I Heart February?

I've always hated February -- I know, I know, the "h-word" is a strong one, but I've always hated February.  My brain needs sunshine, and by the time we get past the chaotic fun of December and the quiet and calm of crisp January, I've had enough of the dark and the gloom and the cold.  A lot of folks despise March, but for me, the third month starts with my birthday (the 2nd), and so, February is the last thing standing in the way of birthday-followed-by-spring.  And t w e n t y -
e i g h t days can feel so darned long!  This year, however, the groundhog is our friend -- early spring -- and boy, is this week awe-some (oh, yeah, oh, yeah).  What a colossal temperature shift, and SUNSHINE -- yellow, bright, beautimous rays from the giant orb of fire.  Love it.  Love IT!

With the homecoming of the kids right at the start of the new year, we'd been celebrating staggered and belated Christmases with our extended families, and so, today I finally got to the task of taking down and storing away our gluttony of holiday decorations.  And the sun was shining.  And we're getting into a "new normal" with the kids.  I felt sorta, kinda like myself for the first time in 13 months. 

Not enough time today to clean and get out the spring flowers and candles and throw pillows; that will have to be for the weekend, as tomorrow is full of meetings and Jameson's birthday!  (pics of the bday tomorrow!) 

Today, however, was a soul-cleansing as much as it was a house-emptying.  Down with the greens, and I remembered that Baylor is out of shampoo.  Into the boxes with the ornaments and strings of lights, and it dawned on me that I need to prepare to call Haiti tomorrow (to try to reach birth mom on the birth day).  Stockings stashed, and three more important and funny things came to mind that I forgot to record that the kids had said.  Apparently, it was a good ol' brain-organizing, too. 

In the open randomness of progress, I came across evidence that speaks to yesterdays' post about Ramona-Baylor, and I have to say that one of my favorite things to see over the years has been the remnants of the kids' play.  No, not the mess -- that annoys me, just like it does you, but you know, those times when they've unwittingly left behind physical markers of their creative meanderings.  Like, the whole farm and zoo of plush animals clustered by animal type in the living room, all lined up in front of toy plates and plastic food from the kitchen set.  (There's a miscellaneous gathering on one cushion for the UIC Dragon, hot pink Beanie Baby bear, and several additional softies that don't fit the other taxonomic groupings.)

Today, this is what caught my amusement  .  .  .

Do you know WHY Fancy Nancy is wearing a party hat?  Because, (said in teacher voice) "Mom, every day that there is someone in my class who is having a birthday, I'm going to put this hat on her to recognize their special day." (Prance gleefully on tiptoes).

 The new mailbox has become a home to "Nurse Supplies in here (for playing nurse)."  I guess the parentheses are needed because someone sued after finding nurse supplies without clear instruction on how to play with them.  

The montage of chaos crammed into this pencil holder isn't what tickles me.  It's that this isn't a pencil holder, but an old, nasty toothbrush holder that I was forced to scrub and preserve. 

(God forbid that anything is ever put into the trash.)

 THE paper cell phone that received homage in the last post.

Yes, the desk, again -- already viewed several posts ago.  But, really?  Isn't it worth another look -- just like a river:  always the same, and always changing.  Empty candy hearts box, old practice spelling test, the still-dead corn plant, and an old (and dead) phone.  (And her dsi belongings in a freezer bag because I put everything in baggies).

 And her "ways" have even infiltrated a nook in my office -- top shelf of the SW nook.  My "Holding" box began as a place in which to keep non actionable items that I would need to access at some point in the relatively near future -- not yet file-able.  99% of the contents are now post-Baylor-material.  "Mom, keep all," she says to me each day as she hands me a fist of papers from her back pack. 

Every day. 

THIS, then, is the fermentation chamber.  After sitting undisturbed for the appropriate amount of time (several months to be safe), a percentage is skimmed out and, um, carefully filed in the garage toter.

 Extraordinary, my dahlin'!