a voice on the stairs. . .

Mama! (my needy boy. . .)

Mama!

Yes, Luke?

Come see, Mama! (and now I am having images of terror flashing through my mind of what little project he has completed upstairs. . .and hoping it has nothing to do with a crayon)

So I run up the steps (coffee cup in hand, of course). And find him at the top of the steps, smiling. Really, not a good sign.

Hi, mama.

Hi, Lukey.

Mama. Look at all dees snows. And he points to the window on the landing. Sitting down next to me at the top of the stairs.

Look at all dees snows.

It's beautiful, Lukey. And I smile. At my little boy who has an eye for nature. And beauty. That snow has stopped him in the middle of his busy play. And that he called to me to enjoy it with him. A beautiful Mama moment.

Here. Would you like me to carry you to the window so you can see? And he smiles.

And I pick him up, bringing his little boy happiness to the window. And we look outside together. Breathless.

Watch out for the poops. Yeah. I should have expected that one.

luke says. . .

R-froo-free-two

. . . the droid who will be participating in tonight's Star Wars adventures. . .

beauty. . .

For over a year I have been inspired by the artistry and photography on this site:

http://moodaholic.com/

The first image I saw was of an airplane overhead. . . and I dreamed that someday that type of art might find itself in my lens. . . with no real hopes in my talent or timing. . .

A few weeks ago I went upstairs to wake Jack for school... He's a sweet boy. . . but not a morning person. And takes a while to wake up. So, I whisper in his ear. Sing him our good morning song. . . Walk over to the front window to let in the first rays of sweet morning sunshine.

And this particular morning, as I drew back the curtains. . . I gasped. . . out loud. . . I never remembered seeing the morning this way. How did I miss it out the living room window as I talked to Sam on the phone?

Took my breath away. . .

Jack! I whisper-shouted (whisper-shout: to whisper as loud as I can. . .loud enough to get my point across. . .whisper enough no to wake Luke). Look at the sunrise! I've got to get my camera. Come see!

And I ran down the steps as fast as I could, to capture this (completely unedited this. . .). . .

I remember standing there. . . barefoot in the dew. . .holding my breath so that I didn't disturb the magic. . . the morning so still. . . and then clicking as fast as I could . . .

hoping that I might capture a bit of the magic. . .

wondering if the colors would be painted on the lens like they were on my soul. . .

quickly!. . .before the magic. . .the powerful beauty. . . disappeared. . .

I uploaded them . . . and forgot about them until last night. . . and they took my breath away as much as that sunrise did that early morning. . .

apparently. . .

the universe. . . or fate. . . or my mom. . . .

is laughing at my heartfelt post about my dearly to be departed gall bladder. . .

as the phone rang minutes ago to let me know that my surgery has been bumped to next Friday. . . so that I might (fret) and hold onto just a little longer. . .

decided. . .

After battling my whole digestive system for months. . . It has been decided for me that it needs to come out. Something about functioning at 11% and being full of stones. . . I say carrying stones around really suits my little gypsy heart (that believes that any bag full of stones is really a treasure. . .but what do I know. . .).

And so I am scheduled to part with my lifelong friend on Thursday of next week.

I've been wavering between fully freaked out and complete denial.

And it doesn't help that my dear mother told me not to expect to be up and around because I will be feeling pretty crappy for a long while. [have I mentioned how much I love this woman lately? no?]

Anyway. It's going to happen. Freaked out or in denial. Next week it's gone.

We've been trying to be very real and up front with Jack about these things. Not completely explicit. Just enough so he knows what is going on.

And, he Mr Curiousity, will having nothing but the complete and naked down to details account.

We've been pouring over the details (the ones that I have been trying to avoid, because I really don't want to know. . .) in the little book the doctor sent home with me. . . And he sat me down on the couch last night and made me read to him the captions of the pictures. Lovely.

And, he was quite disappointed to learn he would be going to school the day of the operation. Because he wanted to come to the hospital too. . . To watch. . . And was surprised to learn that people just really don't watch these things. . . A future surgeon? Let me tell you, his quest for knowledge is insatiable. . . I'm really glad that public schooling hasn't dampened that fire (because that was one of the things I was a little afraid when he started school last year). . .

Anway. . . Saturday night (on the way to get ice cream at Bruester's), as we were going over the whole reason for my operation . . . again . . . We explained that my gall bladder has been the reason for my excruciating chest pains, and my several trips to the emergency room. . . OK, my two trips to the emergency room. . .by ambulance. . .

So, he whole heartedly agreed that it needed to come out. And when they take it out, they will destroy it. he asserted. [Sam and I laughed in the front seat. He's so dramatic. We imagined that, like Darth Vadar, they might burn it to make it even deader. . .].

five minutes later. . .

Slept on the couch again last night. . . Ugh. . . Hate having the flu that wakes me up every 45 minutes to cough. . .blow my nose. . .and drink half a glass of water to ease my dry throat. . . But, let me tell you, having a comfy couch makes a big difference. So, waking up every 45 minutes these past two nights haven't been to bad. Loved looking out the big living room window at the cloudy night sky. . .silhoutted by the branches of Sally's trees. . . Melting into the comfy brown couch and a million and one pillows. . . Under my sweet pink (and so warm) quilt. . . (see: ).

