Blue Yonder

Happy Hour

I should probably come clean and tell you that half the reason we drive out the the berry farm (about an hour away from us) is that afterward we get to go to the famed Bluebonnet Cafe for burgers and pie.

That's right, pie!

Peanut Butter Pie

Coconut Cream Pie

German Chocolate Pie.

There we were, at the table, waiting not so patiently for our lunch. I was confiscating silverware, righting the salt shaker, picking up those little cups of creamer after their "pyramid" fell to the floor, taking each one individually to the bathroom (because the can't all go at once, of course not) and then I looked out the window and saw this:

I had to laugh. There was a time when I made the happy hour circuit. I was dressed to the nines and ready to set the world on fire. I was the next big thing in public relations. I was networking, sure that the next hand I shook would be my ticket to the fast track. There were a LOT of (not so) happy hours, and I can't say a one of them involved pie.

You know, it might be a kinder gentler corporate world if they had. Just imagine, men and women in their pinstripes discussing the merits of bulk mailings vs. print ads over apple pie a la mode.

I think the Bluebonnet might just be on to something!

Growing Pains

Today was the last day of kindergarten for my middle boy, my James.

He goes to school one day a week, and it has been SUCH a wonderful, nurturing experience for him. His teacher was everything you could ever hope for - smart, patient, cheerful and with a passion for little ones. Our boy was happy to go to school every single Thursday and was always bubbling over with stories of his day when I picked him up.

So, as exciting as the big "graduation day" was, it was also bittersweet for my guy.

We heard his class sing their songs and watched them each get their diplomas and throw their hats in the air.

We visited his classroom and peeled his art off the walls to stuff into an overladen, now frayed, broken-zippered backpack.

Afterward we went swimming and horsed around.

Then, together, we made his favorite dinner (homemade pizza), toasting the end of his first year in school.

Over the course of the evening though, something happened to my guy.

He got surly and teary. He fought with his brothers and mouthed off to his mama and papa, swung from laughing to slamming doors and then back again.

I was ready to pull out all of my hair, and a few handfuls of his too!

But then, at bedtime, he opted to sleep in his own room. This is something he has not done in months and months. He ALWAYS sleeps in his brother's top bunk.

He cried and cried, but remained firm that he needed to sleep in his room. And then it dawned on me. He is crossing a line.

My boy saw today as something monumental, a move along the path to manhood. I don't know if he'll continue to sleep in his own room or not, but it was clearly very important for him to do it on THIS night, of all nights.

I went into his bedroom and lay in his bed with him. I held him and told him how proud of him I am, what a treasure he is, how smart and how kind, and how he is everything I ever hoped I'd have in a little boy. He sobbed - body-shaking, lip quivering sobs, but he did not know why. He said, "I just feel sad."

Poor guy. It is so hard to grow up. It is so hard to WANT to grow up, but at the same time to know that what is lost can never be had again. Even if he couldn't say it, it was apparent that he is, in some small way, understanding that childhood is passing by.

Kindergarten is done.

Before he nodded off though, we talked about how "His mercies are new every morning," how tomorrow is a new day, full of adventure. We talked about all the fun to come in first grade (he will still go to his one day a week school), and about all our plans for the summer. His little shoulders relaxed. I rubbed his forehead until the lines smoothed away and his breathing slowed. He giggled and we hugged, and he went to sleep smiling.

It was a big, big day for a big, BIG boy.

But not too big.

Not yet.

Night Songs

I hear an owl calling "who?", outside my window tonight, for the first time since,
I don't know, a very long time... since I was walking the floor, months ago with a sleepless toddler.

Where has he been, this owl? Did he fly south for the winter? Or has he been here all the while, as that toddler grew into a boy? Was he standing still and silent, composing his night aria, waiting for the flowering time, the moment for singing?

Does he feel now a fluttering in his chest, a new spring upon him? Did he feel the time had come? Or does he sing only to let me know that this square of land is his, his mother's before him, and hers before that?

I hear a train too. Far off, but not so far. Some call this a lonely sound, but it does not seem so to me, more like a mother come swiftly to kiss a brow, damp with unkind dreams, and whisper, "I'm here. I'm here."

But then, I suppose that sound has carried too many loves too far from home, the whispers changing - "You're gone. You're gone."

Lonely. Yes, I hear it now.

I hear a creaking metal bed down the hall. A little one, turning in his sleep and pulling the covers more tightly around him, he cares not where the train goes or why the owl sings, but only what tomorrow brings.

And I hear prayers lifted up, my own,

"Train don't take him too far.

Owl sing him into many springs.

Little boy, may your sleep always be so peaceful as it is this night."

Little Bitty

My oldest got a microscope for his birthday, a month or so back.

Since then, I've often heard, "you'll never believe how cool a (insert everyday object) looks up close!".

Feathers, leaves, rocks, dirt, pollen, fabric, paper, crackers, hair, you name it, it has gone under the microscope.

