Up, and now back down

All four of us sat around a fire last night. Willa ate marshmallows. Henry played with marshmallows (hypothetical question: what's the best way to remove marshmallow from clothing?).
Jim and I caught each other eyes and smiled. There was something so serene and satisfying about watching the sycamore branches burn and offer us warmth (we needed it, it was a cold weekend up north!). It was even better to watch Henry and Willa becoming hypnotized by the flames.
Because of the cold and often wet weather, we did not do a lot of outdoor activity. But we played Memory, and cooked good meals, and read - alone and to each other. We took naps.
This afternoon, I was getting Henry down for a nap. I read him a story from our Frog and Toad anthology. He turned his back to me, backed up, snuggling in to me, and sighed. He reached up and pet my hair, and then fell asleep. Later, I woke up with our cheeks and foreheads touching, and our eyelashes intertwined (he's like his mama in eyelash length). I listened to him breathe, and watched the rain fall.
The weekend also included a small walk in the Hartwick Pines, and several jokes about how loud Willa snored on the drive up:
So loud that deer were frightened that a giant bear was coming for them.
So loud that airplanes had to land.
So loud that her body turned inside out.
So loud that whales in the bottom of the ocean thought their daddy was calling to them.

It was a lovely little getaway. The cold and rain made us all focus more on each other, rather than what else we could be doing. And I think we needed that.

Territories

When all television went from analog to digital, our digital TV sported channel 3.1 and channel 3. They were the same show, but one looked prettier and the other was about a 3 second delay. Which is annoying when scrolling through the channels. One sees the same scene twice, same dialog, same goofy expression, just a bit delayed.
Lately, Henry was been a parrot. He is the channel 3 to Willa's 3.1.
"I don't want to go home yet."
"I don't want to go home yet."
"Mom? Are we going home?"
"Mom? Are we going home?"
"Because - Henry! Cut it out! - because I don't want to."
"I don't want to."
Tonight they were setting forth their agenda of not going home while Jim had the car decidedly pointed to home.
"Too bad. You don't get a vote. We're going home."
"I getta zote, Mama?"
"Nope, you don't either, Henry. You guys are like Guam and Puerto Rico. We'll protect and defend you, we'll provide for you, we'll take care of you. But no votes."
"I vote we go somewhere that isn't home."
"Just for that, Willa, you're Guam."
"..... isn't home!"
"And you, buddy, are Puerto Rico."

The next four minutes of driving were the kids calling each other Dwawm.

day dreaming

So there's this house... I mentioned it a few posts back. It's an updated farm house, though it's still in city limits (but in a great school district). There's a pond wayyyy down the hill. There are abandoned apple trees to the east. There's a barn.
Jim could invite his band friends there to play in the band.
The lot is big enough that we could have a few hens.
Imagine the vegetable garden! And we could plant more fruit trees. It's on 2 acres.
The inside... yup, I could see us there.

But, it's a teeny bit more than what we'd like to pay, and even though it's updated, it would likely still need some extra time, attention, and money. So, I'm telling myself awful things about the place:

-the grass isn't actually plant material, it's little green spikes of lead.
-the fireplace is full of rabid raccoons.
-the pond has a zombie graveyard nearby
-the barn is full of vipers
-the house's well is full of poison and septic backs up every 8th of the month

18% of Americans may think I'm Muslim

I haven't been very political here lately. Okay, with the exception of last week, I haven't been anything here lately. But this whole mosque at Ground Zero thing... geez.

I hope that the fact that our President said that Muslims have the right to build a mosque close to the former site of the Twin Towers in NYC continues to be a major issue in the news.

Our President. Supporting the Constitution. You know... like we hired him to do.

He didn't say it was a good idea (and I don't think it is - I don't want to watch the news on the night that it's been car bombed). He affirmed that the beliefs and right to worship of the Muslim people is as protected as any other faith in our country.

And suddenly 18% of Americans think he's Muslim. Uh... folks? Remember when we were all upset over the remarks of his former minister? Reverend Wright, associated with the United Church of Christ...? Christ as in Christian? Just sayin'...

