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. . .