So, if I have to be sick. . . At least it's a happy place to be. . .

But. . . I digress. . . (and that's where Jack get's it from. . .)

I woke up later than usual this morning. . . Heard Sam turn on the shower upstairs, and groaned to see that it was 6:06. . . And knowing I have to walk this morning. . . Poor Maxey gave me those eyes all day long yesterday because I neglected the whole walk thing. . .

So, we walked off the porch at 6:16 this am. . . And let me tell you, the world is such a different place five minutes later. . .

Less traffic that tried to run me down. . . Quite a surprise there. . . Usually I am hugging the curb, squeezing my eyes shut at least a dozen times. . . Not so much this morning. We still hugged the curb almost a dozen times. . . But the passing cars weren't going warp speed. . . Nice.

Met our walking gal friends a little sooner on the walk (OK, alot sooner. . .probably one block from the house on our way out the door, instead of on our return trip maybe three blocks from the house). They both wear these flashing red lights. . . Which scream circus to me. . . Or maybe traffic light. . . Anyway, counting the amount of times I feel the passing breeze of the odd Civic or White RedNeck Truck, I'm thinking maybe I need to break down and get two. . . For the dogs, of course. . .

Anyway. . . Quite a different world this morning. Makes you ponder how being somewhere five minutes sooner or later sometimes changes your life. . . Which is really a little too deep for my hazy thoughts at 6 am any morning. . .

sweet dreams. . .

for the little boy who lost his second tooth today at school. So very excitedly he met me at the door today. . . A hole in his grin. . . And a tooth box around his neck.

Lost at lunch. . . And not another bite of his lunch eaten. . .
Blood all over the cuff of his shirt.

A sweet little lisp returns. . .

Tonight he wrote a letter to the tooth fairy:

Hi tooth fare. Wil you wite back. Yes no. Sircl them. Jack. Bi (and a picture of a waving hand)

So sweet. Obviously the tooth fairy has her work cut out for her tonight (especially because fairy dust seems to be at a premium around here. . . high gas prices and all, I suppose. . .).

I was told to get to bed soon. Not to stay up all night. So that she will come.

Truly, an exciting day.

politically uncorrect luke. . .

We went grocery shopping Monday. . . . stopping by Walmart and Giant Eagle.

After stopping for a cookie and checking all the items (or most) off the grocery game list, we headed for the checkout. . . finding it pretty busy for a Monday morning. . . So we hung out. . . Looked around. . . made silly faces. . .

Oh no! he said looking behind me. A pirate!

And I turn to see a man with an eye patch heading into the line next to us. A pirate indeed. Grocery shopping with Lukey is always an adventure. Today, a pirate adventure.

vote. . .

We took the boys to the polls with us on Tuesday. Love that it is at the old high school close to our home. . . Surrounded by tall oaks and maples, shedding their fall colors. . . Luke loves to run and crunch through them. . .

A very exciting time. . .

We have made it a big deal to the boys about their freedoms and the importance of voting. . .

And I remember taking Jack to vote for the new president when he was so much smaller, age 2. . . clinging to my leg. . . and waiting while Sam and I took turns in the old style voting machines. . . pressing small levers for our choices. . .

And this time, he eagerly accompanied both Sam and I back to the computerized monitors. . . watching us both carefully. . . and noting that we both voted for different candidates.

He's so very observant. . . and full of deep thoughts. . .

And. . . full of funny. . . As he observed as we walked from the car to the school:
Derek said that everyone knows that Don Vacain is going to win. Too cute.

today's distress brought to you by the letter D. . .

as in Sicky D. . .

Both my boys down with something sniffly. . . and a bit crabby. . . all right. . . maybe more than a bit. . .



Luke does not sleep well with the stuffies. . . or be awake well. . . or play well. . . or go shopping well. . .



He awoke from his sicky D-induced, all-too-short nappy with a mourneful wail. . . one of those that put those banshees to shame. . . Hoping that I could console him, I went to the couch to hold him and stroke his cheek. . . Only to be greeted with naaaa......I waaannnn'. . .



You want what?



IIIIIiiiiiieeeeeee waaaannnnn'. . . .



And on and on. . . And in my mama brain, I knew what he wanted. . .



Walking from the couch, I heard the escalating screams behind me. . . I walked up the stairs to measure out one teaspoon of purpley sweet Tylenol cold. . .

And returned to nooooaaaaa. . . I doooaaannn' waaannnnn'. . . .

But this will help you feel better.

I no waaannn' feel better. . . . I waaannn' cwwwwyyyyy. . . .

And seconds later he smiles. And I can stroke his cheek while he closes his eyes on his favorite couch. Listening to murmurs of Little Bill.

I wan' feel better. He smiles.

happy halloween. . . .

october highlights. . .

letters. . .

Inspired by this Robert Guest's letters to his children. And maybe I don't have the chance to write daily. . . it is my intention to try this once a week (I feel a start to next year's birthday list. . .).

