We've come a long way, baby...

At the very, very...last minute, just when our schedules couldn't take one more activity...E.K. and I decided to sign up our children for baseball. BOY played T-ball a couple of years ago, which was somewhat of a disaster. Between lack of focus and interest, it was rather torturous for him and his parents... There was a lot of cloud watching and playing in the infield dirt.

But, this year seemed a good time to introduce GIRL to team sports, and for BOY to have another chance now -when he's more developmentally ready. They had a chance to play together on the same team, with friends, and with coaches - dads that they knew. It has been a walloping, whooping, baseball love fest - for all. BOY is playing catcher and enjoying it. GIRL, well...my GIRL is loving it! And, she is kicking ass! A couple of weeks ago she hit the ball so hard she dented the bat. Damn...GIRL!

When I was a child there were sports and then there were "Girl Sports." They were not the same. The expectations of girls' abilities and talents were often less than what was expected out of boys.Girls were not thought to have the stamina, drive or force to be engaged in athletic pursuits. The lines between the sexes were very clear.

Kids sports have changed a lot. There are 3 girls on the baseball team and their abilities and talents are equal, at this age, with their male teammates. The girls do not sit off to the side. They are not mocked by the boys on the team. They are all in it together.  It is a normal and beautiful thing.

I can't help but think how this will help them as future men and women - that at some point in their lives they played on the same team ...and they were equals. We've come a long way, baby...

	Tweet

What is it about me that finds life such a struggle?

The rhythm of my days are stretched taut like an overwrought violin. I have bitten off more than I can chew this time. The moments of calm within the cacophony of "Must Do's" are scarce, but tantalizing. Sometimes I don't recognize myself cloaked in stress overdrive. When the world stops spinning -by snuffling my nose into my 7 year old daughter's round cheek of bliss, or, threading my fingers through my son's golden hair, I am reminded to breathe - and to be here, in the here and now. These two, these sweet children deserve better than my frazzled mom-who-is-trying-to-do-too-much can deliver.

What is it about me that finds life such a struggle?

This time will pass and my children will no longer be 7 and 8. Their limbs lengthening, their longing for mommy will move on to other longings. To have space and carved out time for themselves. The days of lullabies and good-night kisses, full body hugs and tickles...will be replaced by other, more evolving needs.

So, here I sit -not as a task of self-flagellation, for I can do that. But, to recognize that it is the here and now that is calling to me. Work is work. But, life is LIFE. In all it's splendid glory, screeching tantrums to inescapable snuggles. Secrets held until lights out and slipped into the darkness like little gems. Mommy, remember when.... Mommy, one more song.... Mama, can we play together tomorrow...

There are tomorrows and then there are...tomorrows. It is important to grab them, hold them tight, but with a looseness that bodes joy and delight for all...

	Tweet

the blessing of a rainy day...

A couple of weeks ago, on a Saturday, it poured - the rain coming down in sheets. Baseball was canceled, and we had no afternoon events scheduled. BOY & GIRL played in their pajamas all day, building a fort in the living room out of couch cushions, blankets and pillows. Having recently acquired a stack of play money, they called it The Big Bucks Bank. Amazing how children figure out who has the money...

Later, I was coerced into dealing with The Big Bucks Bank and two very cute Tellers. The teller window was crafted out of an overturned laundry basket, with BOY within its plastic contours. My job was to approach the teller window and withdraw funds. As is the way with children, we did this over and over and over again... I slipped my flattened, paper airplane paycheck through the slot of the laundry basket teller window. BOY would then address the other teller, GIRL, who being the true banker, would count each amount out in 5's, 10's and 20's.

We played for a while, stopping for lunch, then each went to our own corners for an hour of quiet time. After E.K. was home and an early dinner, we all watched a movie together. It was the best day I've had in weeks.

I've thought about that day since - and find myself gabbing about it to anyone who will listen. As if I need witnesses to some kind of testimony of a very real, personal rapture..."I stopped moving and going and DOing." "I just stopped." I have the need to say it aloud.

We all need more of that-kind-of-day, when we aren't ruled by schedules and worn-out by obligations. It is those days that replenish us, that we remember and hold on to - that we reflect back on and breathe into. The trick is to declare "a day off" on our own - when it is not imposed upon us. To just STOP...because, we can. And, not be dependent on the blessing of a rainy day...

