Blue Yonder

Reuniting

Our family reunion was sticky and sweet and something special to savor for always. 

It was, “You haven’t changed a bit,” or “my how you’ve grown,” - the first maybe not entirely true of us older folks, the second being all too true of those young ones.

 It was going through 10 hugs at least, just to get from one side of the room to the other. 

It was introductions and reintroductions, while the folks who married into it all were doing their best to keep the names and relations straight. 

It was lots of, “It’s been too long” and “What are you up to these days?” 

It was passing around old photos and talking about the love that started this whole crazy thing. 

 

It was passing around new photos too - ultrasound pictures of a new little family member to come, my little brother's first child - and talking about the love that keeps it all going, this family of ours. 

It was a little musician learning that he’s next in a long line of pickers. 

It was a few tears from those of us who remember other hands playing and other voices singing the songs that we still hold dear. 

 

It was cousins who didn’t know each other yesterday, but today are fast friends. 

 

It was trying to figure out just how we’re related – second cousins? Third? First twice removed?

It was cowboy golf, horseshoes and volleyball, old stories and new laughs, card games and frying fish, red shoulders and noses, mamas chasing small bodies with sun screen, sticker burrs in feet, and smiles on faces.

.  

It was hide and seek and water balloons, little hands sneaking too many sodas out of the cooler, and another cookie off the tray. 

It was asking after the ones who didn’t make it, being sure to say, “send them our love,” and it was remembering the ones who have gone before us too. 

It was “remember that one time?” and “those sure were the good old days, weren’t they?” It was knowing that these are the good old days too. Right here. Right now. 

Our reunion was cookies and brownies and lemon bars and coconut cake, sweet potato fries, fried catfish, peanuts in pepsi, potato chips and lots of “I really shouldn’t….” and then, “well maybe just one…” 

It was kids and dogs, all running, all jumping, while grownups fanned themselves and wondered where they get that energy.

 

It was little ones who needed “just one more hour” of swimming back at the hotel, because it was all too good for it to end just yet. 

It was old folks staying up far too late talking, because we wished it didn't have to end too. 

It was so many hugs and smiles and then tears when it was time to say goodbye. It was making promises that it won’t be so long before we see each other again. 

It was a long ride home, talking about all the fun we had and looking forward to the next summer when we can do it all again. 

It was a long sigh, down that long road, because it went by so fast, but also because we know that it will go on, this love of ours. 

It was looking out at the cornfields whirring past, and feeling warm and held tight in the knowledge that we’re a part of something good, something big, something important, something that was, and is,

 F A M I L Y.

The Supers

Who says you can't buy happiness? 

I happen to know that it can be had at Hobby Lobby for about six dollars. We made a little trip down there to pick some up, and spent the rest of the afternoon wallowing in it. 

1 pack of popsicle sticks + 1 pack of old fashioned clothes pins + some markers and mama's fabric scrap bin = hours of entertainment. Meet "the Supers," a rag tag bunch of do-gooders if ever there was one :-)   My guys worked and worked at those capes and hair-dos. 

Then, their heros all had to have names of course, like "Lettuce Man" and "Space to the Rescue Guy."

Every good hero has to have a "mobile" too. So there were lots of popsicle stick flying, submerging, "faster than lightening" creations. 

With the transportation situation covered, they needed some bad guys to fight, and some people to save. 

Then, the boys cleaned out the bottom dresser drawer and divided it up with blocks, creating a sort of superhero apartment complex - complete with beds, a shower, computers and "important equipment" made from Legos. Then, came the crowning achievement, the "Time and Space Portal." 

A Super goes in, pushes a few buttons, and comes out where and when he chooses.  

Oh, and a carwash, because you know how super heros are about cleanliness. The Supers have done a lot of righting wrongs and saving innocents, and some even more incredible feats too - thanks to them, I managed to get my online bill paying done, fold my laundry, and (gasp) SHOWER! Super indeed. 

But... they aren't the only superheros in the house. There's another one, a particularly handsome one, and I'm going to brag on him shamelessly. 

For no reason at all, our Papa secretly planned for my boys to spend an evening with Grandmother and Grandfather. I dropped them off, and then Goodwill-hopped until he called and said he was ready to give me my surprise. 

When I came home, he had transformed his office... moved a table in, laid out a tablecloth and candles and everything. He had brought in dinner, complete with appetizer, a salad course, and my favorite red wine. Even more astonishing, he picked out a chick flick and watched the whole thing with me. The whole thing. Now that, THAT is super! 

