Picnik!

The high school art teacher, "Z," told me that I had to check out picnik.com  .  .  .  I've only played around with just a few editing features -- pretty cool stuff!

CAMPOUT!

The resounding shout of the boys in the movie "Sandlot" (which Hunter, and I by default, have memorized from years ago) . . . and "Small's" first encounter with s'mores. These grainy shots, however, are from a very cold and damp outdoor adventure of Chad with Hunt and Jameson down near Taylorville. As my dad said, "S'mores are a prerequisite to citizenship." Check. At least that was an easy one.

To Light . . .

Nearly every one of the 50+ perennials we put into some major landscaping last spring came back beautifully this year.  It was A LOT of sweat, and it's glorious to see the equity (of beauty, that is).

All four kids finished up a great school year with wonderful teachers.

I'm s t a r t i n g to get some things around the house organized  .  .  .  the transition toward the summer routine has begun.

Some really nice visits with some graduates and their families this weekend.

More invites to parties than what we can attend; a bit of guilt, but the silver lining is to realize the blessing of having been invited/included.

A daughter who cheerfully came to me to make an inquiry (rather than calling for me from afar), and said inquiry involved helping with a household task (unsolicited)!

Twister Light from "Pretzel Twister" at Hickory Point Mall -- sweet, freshly baked pretzel that's soft on the inside with just a bit of crispness on the outside.

Sundresses, rouched-strap tanks, chino shorts, celery-green cork-heeled shoes, and a sea grass tote  .  .  .  from "Tar-jay."

"Battle Hymn of the Republic" at mass this morning.  All I could hear was the chorus of my grade school self and ~150 St. Thomas schoolmates belting it out in my memory (1980's) -- especially the "GLOOO-ry, GLORY, hale-LU-ia."  There's nothing like music to transport one back in time -- instantly.

Salt and pepper popcorn -- Orville Redenbacher's Natural.

Two bags of NICE hand-me-downs for the boys.

Fresh pineapple, strawberries, and bananas dipped into a chocolate fountain.

My Amazon order of Maya Angelou books arrived.

Waking up when I'm done resting.  No alarm.  (At least for one more day, and then for many more after Wednesday.)

Booyah!

More of The Sleepy Boys

So, what's a little elbow to the rib or a hand dropped on the head? 

(And, yes, we do feed Skeletor, er uh, I mean Hunter.)

Snug as bugs under Great Grandma's quilt.

 Consolation.  There had been some confused bickering and tears before bedtime.  This is how I found them the next morning -- yes, still fast asleep.  They must have drifted off in this reassuring position (both boys have very tender hearts) and then had one heck of a rock-solid, very still slumber all the eve 'till dawn.

Divas In It Together

Her World

Dino-stars concert that night  .  .  .  but Bay insisted one of the songs was a 2-step or some other cowgirl ditty and that "Mr. Powers said  .  .  . " that she could or should wear her cowgirl gear.  So, she did, and was quite pleased with herself.

The general instructions were to wear black (so that once their dino masks were in place at the school, they'd be a unified force on stage), and the one with the pink rhinestone head wear (what remains of a birthday party favor) was easy for my Mommy radar to locate.  Jameson was also in this grade school production, and his little excited and nervous self wore the dark clothes without any additional drama necessary.

To Light . . .

Baylor fell in love with a tropical-colored summertime fashion scarf at Target, proclaiming that "It's like from India or something!"  (And has plans to wear it tomorrow -- for a second day of seasonal, "international" fashion.)

A friend who calls about taking kids to the movies together, even if I was unable to go -- the invite was welcome.

Dinner at Panera with my girls (and two Mommy friends and their girls that we met up with by happy happenstance).

Free pastry from Panera per their frequent-shopper rewards, which I'm not really all that frequent -- so, a delightful surprise.

Coco-something Frappucino (sp?) at Starbucks -- chocolate-iced-blended-coffee (can be made decaf and skim!) with coconut and topped with whupped cream (h/t J. A.), chocolate drizzle and toasted coconut. 

The tests are graded, the pen pals for W. His. kids came in, and my final two speakers are lined up!

Kids selecting small gifts for their classroom teachers  .  .  .  to see their minds ponder over what their teachers would like and then sparkle with excitement when they conjure an idea.  I love to see generosity in the works!

Making a young daughter feel a littler better by helping out with a letter to yet another friend who is moving away -- leaving tomorrow.

A husband who does laundry -- all of the laundry, and brings pizza to me in my office so I can continue grading without interruption.

A son who tasted his first campfire s'mores this weekend with Daddy, big brother, and a whole bunch of other daddies and sons.

A daughter who wants to know what new words mean  .  .  .  unfamiliar vocabulary, as she reads.

Stow-&-go deep storage in the far back of our "new" van -- grocery shopping is less of a chore when the bags don't go sliding around and falling out when I open the hatch at home.  Sort of like how pink grapefruit dish detergent makes hand washing the extra large dishes, well, a little tolerable.

Really expensive, silky, spring-scented lotion from a dear, and far-too-generous friend -- feeling pampered is priceless in these busy days  .  .  .  and on not-so-busy days  .  .  .