	Tweet

her own deshabille of horrific unkempt display

JCK would like to say here and now, in THIS moment, that going back to work full-time has kicked her ass. There is no "proverbial ass" here, people, - as in going back to work has kicked JCK's proverbial ass. No, the ass kicking is real and stands alone. Going. back. to. work. has. kicked. JCK's. ass. Having kids less than 10 months apart, a husband, school committees, work responsibilities, family work, and such and such has left JCK hyperventilating on the side of the road.

A friend asked her recently if it is getting any easier to manage the work/family/life balance. JCK was so ready to shout YES!!! But, that word refused to leave her lips and linger in the twilight air. NO, JCK said. Not yet... (JCK believes that the use of the word "yet" is hopeful.)

JCK is 6 months in, and she is still stretching and reaching for that..."OK, I think I've got this down now. We've got a pretty good rhythm here."

There have been some BUMPY patches in the family work responsibilities, and JCK and her husband have struggled. To be fair, JCK's husband was hit with a lot of CHANGE. JCK is grateful that E.K. is giving JCK that bit of sanity that she clings to, and they are in it together. Methinks, JCK should grasp that little golden nugget drop of honeysuckle, and mark it as PROGRESS.

However, there are things happening in the Motherscribe household and outside the home that JCK is ashamed to admit. Things that would never happen "normally." JCK is still struggling to find that "normal."

What kinds of things you may ask? JCK knows that you are wanting her to fess up. Let's take just one example.... On school mornings, JCK is so focused on getting her children dressed, fed and out the door, that some mornings she has been just throwing on her clothes, a hat and sunglasses and driving them to school, with little thought for her own deshabille of horrific unkempt display.

JCK wonders at the scariness! of this on multiple levels:

1. That she doesn't care enough
2. That if anyone recognizes her, she will have to suck it up or pretend she doesn't know them
3. Worse - that everyone DOES recognize her
   
4. If she gets in a horrible car accident and her pants have to be peeled off her body...oh the shame of full pastures...
   

And, that's not all! JCK's dreams wont even leave her alone. Her unconscious is having a field day! Amazingly neurotic dreams abound! :

1. JCK drives to the store and picks up laundry detergent - there's one! Except that later that day she really thinks she DID pick up laundry detergent...but it was only a dream.
   
   
2. And, she doesn't show up for her daughter's activity - forgetting about her daughter! So, JCK wakes up and can't get back to sleep for fear that she WILL do that. Even when her common sense is saying she will NOT.
   

Isn't this GROOVY to be in the messed-up mind of JCK?! She is so glad that she can make you feel better about your own life. heh.

JCK is now going to repair to another room, where she's going to try something new. Breathing...

	Tweet

But, first I'm going to savor 2011 a bit longer...

I'm not sure what it is this year, but I find myself holding on to the holidays. Usually I am ready for the ornaments to come down from the tree, and the Christmas tree to hit the road. Usually...but not this year. This year, I am wanting to sit under the tree...for just one more night, and soak in it's magical golden glow.

2012 sounds good and rounded and full - of the possibility of circling back to all that feels right within. I'm not sure how I know this, but I do. I guess I'm more of an even number gal, yet I always like to take the left aisle in a crowded theater. Safety in the circling back, yet a little adventure to keep me on my toes.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Oh, it's that inevitable...wrestling match with the passage of time. And, wanting to hold on to all that feels lovely...

Holding on to...the afternoon of making cookies with my children in the mad scramble before Christmas, and delivering fresh baked cookies on Christmas eve.

Joy riding the myth of Santa with two children who want it to be true.

Holding on to their words, oh...the words these small people utter...

GIRL: Mommy, what if we see Santa flying by tonight when we are out looking at the Christmas lights?! Wouldn't that be cool!?

Yes, my darling GIRL...it would. I think I hear the jingle of bells.

Holding on to...my daughter in another Little Nutcracker - this time putting on her own stage makeup, adorable in her Peppermint costume.

Holding on to...the vision of my BOY on a curiosity quest - everyday.


Holding on to...my daughter realizing she can read a chapter book. Pausing every few pages to ask about a word, she finished her first one in two days. Passing on the love of books is a gift. Seeing your children embrace it...now, that's a treasure.


2012...I'm readying myself for you. But, first I'm going to savor 2011 a bit longer...

