Thursday, September 23, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
She was talking to a little girl who was standing with a bike. I assumed it was a girl from her class and that she was waiting to go in with her. Still, knowing she was almost late, I pulled back over and called, "Goldie! Is everything OK?" I was about to then shout for her to hurry into class, but at that moment the small girl with the bike looked up revealing a sadly tear stained little face.
"She doesn't know where to put her bike," Goldie informed me.
I quickly assured the girl she didn't need to worry -- that we would help her find where the bikes go, but just to wait with Goldie while I found somewhere to park. That, and unloading my pajama clad barefoot little ones took a minute, but before long we were with her. She looked so small and so sad. As I reassured her, it occurred to me that I actually had no idea where the bikes went either, and by this point nearly everyone was in the school. Goldie told me she thought they were supposed to be parked behind the school at the edge of the playground. That seemed a ridiculously long way away, but I asked the only other lone lady I could find still out there, and she said that was right.
Anyway, I sent Goldie into class and Penny, Jesse and I walked with the little girl back to the bike racks. I asked her if it was her first day riding her bike all by herself and told her how cool that was -- especially when she told me how much of it was uphill. By the time we got her bike chained in, she seemed mostly happy with only a few tiny tear streaks left on her cheeks. I asked her if she knew how to get to her class from there and asked if she wanted me to come in and talk to her teacher to explain why she was late, but she seemed to think she was fine now.
As we made our way back to our parked car, I suddenly got all choked up and kept almost crying. I don't know why. Like I said, I am sure she was fine and will likely have forgotten about her little moment of trauma before school is even out, but I felt like crying all the same. Maybe it was because I could relate so well. I could see me as that same little girl -- so nervous about something so little. I felt grateful that I had been such a wimpy kid myself so that I could understand perfectly why not knowing where to put your bike would be a reason to cry.
Or maybe it was more because of my own kids. Because I always want to be there for them in case they are sad or worried. Once or twice they have had similar experiences in school, and, even though they turned out alright, I hated to know that they were standing there afraid and bordering on tears and I was just at home -- clueless as to their problem. I remember how nervous Abe was for Kindergarten -- worried about every possible thing. In an effort to help him, we wrote down all of his questions -- what to do if he needed to go to the bathroom, what to do in the lunchroom, how to know recess was over, etc. etc. And Mike took Abe and his list to the teacher.
Still, you can't plan for every eventuality. I pictured that little girl's mom getting her ready for today -- school has been in for a couple weeks, and now her little girl was excited to try and ride her bike there all on her own. She had her helmet on. She'd clearly practiced getting the lock on and off. Maybe even done a practice run to make sure of the route. Everything was all set, only in the excitement, no one had stopped to think about what you do with the bike once you got to school. I can just picture her getting there -- so proud she'd made it, and then the realization that she didn't know what to do now -- and her mom wasn't there to ask. The kids who were running about at the time were nearly all running off into the school now and there she stood -- small and unnoticeable -- not knowing what to do. I don't know why it made me feel so emotional. It just did.
I'm so glad we were running late this morning. Also, I am so proud of this Goldie girl of mine. I would rather my kids be kind than maybe anything else, and it makes me so happy that she noticed this girl who she didn't even know and stopped to check on her. I am certain I would have taken no notice of her if Goldie hadn't stopped.
Some of my kids would never have a situation like this bother them. They'd simply set the bike down and run in to ask a teacher. But maybe that's why it made me feel sad. It was just so small -- so not a big deal, and yet, a very big and scary deal to that one little girl. It reminded me of how tiny and innocent and vulnerable these little people are and it made me cry to think of ever not being there to quickly set such little troubles right.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
BUT, moving on, here are two pictures Daisy recently took. I thought there was something cool looking about the color of the sky and Abe flying up in it in this first one:Also, here is a picture she took of me a Sunday or two ago on my "Other Birthday." I don't know how often other birthdays come around. This was my first. Mike had let me sleep in that morning. When I came out the kids had covered the kitchen with pictures for me. "Tell Mom what today is," Mike said. Goldie and Daisy ran to me and exclaimed, "It's your Other Birthday!" And then Penny promptly began to sob because she had wanted to be the one to tell me. Anyway, Goldie got me breakfast and there were a few little spur of the moment hand made gifts. Through out the day, Mike would occasionally tell me to go relax while he did things that needed doing saying, "You just relax. After all, it is your other birthday." And, as you can see, there was even a cake. I don't know what prompted it, but it was A-OK with me.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
At this small act of kindness I simply bit my lip and remained quiet because it so happened that that was about the third "thunk" I'd heard in as many days and it had never once occurred to me to go check on the state of the little fellas (although, I did think hopeful thoughts for them).
Mike's act of kindness proved sadly needless. When I went into the garage the next day there was the dead bird. Dead as could be. I had forgotten about the sad little thing and it gave me quite a start. I think I may have jumped and thrown my hand to my chest and gave a panicy intake of breath. Then I plead with Mike to do something about the dead bird sitting in our garage.
"I will," he said, "it just seems like now that I brought it in I ought to give it a proper burial."
I left it at that (uncomfortably -- because who likes to think there are dead birds just sitting in their garage??), but when nothing happened by the next day, I broke my silence about all the other birds that had been hitting our windows of late and told Mike that if he planned on burying that one, he may as well gather up all the other dead birds around our yard so they could likewise have proper Christian burials.