Dear Jack:

You are growing so much. . . so fast. . . right before my eyes. . . Dada and I have been looking at past family portraits. . . Ones where you were so small, and I could never imagine you bigger. And yet, here you are, bigger. And Luke now the size you once were. . .

And amazing. I can't tell you how many times I stop dead in my tracks: jaw dropping, amazed. To see you becoming. Watching you learn how to read, and spell. . .

And even though it seems that we fight nightly about this whole homework thing (you, the perfectionist; me, trying to ease you out of that terrible trait Dada and I share), I am so proud of you.

See the leaves in the picture? Tuesday, you and Luke and Max and I went on a walk around the neighborhood to gather leaves. You thought maybe we could just pick some in the backyard (for a school assignment). But, I thought maybe we could find lots of different ones around the neighborhood (and Max needed a walk). So many beautiful leaves. Big ones (you found a huge green and yellow that you carried carefully the whole way). And tiny guys. Talked of making a leaf book. . . And wondered what you might do with them in school. . . Chilly. . . And we were tired at the end. But loved walking along with you guys. With no other distractions. Just us. Talking about everything and nothing.

Last night, out Luke's bedroom window, Dada watched a helicopter land on the hill above us. He called to you and I to come watch. After we ran breathlessly up the steps, he suggested you put on your coat so you could both run up the hill and see it up close. So cool. What a lucky boy you are to have such an adventurous Dada. So, you quickly put on your shoes and coat (asking me a million questions in the process; but I wouldn't have expected anything else from you, buddy). And out into the cold night air you both disappeared. Ready for adventure.

Right now, you love Star Wars. Everything Star Wars. Coloring characters and cutting them out. Making Star Wars Lego creations. Playing with your little Obi and R2D2 figures. Running around the house in your Clone Trooper helmet. Swinging that light saber with wild abandon. . .

And, the latest: the Star Wars music on Rhapsody. It seems, you have a weakness for that discoish 70s music (and let me tell you, I was not happy with this as I hummed The Hustle all through Youngwood on today's AM stroll). Star Wars and Boogie Down (because it sounds like a robot talking. . .thanks Dada). The best part? The dancing. Love it. You run around the house, rolling Ninja style on the floor. Clapping to the beat (at least, your beat). Rolling your hands. Hopping. Jumping. Grooving. And Happy. Loving it.

Loving you.
Mama

sweet moments. . .

Last night. . . Thursday night. . . Sam had his annual business meeting and work . . . which means he comes home very close to bedtimes. . . So, the boys and I were on our own for the evening. . .

and it got crazy for a little while. . .

and then Lukey got out the felt boards. . . tubbies and the wizard of oz. . . and we laid them out on the living room floor. . . tv off. . . quiet moments. . . laughing about nothing and everything in a little boy's world. . .

popped some popcorn. . . and read some Halloweeny stories:
There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Bat (just read the fly version last week for the first time. . . and the boys loved it so much we read it four times in a row. . .)
The Meanies (and the three other books in the series. . .)
Too Many Pumpkins (a Kindergarten teacher purchase. . . loved it then, love it now. . .)
and, after some pumpkin curiousity (the boy of many questions, Jack: What do we do with the pumpkins after Halloween? Do they melt away?) we read The Pumpkin Circle that shows the life cycle of a pumpkin. . . from seed to plant to pumpkin to melting away. . .

We read stories and had a wonderful time till Sam came home. Love these evenings with the tv off, and just time together.

Tonight. . . soccer practice. . . shopping for Nan and PapPap's birthdays. . . Clone Wars. . . and bedtime. . .

Luke's storytime. . . we read Over in the Meadow (Mama's choice. . .we both love that one. . . it was one we read in my college elementary literature class. . . loved it then, and made it a point to have it on our bookshelf). . . Luke chose Love you Forever. . . Somehow, before the boys came along, I had never read this book. Had seen it on the shelf, but never read it. After Jack was born, my dear friend Gracie brought me this story on her first visit to see him. And the first time I read it, I cried.

Big, fat Mama tears.

And every time I read it, I cry. Big, fat, sobbing mama tears.

We read it tonight. Tears and all.

That was a great story. He said.

I agree, buddy.

good morning, monday. . .

why did you make my weekend fly by so quickly? So eager to greet us once again. . . you made Saturday and Sunday mere dreams drifting away from my stretching fingertips. . . disappearing into the mist of my memories. . .

Max and Dude and I enjoyed our morning walk. . . even in the dark. . . crunching through some fall leaf goodness. . . morning music. . .

And morning coffee and quiet before the boys rise. . . Enjoying some of my favorite family stories. . .

Sheye Rosemeyer for beautiful photography. . . and poignant stories that make me hug my babies a little tighter, cherishing every moment. . .

Nora Griffin for some scrapbookery inspiration. . .

and SouleMama for more beautiful photography. . . and simple living. . . good cooking. . . and creative moments with family. . .

A quick ten minutes. . . and I run upstairs to help Jack greet a new week. . .
finding him curled up with his feet on his pillow. . . so cozy in his spiderman pj's (love that he used to call them jj's). . .