	Tweet

Reflections on New Year's Eve 2011

Midnight is closing in, as I sit here in the quiet- all of my loved ones asleep. My house is full of the scents of our Southern New Year - collards, bacon, corn bread... Though we are Californians now, the tradition remains to pass along. I am replete with both anticipation for our annual open house tomorrow and thoughts on riding out the year of 2011.

It seems a good time to reflect on all that has changed this year. I wrote less, but branched out more. I do miss the days of early blogging, when I rushed to the keyboard, adrenaline pumping... Those days are gone, but my passion for writing is still here. The fire is banked, the coals needing a bit of a fresh breeze to stir them. I'm hopeful that 2012 will bring more frequency of words upon the page.

I am conscious of the many blessings in my life - my husband and children, our health, and being gainfully employed.

There have been many changes this year for my family. In the fall I started working full-time, which has brought many good things. I am happy to be earning a real pay check again, and to be a financial partner to my husband. The shift hasn't been easy- it never is. We struggle to find our way, like all couples do, when the family work needs two shoulders leaning into it - to get it done.

It's been a long time since I've made any kind of New Year's Resolutions. This year I find myself wanting those intentions - to be kinder to my husband, to have more patience with my children, to schedule writing and exercise time for myself. My whole being is starved for regular movement, and for eating well. My children are young, and I am not. I want to be here for them, for a long time... It's time to place the health of myself at the top of the list.

I want more face time with my friends. Real time. Dinner parties and meeting for tea, and taking hikes under both blue skies and days that threaten rain.

It was a simple Christmas this year, and I loved it. I envision more of the same with the freedom of less stuff.

This night I dream of new challenges ahead, and good times, better times for all. I am conscious of how much I have and how so many are going without.

Happy 2012! May all of our dreams and resolutions shine through the New Year...and help fuel a world with more love and intention for all.

	Tweet

Mommy, is Santa Claus real?

It's that magical time of the year! Parents of wide-eyed and impressionable children are going fast and furious- making sure that their children are well nourished in Santa Claus Lore... despite the countdown to the TRUTH. JCK is no different. JCK has been getting her exercise trying to slam back that "Santa Claus" crushing SERVE smacked over the net by her two children.


Mommy, is there a Santa Claus?

Mommy, is Santa Claus real?

Mommy, do you sneak out in the night and buy us a bunch of presents?


JCK has been lobbing those balls back like nobody's business.

Well, what do YOU think? (Good volley, JCK)

Do I sneak out in the middle of the night and buy you a bunch of presents? No, I do not.

(Well, this is...TRUE. JCK does not sneak out in the middle of the night to purchase presents. There might be some...sneaking INTO THE KITCHEN to scarf down treats, but no one has to know about that.)

40 LOVE ...for JCK.

But, it's not feeling like JCK is winning. She is truly teetering on the fine-line edge of THE TRUTH, and it is uncomfortable. JCK has prided herself on being honest with her children, barring something that is age inappropriate. However, JCK knows that she is on a precipice now between what is real, what is imaginary, and the complicated parts betwixt the two. Everyone WANTS to BELIEVE...including the large child with silver hair. Will this be the last Christmas for the Santa hold-out?

JCK remembers when she heard there was NO SANTA! from one of those DO-GOODERS in Elementary school. JCK remembers going home and asking her mother and being devastated- devastated...when her mother told her the TRUTH.

Was the worst part that there was NO SANTA or that her parents had misled her? JCK is not sure, but JCK knows that she doesn't wish that onto her children. Yet, she just hasn't been able to let it go...this year. Perhaps JCK needs to believe in Santa more than her children do.

So, this Christmas, as you kiss those sweet little brows or hug your grown-up children, remember that the magic of Santa can come in many forms. At least, that's what JCK is telling herself...

Merry Christmas, to all! And to all a good night! HO! HO! HO!

	Tweet

Then I'll huff & I'll puff & I'll blow your house down...

The last few days have been high on weather DRAMA. Last Wednesday due to the gale force winds in our area, we lost all power until yesterday. It was an "adventure" for the first 24 hours, but by Friday we were tired of darkness and had started to toss out food. We were very lucky compared to many neighbors.




We had a window blow out in our sun porch/play room, and lots of branches and debris over both back and front yards. Many of our friends are still without power, and ...another wind advisory is in effect for tonight. It's been a good practice run for disaster preparedness.


