First Library Card!

Let the fines begin!

The Midas Touch

I didn't realize that when we got to this page he was wincing.  It seemed like a fairly benign rif on the King Midas story.  His best friend turned into cheese.  I am not giving anything away by telling you that Tweet, the bird, was restored to his birdlike ways.  Happy ending.  I bundled up the kids with last kisses and shuffled them off to bed.  

As I was attending to Nor for some reason or another, when I turned around to see that Spence was sobbing.  The hard sob where you cannot breathe.  I rubbed his back as he sputtered out "I just can't get the picture of his best friend turned it cheese.  How must he feel?"  I picked up his body from the bed and he curled around me.  I stumbled back into my room.

We cuddled, nose to nose.  His tears dribbled onto my cheek.  I walked him through the story, told him that after bad moments comes good moments.  He was not appeased.  Still struggling to breathe, he sputtered out, "I just keep thinking of you...your mom...how you would feel..."  His voice devolved into muffled cries.  I held him tight, told him how after losing my mom I finally got to get this wonderful life now.

I also wanted to say that I was cuddled, loved, listened to, that I was held close in the hearts of those who were left behind.  I just didn't want to lie.  Parenting when your own childhood was a litany of traumas tears at your soul.  Fills you with guilt, makes you think by sharing bits of your life you are fraying the innocence of your sweet babes.  Where's the road map to navigate through this land mine?

All the way down 38th, Nora pleads for me to drop her off first. I patiently explain that it simply will not work--Spence needs to be at school by 7:30, I need to get to work and the environment needs us to conserve gas. She just wants to show off her big brother to all of her friends at school.

This happens every day.

 I pull up outside of Bancroft, where the other parents line up to drop off their kids. I jump out of the car to open his door and to guide him to the sidewalk. I kiss the top of his head and marvel at who he is becoming.

Every day.

He stops outside the car and presses his hand to his lips to blow kisses. I return them, trying to meet the quickness of his hands and the intense look in his eyes. He starts to climb the steps and pauses at the first landing. He turns quickly and beats at his chest and points at me. I'm never sure where that gesture came from, but I am so thankful for it. He waits until I repeat it.

Every day.

He continues to climb the steps until he is at the top. Nora begs for me to roll down the window, if it is not down already. She yells out, "When we get home, we can play puppies!" He nods and smiles. She continues, "Or something you like to do. Like spies." He hollers down, "Yes! Or something we both like...puppy spies!"

This happens every day.

Reports from Kindergarten

On the road... Pipestone

Maker of Medicines

Every once in a blue moon, there are these moments where I think I can glimpse his future.  He'll turn a particular direction, the light will illuminate his profile and I see a 30 year old in front of me.  Or he'll speak about something and the air switches, it tingles, my arms turn into goose bumps.  Something about it speaks about something beyond.

Spence has been obsessed with making medicines as of late.  His wise and wonderful teacher, Ms. Niky, taught him to make a simple tincture of plantain leaves and oil.  To him, it was magic.  His mouth dropped open and he said, "This is the most wonderful thing I can ever imagine."  She was moved.  He came home and proceeded to practice making medicines for all that needs soothing.

Weeks later, he still talks about the magic of healing.  At the preschool picnic, Ms. Niky pulled me aside to recount the event again.  "I think he might have a gift for herbology."  I told him what she had said.  "Mom, could there be something as wonderful as a job that makes medicines for all sorts of doctors?"  When I remarked yes, his brain started turning.  I could see it through his wide eyes.

The air changed.  Could be nothing, but it certainly was a magnetic moment.

Goodbye Art Guilt!

I am sure you are already doing this.  I am always just a bit late to the party.

I have started to photograph and keep blogs of my kids art projects.  So easy to do with a smartphone (just download Blogger and sync it with your phone).  I no longer have the art guilt of tossing art.  If you are not doing it, I suggest you start. 

Spencer's Art

Nora's Art