And it is only one of the many ways that this man is my hero. 

Our hero.

For all the playing at super heros that my boys do, really, they most want to be like their Daddy - their patient, soft spoken, gentle, thoughtful, easy to laugh and slow to anger papa. 

My boys trail after him, eyes wide, and eager to know what he knows, do what he does. They wonder if they will ever be that tall, that strong. I wonder, do they know how lucky they are, to have a daddy who is present, involved, and in love with each and every one of them. 

Filling his shoes will be no small order for them, but they will, I know they will, and I'm fairly certain that it will happen "faster than the speed of lightening" as they say. They will be super heros in their own right, just like their Dad. 

Happy Father's Day, Papa, and to all the papas out there, building the next generation of heros.

This Isn't Goodbye

It's been a very tough day. Very. 

It started yesterday, when I was at my sewing table and heard this very strange noise from the backyard. I walked out there and waited, staring at the chicken coop, and sure enough, saw and heard Rosemary crow. There was no mistaking it. This was not a hen noise. It was an honest to goodness, sing up the sun, wake the dead, cockadoodledoo. 

For a split second I was elated. My little boy! Growing up! It was this gorgeous, throaty, wonderful green grass and blue sky sound. Fantastic. 

And then, my heart sank because I knew the implications. Rosemary is a boy, a rooster, and that means he has to go. Why did it have to be my favorite? Why did it have to be the funniest, friendliest, most personable of the bunch? Why Rosemary?

 I sent out notices to all our homeschooling email groups, and checked Craigslist, thinking that it might take me some time to find a new home for our guy. 

It didn't. Within a couple of hours we found the best solution we could possibly hope for. A nice family that runs an art studio on acreage, not too far from us, was willing to take him. They have a white turkey, guineas, peafowl, and lots of chickens. They also have children and don't mind if we visit. 

And so, through many tears, we began our goodbyes. We talked a lot about all the reasons we love Rosemary. We considered changing his name, but Ryder would have none of it. We talked about how roosters need room to roam and space to crow in, and how many new friends and how much fun he will have. We tried to look on the bright side - he will be well cared for, and we will be able to visit. 

We held him and snuggled him, A LOT. 

I could see that it was going to be really important to help my grieving men work through saying goodbye, so we made it Rosemary Day - a celebration of our love for him, and for his new life. We gave him some special treats (toast and strawberry tops), and saved some of his feathers in bottles. We took lots of pictures of him and had some printed. Then, we painted and decorated special frames for each of their rooms. (In this first one, Ryder is putting a kiss on Rosemary's beak.)

We even took a cast of his foot. When it finally came time to take him to his new abode, my boys were excited for their fella. 

They were sad, sure, but a happy for him too, and I guess that's the best you can hope for in a goodbye.

 When we got home, my oldest went out to check on the remaining girls. I peeked out there and heard him praying, "Please God, look out for Rosemary. Keep him safe and help him make new friends." It was all I could do to hold it together. 

And now, now that they are all tucked in and sleeping, I'm going to go and sit down with a glass of wine and have myself a good cry. 

Ridiculous, I know. Silly, sure. 

I'm sure all the real farmers out there will have a good laugh over this sappy city girl and her foolish attachment to a chicken. But there it is. I miss my beautiful, sweet, lovable Rosemary. 

His Best Day Ever

On this day, six years ago, I was in a hospital room, staring at a little towheaded, blue-eyed bundle wondering how on earth I deserved such blessing, and also how on earth all those recessive golden genes scraped by my (supposedly) dominant brown ones. 

My little boy turned six yesterday. 

My guy is, and has always been, golden. He's silly, optimistic, loving and creative. He makes up elaborate stories, populates his world with "dudes" (cool creatures that he imagines) and he builds lots of "contraptions". His room is a disaster, at all times. It's littered with cardboard tubes, masking tape, zip ties, bits and pieces of this and that, that are all very essential. He notices if any of it turns up missing. 

So, any good celebration of his big day had to include contraptions, dudes and his favorite people. First stop, contraption heaven: Krispy Kreme. What could be better than eating doughnuts and watching machines, I ask you? 