The Symbiosis of Monkey and Tiger (and kiwi, bear, and dog)

Tiger (the junior, left) and Monkey (the elder, right) over a series of nights sharing rest in the "Haiti Room" and captured digitally by Mama Bug on her way to her own bed for slumber  .  .  .

There Are Just Some Things

that we can't make just right.  On the day set aside to herald mothers, I was reminded that my powers are, indeed, limited. 

Jameson and Baylor gifted to me their school-made asian-styled floral paintings, which their fab teacher (Ms. Stout) had worked with them to create, frame, and wrap (as well as design a creative flower-expands-as-you-unfold-it card).  Hunter commented that he remembered doing that project in Ms. Stout's 2nd grade, and that his flowers had been purple.  Anna then chimed in, "I'm the only one that not do that."  Of course, I said a few things in response, but there was nothing I could say that wasn't a lame attempt to comfort her knowledge that she missed out on some things of childhood. 

When we dialed up their birth mom, we heard the same error message recording (in French, I believe), all three times.  We did get through to their older (adult) brother, and his laughing voice and cheerful (and improving) attempts at English made for a pleasant chat, as usual.  He laughed approvingly (delighted) at my regular, breif attempt at speaking in Kreyol, and he said he'd tell their manman (mama) that we had tried to reach her and that the embassy would meet with her soon for a document for her to sign. 

And I wonder to myself just how will she travel the long distance from her village to the city when it is time for her to appear before the judge, the consular official, the IBESR, and the parent representative.  How many times she has signed forms and been interviewed by Haitian officials, Red Cross personnel, orphanage personnel, U.S. officials  .  .  .  As if making the decision to have her children live out of her physical reach wasn't difficult enough  .  .  .  to be questioned about her choice repeatedly  .  .  .  peace and comfort to you this eve, Manman Bonithe. 

And rest your youthful head, Anna; you are now a child and shall have the freedom of such in this family home.

Sister Friends

Send chocolate with raspberry dust by parcel post, and call out of the blue when they think they've heard concerning news.  Sister-friends email and read our far-too-lengthy replies even when they are already carrying the burdens of many.  They remember the morning at the restaurant, back in the high school days, when one of us ordered chocolate cake for breakfast.  Sister-friends whisper to us privately about those who gossip too much in public, and we laugh in unison at the recognition of our own hubris.  When we stay away too long, it leaves us empty.  Women need women in our lives, daily.

And when the husband sees me at a breaking point of "just too much," and takes over the kids' school-night lists (and homework), dinner, dishes, showers, and betime tuck-ins so that I can be with my sister-friends on-line and on the phone, he is wise.  And all inside the home are the better for it.

Not Entirely Mini-Me

Three weeks before the actual First Communion day we gathered at church for the session with the professional church photographer.  While it meant getting her dolled up on two separate occasions, it also allowed for a calmer morning on the real day and removed any post-ceremony delay in providing a meal for our extended family.  A few years ago I gifted to Bay my childhood church purse -- one that was given to me on the celebration of my own inaugural Eucharist.  While she preferred not to have the little purse in her formal altar pictures, she humored me with a few snapshots on the stairs to the choir loft.  I'm a sucker for symbolism and had in mind that some year in the future she, too, may be glad to have this picture.

Yes, I know, she looks eerily like me in all things genetic, and like her mama, she wanted nothing to do with a veil, but her style on this special day thirty years after my own is definitely all Bay.  Grandma Finch made the dress according to her specifications, and her tendrilled locks were inspired by the tiny curling iron she'd spotted at sitter Coco's a few days beforehand.

A week after pics (2 weeks before today), the Altar and Rosary Society hosted a breakfast for all of the First Communicants and their families, and it was most delightful -- from the cheerful table settings and delicious food to the cards and special atttention paid to the kids.  Bay has also been blessed by cards in the mail and prayer books and cards bestowed on her by various church members.  She's really felt special during this journey into the next phase in her spiritual life -- thanks to a lot of wonderful people.  We are fortunate to have an intimate place of worship with a peaceful, calm tone and a genuine people so generous of heart.

We began the day the same as we did Hunter's special breakfast three years ago --

with braided egg bread  .  .  .

Father Jim emphasizes the mass as a sacramental moment, rather than a Kodak moment and kindly asked that we not crowd the sanctuary with cameras and flashes.  And since the pro session three weeks ago will provide us with images of Baylor on the altar with Father, her CCD teachers, and her classmates, I GLADLY obliged  .  .  .  it was nice to relax and not feel all "I should get a picture."  (And I have a sweet shot from photo day of all of the girls together, but I haven't asked permission of all of the other parents to post here; so, that will have to be reserved for Bay's private hardcopy album.)

After a simple lunch and a bit of visiting, it was gift time  .  .  .

 Striking a pose -- at the end of the festivities (after the rose had fallen off of the dress 

while giving hugs to aunts and uncles -- some happy wear-and-tear).

And then a night of thank you notes (by Baylor), a note to take the dress to the dry cleaner's (for me), and rest (for all).  It's been a pleasant journey; thank you, family, for making the trip!