Grateful for:

1) The old 1945 forced air gas furnace keeping us warm
2) The LED powered camping lantern
3) Old fashioned plug-in phone (land line)- no cell phone reception for 48 hours
3) A stove top with gas burners
4) Children who have learned how to play several card games
5) Kids Reading books by headlamps
6) Whiskey stocked
7) Coolers to ice down perishables
8) Emergency radio
9) Brother-n-law & Sister-n-law who let me work out of their home on Friday
10) Gas water heater - nothing like a hot shower to make you believe you can take on the day



*********************************
Note: these are all homes in our neighborhood.

	Tweet

the spaces in-between the going and the coming...

Our fall is spectacular this year. Vivid reds and bright yellows overtaking the green. We in the land of nuance, where the change of season often flits by unnoticed. There is no subtlety about this Autumn, a photographer's dream.

The color guard marks the parallel growth of my children, also spectacular and extraordinary. My daughter has lost another tooth - the 8th of tiny little teeth that seem even smaller in hand. My son turned 8 last week. He takes up more room now, footfalls heavier on the floor boards, and his head bridging the gap between my chest and collar bone.

Last week I drank in my vacation in small increments -stopping to breathe in the peace of not being responsible for work. I spent time reading and eating, and sleeping the deep sleep of one without extra burdens.

Today my husband and I returned to work, and the children to school. All of us with obligations to carry out, and routines to follow. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the time off... fingers flexing, but not on the keyboard. It was a true Thanksgiving, and I am left with gratitude for family and for the spaces in-between the going and the coming...

	Tweet

Creativity dying a dusty death somewhere nearby

Today, calling myself a writer feels deceptive. Oh...I miss it! The writing life. The sifting of words to replace the ordinary. The stretching of my brain into creative alleyways. That feeling, like no other, of stumbling down a path that alternates with smooth stones and unknown crevasses. I want it, all of it, and need it. But, for now, my writing life is sitting low. Sometimes it feels like it is just out of reach, patiently waiting for me, and other times it feels incredibly far away. As if that was another person entirely.

My writing muscles grow weak - my life taken over by The Must Do's, and my head cluttered with The To Do's. Creativity dying a dusty death somewhere nearby.

Words, like clothes, get old-fashioned, or mean and ridiculous, when they have been for some time laid aside —William Hazlitt

If I could have anything in my life at this moment, it would be the ability to do it all. The adjustment to working full-time has gone well, yet I feel overwhelmed...often. Perhaps, I have to accept that it is the perpetual state of one who works full-time, is a wife and mother, and who has some semblance of a writing career...on the side.

	Tweet

that loud family that lives on your street

You know those neighbors on your street? The loud ones? JCK knows that you know just who she is talking about. Everyone has that family on their street. That nice family where everyone screams instead of talks. God, help you if your windows are open. Try enjoying the summer breeze waffling through your house, with those SCREAMS tearing at your very being. Over and over again. Yep, that's what JCK's talking about.

Well, JCK's street is no exception. There is a particularly LOUD family that lives on JCK's block. Let's just call them "The Screamers." You can always tell when the kids are outside, because the noise shoots down the hill like a visit from the dark side. Whether it is the fear of Darth Vader or Voldemort suddenly appearing, the echo of everyone on the street slamming their windows shut reverberates back up the hill. The screamers don't seem to care. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish!!

JCK used to think that the worst thing was being next door to a smoker, because you can't open your windows on that side of the house unless you want to snort some tobacco wind. JCK's ears are reconsidering that previous belief. Not that JCK is completely opposed to smokers. There was that one or two season fun show where JCK dated that guy who smoked and had a tattoo. Back when having a tattoo meant you were a sailor. Now tattoos are are common as runny noses on kids without Kleenex. Except tattoos last longer. But, in the spirit of time constraints, JCK must move on.

The SCREAMERS live very close to JCK. So close it is becoming unbearable. Close enough so that there is no room that JCK can go to without the sound of YELLING penetrating her delicate ears. There is an especially loud screechy GIRL. JCK believes this GIRL inherits this tendency from her father's genetic line, but JCK won't go there for fear of neighborly reprisal or uxoricide. Then there is that BOY who throws in an extra explosive YELL to keep up with the GIRL. The husband? Let's just say he has many years of stage training, and his voice carries. For miles.

