Pink and Purple Perspective

Longtime readers, you may remember my previous notes about shopping at Winco with toddleresque Emmeline.  

Things have improved.  No longer do I suffer her screaming fits and escapist maneuvers.   Mostly she is a delightful, singing little buddy who is fairly easy going.   I'm not to the point of shopping for set menus with her along, but it's markedly easier than ten months ago.

Today at Winco a hint of spring was in the air, as much as that is possible in Oregon in February.  Tulips and daffodils were for sale and the sun was peeked through the cloud masses.  Enchanted and somewhat dazed by the nice day I was shamelessly drawn to some pretty pastel Jordan Almonds in the bulk foods section.   Emmeline clambered about the pink ones, and I filled a bag to the tippy top, twisty-tied it off, and moved on to secure some Chex mix (by the way, Winco Chex mix is nothing like the real stuff).

Now, remember, at Winco one must bag their own groceries.  So there I was, bagging, bagging, and bagging away, up and over $200. worth, and suddenly I heard a swwwooooosh.  A weird sound, which I didn't immediately identify until I looked at Emmeline holding the bag that at one time contained Jordan almonds.  Ohhh Nooo!   At my feet were several hundred spinning, spring colored candies.

The cashier, of course, noticed the spill.  I cannot but see the hilarity in the situation and call out, "Clean up in aisle three!!!" hoping to lighten her mood.  Fail.  She instead lumbered off, returning with a broom & dustpan. Still amazed at the ridiculous sight of pastel almonds scattered near and far, I remarked with Emmeline how all the almonds fell out, which made her laugh, too.  Giggles and candied almonds everywhere.

A young man in the next aisle noticed the commotion and stooped to pick up almonds with me.   He, too, saw the humor and was an ever-cheerful clean up partner.  I was struck by how young he was; late twenties maybe.  

In my late twenties I would not have found hundreds of candies spilled by my own child's hand to have any humor in it.   I would have reeled with chagrin at my child's clumsiness.  Now, at over 40, I know there are so many things far more serious and worse than wasted Jordan almonds.

Perspective.  It's a good thing.

Dear World

Ahem.   In the last month I have been snarked at three times.

1)   While picking up son from spending the night here, the mother of my son's friend said, "Wow, your kids don't look neglected at all.  They're not dirty."   I looked at her and waited for more fascinating remarks, but she merely gathered her son and they left.  Hmmmm ... be sure to come back soon!

2)   Our much adored neighbor asked me one night during Hell Hour, "She's always screaming.  Every time I see her she's screaming.  Does she ever stop?"   Why yes, she does have periods of time when she is not screaming.  Like during her 20 minute nap.

3)  I let my darling two year old walk by herself in our school parking lot.   Full of cars.  Yes, I was watching.  No, there was not even a close call.  Cars were frozen still.  It was a straight line from where I set her down to the playground.  Again, all cars frozen still.   And I caught holy heck from another mom who watched my toddler toddle alone.  My public shaming ended with, "You should pick her up.  She's worth it!"   I know she's worth it.  She wanted to walk and I thought it was safe enough.   No one has yet died under my supervision (ok maybe a beta fish  - RIP Ruby!).   Or been hit by a car, bit by a dog, stabbed in the eye with scissors/pencils/drum sticks, or shoved a bean/peanut/eraser up their nose.  

Enough!  These remarks are not helpful.  Keep them to yourselves!

2005 - 2010

In five quick years:

Still as sweet, quick and kind as ever.  This girl is a jewel.

Community Gardens

There is a beautiful, massive community garden which borders a playground in our part of the city.   The produce is donated to Friendly Houses.  It is a good thing, and I take Emmeline there to wander amongst the plants and play.

Chloe tagged along recently and photographed these flowers:

And, my little spy captured me playing on the playground with Emmeline.  Cute.

Mila's Daydreams

Dear Readers:
If you want to see the most darling baby pictures EVER, here you go!

http://milasdaydreams.blogspot.com/

33%

Well, a third of summer is gone. When asked how my summer is going, I hesitate how to respond. I love having my kids home, but summer is without a doubt high season. The kids eat, sleep, read, play, attend the occasion camp. I grocery shop, cook, drive, clean, grocery shop and cook more. The volume of food eaten in our house has boggled my mind; to the kids' merits they have been great about making what they can when needed -- the scrambled egg waffle sandwich is their new BFF.

We have taken some fun road trips. Take our jaunt to Mt. Rainier:



Our klassy campground had a cooler for elk and deer, in case we needed to store our kill.





There were many hours in the car ... many, many, many







You might note there are no pictures of Mt. Rainier here. That's because after driving allll that way the elusive mountain was completely socked in with near zero visibility. We made it into the national park lodge and couldn't see a darn thing out the windows. We hope to have better luck in Yellowstone National Park where we are headed next!

catchy

I'll be in my studio, studio ...

Rain, rain go away

Little Emmie wants to play,
rain rain go away.

We broke the state record for rain in May and April, and are about to do the same for June. Flowers are bent over, grass is soggy, pools are empty. It feels like late October, and our daily highs are in the LOW 60s. In JUNE.

Climate change, evident every day here in Oregon. Readers, are your climates changing?

Flexible

If not careful, this is what can happen when you live in a house with four sisters: you fall prey to Spa Day, complete with painted, glittery fingernails. (No female here has ever atually been to a spa, but we hear stories.)

He doesn't look too put out, does he?