Breakfast and lunch making. . . time for a quick story on the porch before the bus arrived (Wiggles by the author of Click, Clack, Moo! and Duck for President. . . a definite Zeli favorite. . . Wiggles was also very cute). . .

And now, while the dishwasher hums away in the kitchen and Franklin is off on an adventure (that song has been playing in my head all weekend. . . did you know you can make up words to that song to fit any situation. . . hey it's Maxie. . . chewin his bone. . . ). . . And I'm making a plan for the week.

Thinking maybe we'll grocery shop tomorrow. . . Laundry today. . . Although I'm peeking at the ads and thinking maybe I should grab some Star House sales (a bit of pre-Christmas shopping) today.

But, it's Monday. . . all too soon. . . and I'm wishing my coffee cup was a little fuller, and the sun not quite so high over the mountains in the distance. . .

Jack's Thursday evening highlights. . .

would not include homework. . .

But, he bounced off the bus happily. And scampered off, grinning as soon as he bounced to the porch. Such a beautiful day, I thought we could approach that whole homework thing later (yep, not so much easy anymore. . .oh well. . .).

In the front door.. . .

Out the back door. . .

Muffled giggles. . . Running steps. . . .

And I found this:

a mysterious note. . .

too cute.

Spent the evening watching the final Star Wars. A little past bedtime, but he loved it.

I guess we know now why they call him Dark Vadar. Cause he joined the Dark Side.

Ah, it makes so much sense now. . .

But, what didn't make so much sense was why they burned Dark Vadar at the end. . . Did they want to make him more died? Ah. . . . And I foolishly though telling him it was an old Viking custom, and that Luke was actually honoring him. . . thought it might make a little more sense. . .

Nope, only brought more questions. And fearful eyes when he asked if they still do that today.

Ah, well. The harder side of parenthood. The questions. . . And he has asked them nonstop for two years now. He definitely is a knowledge seeker. Love that. . . Even if the questions short circuit my brain. . .

a warm morning. . .

the world quiet. . . sung to blissful dreams by the melody of crickets. . .

how peaceful it seems this morning. . .

even fuzzy Dude kept up her pace. . . alive and happy. . .
running with the ease of a puppy. . . a puppy at heart in her 13 year old frame. . .

joy before the dawn. . .

the firetruck show. . .

Took the boys to Westmoreland Mall last night to see the fire trucks. I guess they have this show every year. But, this is the first year I wrote down the date and made sure we went.




Wow! As we pulled into the parking lot, the ladder trucks climbed high into the darkening sky. The day was growing more quiet. . . but here, the lights were bright and flashing. . . and little boy eyes sparkled, mouths O'ed in delight. . .



We wandered, gypsies in this land full of boy dreams. . . hot dogs and popcorn. . . balloons. . . hats and stickers and treasures. . . all clenched tight in their fists. . . so quiet. . . taking in the grandeur. . .




Trucks. . . A boat. . . Police cars. . . Tools and hoses. . .

And, joy! Lukey found signs. . .

Feeling so small in this magical world. . .

an aspiring national geographic photographer. . .

OK, silly little secret. . . I've always wanted to be a National Geographic Photographer. . .

And, with very little photographic skills, this opportunity just hasn't materialized yet. . .

But, yesterday, while letting Max outside, opportunity presented itself. . .

You know those nature gone wild shots? Really took my life into my hands with these. . .

Taking my Canon little guy at full zoom, I sat outside on the front lawn. . .

waiting for this bee to get tired of me poking my camera at him

and fly up and let me really know what he thought of my intrusion. . .

Mama Paparazzi that I am. . .

But, I sat for about 20 minutes trying out some things. . . pretending that we were actually in the middle of Africa. . . he, the wild elephant. . .

on a daisy. . .

and I, the daring photographer on assignment. . . waiting for poachers. . .

or wild daisy hunters. . .

to show up and threaten our safety. . .

Far fetched?

yesterday's numbers. . .

A good day in the number world for us yesterday.

[finally broke out the pedomoter to find out actually how far we walk in the morning. . .]

2804 steps. . .
1.6 miles each morning. . .
over 7 miles a week. . .

grocery game goodness:
watched the cashier total me at 109ish dollars. . .
gave her my stack o coupons. . .
giant eagle grocery total: 78.78
total savings (with coupons and store savings): 54.24

Yay, baby!

Oh, and 50 cents waiting to be used on gas.

This is what motherhood has done to my brain. . .

humming a tune. . .

Every morning I find myself humming a tune as the dogs and I set out on our early morning adventures. Usually it's some little ditty that Lukey has been singing in his preschool class. The past couple weeks I have been humming

Squirrel. . .
Squirrel. . .
shake your bushy tail.
Squirrel. . .
Squirrel. . .
shake your bushy tail.
Wrinkle up your little nose.
Put a nut between your toes.
Squirrel. . .
Squirrel. . .
shake your bushy tail.

Either Miss Lynn would be proud. . .or afraid. . . But I can't seem to get that song out of my head.

Until this morning. . . .

I was humming along on my way. Not really paying attention. Just singing along.
Watching quirky DMZ quickly disapper down a side road with his dogs before I get too close (yep, he's definitely a story for another day).