Then, after we were nice and sugared up, we did something that has been coming for a LONG time. Meet the IG 10,000: This is James' most favorite "dude." He comes from the planet Caspian (I think we must have been reading Prince Caspian when he decided this), which is "in like a whole different galaxy!" He has all sorts of powers. He can turn into a time machine and be invisible for example. James has been drawing him on everything for a couple of months now and has BEGGED me to make him an IG 10,000 shirt.

 I would have obliged a long time ago, but he had some ideas about the finished product that I just couldn't wrap my head around. He wanted it to "look like metal." How does one make fabric look like metal? I showed him lame (is that really how you spell it?) and he said it was too shiny, "it's not like Robot metal. It has to be ROBOT metal." 

So after Krispy Kreme, we went to the fabric store and pilfered through pile after pile of fabric until he settled on satin. Can I tell you how much I love a boy who gets excited about going to the fabric store on his birthday? A lot. 

Can I also tell you how much enjoyed it when we took our rolls of black and red satin to the cutting table? You should have seen the funny look on the shop lady's face when my guy told her that, "Mama's going to make me a REALLY cool shirt with this." It actually DID turn out pretty cool, if we do say so: I think I'm going to have to make another one though, because he refuses to take it off for washing. He spent half the day in it yesterday, slept in it, and wants to wear it again today. 

After making his shirt, we went shopping for party supplies (for Saturday), had cupcakes and pool time with our cousins, and got some WAY cool gifts from the grandparents who know him very well, Snap Circuits and Zoobs. 

We finished up the day with popcorn and a robot movie. 

When I tucked him in, way past bedtime (to his delight), he said it was his "best day ever." I told him that mine (at least one of them) happened about six years ago :-)

Yes, My Hands Are Full

I stood at the sink yesterday, washing and hulling a million strawberries.

I was listening to the Prairie Home Companion on the radio, and giving each berry the quick 1, 2 - one cut in, another out, to make a little v shape indentation where the green top had been. 1,2 - 1,2 - 1,2 - 1,2 over and over, as green tops fell to the bowl and an army of newly recruited berries dropped on the pan to be frozen for the smoothies and pies of another day.

As I cut, I noticed how the quick motions of my hand reminded me so much of similar motions my mom's hands made as she brushed my hair. Or maybe it was my grandmother, as she washed cups, rinsed and passed them to the drainer. It could have been my great grandmother, with her nimble bobbing in and out quilting needle.

We are, all of us, handmade by mothers, are we not?

We are all the product of hands that have patted, rocked, wiped tears, kneaded bread, tied shoes, buttoned shirts, signed report cards, sewed dresses, bandaged knees, packed a zillion lunches, folded towels, made beds, brushed teeth, planted seeds, turned pages, buckled seat belts, felt foreheads for fever, held our hands as we crossed the street, and folded in prayer over us. Mother's hands, whether gentle and kind or stern or industrious, they have shaped who we are.

So it's kind of funny, I think, when people hear that I have three boys, or see us in the aisles of the grocery store and say, "you sure have your hands full, don't you?"

Yes, I guess I do. My hands are busy at a craft that I've learned from a line of amazing, strong and selfless women - my hands are mothering. And yes, they are so full, full of all the blessing, richness, and joyful mess that I can hold.

I hope your Mother's Day was full of love as well.

Easter Was...

... a whirlwind!

I swear it was only just Valentine's Day, and before I knew what happened it was time to think about Easter.

I love Easter, with all it's big white lilies and gingham.

Little girls in gloves and hats. (at church that is, none of those here at Blue Yonder!)

The Pineapple Coconut Cake that Momo always made.

Ten Commandments on the television, plastic eggs in the grass.

Cousins trading "my bubble gum eggs for your chocolate eggs"

Hiding them all again, just for fun.

Stained fingers and the smell of vinegar.

... followed by deviled eggs, of course.

Flowers from the garden and a fresh clean cloth on the table.

Sticky kisses and eating the ears first.

Colored chicks toted 'round the yard in an enamel pan (Lord, be with them!)

The shedding of brown and bulky, the blooming time.

Hope. Renewal. Celebrating the gift of life.

Just makes you wanna wear white, kick off your shoes and run in the grass doesn't it?

Or maybe just take a little snooze in the sun :-)

Forever and No Time At All

It took him (and I, and his brother) ages to blow up all those balloons.
As you might expect though, with a backyard full of boys, they were all popped in half a heartbeat.

It took a good bit of time too, to cut and sew the bunting, but even longer to locate the hammer and hang the darn thing. I actually gave up the hunt after a while, swore a great deal, and finally settled for driving my nails with a meat cleaver.