I aint no Betty Crocker

Hubby came home from work, hungry, and glanced at the banana bread made earlier in the day: "All right! Meatloaf!"

Chit Chat

Emmeline is quite the talker now. A recent conversation:

me: "Emmeline!"

baby: "Mama"

me: "Love!"

baby: "Yes"

HOW CUTE IS THAT????? Brought tears to my eyes!

mea culpa

I shall post. Soon. And not because I have to, but because it is almost FATHERS DAY and I never got my mothers day post published. Seriously, I do not know how busy moms keep their blogs current. Just ... can't ... keeep ... up!

Ode to my Oldest Son

My son is great. Probably all moms thinks their boys are great; I am no exception.

He is agreeable, even when his Itouch gets baby finger marks on it, there is no hot water left for his shower, or it rains, hard, the entire track practice. Little does he know how far this trait will take him in life.

He is kind. Kind in the very depth of his soul; kind to infants, kind to brothers and sisters, kind to other kids -- especially if they have problems. As a first grader we applied him to a private school which had one opening for a boy, and he was given the spot over 50 some other little boys after he ran to help another boy who had fallen during PE. Apparently he helped him get up, showed him what to do, and cheered him on. The teachers were impressed with his empathy then, as they are now.

He is funny. Hysterical, actually. He has a big, loud voice and laugh (which he puts to good use just as the younger kids are trying to fall asleep ... what a great sound to hear as they drift off!). He has matured enough to see the humor in small things like a certain younger brother using his hair brush every day. His motto: Don't worry, be happy!

He is interested in the world. He cares about people. He is cute. He is a straight A student.

We are lucky, lucky, lucky to get to live with this boy. He is a jewel.

We love you, buddy!

Mattell wins

Today we went to the consignment store where I sell our things which don't get completely destroyed.

We went in to look at their toys. You know, toddlers outgrow interests quickly, and they are happier when busy.

I pulled out an alligator xylophone. Nope. I showed her a LeapFrog alphabet toy. No thank you, Mommy. I showed her a cute pull along doggie. No.

What did she go for? Ready? THE BASKET OF BARBIES.

Spring in Oregon

We are lucky to live within a long but reasonable drive to the Columbia River Gorge. Hundreds of waterfalls, stunning scenery, inspiration.

Tiny Presents

We are huge fans of indoor play parks, my Emmeline and I. We usually hit three to four a week.

Last week I actually ran into someone I knew. This never happens because I am the Old Grandma Moses of mothering, and allllll the moms I know have kids ages ten and up.

Anyway, one teacher from our kids' school was there with her daughter. We had become friends before she got pregnant and when baby was born they were over-the-top happy. I smiled & gave her a big box of (slightly used) baby items (because I would never need them again, hahaha).

After that, for her more babies did not come. They tried, and tried, and tried. Tried everything and then some. Still, nothing. I remember we huddled under the school breezeway one rainy, blowy day during recess and she spilled her story to me.

She looked good, when I saw her, slender and put-together. Her daughter looked good, too, enjoying the balance beam. She was startled to see me -- and more so when she saw Emmeline. "Wait. You had another baby." Not so much a question as just a blurt. I introduced Emmeline and saw emotion in my old friend's eyes. "We're thinking of adopting, actually. We're happy with one but another would be so nice." I told her that was great and mentioned how darling her daughter was. "You know I would love to have more. I just can't seem to."

And with that our kids ran in different directions and we stopped talking. Emmeline was ready to go, and I said goodbye to my friend while struggling to tie Emmeline's shoes. It was not a very personal parting.

I pray I always remember what a gift my children are. Let me remember the magical moment when they were each born, and how the time continuum stopped as I memorized each tiny face and fell so, so deeply, completely, and forever in love.

These children of ours are gifts. Not everyone is lucky enough to be given them.

Let me remember.

How to be cute in a swimsuit

HEY, GUYS IN CHARGE! PLEASE STOP BUYING ME 18 MONTH SIZED CLOTHES BECAUSE LIKE IT OR NOT I AM STILL TOO SMALL FOR THEM!

Good Morning, Sunshine!

Easter briefly in photographs

My apologies for this bad layout. Don't have time to fix ...




Emmeline's comfy spot



The hunt is on


Oh thanks, I didn't see that one!

Reflection

Dear woman whom I passed on the street:
We walked by one another today, you and I. Me, carrying Emmeline, and you, walking with a small child with a teeny, tiny bundle of a baby wrapped to your chest.

We made eye contact and you stared at me, defiant. Or angry, or defensive. Maybe you thought I was judging your appearance: long-to-the-waist multiple braids of brown hair, set off with beads of many colors within the braids; loose, flowing, unisex clothes; Birkenstocks. Your child was indistinguishable as a boy or girl.

You probably glanced at me, fresh out of our SUV, in a white blouse and tidy blonde pony tail carrying toddler in white (!) cordouroy dress with pink tights and pink shoes, and thought I was not someone you would befriend.

But I wasn't judging your clothes, or your hair, or your somewhat grimey child. What caught my eye was the exquisitily tender manner you held the child's hand, and gently, subtly corrected his path as he wandered too close to the road. I watched the child glance at you full of awe, love, and wonder. I saw at the same time how you never stopped touching your newborn's back and legs. The three of you were so beautiful in that moment, so loving. I hoped I sometimes look like that.

So, I wasn't judging you. I wish I had turned to say your kid is amazing, and good job. You seem to already know.