Humming. Strolling. Keeping up our pace. Turn left. Check out the pumpkin and spider lights. Getting closer to the real haunted house. And that's when I notice it.

The song.

The song I have been humming since I left the house.

Rolling Stones. Paint it Black.



You know the song? The one that accompanies Kevin Bacon through Stir of Echoes. What the heck is wrong with me? Am I trying to entice the spirits out to me on the street?

Dear Sam asked me last night if a head lamp would make me feel better as we had our morning walk.

Ha!

So sweet. So naive.

Told him that perhaps a cross, some holy water, and maybe a stake might do it.

He suggested I bring Blade with me.

Now he's talking. . .

mama rule #152

You must hold my hand when we are crossing the street (or parking lot).

This rule is usually met with wild screams of let me go! No! I do it! As I look desperately down hoping not to be accused of kidnapping my own, wild child.

Master Luke believes that holding his own hands should count as following Mama Doctrine.

Creative.

Cute.

Good try, buddy. Not with this Mama.

this little face. . .

aaachhooo! . . . .

aaachhooo! . . . .

(he inherited his Dada's sneezing patterns)

and a little face, covered in a big white kleenax, peeked at me over the back of the couch.

[blowing his nose]

I throw garbage.

And he walked it to the kitchen garbage.

Pod people escaped with my real baby boy this morning as I walked, I just know it.

good morning, monday. . .

why did you hasten away our weekend, so fast?

My resolution this week is to blog every day. Really? Yep.
Get ready posts about our exciting week of washing clothes and vaccuuming Max's chewed sticks on the floor (or, light sabers that Jedi Max has chewed).

Today's highlights?

Walked this morning. Actually made it out of bed without tripping drunkenly around the dogs and yesterday's laundry. How is it that sleep. . .a full night's sleep. . .leaves you feeling so unawake in the morning?

Anyway. We rocked the walkin world this morning while everyone was still in their cozy beds. Usually we are almost run over by a dozen cars in the morning. Today? Only two. Less lights on in windows. No sweet laundry smell over by the haunted house.

Thanks so much Lisa for telling me about the real haunted house on our walk. Now I try not to look at it as we pass by so it really doesn't know that we know it's terrible little secret. So, the loud banging doesn't decide to meet us out on the street as we race past it's sinister, yet oh so lovely, french doors. . .

Yep, I walked through the darkness quite spooked this morning. I guess that it doesn't help that it's Halloween. . . And there are lots of houses decorated on our morning walk. . . Which is really cool. Love the whole Halloweeny thing. Except that one house (other than the real haunted one), which is decorated with body parts and zombies and skeletons and some sign up in the tree which I immediately quit reading when I saw the words eat and skin. Blaaahhhh. . . .

Anyway. Busy washing Sam's shirts for his trip tomorrow. Overnighter in New York and me and the boys are on our own, baby. Look out.

Also: laundry, laundry, and more laundry.

Lots of pics to upload. And my class to listen to.

Grocery game shopping. Walsmack and Giant Eagle. Maybe Target? And pondering a visit to the Star Houe (aka Toys R Us) for a preChristmas peek. October just begins that holiday joy in me. Once they start, these three months just race from one into the other. So exciting.

Anyway, did I mention I have laundry to do?

Ready, set. . . go, Monday!

a new day in legoland. . .

full of official storm troopers and a dark vadar (sometimes darf vadar. . .). . .

Dada, still humming with creativity, created a few more good guys:

Chewbaca (brought to you today by a severly chewed and therefore retired fuzzy monkey dog toy). . .

and Yoda (yet another creation brought to you today by Dada's old khaki pants). . .

Also, on the good guy ship we find Indy (aka Hans Solo, but not on this end of the galaxy), Princess Leia (who used to be the Indy bad guy girl), Obi Wan Kanobee (who used to be a SpaceMan sporting heavy five o'clock shadow), a deep sea diver, two boneses (who might look like bad guys, but are definitely good guys. . .one who is using the Indy whip, the other a crossbow. . .all kinds of weapons around here), and a knight with a race car helmet using a harpoon. . . Lots of hard-working, fighting the good fight good guys. . . who may be outnumbered by almost triple the amount of bad guys. . . but are not willing to give up. . .

Lots of shooting. . . light sabering. . . going on today. . .

Also in the middle of salvaging pieces to create the Millenium Falcon. . . Zeli-style, of course. . . using some online instructions and our own ingenuity. . .

Fun times.

an old pair of pants. . .

some duct tape. . .

a cereal box. . .

and some recycled white paper. . .

. . .30 cents. . .

The chance to be a real storm trooper: priceless. . .

Dear Blog:

Please excuse Melissa from her blogland absence as she was contemplating. . .
anticipating. . .
and consumed by. . .

Monday Night Football, baby!!!!

Ok, legitimate excuse or not, Sam and I celebrated our anniversary at Heinz Stadium watching a bunch of roughnecks push each other up and down the field (and into the sidelines). . . refs who really aren't too sure about the rulebooks. . . especially when it comes to seven men on the line and 10 seconds left and whether or not we're really into overtime. . .

Steelers and Ravens. . .

