn’t tug on the fleece while cutting because that can endanger Misty’s skin.

Every child in the class got a turn to shear and to help hold Misty, who patiently endured all their busy hands.

It was truly an amazing thing to watch these normally rambunctious children behaving so quietly and moving carefully.

Several parents were there to assist. We all got a chance to shear a bit, and hold Misty, too. Touching the fleece made my hands so soft from the lanolin in the wool.

These animals were the lucky ones: a ram and Balboa the llama. No shearing for them this day. Also spared was the ewe with two spring lambs to care for.

A rainbow of third-graders. Honestly, what a lot to endure! I think I’d freak out if that many hands were on me. Farmer S cut Misty’s hooves and did all the delicate, tricky shearing around her hindquarters.

Some of the kids sat cross-legged, holding Misty’s head in their laps. Here’s R covering Misty’s eye with her hand and whispering to her that everything is OK.

The kids really had a great time, I think.

Not so sure Misty did, but she survived!

April 29, 2011

Dear Lucas,

It’s practically the eve of your 9th birthday. Tomorrow we will spend much of the day cleaning our home, baking, and decorating to get ready for your birthday party—your first-ever slumber party.  It will be a busy day, and not all fun stuff. Together we will succeed in making the space ready for five of your dear friends.

This year, you have asked for a homemade apple pie instead of a birthday cake. I am surprised by this; somehow it seems too much like me and my preferences for it to be your wish. So often I see our differences and dissimilarities most clearly. But there are moments when I see myself in you, like when you get nervous before a big event and begin to wish you could be elsewhere, or like when you pore over a new book, exploring it with your hands and running its cover against your cheek, or like when you express your outrage when someone acts in a way that hurts you, accidentally or not. All of these characteristics in you remind me of myself.

I have seen you grow so much this year it boggles my mind. (I suppose I say that in every birthday letter I write to you. It is always true.) In the last year, I have seen you learn how to read music (both treble clef and base). I have listened with eager ears as you have learned to play songs on our piano, sometimes struggling, sometimes leaping forward in great ah-ha moments of inspiration. Your fingers are at home on the keys; your ear is better than mine ever was, and you seem to memorize songs after hearing them only a few times. This is both a tremendous asset, and also a liability because you are capable of skating along at times, not having to pay attention to the notes on the page. But I understand. It’s a foreign written language, and it’s so much easier for you just to remember all the sounds. You are getting better at paying attention and focusing on the music. You don’t like to work at it, and yet, when you master the task, it’s clear that you feel very proud of yourself. You have tackled some tough songs this year, including one called “Hogwarts March,” from a Harry Potter movie. I am pleased to see you working hard at piano—I mean, of course I want it to be enjoyable for you. I also want you to learn how to go after something you want, try and try and try, and earn your reward. You have been playing for a year now. You have said at times you want to quit, but then you seem to buckle down and achieve the next goal, which fills you up and readies you for more. I’m not inclined to let you quit because you’re good at it.

Another skill that seems to have ballooned is your reading. This gives your father and me so much joy we’re filled to bursting. You are unlocking the greatest thing ever, word by word, book by book, and you seem to know it. You say, “I’d rather read the book first before I see the movie.” You and your school friends discuss books! You come home with requests because so-and-so said such-and-such book was the greatest book ever. You know what ragged right means. You want books because they’re funny, or a bit creepy, or mysterious, or clever, or long and with sequels. And I am in heaven.

Still, I hold back a bit. I don’t push books on you because my showing too much enthusiasm for a story can ruin it. Secretly, I buy books for you all the time, and store them so that at the perfect moment I can give you one as a special gift, or just a now-you’re-ready-for-this surprise. It makes me feel like Santa Claus, and each time you unwrap one or I pull one off the top shelf, I hold my breath. Will you feel the same draw, the same magic as I do? I long to share this feeling with you, to have this one thing at least tie us together in companionship our whole lives. But even more fervently I wish that you will fall in love again and again with reading.

Reading is a big part of third grade, as are spelling tests. You have been bringing fourteen spelling words home to study most weeks this year. When we all remember to work on them together, you tend to ace the quizzes. I’m finding it’s surprisingly tricky to encourage you to care about whether you do well. Often you do, so that’s great. But not always. So we are all learning to negotiate new concepts of expectation. We parents are learning how to negotiate new concepts of parenting. Because you go to Waldorf school, you haven’t been struggling with homework for years already, for which I am grateful. We are not in the habit of having to work on school tasks at home. See? The spelling words are our mutual training ground. Not only do you have to get into the habit of doing schoolwork, but we have to get into the habit of helping you develop good habits! (That teacher of yours is quite clever.) I admit we have a ways to go in this area. Next year, you will have homework to do regularly.