Lately JCK has wondered if her life of quiet repose on days in which these children are out of the neighborhood is doomed. Because every opportunity that JCK has for a quieter day, in which she has set aside time to spend time writing, is thwarted by chain saws attacking trees next door or her husband's compressor going ON and off and ON for hours on end. JCK would like to point out that her husband's compressor is not a personal thing, but necessary to energize his tools.

As for the LOUD mom? Rumor has it her ancestry is Scots. As in warrior men with meaty calves, hair glinting in the sun, and kilts stirring on the wild highlands... JCK knows in her soul that the LOUD gene comes from that line. Especially since JCK has apparently lost her driver's license. In which case you will hear her WILD bellows and wails assailing a neighborhood near you. All the way from the DMV line...

	Tweet

summer entices in its slow moving, hazy days

The coolness of kitchen tile under hot bare feet, languid limbs atop cotton sheets, water washing over sun kissed skin, and the clink of ice cubes in tall glasses of cold liquid refreshment. Summer has arrived. Scattered flip-flops and bathing suits scented with sun block, Popsicles on the front porch, sand finding its way throughout the house, water play and mud pies... Summer has arrived. Indeed.

It is as if my children grow more each day. Their skin rosy with camp adventures, and their burgeoning confidence of being on their own, yet part of a whole. They tumble into the car exhausted, yet gleeful, full of stories.

Everyone says to hold on to these times, to treasure my children now... that these days are all too fleeting. I try... I do. Yet, summer entices in its slow moving, hazy days. Hot tendrils putting us to sleep - only to awaken in September with the brush strokes of vibrant color and cooler days...

	Tweet

A spider bite gone bad?

JCK is plumb tuckered out, done in...exhausted. It all started with a small bite on her son's leg last week, which turned into a fast growing wound, with resultant fever, horrific headaches and what was well on its way to becoming a staff infection. A spider bite gone bad? Probably.

JCK's BOY endured a battery of blood tests (6 tubes of little boy blood), and multiple visits to the pediatrician. The test results were negative on all counts,(from W. Nile Virus and Cat Scratch Fever to Meningitis,) but that did not prevent ...a hospitalization last Thursday due to the infected leg getting worse.

At the hospital, her BOY was fine until it was time for the IV insertion. Thus ensued a 30 minute segment of JCK talking BOY down from the Panic Ceiling, where he was understandably stricken with fear. After the IV was done in BOY's small hand, he was moved to a room. The first visitor was a large therapy dog, who managed to climb up on BOY's hospital bed and make himself comfortable, all while not stepping on BOY. But, the most impressive person was BOY himself who managed to build numerous Lego creations, during his hospital stay, with one hand and his teeth.

After 24 hours of IV antibiotics, BOY was able to go home. He is doing well. However, sleeping on a chair that folded out into a sleeping cot, next to her sweet BOY who tossed and turned all night in discomfort from an IV drip in his hand, did not make for a restful slumber for JCK. She is taking a bit longer to recover...

After 4 nights of sleeping in her own bed, JCK is beginning to resurface. Right now she needs time to recharge, and rejuvenate, and declare that summer has begun by GOD, and isn't it time for Jack O'clock? She thinks so. Cheers!

	Tweet

Our children help shape us

I came to parenthood on the late side. Our son came to us through the blessing of adoption, and our daughter arrived 9 months and 27 days later through an apparent miracle of conception that was said to be impossible. We thought so. Surprise!!!

All the parenting books in the world could not have prepared me for the long, lonely nights of bouncing a colicky baby on a yoga ball, the darkness punctuated by the sounds of my own desperate breathing, as I struggled to stay awake, arms numb from holding my beloved babe against my breast. Or, that I would be mistaken for an over sized wipe, due to occasional vomit and pee, and oh yes...projectile poop explosions.

There are the mundane tasks: the meal planning, the laundry, the multiple driving destinations, and the endless picking up after small people. Sometimes, we are so caught up in the doing that we can miss the being.

Yet, out of the mundane and ordinary spark those little jewels. The moments when you are slayed by what your children say and do. Our children help shape us. Hopefully we become better people, because we are forced to look into our own childhoods to see what worked and what didn't.

To respect who they truly are is not always an easy task. Too often we get caught up in our own stuff. Our own projections of who we think they are, or who they should be. Or worse, what other people might think of our children.