Monday Night Football, as Sam mused, should be on everyone's life list. Even if we did get home after 2am and had to get up at 7 to get Jack to school.

Awesome. Thundering loud. Stadium shaking. Goodness.

Celebrating the return of Monday Night's crashing helmets (in the opening promo)
right there at the field
while you're in the lion's mouth full roar.

Deafened, and screaming hoarse.

Watching the players groove to the rocken loud music as they warm up.
Feeling the chants at the stadium (so, but not quite, European Football).
Becoming part of the crashing. . . the power. . . of applause and cheering and
chaos.

And maybe you can see the faces and plays and replays at home. . . (with a much better, and cheaper, food selection). . .

but you can't feel the flow. . . the rhythm. . . the charge. . .

What an experience.

And today, Sam stayed home to be a part of the quiet, still of the day. . . so we might rest and savor last night's adventure. . . We've wandered through the late morning and afternoon in a white cottened tunnel of fog. . .

smiling. . .

open door days. . .

late summer. . . and I have discovered the magic of the

open door day. . .

not too warm. . .
cool breeze. . . blowing in through every window I can open in this house (which, currently, is every window). . . including the screen door. . . propped open. . .

so the boys and I and the dogs and wander in and out as we please. . .
(which may or may not be a good thing)

watching the shadows of the chimes swing on the front porch. . .
their lullaby of fall's breezy days. . . and summer's memory. . .

sitting in the front door stoop. . .
listening to planes drone overhead. . . someone has somewhere important to be. . . but today, here
is what's important. . . and absolutely nothing at all. . .

but Little Bill in the background. . . and dogs sleepy in the sunshine. . .

and happy blooms. . . and squirrels carrying treasured walnuts. . .

promises that fall will be sweet and full. . .

back to the week. . .

monday's beginnings. . .

a new week and groc shopping. . .revelling in grocery game savings and lots of fresh fruit. . .

drying Jack's tears at another week's pretest with errors. . . and no challenge list. . .
until Mama said the heck with the challenge list. . . we'll make Jack's challenge list. . .
with words he loves. . .
so, in addition to this week's list of pin, wig, am, and, etc.. . . Jack will be spelling Jedi and star (as in Star Wars, of course). . . which brightened his cloudy brown eyes considerably

my first day of Photography class. . . much anticipated. . . although I need to track down my camera manual. . . hmmm. . . .

rediscovering Sam's cub scout uniform. . . and much cub scout discussion at the dinner table. . . and thinking we need to find out how he can begin this journey. . .

watching the Empire Strikes Back . . . or half of it. . . with promises of part II tonight. . . and the continuing thrills Dark Vadar brings to the mini zeli screen. . . will Luke ever figure out that life saver?

into Tuesday. . .

and Lukey's first day back to Play Pals. . . with dear Miss Lynn. . . and jumping into things. . . ready to slide. . . and sing songs in circle time (climbing up that little ladder he conquered late in the Spring with little help from Mama. . .). . .
a little intimidated by the other children, but not much. . . saying hi and learning new names. . . sitting for the entire circle time (wow!). . .
and coloring fallish leaves (with much purple and blue and a stop sign and traffic light or two. . .). . .

asking to pee on the potty while we were out shopping. . .for the first time!. . .technically, in the parking lot. . . and he giggled as Mama picked him up and dashed him back into the store to the bathroom (in the back of the store). . . and he held it the whole way!. . . and peed. . . (thank you for portable potty seats. . .). . .

hoping to conquer the laundry monster today. . . he's lurking somewhere in the coffee room upstairs. . . waiting to rise up and drown me in a wave of socks as I try to cage him in the blue laundry basket. . .

and maybe bake some oatmeal raisin cookies. . .

[a little voice from the backseat. . .

thursday, september 18. . .
12:18pm. . .
. . .as we sat in the McD's drive thru. . .]

I want aaaa french fries. . .

. . .
. . .
. . .

he-wo?

15 years ago. . .

at this very moment. . . .

I believe I was sitting at the kitchen table with my Aunt Georgie and Mom. Having some sort of breakfast. . . maybe. . . and I do remember coffee. . . Up at what seemed so early at the time (probably around 6:30ish. . . which is now every morning. . .). . . and realizing I had no shampoo or conditioner. . . and planning on running to Hills (do you remember that place?. . . they had the best hot dogs at their snack bar). . .

on the morning of our wedding. . .

Magic. Pure magic.

I can't believe that it was 15 years ago. . . It sounds like so long ago. . .

But I feel like this life. . . has always been this way. . . that that time before. . . was another life ago. . .

And yet, it sounds so long ago. . .And seems like yesterday. . .

The whole wedding prep thing was a nightmare. yikes. But I was determined that the wedding day would be perfect, because I wouldn't let any of that crazy stuff ruin my day.

And I didn't. It was perfect because it was the beginning. . .

Our life. . .
The one we would create together to be what we wanted.

And I can't believe it. We did it. We have created our own magic. Our own little happy kingdom in which to share our little happily ever after. And maybe the things around us aren't always perfect.

But that's OK. I love our life. I love this life that we have made together.

It sounds so very grown up. . . but I can't imagine ourselves that way. . .