***

May 1, 2011

You remain, as ever, exceptionally creative. Perhaps the best part of this characteristic is that you aren’t afraid of it. You go with your creative impulses without hesitation. I see this in your engineering of objects, in your drawings and paintings, in your imaginative play. There is nothing too big, too hard, or too wild for you. You also seem to seek out the different path. The Moken Kabong shelter project was a good example. You were tasked to build a human shelter model based the shelter of a genuine people. You were the only child in the class to build a boat shelter. While belonging is important to you, you take your individuality seriously. I really like that about you.

You love dragons and ninjas, secret agents and explorers. You love science perhaps more than anything. You want to be a Mythbuster or a chemist or a doctor when you grow up. Something sciency, no doubt. Sometimes you say you want to be a veterinarian.

You are fond of games now, especially complex ones with many rules. You are becoming a good chess player, playing sometimes with adults. I need to remember that you need opportunities to play games. Since gaming isn’t my favorite way of spending time, I need to hook you up with others who do enjoy games. Fortunately, we have a lot of friends who enjoy such things. And your dad is a great sport about this stuff; he’s always ready for a game of chess or whatever.

You invent plenty of games, too, creating cards with creatures that have magical and elemental powers. You talk of hit points, damage, spells, and +4 strength, +1 armor. The games are not confined to paper, though, for your creatures ride on your shoulders and you can fling them into battle, with sound effects and physical confrontation. Asher is a willing participant in all your fantasy worlds. Since you answer his every question about the game with complete confidence, he is content to play by your rules most of the time. Just don’t tell him he has lost all of his powers! On a recent car ride, you and Asher played a verbal quest game like Dungeons and Dragons—I think you called it Tentacle—where you were the GM and Asher had to make choices in his quest. Sometimes his choice was wise and he was rewarded by leveling up. Other times he was penalized, like when he fought and killed a good luck dragon. I suppose you have played this with your friends at school, but I was amazed at how engrossed the two of you became in the game. You were both thinking on your feet, so to speak, and it was awesome.

You (perhaps with friends) have invented a martial art, formerly called Twidlywinkies but recently redubbed “Hai-ya!” The first iteration of this martial art has been around a year or two, but you’ve recently been training your brother in Hai-ya. You are taking him through the ranks, awarding him new belt colors (playsilks) when he does well. Rainbow belt is the highest achievement, after black belt. There are five styles of Hai-ya, from what I’ve gathered: Dragon, Crane, Tiger, Panda, and Snake, which you conveniently swiped from the Kung Fu Panda movie. You say you are training several school friends, too. You would dearly like to take martial arts classes, and we may be coming to that sometime this year. The discipline you would learn in such a class would do you good, I think.

You enjoy shooting hoops, walking on your stilts, and riding your scooter and your bike. We have been letting you ride around the neighborhood alone a bit. Recently you rode off to the local park for a solo adventure. You love to climb trees and every time we go to pick up Asher from preschool, you shimmy up Ms. Pati’s grapefruit tree. Daddy has seen you climbing up our redwoods in our backyard, which are a bit too little still, I think. Now you can do the monkey bars! (You tried for a long time without success, so this is a big accomplishment.) So far, you aren’t interested in playing organized sports. You lament about not having enough free time, though your time is mostly your own. Filling it with sports practice I think would be odious to you. I wonder if and when you will ask for this, and if it’s our fault that you show so little interest in sports. Have we raised you to be just like us?

Overall, I have to say this last year has been much easier than previous ones. You are not as challenging as you used to be, or perhaps I should say, you aren’t challenging as much of the time. You seem in some ways less spiky than before, and are quick to show affection. You give compliments pretty freely, which is a delight. You often tell me and Dad that we are “the best parents ever.” Usually, when we are frustrated with you, it is because you are frustrated with your brother and are fighting with him. You and Asher provoke each other like crazy. You react to him as if every little thing was the most horrific offense, which naturally feeds the fire. You give him such delicious rewards for bugging you, so he does it as often as possible. We are trying to teach you to disengage, walk away, and ignore it when Asher needles you. I fear your choleric personality is a big obstacle. But siblings fight. Brothers fight. And Asher now is a force to be reckoned with.