I believe that an Islamic Community Center and Mosque has the same right to be built in this area as any other establishment.

A quick Google of "what is two blocks from Ground Zero" found me this. There are chain fast food shops, independent delis, strip clubs, and little stores being run by Americans. Similar to many other blocks and neighborhoods in cities. So, America continues beyond the 16 acres where we were all riveted nearly 9 years ago. Geographically. Chronologically.

How far away from the tragedy is appropriate? Not 2 blocks? How about 4? Not in the same city? Are we practicing segregation again?

Please, please let this issue continue. Please let someone wonderful give a civics lesson as a reminder that America needs to remember itself. That our young nation was started as a colony of people escaping religious persecution. That our founders gave their children the freedom to believe and practice as they chose, and rights (waving a finger at those looking to repeal the 14th Amendment) to carry on, and that's how we got here.

I embrace differences of opinion so long as they remain logical and legal. But Americans who wave the flag - my flag - and scream about how a place to worship would be a slap in the face to Americans and those who died in the towers don't seem so patriotic.

Every religion has extremists. Every group organized around anything has zealots. Germans are not Nazis. Muslims are not terrorists.

Americans, the bigger, better part of Americans, I hope can rise above this fear of "other" and carry on.

versus

Tonight Willa wept because I asked her to go upstairs and get her Frog and Toad anthology so Jim could read Henry a story from it. They've been making their way through the book; I didn't know that when I brought it to her room.
She cried, and pouted, and flung herself to the floor, wailing, "I wanted to read it tonight."
She only has about 80 other books in her shelves.
By the time she brushed her teeth, and we brushed her hair, Jim and Henry were done with the book, I handed it to her, asking her to take it up.
She and I went to her room. She happily jumped into bed. I asked her where the book was. She said, "um... I think I left it downstairs. That's okay, we can read something else."

These two have hit the rivalry stage hard. They argue over everything: parental affection, who gets to walk out the front door first, who gets the red cup, who likes Arlo more... it's exhausting.
On the other hand, when they're buddies, watching them hug and giggle and actively appreciate each other makes it all worth it.

moving

I mentioned that we're boxing up things around the house to make it appear that our home is not cluttered (it is) and that it's possible to live here with 2 kids, 2 dogs, and 2 adults with a good organization system (it's not).

The house isn't officially on the market yet. Maybe this week.

Can I tell you a few things we've run into during the start of this process?
-first realtor we spoke to came to our house, and spoke to Jim for 15 minutes before even looking at me, let along speaking... not a great impression.
-first house we went to look at - for fun - apparently suffered an earthquake centered in its basement. There was a giant crack in the whole house, and the wall of the basement hung a good eight inches from the floor. No, thanks.
- we looked at another house that gave me daydreams about a greenhouse after looking at its online profile. That realtor was really kind in meeting us the next day to show us around. He showed up wearing an oversized (stained) oxford shirt which he did not tuck into his corduroy cut-off shorts.
I wasn't so impressed with the professionalism with realtors until we met the woman we're likely to sign papers with this week. She's positive, and realistic, and warm, and I like her. Also, she shook my hand at meeting, and wasn't wearing cut-offs.
Today, we puttered around town in the Sinkimobile with a list of houses we liked. At the second house, I got out to walk around the (empty) house. I got to the side and noticed my feet, and then legs were suddenly really itchy. I looked down and saw 20 bees on one sandal. I ran out, jumping and yelping. Jim came out of the car, and swatted some away with his hat. I had both sandals off and - after noticing about a zillion more on the hem of my long skirt - yanked my skirt off in the driveway. I have a lot of bites, an antihistamine cream seems to be helping, but every so often I feel like someone is holding a flaming needle to my skin.
When I got in the car (pretty much right after publicly disrobing) Willa told me she thought I was doing a funny dance, and then she thought that Jim was hitting me.
That house is off the list (pretty much no yard).
We did see one that I'm currently daydreaming about. There's a barn! And a pond!

Recess

Hey friends! So, it's been nearly a month since my last post. We've been busy trying to stay cool, and celebrating my Grandpa's 90th birthday, and boxing up nonessentials in preparation to eventually sell the HQ. Mostly we've been enjoying each other, good produce, and the beauty of a Michigan summer. I'll get you all caught up soon. Hugs and kisses.