I just remember that little girl fifteen years ago. The girl who cried the night before her wedding because everything was just so crazy. The girl who cried because she wasn't sure what being a wife really meant. What the whole job description entailed. . . And the dear boy who told her he didn't expect anything from her. Just that she should be herself. And that they would be happy together.

and we are. . .

I love you so very much, buddy. Thank you for asking me to be your wife.
For making my dreams come true. . .
For believing in me. . .
And making me your Queen in this happily every after. . .

this morning's buggy contents are brought to you. . .

courtesy of Sam's dentist appointment Monday. . .

a toothbrush (brush teef). . .
a small box of Aquafresh toothpaste. . .
and a bundle of sensodyne toothpaste. . .

Makes this little boy one happy pretend toothbrusher. . . or a pharmacy shopper ? . . .

every morning. . .

that little Luke waits until the very last minute to go potty. . . Which I cannot complain about, because he has been going like a champ. . .

But he holds it for an hour. . . bouncing around until he just can't hold it anymore. . .

And, don't dare ask him if he has to go. I no need potty, Mama! he growls in his very best Darth Vadar voice (did I mention it's all about Star Wars these days?).

But, he goes like a champ. (Let me tell you, potty training has been so much better this time around). And then we go upstairs. Together.

Wait por me, Mama. (No, he's not Spanish. . . somehow, all of his little f's sound like p's these days. . .I thought it was the whole stuffy. . .puffy. . .nose thing. . .but not so sure now. . .).

And we trudge up the stairs, with something. Ususally, it's the buggy. Today, the buggy happened to still be in his bedroom (how on earth did we get downstairs this morning without it?). . . So it was the signs. Not the little signs. The big guys. . .

all three of them. . .

Can you guess who carried them?
. . . .And the full potty bowl?

I get some signs, Mama.
Wait, Mama!
You carry sign.
You carry rail crossing.
I carry stop. (And yet, that one doesn't come out pop. . . ? )

Did they ever tell you Motherhood is a balancing act?

Is this what they meant?

homework time. . .

I'm learning to do the pluses of stuff. . . Homework is actually fun now.

Luke sat down with Jack for homework time. Coloring a picture from his favorite show, Super Readers. Jack busy at work on his math homework (addition). A test tomorrow. . . And practicing spelling words.

So much easier this year. Even though it's every day. He likes it so much more (It's like baby work, it's so easy. . .).

a tuesday afternoon. . .

Last week was a nightmare, as the stomach flu ran its course through our little family. . . starting with Jack Monday into Tuesday. . . Luke all night Thursday. . . me, Saturday into Sunday. . . and Sam, Sunday into yesterday. . . Ugh. . .

The stomach flu? Really? That seems like such a wintertime thing. . .

And I'm hoping this is it. . . we've done our tour of duty for the season. Germs you are hearby banished from the Zeli kingdom until next school season, because we are done. The End.

Anyway, today felt like a catch up day. . . Laundry, dishes, clean the potty, etc. etc.

Luke and I took a break in the great. . .

or not so great. . . outdoors this afternoon. Really looks like a storm coming? But only because Mother Nature is taking her turn with the stomach flu and she's feeling a little grumpy. . .

Anyway. . . Luke did his mandatory laps around the house with his buggy. Tried to get him to ride that cute little caterpillar guy (you sit on his back. . . hop up and down and push with your feet. . .). . . But Luke, in usual fashion. . . refuses to sit on any toy. . . And decided pushing the buggy was much more fun.

You sit, Mama.

Yeah.

Anyway. Buggy. Then maybe a throw of the new football?

Or not. Guess that's not a Mama game either.

No, Mama. And the football went into the sand. (Where Max promptly chewed when we looked away minutes later).

Paint-paint. Making stop signs, and rail crossings, and yields, and u-turns. . .

Pway twucks. And the trucks went up and down the car ramp for a while.

Bubbles? Until he decided it was bubble time. His way, of course. He's so cute learning how to blow (not in time for birthday candles, but there's always next year. . .). . .

First blowing as hard as his little lungs could woooooosssshhhh!

Then the bubble wand went straight onto his mouth. . .

Creating the ever so cute bubble beard.

And he would laugh. . .

A fun afternoon togther. . .

Jack's Saturday morning musings. . .

Did they use these before computers? (my manual typewriter)

What was the world like when there were no colors?
Were there ever no colors?
Was the world ever just black and white?

[then I we talked about how the world changes as people invent new things. . . and how before there was tv, people listened to stories and programs on the radio. . .]

Was that before they invented books?

morning visitor. . .

Sam, Jack, and I watched this guy this morning on the porch. Desperately trying to repair his web after the morning rain.

His web just a day ago, on our front porch. . .

the biggest I've seen. . .

nature's artwork,

breathtaking. . . and

heavy with the morning dew. . .

Now completely gone. . .

After apprising himself of the damage. . . he retreated inside the railing to his little spider home. . . and I suppose he will try again tonight. . .

Nature's tireless magic. . .

it's a blue milk morning. . .

Little Luke up most of the night with the stomach flu (probably a result of us letting him play after dinner last night at the Chik-fil-A play area, I suppose. . .our track record there: not so good).