But I have to also say how much love and devotion I see in your relationship with your brother. Asher looks to you for leadership, for courage, and for a role model. He would like to do everything you do and tries hard. You two are thick as thieves, as they say, completely intertwined with one another. You are best friends and worst enemies, as the cliché goes. You hate to be apart from one another, long to be together, and yet when you are, there is a maddening pattern of good, beneficial play and then angry bashing. We roller-coaster through our days like this and it drives us bananas. You are like powerful magnets, drawn together and compelled to play out dramatic hurts, betrayals, forgiveness, and camaraderie again and again, from dawn until sleep. It is difficult to live with, but I think it’s good relationship training. You are learning trust, how to negotiate, what consequences come from acting badly toward someone, how to forgive and be forgiven.

Sometimes you ask to have your own room again, and I feel bad that I took over your old bedroom for my office. I know sometimes you would really like to get away from Asher and have some private space. You are coping as best you can: You have claimed three personal “desks” in the house as your private places. You and Asher still sleep together sometimes, though, so it cannot be so bad.

A few months ago, you went through a rough patch and were feeling quite depressed and maudlin. You would sometimes get upset and say things like, “I shouldn’t even exist. I don’t deserve to live.” We tried hard to hold you safe and let you feel all your feelings. This “9-year change” business is hard, and dramatic. You seem to need us to acknowledge your pain, but also to act confidently through it. We don’t spend much time trying to convince you to feel differently, for that way is useless and also gives too much attention to the theatrics. We just hold the space in which you can (safely) suffer and try to show you that the suffering is temporary and that we love you despite it. I don’t know what more is in store for us in this changing stage. You’ve just turned 9, so there may be more pitfalls to negotiate this year. But no matter: We love you always.

I admire the way you make friends, Lucas, and I must say, it seems to me you have made some good ones. Your school buddies are great kids, and you get along well even with those classmates who aren’t your best friends. You are especially good in one-on-one situations to my eye. I’m proud that you are considerate, that you remember your manners, and that you make friends with adults as easily as you make friends with kids. You are warm and open, eager to share your experiences and eager to learn from others. I am proud that my friends like having you along, that they tell me what a fun, clever, ingenious kid you are.

***

May 2, 2011

The party is done now. It was a rollicking good time; “best birthday party ever,” you said. There were balloon fights and stick fights and spy-on-the-parents secret agent games. We watched “Mythbusters,” we ate Daddy’s marvelous hamburgers and you and your friends devoured a whole watermelon in mere minutes.  You and your buddies stayed awake until midnight.

We were all pretty wiped out by the next day, your actual birthday, so we spent a kind of low-key day, enjoying each other’s company, and opening presents from me, Dad, and Asher. You are thrilled that we gave you your own, first pocket knife and have kept it with you every waking hour since then. We expect every stick within a two-block radius to be whittled by you in the coming months. You have already carved for yourself  and your brother new wands, with which to have magical duels. Daddy was certain that you are ready for this; it’s a big responsibility to own and use a knife. We trust that you will take it seriously, and not use it recklessly.

We spent the evening of your birthday at Papa and Grandma Syd’s house. You begged to go swimming—the water was 62 degrees—and we let you. You proudly showed Papa your new pocket knife and he admired it. At the moment you’re enjoying time with VoVo and Aunt Kellie and you’re probably receiving more gifts.

There is no question about it, Lucas. You are beloved. Lucas, you are such a mysterious treasure to me and your dad, and every moment we find ourselves having to stretch and grow alongside you, just to keep up. You are delightful and warm, courageous and sensitive, and oh-so smart. You are our shining sun, our inspiration, and our initiator, for without you we wouldn’t be who we are today. We love you for everything that you are and everything that you are becoming. Happy birthday, my dearest light.

Love,

Mama

Earth Day is Friday, April 22—tomorrow! Even if this holiday isn’t something you grew up celebrating, you can bet that your kids are aware of it and eager to participate. Over the last few years, we’ve been doing a bit more to honor the ideals of this day and our kids just eat it up. Here are a few ideas from our family to yours.

1. Plant a tree: This is every bit as appropriate on Earth Day as Arbor Day. This year we’re planting a tree for two reasons: My great-aunt Nana passed away last fall, and we will plant a tree in her honor and in honor of Earth Day. We have chosen a beautiful pink dogwood for our back yard.