I no longer have a baby snuggling into my neck who smells of yeasty milk, or a toddler reaching up to a table loaded with possible dangers. My daughter no longer cries when I leave her with her peers. She wants to be a participant without me. My son checks in with me more often, asking if he can have another cookie, or have computer time. We have conversations. On good days, they share what they did at school. They've memorized our phone numbers. They sing songs. They have full little lives. Sometimes with me and sometimes not... It is only when I step into their room at night, enveloped in darkness, that it feels the same as when they were babies. I stand and listen to their soft breathing in the dark, kiss their velvety cheeks, and weep...

	Tweet

the things you worry about the most, end up being nothing at all

JCK wonders how she has come to this. Nirvana achieved. Five o'clock known around her back yard as Jack O'clock, dinner with friends, in bed attired in silk pajamas at 9:05pm. Years ago would have been deemed appalling. Now? Heavenly...close to room service. Life has changed. Indeed.

JCK's children, who should be worn out from hours of pogo sticking, laser gun fights, soccer/kickball and inhaling numerous substances called hot dogs, chips and yogurt,and multiple triangles of watermelon are still...chatting. Indeed, sadly, JCK is readier for sleep than they.

All is good with the world for the moment. JCK's son sailed above and beyond the blood draw, distracted by the idea of Super Hero numbing ointment, an over sized lolly, and Asterix. Of course, JCK was proud of him, but most importantly he was proud of himself.

Sometimes, the things you worry about the most, end up being nothing at all. Parenting is never a known entity. As in life, it is full of unknowns and curve balls. JCK often finds herself fully in the game, garbed in protective catcher's gear. But, there are those times, when she doesn't need the body armor, and she is surprised...

	Tweet

I want so much to provide my children with... a kind of childhood that doesn't exist anymore

It is now when I need to treasure the simple things. The pride on my daughter's face when she's promoted to Shark, the only 6 year old, in her swimming class. The day my son hands me a note, the letters a struggle, but they line up to say...To mommy. I love you mommy. I love you mommy. The warmth of my husband's skin. The patient ear of a friend who really listens when I go on and on...

We do not live in innocent times. We live in dangerous times. Whether destructive tornadoes, earthquakes and tsunamis or human beings killing thousands of people, sometimes it seems that the world has gone crazy.

Often, the reality of the environment in which we are raising our children seems to mock our endeavors. Our quest seems illusory and unrealistic. I want so much to provide my children with...a kind of childhood that doesn't exist anymore.

But, I can't give up. Every child needs that time. To feel safe within your arms. To believe that you are everything, and all things. That we can conquer the Darth Vader's of our world and in our own psyches.

Later, not much later, but later... we will talk of how things are not as simple as good guys and bad guys. That there is relief when someone can no longer plot evil things, but that doesn't make it all OK. That we are not innocent in our doings, much as we like to think that of ourselves. Layer upon layer upon layer...

So, for today, I will encourage their silliness, and join them in their moment-to-moment experience of how they see the world. Here, there are good guys and bad guys. Life is black and white. The grey will come later. Right now, their world is tidy or messy. And, we can always clean up. They need that simplicity, and I need it, more than ever...

***************************
JCK also has a Featured Member Post, "Can We Stop Using the Word Tramp,” in the Family topic on BlogHer.com this week. Come join the discussion!

	Tweet

Imagine there are 2 weight lifters in your body

In efforts to live more healthfully in their food choices, JCK and her family have begun to look at what they are eating and how they can improve their daily eating habits. Like any family, budgetary concerns play a role. Yet, every week, the Motherscribe household forks out large sums of money to purchase food that isn't processed or full of preservatives. Let JCK tell you...it ain't cheap.

Lately, they've begun to look at grams of sugar. BOY has taken this on as his personal mission. He can tell JCK how many grams of sugar are in yogurt, cereal, crackers, granola bars, etc. GIRL likes to explain it this way:

GIRL: BOY, imagine there are two weight lifters in your tummy. On one side is a weight lifter holding up good food. On the other side is a weight lifter holding junk food. The one with the healthy food needs to get stronger & stronger, because the one with the junk food is too strong.

Yes, BOY needs to eat more vegetables...

	Tweet

Their hands are still small, and reach for hers

The signs are there when she sees them. Her children choosing to read books on a long car ride, instead of constant chatter. The muscles in her daughter's small calves, her long legs strong enough to do a 1 1/2 mile hike. Her son opening a door for her, an experiment in manly manners that she hopes will stick.