He realized the fruitlessness of having mercy on these birds all too quickly when he managed to hear several other bird/window collisions himself over the next day or so. He then adopted a less sentimental approach towards the creatures. On Saturday morning we were lying in bed laughing about the oddness of our bird situation when he informed me that he was going to head off to some gardening or hardware stores that day to see about procuring himself a bird rake. Then, after a few moments of mulling that over, he said, "Or maybe just a bird mulcher."
Somehow it came up again yesterday and thinking shudderingly of someone having no problem with a dead bird in their garage, I sadly questioned, "What are you going to do if something happens to me . . ." but before I could continue he said, "I'll just put you in the garage too."
My husband. He's trouble.(A little picture I found on Daisy's camera -- apparently Mike and I aren't the only ones noticing all the birds around here . . . hopefully we are the only ones noticing all the dead ones . . .).
P.S. Oh, yes, about all the birds. Surely you are wondering, "Why on earth so many birds hitting your windows all of the time?" Well, I would like to say it is because they are so sparkly clean. Alas, it is not that. I have only cleaned the tall outer windows ONE TIME in our nearly two years here. (Oops. Should I have not admitted that?). Mike and I have been speculating it might have to do with our chickens. Nearly every day when we throw feed out to them, we get a small flock of other tiny birds who are eager to sweep in and get their share. Maybe the sheer number of extra birds means an increased frequency in window crashes, or maybe chicken feed gives non-chicken foul poor navigational skills or bird drunken like behavior? I don't know. Maybe a bunch of birds are just migrating right now and we are right in their southward path. Again, I don't know. I simply know that a bird hits our window pretty much every single day lately and it seemed like I ought to post about it.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Friday Moment: Nancy's arms are very weak.
Mike's cousin Blaire is here from out of town this week. Somehow the two of us got to talking about work outs and the like. I was telling her that I could see myself enjoying lifting weights, etc. more. Don't get me wrong. I don't want to be a body builder for crying out loud. But, I think I'd enjoy learning how to work my muscles more. I'd enjoy becoming . . . I don't know . . . stronger. (You should see me when Mike needs me to help lift something around here. I nearly start to weep I hate it so bad. Badly?).
Anyway, turns out Blaire has gotten very into lifting, so she took me with her to the gym Friday night after Mike got home to have me do one of her lifting routines with her. I felt like I was holding my own for a few minutes, but then . . . I wasn't holding my own. It mostly started with the push ups. After about one second my face looked like the face I drew in the picture below (only much more red . . . and sort of shaking). I don't think Blaire really believed I could be as weak as I was. She kept showing me different tricks to make it work better -- thinking I could surely do a few more if I just got the proper technique down. Unfortunately changing my form was absolutely not going to get me one bit further. We mostly did upper body on this work out though, and I fancy my lower half might have done me a little more proud. Running really doesn't do much for your arms. Anyway, I quite liked it -- sissy as I was. It felt good.And, for neglecting Friday, I will add two extra moments from the past week that didn't end up in any of my posts.
Extra moment ONE: Goodbye to our little cart and TV.
Well, not GOODBYE goodbye. They are just going to the basement for now. But we have had this little 19 inch TV and its tiny little rolling cart for our near 11 years of marriage. Mike found a steal on a used armoire the other day, and we got a new more normal sized television to go in it. As Mike took this old TV out of the way, I told him that it was a momentous occasion. There is something very sentimental about the belongings from our first early poor days of marriage. Mike going to school full time and working delivering pizzas and the like while I had already quit working to be home with Abe and Daisy. Plus, this particular TV has a little extra meaning because Mike waited out all night before a store's grand opening when we were engaged because the first ten customers got a television for one dollar. And, there was a time when we really needed that cart because our apartment was so tiny that there was no counter space whatsoever for a microwave or about anything for that matter. We had to take the doors off a closet in our "living room" to put Abe's crib in because there was no place else for it to fit. Anyway, this little set up that has looked so sadly out of place in our current home of ultra high ceilings, reminds me of those times, so I'm quite attached to it.Extra moment TWO: Goldie reads to Penny.
It is not always that Penny will just let anyone serve her needs. Sometimes (well, often times) she will absolutely refuse help from anyone but mom. BUT, when she does let her older siblings be of help to her -- getting her a cup of milk, helping her out of her crib, reading to her, etc., well, it is very nice for me, and also just very cute. Look at those girls.Well. That's that. The end of this week of stuff. I don't know what that means exactly or where that leaves us. I guess just back to hoping that all on my own little schedule I am inspired to be sentimental or clever or interesting. Ha. As if THAT could happen. Then again . . . maybe it will . . . time will tell. Time will tell.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Mmmm. Warm nectarine.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Here Abe shoots an arrow like a pro.
A bunch of grand kids 4-wheeling with grandpa (yes, we follow the "safety first" motto in all we do).Mike's sister Kimberly with her kids on the canoe (also Penny behind and Mike's arm doing some paddling -- Mike handles a canoe with perfect grace and skill I should add).
Niece Tori showing off how tasty her s'more is.
Nephew Aaron on grandpa's tractor.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
The end of this installment of one week of daily somethings.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
And giving you the best little hugs a tiny fella could possibly give.And politely saying, "thanks," any time anyone gives him anything.And just being all around pretty much the cutest and coolest kid in town. And look how much he likes his mother! That kid (shaking my head). I like him kind of ridiculously.