Top O' The Mornin' to Ya

So last night someone left a dixie cup of M&M's in my bedroom. This morning, all four kids were loitering around my bed waiting for breakfast and mommy to get it in gear.

As I stumbled out of the room, I saw the dixie cup and I thought to myself, “M&M’s…a little sugar kick to jumpstart Mommy.” Of course, I don’t feed peanut M&M’s to my babies for breakfast, so there was no room for sharing…

stealth, I had to be stealthy and

vewwy qwi-et.

Children have chocolate radar. I couldn’t even acknowledge the choco-score so I simply picked up the cup, turned my side to the rabid seagulls that normally flank me on all sides and, as I walked out the door, popped one in my mouth.

Did I mention I live out in the country? WAY out in the country…

That we are the minority out here…Planet Earth is right…insects TOTALLY out number us and have our every move anticipated and covered….once they defeat our dreaded shoe or rolled newspaper attack they will absolutely kick our butts.

The dixie cup was swarming with ants, a little black marching, mindless workforce operating together to feed the swarm that lives inside my walls.

and THAT is what I had for breakfast.

Ants and Crest toothpaste.
YUM.

Flowers from a Flower Fairy

I admit it...
I hate cut flowers and I always have.
Don’t ever bring me roses or tulips or anything…
don’t do corsages or sprays of flowers…
no dried or pressed, either.

Flowers out in the garden are my thing. I have no interest in vases, displays, arrangements. They either tip over and make a huge mess or get forgotten and rot inside. Very grinchey of me, I know. What a small heart I must have…but,

Flowers out in the garden, doing their own natural thing, groovin’ in the sun and rain, closing at night, highlighted against the dark green of some bush, spreading when my back is turned and surprising me with little volunteer patches of this or that…THAT is my thing. I love flowers. In fact, the more delicate, the more tied into their natural spot in the order of things, the better, it seems. I just ‘discovered’ the red corn poppy and will definitely be buying seed in bulk for October…just stunning. Horrific cut flower – wilts in minutes.

My mother had cut flowers. My mother-in-law was a TOTAL FANATIC when it came to cut flowers! She adored cut flowers and always had them in the house. Collected vases. (Ironically, they are sitting collecting dust in my cabinets) She planted 96 rose bushes (that I now care for) just so that she could always have roses.

I never would even accept cut flowers (except to be polite, of course…but how often do random gifts of cut flowers come YOUR way? Mine neither and my DH learned fast). I thought they were creepy.
But,
introduce into my life a sweet girlie-girl. A four-year-old, determined, opinionated, creative little spit-fire…The spitting image of my beloved mother-in-law, and WHAM. My grouchy world turns inside-out.
I took time to teach my boys not to pick me flowers. I made it a point of explaining to them that they belonged outside. That I didn’t really want them and that they shouldn’t pull things from the garden without permission… (I know I KNOW…looking back, I feel insane and CRANKY.)

But, the Little Otter Daughter? I tried to train her, gently, again and again.…
but she is her grandmother’s granddaughter and Darn It, those flowers were MEANT to be enjoyed in all those vases I have in the backs of my cupboards.

She just keeps bringing me flowers. Flowers and Flowers and Flowers. All seasons. Multiple times a day. Picks ROSES, for goodness sakes, with her BARE HANDS…just to bring them to me.
Then it hit me. How incredibly rude and impolite and mean I have been. What a crushing thing to walk into the house with a gift, anticipating pleasure and gratitude and instead getting a lecture.
What, realistically, can a four year old and now her little brother give as a gift? I was refusing my children’s offerings of love …gardening be damned…those little flowers, stem-less and bedraggled were A gift. An offering. An honor.
I now have six to ten little jars and vases within easy reach so that I can do the right thing and accept with deep gratitude the blessings blooming all around me.

Country Living

So, here I am vacuuming up dying bees from the front hall.

Yes, dying bees...

(Hey last Spring it was wasps...thousands and thousands of wasps. So many that they infested the fireplace and we were able to watch thousands of them them through the glass doors crawl around inside. Science Lesson!!)

Creepy

...and why, yes, thanks for asking...

We DO need a new roof!

The umbrella is because the bees, after repeatedly bashing themselves again and again against the upper hall windows, fall down into the foyer, literally raining down on my head.

I know that there is some fantastic biblical pun/joke in there somewhere... funny, as long as the next pestilence isn't locust...or frogs.

Ahhh, counrty living.

**blink**blink**...peer...

Is that you, Honey? What time is it? Oh! Is that coffee in your paws? Thank you.