2. Make a terrarium or a dish garden: I wrote a tutorial about how to make a moss terrarium for Little Acorn Learning’s April Afterschool Enrichment Guide, which is full of amazing activities, recipes, poems, and much more. You can find it here: http://www.littleacornlearning.com/.  Here is an in-progress shot of the dish garden we made yesterday. We used moss we collected on a recent trip to the foothills and wheat grass seeds. Lucas included a spiral of small stones we found in our yard. We are adding beeswax bunnies and Easter eggs to it.

3. Go on a hike, take along a trash bag, and pick up any garbage you may spot along the way. (Kitchen or latex gloves come in handy for this activity.) Recycle those things that you can. Note: don’t let children pick up certain kinds of trash, especially anything that looks like it might be medical waste. Many communities have park or creek cleanup days that need volunteers.

4. Do a science experiment. For young children, seed projects are great because they are fast. Here’s what we did last year. Some of our pumpkin seedlings even survived the transfer out into our summer garden and we harvested pumpkins in the fall from our Earth Day experiment! I don’t know about you, but I love cycles like that.

5. Start a worm farm: All you need is a boxy container (a styrofoam cooler does the trick nicely—I know styrofoam is lame, but it works well for this project), and a container full of red worms from the bait store, or else dig up the worms yourself. Put some normal garden soil into your container, shred some newspaper into small strips, wet it all down, and add your worms. Poke a few holes into the container for air circulation. Then put in your vegetable kitchen scraps daily. Stir once in a while and keep it moist but not wet. Before long you’ll have loads of worms (and worm babies!) and great soil for your garden. (It helps to have a plastic or metal container underneath the whole worm bin, to catch any drippings. These drippings make excellent fertilizer.)

6. Learn about the weather or the water cycle. Check your local parks and recreation department for children’s nature classes or day camps. Try this page of links at The Water Project for science experiments for kids.

7. Read books about caring for the environment with your kids. Last April, I wrote about quite a few children’s books we recommend for Earth Day. Adults can check out the works of Richard Louv, Rachel Carson, David Sobel, Robert Micahel Pyle, and Bernd Heinrich.

8. Start a vegetable garden! Good Friday (also Earth Day this year) is a traditional day for planting seeds and seed potatoes. Lucas is outside preparing his garden plot. We have worked into it our soil full of worm castings  from last’s year’s worm farm. That should give our garden a good start!

9. Make space in your yard for wild creatures: add a birdbath, places wild creatures can use for cover, and plants that attract bees, butterflies, and birds. This spring I’ve seen birds actually bathing in and drinking from my birdbath. It was very cool!

10. Take your recyclables in and redeem them for cash; donate your family’s proceeds to a charity such as NRDC or National Wildlife Federation, or any number of other worthy charities. Better yet, if you can support wildlife and habitat restoration efforts in your own community, do that.

That’s 10. I bet you can think of dozens more. If you have a nifty idea to share, please do so! Happy Earth Day!

We got to go caving last weekend! Thanks to a dear friend who wanted to celebrate her birthday underground, we had a spectacular day. We went to Black Chasm, in the Sierra Nevada foothills near Jackson, California. Ironically, our family went there exactly a year ago.

The cave is gorgeous and very well lighted so that the rock formations are shown to best effect. This cave has some rare formations called helictites (top photo), which seem to defy gravity because they grow any which way. In the first photo above, you can see the dragon head formation that the cave uses as its mascot; it’s sticking out farthest on the right.

The trip was fantastic, not only because I adore caves, but because we got to go with some of our very favorite people and celebrate Ritsa’s birthday. Isn’t she cute?

We picnicked on goodies and the children got to ramble in the woods a bit. I love how doggedly Asher tags after the bigger boys. He’s every bit as tough as they are, just not quite as fast or sure-footed.

It was chilly, having snowed the day before. Everywhere we looked the stones were covered with a beautiful carpet of moss, thick and brilliant green. We followed some directions to find the Zen Garden Trail and, I have to say, I’ve never seen anything like it in California. It looked so much like a set from one of the Lord of the Rings movies, as though we suddenly had been transported to New Zealand and should expect orcs to come trundling around the corner at any minute.

This place was heavenly and perfect for exploring. We rambled up and down boulders and in between huge, monolithic rocks, all draped in lush moss.

Here we are, minus two beloved photographers who managed to avoid being in most of the pictures. Many thanks to Tate for letting me use some of his photos. Happy Birthday, Ritsa!

More adventures, please, darlings! I love them so!