The car seats will find new homes; friends with younger children. The sandbox is moving out. The beat-up play structure is next. Plans for an active outdoor space - a trampoline, a large punching bag, over sized pillows to jump on.

Her daughter can read aloud now, intent on each word, frustration flaring if she doesn't grasp it at once. She tries to encourage her to take it in smaller syllables, sounding them out. Hard for her girl who likes to achieve...quickly.


Her son comes up to her chest, more than half her height. He's not tall, but neither is she. He shies away from hard work, which scares her a bit. Visions of adolescence, a handful of years ahead, and her failings, if he doesn't get the value in hard work.

Winter clothes divided between those that will not see another season, and those that will. Donations, throw-aways, one treasured shirt saved. Spring clothes taken out of storage bins, the bright colors welcoming in their newness.

Her son, the little rooster, sleeps in later now. Yet, still up with the sun. His sister with the gift of deep sleep. She, not waking when he chats himself to sleep, nor when he wakes up with the gift of gab in the light of a new day.


In her quest and burning desire to have a family, she did not understand that having children is a young person's game. The wisdom of age stretches...yet, the energy of youth cannot be overstated. She hopes her children will not remember her as tired, because often she is...

Their hands are still small, and reach for hers. Her lap still big enough, if their heads are tucked into the side of her neck. Bedtime not complete without being tucked-in, a lullaby song...trailing off. Their soft cheeks forever emblazoned on her lips...

	Tweet

A little water, pistachios, and a couple of roly poly bugs

I'm sitting inside on a gorgeous spring day listening to my children. Their voices rising and falling outside my office window. Finally...their giggles draw me up from my desk, and away from my piles of work left undone.


They have finished their picnic lunch, and have created a game with a little dirt, a small toy sauce pan full of water, and a couple of roly poly bugs...named Ella and Joseph.


Placing them in pistachio shell boats, Ella and Joseph are making their way across a jouncing, sloshy sea. Then they are placed in a muddy bucket. Later they board a train. GIRL announcing the destinations with a megaphone made from marble maze tubes. Ella and Joseph may not make it to the day's end.

These are the joys. A little water, pistachios, and a couple of roly poly bugs. Life is good for two children 10 months apart....

	Tweet

Camping 101 Facts for Overly Enthusiastic Parents

When last seen, JCK was headed to the desert for her first family camping trip. She is proud to say that she is still walking, albeit with a slight hitch in her step. She likes to think of it as the Cowgirl Whoopie Step. Since it might appear to be a bit bow legged ...and all get out. Not to be confused with GET OUT OF MY TENT...it's been 48 hours! A funny thing about camping. You have to sleep on the ground. JCK wishes to point out that this, although seemingly a minor detail... is not.

JCK learned quite a bit this go around, and would like to share her.... Camping 101 Facts for Overly Enthusiastic Parents:
When your son, the little Rooster, wakes at 5am, after you've had...perhaps 4 hours sleep, it's best to just get the hell up and not debate with a 7 year old on the merits of sleep. You won't win. When watching the sun rise over the desert, nothing tastes better than hot tea in a tin cup.

If you are prone to peeing in the middle of the night, don't get all prissy at the very idea! of having a pee bottle. You'll wish you had one at 3am. Otherwise... toilet paper? How about squat and shake your booty.


Unplugging is good for the soul...


There is nothing better than seeing your children all smudged with happy dirt.


Legos go anywhere.


Arguing over who moved your stuff means there are too many Virgos in one tent.


Extra rope is always handy. For keeping tents from blowing away or tying up a sassy spouse.


Shoes that slip on and off are key.


A 1 1/2 hike to a desert oasis is worth every step.






There is something exquisite about flowers in the desert.



You can't get enough.






Beetles can be fun.


Camping with friends who are experienced campers is the only way to do it.

The best meal ever is hot dogs, beans and corn.


And...the last Camping 101 Factoid for Overly Enthusiastic Parents?

When people tell you that it can get windy in the desert, don't smile politely and think they are exaggerating.


Devil winds blowing from two directions at once, for many hours during the night, with fears of the tent flying to Oz, will negate every sip of whiskey.


Dirt, tents, hot dogs, friends, s'mores...what's not to love.

	Tweet