Every morning The Man wakes me with coffee. Perfect coffee.
Heavenly.
and desperately vital to my mental health!

Silver Spur

Otter, Raccoon & Froggie

Owl went to a GREAT day camp up near Sonora called Silver Spur. It was such a fantastic day. Erin, the program director, was calm and warm and funny and in control of a bunch of excited, wiggly kids. I was really impressed with her and there whole set-up.

...and since it was mid-week, it was obviously geared to homeschoolers. The focus of the day was Newton’s Second law of Motion... outside. They blew things up and went on a super-huge bungee swing. They did all sorts of outdoorsy, scientific fun stuff AND the entire campus was open to me and my littler kids to just hang out and play and explore.

Because of the late spring rains, it was simply heavenly up there. Green and warm and sweet and no bugs, no stickers. Perfect. We meandered down to a small creek just off the property and, of course, my kids all got naked and straight into the water.



Z is our Raccoon and L is our Otter Daughter.

We ended that little foray with a cold, soapy wash down because, of course, Otter fell right into HUGE patch of oily poison oak.

But, I swan! What a trooper. She didn’t cry or whine or complain or anything…she just stripped down , soaped up and hosed off…brrrrrr. That girl can take a lot!

Otter & Raccoon

I say it is a HALO...

Baby needs a brand new haircut...badly...again.

Like I said, I think it looks like a little halo.

Paging Dr. Bookworm...

The child will read ANYWHERE. period.
EVERYWHERE. period.
ALL
THE
TIME.

A blessing, to be sure.

He can be a bit spacey...

leaves books outside, in the cat food bin, in the utensile drawer, under dirty clothes, in other people's cars, IN the bathtub, washed with his bedclothes, behind the tool shed, in the rose garden, at the martial arts studio, under beds, chairs, and tables... but, still, despite the astronomical library fees,

a blessing.

Perspective Shift

Me: “Damn It, am I the ONLY one who ever picks up all these books?!!”

Lee: “Ah, yes, the sign of a well-used library. Bravo, Mom.”

oh. ...

yeah.

Danka, Lee... forest for the trees again.

Overheard

Spencer giving some brotherly advice to Zachary:

“Drink deeply while the cup of life is full.”

Zack said, and I quote, " hmmmmm...I will have to think on that."

Swear to God.

The Game of Kings

When I was younger, it seemed to me that my father and my older brother were always playing chess together. They were the lone males in a female-dominated household and I guess that sometimes they were thrown together by default and sometimes they just wanted that father-son time.

Chess; a quiet, mysterious game...like checkers...checkers on some serious ‘roids. I kill at checkers. I will wipe the board with your bored, rainy-day ass. Chess? ... Well, I watched them for many hours trying to figure out just what was going on and, being four years younger than my brother, never, ever got the hang of it. We had this awesome chess board from England… all the pieces had different faces and lively expressions and were made of some soft stone; the pieces were supple and warm in your hand. I loved to play house with the chess pieces… the Queens were cranky looking and the Kings, rather lofty and removed from the hum-drum of daily life. All the pieces had intricate carvings and their individuality led to hours of play... just not to hours chess.

I always wanted to play with my dad… I always wanted to learn to play chess. But, it was a busy household. I had plenty of interactions with my siblings and my mom or my parents as a unit…so, although I think my Dad tried to teach me a few times…I never learned to play chess. Frankly, for last 30 years, I have felt a little intimidated by the Game of Kings. I figured that I really had very little aptitude for that style of thinking. I secretly believed that simply I couldn’t learn to play chess. Otherwise, wouldn't my dad have taught me, too?

As an adult, even at the pleading of my two oldest boys, I have steadfastly refused to learn. Excuses…excuses… Heck…there is always more laundry to do, or someone got scratched by the cat or spilled orange juice on the couch…

Until today. My two boys have developed a good chess game at a very young age thanks to their wonderful Uncle Lee and their Dad. They have been begging me to play for ages…just ages.

So, Zack set up the board...first thing this morning and waited, like a hawk hovering over a newly cut hay field, for me to peek my head out of the kitchen. He and Spencer POUNCED...sat me down, walked me through my fist game and WAH-frickin-LAH. I played TWO games of chess today!!
Just such a great way to start the day. Learning something new…something which had always unsettled me AND being taught (enthusiastically and well, I might add) by my ten and six year-old. Hoo-Rah

Daily Quote

Lollie, why is the kitten wet?

oh.

OH.

Well, do not put the kitten in the FISH TANK, p.l.e.a.s.e.