And he's right. If ever you find yourself lost in a world that seems to be losing all it's wonder, what with a Starbucks and a Walmart on every corner, houses built overnight, all in a too close row, and all the same, get a microscope. It will reaffirm what you already knew, somewhere deep down... the world is, down to the smallest detail, a thing of untold glory.

Under a microscope, a chicken feather is an icicle forest.

And leaves contain mighty rivers.

I know that the wisdom of the day is to not "Sweat the Small Stuff" and I get that, I do, but I'm thinking that, on the other hand, the small stuff is kind of where the treasure lies.

A little boy, in a little minute, learns a little trick... how to break off a honeysuckle blossom, pull out the stamen, and suck the single little drop of nectar. A trick he learned from his mother, who learned it from hers.

Little legs swinging, sticky syrup kisses, and "good morning, can you pass the milk please", "Mama can I have one more piece of french toast?".

Little sun's up ceremonies - our daily bible reading, the pre-tickle session question, "boy, you look taller today! Did you grow overnight?" Little bitty things, little small details, that just mean the whole world.

I'm not so sure that the devil's really in the details, because I think maybe that's where heaven lies.

My Just Desserts

Well I trust that you all had a lovely weekend.

I think that April might be the sweetest month God ever made. Don't you?

All the doors and windows are wide open, and even though I'm sneezing my fool head off, I'm enjoying it to the fullest. It will be hotter than seven kinds of hell in a heartbeat, so I'm gonna enjoy it while it lasts.

Thank you, to everyone who has wished me well with my battle against the oak trees. They are still all caught up in their crazy yellow love fest, but thankfully, it rained, and that's settled things down a bit, for now.

So, since I was feeling a little bit better over the weekend, and since the husband got a bee in his bonnet to launch into spring yard work, I thought I'd take on some spring cleaning indoors.

As I've said though, I'm kind of sedentary by nature. It's just that I can think of so many things I'd rather do with my time, besides scrubbing floors and organizing closets. Some people love that stuff. i do not. Plus, when you have three little boys, cleaning seems so utterly futile.

It was time though. It just was.

So I gave myself a little incentive.

First, I made a pie and downloaded an audio book.

THEN I set to work.

I scrubbed my floor on my hands and knees, getting up all that gunk that clings to the edges, up under the counters and behind the fridge. I scrubbed all the splatters of God only knows what off every cabinet in the kitchen and laundry room. I cleaned all the walls, the vent over the stove, the chair railing, the table, under the table, the chairs, the pantry floor and shelves, the doors and around all the light switches.

And it wasn't half bad, scrubbing, listening to my book, and knowing that pie was in my near future :-)

You wanna know the sad part? I am SORE!

S - O - R - E! My arms ACHE! Is that not pitiful?

Well anyway, my cabinets and floors and walls are shining like a new dime, and there's pie calling my name...

If you've got some cleaning of your own to accomplish, let me suggest that you first make the easiest pie in the world, and pop it in the freezer to set up while you scrub.

Here's the Peach Cloud:

3 containers of Peach Yogurt (lime works well too)
1 container of Cool Whip
1 graham cracker crust (buy one premade if you must, but I maintain that a homemade graham crust is essential. For that, you just mix 1/2 stick butter, 3/4 cup brown sugar and 2 cups crushed grahams, then press into the pan)

Mix the yogurt and whipped cream, throw it on the crust, and pop it in the freezer for a few hours.

Set it out on the counter for 20 minutes or so before you want to eat it, so it will soften just a little.

Sometimes, we even make it in ramekins, so we can just take out a little bit at a time.

Happy new week to you!

The Sun'll Come Out....

I think one of the most wonderful things about children is their ability to surprise you, with their creativity, with the depth of their compassion, with a bit of knowledge or understanding far beyond what you thought they were capable of.

Maybe it's just finding a spoon in your laundry, or a handful of rocks in your purse at the end of the day. Children have an uncanny ability to leave magic in their wake.

I had a bit of a mope session yesterday. Plans had gotten rained out, and those #$%*! geniuses at Apple still haven't called to say that my computer is ready.

Even the chickens were moping, because they had to stay indoors. They've grown quite accustomed to the their frolics, and peeped much protest about being (ahem) cooped up.

Then, after my shower, I came 'round the corner to find this:

My little inventor had used a shoebox lid to make a "light up rainbow, so the chicks will know that the rain will be over soon and they can go out to play."

He's convinced that it's brightened their spirits. I can't say, but I do know that it sure brightened mine!

It turned out to be a cozy day, spent playing with the coolest toy going, and reading some comforting rainy day books. Snuggly good.

Besides, I'm counting on that rain to deliver something we've waited for all winter....

Fingers firmly crossed, friends, that the flowers will bloom and that my computer will come home SOON!

3.4 Minutes

Well, husband took the computer in yesterday, it will be gone for a few days while they do whatever it is that the Apple Geniuses do.

As my man is in the shower I have probably 3.4 minutes to pop in and say hello on his computer.

HELLO! I miss you!!!!

So here's the speedy low down:

I have real calluses now, from guitar playing, and I'm ridiculously proud of them.