Looking glass

I am on day two of seriously trying to write my personal statement (basically a 2-3 page essay describing why I want to be in the Counseling program, and why they should love me) for my Masters application package. Finishing it is the only thing between me now and me being all applied.

Writing this is much like trying on bathing suits in a very small dressing room, under dramatically awful light. It's just me reading this so far, but in my head, my dressing room is surrounded by twenty year old 6 foot tall women wearing size 0 suits.

It's a very self conscious process, and I haven't even been accepted into the program yet.

I don't need bolstering from y'all. I know I have a good skill set for this profession and program. I just need to get it on paper.

patience going both ways

I was tickling Henry, and Willa - who is going through a gigantic phase of "me too" - asked me the same question for the 43rd time. I had answered this question when she first asked it. She in her magical thinking stage truly believes that asking more than once may change the outcome. It does, but not to her benefit; I get irritated and my eyelids start quaking.

Anyhow... tickling Henry, and Willa's standing over me asking something. When I did not immediately look up, she sighed from her toes, and said, "moth-er." I'm sure there was eye rolling involved.

Then I grabbed her, started tickling, and we all laughed.

Henry is now the age that Willa was during this post. And that freaks me out a little.

Not related: we went on vacation, and are back. And I'm working on a post here, but I'm having troubles with photos and words, and really should be doing laundry instead. So, until later this week...

Best lesson in humility

Henry.

Henry is three and a half months away from 2. And yet his absolute two-ness is amazing. Remember when I shared about him losing his mind routinely? I'm not here to write about that, yet that chapter continues.

He's been showing some pretty strong signs of potty training readiness. Telling us when he's just gone, or (better yet) when he needs to go, and actually using the toilet... these are all good signs. Just hours ago, I said to Jim, "when we get back from vacation, we should maybe try to really start potty training."

So, tonight when he put out the alert, I placed him on the toilet and after we all danced with great enthusiasm. Afterwards, I put set him loose in the house in only a pair of shorts.

Free range Henry did well for nine minutes. At minute ten, when I scooped him up for a bath, his bottom was wet. "Henry," I said, "you need to tell me when you need the toilet. You can't go potty in shorts. Do you understand?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded with gravity.

"So, no accidents, okay?"

"Ohh-KAY!" he grinned and hugged me.

As I slid his shorts off and sent him to the bathroom and a waiting Jim, Henry ran, peeing all the way.

New temporary charges

Oh Lordy, pals... a few evenings ago, I was sitting in our backyard and marvelling what real estate agents might call a "park-like setting" in our backyard. There were frolicking squirrels and a few rabbits that Henry chased after giggling. We've got a lot of nature here.

And if you've been around for a while, you know that nature likes Camp Sinki as a birthing center, which has been equal parts cool and vexing.

I knew there was a Cardinal's nest in our front pine tree. We've watched them collect materials to build their nest and recently they've been making lots of round trips. We've heard peeps from above.

On Thursday, I was rushing the kids out the door to get Willa to preschool. We immediately noticed a baby bird hanging upside down, beating its wings furiously. A closer cool showed two baby birds with one foot each tangled, apparently in the brambles of the old tree. I got a step stool and a golf umbrella and gently moved the branch while two very concerned adult cardinals kept close watch. Everyone had high nerves, so I called that good enough, loaded the kids up, and left.

Henry and I did some errands and returned home two hours later. The chicks were still hanging and had bloody wings and legs. Up I went again. This time I could see they both had thread twisted around their tiny legs. I grabbed them, the nest fell, the male cardinal dive bombed me (no contact). I sat with one on my lap and the other in my hand while I unwound the thread, which was wrapped at least eight times. And then I did the other. They were weak, and their wings were pretty bloody. I took the nest, an old pair of soft Henry pants, and the birds, and placed them in the recycling bin under the tree.

Their mom and dad made several concerned visits before starting the feeding visits.