In a blink, it was time to take it all down again.

There was, of course, the measuring and the pouring, the mixing and the beating and the baking and the frosting and the sprinkling.

And then they were gone, before I could say, "Who wants cake?"

It took several hilarious minutes for all the race participants to be on their mark and ready. Just about the time one would put his egg back on the spoon, another would drop.

In fact, the lining up for the races took about 20 times longer than the actual events.

When the pinata was popped and the games were played, the cake eaten and the presents opened, when all the guests had gone and at long last a tired birthday boy lay his little head on his pillow, he said, "Mama, I had a really great party." So of course, the time spent preparing for the party was repaid a thousandfold in joy for both boy and mama.

With a sleepy smile, he said, "It takes so long to get a year older, but parties are over so fast."

Isn't that always the way? We're in such a hurry to grow up, and then we find ourselves wishing so dearly that things would slow down a little.

To him, a year seems like forever, but I know that it will feel, to me, like no time at all.

Lucky 7

Maybe, if I repeat it to myself over and over again for the next few days, it will seem true to me by next weekend, when it's time for your "real party".

But I don't think so.

It can't possibly have been 7 years since I first saw your little face.

7 years since you arrived and changed... oh, every little thing.

I don't believe it really, but you tell me that it's true. You tell me several times a day, in fact.

"Mama, I'm SEVEN! Can you believe it?"

No. No I can't.

Seven.

Seven with your lost teeth and your reading prowess. Seven, riding without training wheels, pouring your own cereal. Seven, with sleepovers and video games and wondering about how one chooses a wife. Seven, and no longer asking me to push you, because you can swing yourself higher than I can push anyway.

Seven

Is

So

BIG!

And you. You are just so wonderful.

Take Another Little Piece of My Heart

Good things happen under quilts. (get your mind out of the gutter please, this is a family blog :-)

I mean things like dreaming, and imagining.

.. things like comfort and warmth, and the knowledge that oatmeal is on it's way.

When I was a little girl, staying over with my great-grandmother, my Momo, my cousin Alison and I had this game we'd play under the cover of Momo's quilts. We'd lie on our backs in the bed, and extend our legs up, straight as we could, and then pretend that the sunlight coming through the colored patches was really streaming though stained glass. Sometimes the glass was in a castle, and we were trapped princesses. Sometimes we were in some gothic cathedral, living out our days as sisters of the cloth (think Hayley Mills in The Trouble With Angels). We'd whisper and giggle and hear no end of "SSSSSH! You girls'd better hush now!"

Those memories are the reason that I simply HAD to have this print from Emily Martin's lovely shop. It's like looking in a mirror... only one that shows how you look in your happiest, coziest moments.

So, it's kinda natural I guess, considering this family's deep love of quilty bits, that we'd piece together our Valentine sentiments.

My boys have been busy, choosing fabrics, stitching patches, crocheting chains and cutting out paper hearts.

They are making wee quilts for their loved ones. They are meant for keeping bread warm on the dinner tables of our favorite folks, but we're pretty sure, as with all quilts, that they will come in handy for all sorts of imaginative ventures.

As for the mama, just watching my little men take up a craft that plays such a treasured part in my own childhood is a love note all it's own.

Going Quietly Into a New Year

I remember years when I wondered if I would have someone to kiss when the clock struck midnight.

It never occurred to me that I would have so very many men to smooch, standing on the precipice of a new year!

There were sparklers and smoke bombs.

There was a cousin swap sleepover (middle son went to the cousins' house, oldest cousin came here)

There was lots of Wii, Lego Star Wars action.

True to our word, there was also pie.

We thought it was kind of fitting to make our New Year's Eve pie from the last frozen remnants of the fruit we handpicked last summer. Call it our way of savoring the last sweet bits of a year as it draws to a close.

So, as much as fun as I'm certain it would have been, to put on a schmancy dress and party with you, love, I'm gonna have to say that it was a pretty great end to a lovely year.

Maybe you'll come on down for some New Year's Day good luck (in the form of black-eyed peas soaked all night and simmered all day with gobs of bacon), and tell me every little dreamy detail concerning your last night of 2007.

Then, over left over pie and ice cream, we'll dream up schemes to make the next year even better.

I'm going to have to make a lot more pies though, because there's so many of you that I'd like to share this new year with!

Here's wishing you all a wonderful 2008, full of health, love, warmth and wonder!