After much running back and forth from our room to his, and then the bathroom. . . I slept on his floor on a sleeping bag. . . under my sweet pink quilt. . .

And he slept until 9ish this morning. . .

So, it's a blue milk morning (as he calls the blue powerade). And his spirits are pretty good.

Me. . . Not so much. Spent much of the morning bumping into things. . . can't see, can't hear. . . Poor Sam and Jack just laughed at me this morning.

Today's plans: a run to the post office. Maybe to Dicks to get Sam's correct sock size. . . Maybe a stop at the mall to check out the trains (as a reward for awesome potty success this week).

the hat. . .

Each morning as the bus pulls away, his little face is all smiles out that window. . . and I think. . .

I feel. . .

just how small he is, moving away. . .

moving into. . . the world on that yellow bus. Growing and becoming.

And without him know. . . realizing. . . he is unfurling those wings. . . growing stronger. . . and independent. . . and beautiful.

Then that same sweet smile returns in the afternoon. Bouncing off the bus. Happy. As if time stood still, and he never left at all.

He returned yesterday, backpack so heavy for such a little boy (although he would insist he's not little).

Homework? I ask.

I don't have any homework. He insists. And inwardly I groan at the struggles we had last year during homework time. He insisting that he knows. Wanting so much to be independent, and know. And my not knowing how to balance this sense of independence and still guide him in the right direction.

How do you know? Parenting is such a feeling around in the dark. Hand blind, frantically searching the wall for the switch. The one that will illuminate this unfamiliar room that seems to change shape. . . dimension. . .layout. . . daily.

No homework? I ask.

Nope. He insists.

What's this? I ask pulling out a book. A book. My baby has textbooks now.

It's a book. But not a book. He's ever so clear. Does he get that from his mother? (Sam would probably have a good answer for that. . .).

Wow. I say. Don't push. Don't push. . .

He opens to show me the story inside. We disagree a bit about reading words inside, and my fears are hardening my stomach. Is this going to be all year?

Would you like to hear the story? He asks. And that smile returns.

I would love it. And I relax myself. Let him take the lead. Let him show me the way.



And he reads. Confidently. A sweet little story about Pam and Dan and her little red hat that flys away. . .

like my heart

. . .with the wind. Until Dan catches it and brings it back to her. And then they go! go! go!

And he just beamed.
So proud of himself and what he could do. Reading all by himself. And if asked, he probably couldn't tell you why he was so happy. But he could feel it.

I remembered those days from Kindergarten when he flatly refused to read those little books that he brought home. Ones that they had worked on together as a class all morning. Insisting that he couldn't remember those words. Or it was too hard. Or that he already knew what they said.

And now he read with ease. Because he was ready. Inside he knew, he felt, he was ready.

So excited. Would you like to hear it again? And I couldn't stop beaming. He read it three times.

I wish I could keep this book here. He said. But we peeked at the stories ahead, and I promised him it would come back more often than he thought.

And read it again this morning to his Dada before he headed off to work.

His teacher related to us the night before that the transformation that took place from the beginning to the end of the year was absolutely amazing. I remember that transformation in Kindergarten. Not realizing that first grade would be just as magical.


And here it is. The magic. Already.

And even as I continue to feel along here in the dark. I'm smiling. Because in the center of the room is a small light. The light of my boys. And I guess I really didn't need that switch after all.

Because they know the way.

and today. . .

He bounded off the bus, all smiles. Feeling so much better.

Dropping his lunch box as he reached the yard. . .reaching to wrap his little arms around me in a hug. . .

Smiles. . .

And ready to ride his new bike (a preloved bike from a new neighbor. . .it goes faster than my old bike. . .repaired, and the perfect size for our growing Jack).

Max and I sat out in the sunshine, watching our buddy ride up and down the street.

Pavement warm on my feet. . . late summer sun. . . the crinkle of early fall leaves dancing, skittering up the street.

A moment . . . time standing still. . .

rainy tuesday. . .

Jack home from school today. . . The nurse called me on my cell on Monday, saying Jack had a stomach ache and wanted to come home. She tried to convince him to stay for lunch, but he wasn't being convinced.

So I talked to him on the phone. . . and I could feel his discomfort. . .

And he really doesn't complain about his stomach hurting unless he's going to throw up.

Which he did. . . after I picked him up and we arrived home.

Right beside the sidewalk.

Poor him. He slept most of the day with a fever.

And awoke this rainy Tuesday not feeling quite right, and not wanting to eat.

So the boys and I spent this rainy day together. On the new couch, with the window cracked a bit beside us. And we watched toons together while we could hear the quiet rain outside. . . the breeze so cool, refreshing. . . whispers of fall. . .

And in a career-driven world. . . where much of my worth to people who don't really matter hinge on my job title and the size of my paycheck. . .

This is what really matters. As Sam reminded me on the phone. My voice of wisdom.

Aren't you glad that you can be the one to pick him up from school? To stay with him when he is sick?

And here. . . these quiet moments together. . . singing the Spongebob song on the couch as it continues to spatter rain. . . these are the moments that truly matter. . .