Jim got home, and we strapped the recycling bin to the tree, about 5 feet up. We figured this would keep the baby birds safe from neighborhood carnivores (including, sadly, Greta the dog.). The whole bird family seems to have adjusted to their new home. The babies may have been ready to start learning flight, but they need some time now to heal and rest.

Photo to follow.

The walk in the woods.

"Big tree! Baby tree! Shhh... deer... sleepin'." My hiking companion was excited to be out on the trail with me this morning. He pointed out items of interest: "LURK mama! LEAF!"

Henry and I went to the Calvin Nature Preserve after dropping Willa off at preschool. He walked fine until we went over a boardwalk. Right now, walking over boards that he can see between makes him uneasy, so he spent the first 10 minutes on my shoulders, patting my cheeks with excitement whenever he heard a bird.

Then he got down and walked. And walked. He did great! We saw ducks and turtles and a lot of chipmunks. At the end of the trail we entered the interpretive center and then the butterfly "house." There was a group of people in there, and a sweet kid put the butterfly that had been hanging out on his arm, right on Henry's. Henry stared at it, amazed, until it moved a whispery foot. He cried until the sharer reclaimed his butterfly.

We had such a great time, we went again after picking Willa up.

Our neighborhood flasher

Last week, I was at the side of the house, examining the progress of our dill and chamomile. It was evening, the kids were in the bath. Jim was watching them. I thought.

I heard the screen door slam, and heard small footfalls. Soon after, a sudsy, giggling, and quite naked Henry was hugging me.

Our little Wednesday Adams

Last week I packed the kids into the car, got them buckled in, and joked that no one ever buckled me in.

Willa told me it was because I was a grown up. And then asked if she would ever be as old as I am. A quick note here: not "as old" as in "mom, you are very, very old..." but just wondering if we'd ever be the same age.

Nope.

And then Willa said, "mom [long pause] when you die, I'll always remember you in my heart."
My eyes welled, and I couldn't speak for a minute. I made a comment about how I wasn't planning on that happening for a long, long time.

I was grateful for her statement for two reasons:
1) Awwww, right?
2) Willa now realizes, I think, that I am likely to die before her. She had been asking questions about how I would feel when she died, and I had no idea how to face that head on, as I didn't want to keep her up at night worried about me dying the next day.

She is, as I think I've written here before, somewhat morbidly fascinated with death. She interrupts conversations randomly with a sad face, a sigh, and a statement about missing her great grandma (who died when Willa was only 20 months old). I've had some concerns, but I think it's been a long, but now passing, phase.

There have been some comments worth recording, though:

-When Arlo and Greta die, can we get a bunny?
-It's not very nice to die in front of everybody. Everybody doesn't need to see my underwear, and everybody doesn't need to see someone die.
-shhhh.... I'm not sleeping. I'm dead. Wait! I'm just pretending I'm dead.

Here's hoping this phase keeps her away from the Goth or EMO or whatever style requires a lot of black and eye makeup when she gets older. I'm pretty sure that would kill Jim.

Brain workout

Have I written here that I'm applying for grad school? I am. Central Michigan University has a counseling program, and I'd like to be in it.


Part of the application process is taking the Miller Analogies Test. Remember hand is to arm, as foot is to ____? Ratchet those up a bit in the thinking department, do 120 of them, progressing in difficulty, and that was my Saturday at 9:30.


I'm a huge crossword geek who loves puzzles and figuring things out. But a straight 60 minutes of these on the computer left me itching to jump up and stretch at about minute 42.


I finished, and got a prelim. score back. Friends, I kicked Analogy ass.

And after we were all done, I asked the somewhat familiar guy next to me his name. Out of the 7 people taking the test at that location that day, I was sitting next to someone I graduated from high school with. 150 miles and 17 years (gulp) ago.

tracks!!

I told y'all about the train joke here.

On the road, and knowing we were track-bound, I pulled my camera out, and slyly captured this:


Now, pals, Henry goes over a bump on the road and he turns into a one man show:
HEY! Dere a TWAIN two here!
[pause]
How you KNOW dat?
[pause]
TWAKS!!!
[long, long pause]
ha. ha. ha.