Not nearly as proud though as I am to say that I can finally play a REAL song! A really GOOD song. Okay, I'm not sure my playing is really good, but the song, the song is REALLY good.

I made some little lovlies inspired by the sweet and incredibly talented Amber of Berlin's Whimsy.

They are being added to boxes full of japanese goodies and treats for mamas and kiddos and being shipped off TODAY (hooray!) to four of the loveliest women on the planet (you know who you are, don't you?)

Thinking about building a moth trap with my little entomologists.

Just ordered one of these to help with the wretched mosquitos that will make their appearance any second now. (although, that might detract from the moth trap)

I wish I could put each of these shots in one of those little accordion wallets and carry it around with me everywhere I go, for when I need a little burst of love and wonder.

Husband is staring over my shoulder now, and demanding his computer back. Work schmerk.

Until next time friends, send happy keyboard thoughts my way!

Spilt Milk

A little so and so spilt milk on my keyboard, and now the letters "iop, hjkl," and "mn" are no longer working.

Funny, huh? Thanks to spilt milk, I can't even type, "spilt milk," save for the s and the t.

I'd like to be angry and throw a huge mama fit, but I did the same thing a few months back, only it as wine, husband's computer, and it fried the whole hard drive.

Squishy, warm, under the blankets little couch potato, drinking your milk in unaware bliss, you have no idea how lucky you are that your mama is a bigger clutz than you.

Going to try to get it fixed.

Going to try to post from husband's computer in the interim.

Going to hope you'll bear with me...

(p.s. The photo has nothing to do with anything at all, I just like it. Of course, if I'm going to stretch it, I could say that it looks all dark and gloomy which is how I feel about being without my computer. Or, I could note the flying bird and pretend it's a mama bird, all in a tizzy, swearing under her breath, and on her way to the Apple Genius Bar...again. But that might be pushing it a little :-)

Morning Edition

He doesn't care about foreign policy.

He doesn't know what the DOW Jones is.

He doesn't read his horoscope.

He's not concerned about the presidential election or the price of a barrel of oil, or even the 7 day forecast.

The only question that he ponders over breakfast, the only issue worth debate, the news, in his book at least, comes down to this:

"What are we going to do today?"

He his not thinking of lists that must be checked off, chores accomplished, errands that need running. He only wants to know what adventure, joy, and new discoveries are in store for him today.

Bliss.

Boys Vs. Girls

Taa Daaaaaaaah!!!!!

At this very moment, buzzing away in the nether regions of my computer is a spanking new hard drive! At last, I'm back in business! No more locking up. No more inexplicable flickerings and flutterings. My computer and I are not only on speaking terms again, but we're up late, swapping stories, just like old times. Fantastic!

It's going to take me forever to catch up with all the goings on over on my Blogline feeds, so bear with me.

Being computer-less left me with some spare time (tongue firmly in cheek) for pondering the big issues (read: festering over stuff). Being close to Valentine's Day and all, I've been thinking a lot about the messages my boys are getting about love, what it means, how it happens, how one behaves toward the opposite sex, etc.

I have to say, I think it's a confusing world out there for a boy, and getting more confusing every day.

Here's a couple of examples:

1) Is it just me, or has Valentine's Day gone from this sweet little homemade construction paper/ crayon card-making day to the biggest guilt ridden, passive aggressive ploy for gifts ever?

I had the radio on today, while I made the boys lunch, and I'm not kidding, I heard commercial after commercial that made me want to scream, "NO NO NO! What the dickens is WRONG with you people?"

One warned men that all the friends of their wives and girlfriends were waiting to see what he'd get her. It admonished them to not be known as the loser, "be the guy who gets her a diamond for Valentine's Day".

What?

Another one talked about sending a personalized teddy bear to her office so that her coworkers would be jealous.

Huh?

I don't even know what to say about that.

2) Does it bother you when kids are divided up to play games, boys vs. girls? It never bothered me before, when I was a kid, or when I was a teacher. Now that I'm raising boys though, trying to help them grow into honorable, valiant men, it just seems wrong to teach them, even subtly, that girls are the enemy. I have a hard time swallowing, "it's only a game."

Apparently, some little ears picked up on me discussing this with his daddy after church one Sunday. A few weeks later, when I picked up the oldest from Sunday school, his teacher said, "Let me tell you what your son said to me today."

:: braces herself ::

"When it was time to divide up into teams for our game, he refused to play. He said that it wasn't right to pit the boys and girls against each other all the time. He said that boys and girls should be working together, and you know what? He's right. We divided up the teams differently."

Now ordinarily I don't condone refusing to do something your teacher asks of you, but I have to tell you, I was so proud of my kid. He's actually kind of shy. He hates to stand out or draw attention to himself, so I know it was hard for him to stand up for what he thought was right. I don't know if his stand will make any lasting changes, but I'm just so glad to see that he's not afraid to speak his mind when he thinks that something isn't right.

I think he's going to make one fine Valentine someday.