It gets tricky when both kids are in back. Willa doesn't miss a chance to say it, Henry makes up opportunities. I'm trying to teach them another joke.

Suggestions?

The little fella

Speaking of prayers, I have a few related to Henry who:

- refuses to hold hands and pray at dinner lately. "No, 'hi God.'" "No, 'thank you.'" "No, 'amen.'" followed immediately by "Aaaaaaa-men."
- ate 1/2 of Jim's chicken breast at dinner tonight.
- seems to - at random times throughout the day - have most of his rational brain missing. We've hit the tantrums big time. Willa. She had tantrums. Hers, at the time, seemed Grand Canyon big. Henry sports a tantrum the size of Jupiter AND its 9 moons. Big, epic, random meltdowns.

and some thank you prayers:
- dude has used the potty 3 days in a row, his own doing.
- he saw a photo of me and said, "pretty mommy."
- this laugh of his. BIG, from his appendix, eyebrows dancing...

Henry, I was just joking at dinner when I told dad you were likely to grow up to be a carnivore, evangelical preacher, republican just to spite me.

getaway, growth, shortness

Because of Jim's job, we've been lucky enough to spend at least a few hours on Mackinaw Island every Memorial Day weekend. And because of my parent's hospitality, we're lucky enough to spend some time at Higgens Lake at that time too. Above are the kids on the porch of the Metiever Inn. And below are the kids at the Higgens Lake dock.

Jim looked at this photo, laughed, and said, "this photo will define your relationship with her for the next 20 years." Also, pals! I got my hair cut. SUPER SHORT! And while friend Erin did a great job, I have a hard time managing it without the aid of sunglasses or a headband.

This is Willa's drawing. She says that's what God looks like. This was before she decided to agree with my feeling that little bits of God are all around her in the form of people, animals, plants, etc that you love.

We pray every night at our table. Have I mentioned that here yet? We hold hands, and say thanks God, and ask for any help we may be looking for. Every day Willa starts hers, "Thank you God, for this beautiful day." Even if it's stormy or chilly or too hot. Every day is beautiful. And every day she includes, "and thank you for the birds." God is in the goldfinches that visit our bird feeder several times a day. Thank you, God.

at the edge

Willa had a tadpole. We got the whole kit n' caboodle for her birthday. Fiona arrived about a month ago, and she happily lived until Saturday morning.

Know what else happened over the weekend? Really great things: Jim came home from being work-gone for a while. We went to Festival downtown: all 3 days. We caught up with Keri for lunch one afternoon. We met our pals the Groens at a park on a fantastic evening.

I digress.

Also, Greta the dog found a rabbit den on the lawn. I didn't know until I saw Greta with a baby bunny in her mouth. She ate it. And then another before I could grab her. It was truly horrifying. Luckily the kids didn't see this. They did however see the remaining babies.
In the morning, I knew momma rabbit never returned to the den that night, which meant the babies were hungry. So, I scooped up the ones that were still alive, placed them in a fleece lined bucket and got them something to eat until we could bring them to the rescue lady.

I went to feed Henry's fish. One was dead.

I took a deep breath and counted to 10.

I dreaded telling Willa that Fiona died. She doted over the frog-to-be.

While Henry napped, I pulled Willa to my lap and told her, "I have some sad news to share..."

She was very sad, "she didn't even get to be a frog, mom!"

I started to cry. Friends, I couldn't stop. My daughter was crushed. My dog was a bunny eater, Henry refused to eat his lunch, Jim was gone... I cried and cried.

And then she said, "mom? Maybe we can order 2 more from California now?"

We buried Fiona and Mandarin the fish in a shared grave under the white peony yesterday. We'll be putting the Frog Habitat in storage for a while. At least until I shake that Elmyra feeling.*



* You know... Elmyra from Tiny Toons. Wikipedia says this about her: Elmyra is quite young and obsessed with animals and cute things (which is probably why she works as a nurse at Acme Looniversity), even chasing after animals whom she knows are her classmates at Acme Looniversity, obliviously causing great discomfort or serious injury to potential pets from her overenthusiastic affection and complete lack of even the most rudimentary knowledge of pet care.