How old are you?

Somewhere along the way, the kids have moved out of diapers and out of strollers, past the need for binkies and sippy cups. . . and somewhere along the way, become actual people. But have I managed to move out of thinking that they NEED me for every little thing? This part of the equation is much tougher.

Every one of the last 4 summers here has held with it various reasons why we couldn't simply live at the pool. Most often it was because my two little hands simply were no match for 3 kids under 3 plus Jordan near large bodies of water. I thought it foolish and unrealistic to imagine hauling all the kids I babysat plus my two to the pool. So we never did. We became sprinkler experts, cheap inflatable pool proficient but never did we dare venture into the wonderful community pool just down the street from our house.

We'd even watch from the playground next to the pool as what seemed like billions of people sweat and burned and yelled and played and, presumably, had a blast. But as I watched I could only think "Ugh, what a nightmare. Chasing children, using pool bathrooms, sooo crowded. No thanks."

I couldn't have been more wrong!! And boy were we missing out.

Friday I shocked Jordan and myself when I granted a request to take him and a friend(Natalie) to Alligator's Creek (the pool down the street). We were there almost 4 hours and couldn't have had a better time.

Granted, there was some confusion at the outset. We approached the window to pay our admission fee and I said, "Two kids and myself". (Natalie has a season's pass).
But then I didn't understand what the woman behind the glass was asking me. And so I repeat. . .

"Just two children and myself."

And she said, "And how old are you?"

"I'm sorry?" I was already confused and we weren't even inside the pool yet!!

"How old are you?"

"Me?"

"Yes. How old are you?"

"27."

"Oh! I'm so sorry!!! Well, i guess you can be flattered . . . i wasn't sure. . . " and so on as she attempted to recover from her mistake.

And then I realized that she hadn't thought that I was 18 and a valid guardian for the minors I had in tow.

Oh man.

So here is the moral of my long and winding story -
Jordan is not 4 and Sedona is not 2 (well, and I'm not 16). I learned a valuable lesson Friday as I sat on the edge of the splash pool watching Sedona befriend any number of kids, help a girl smaller than herself reach the fountain and team up with 2 older boys in a silly game. Meanwhile, Jordan swam to his heart's content in the big pool, making new friends, running into old ones and learning all kinds of new tricks. He didn't need me to micromanage his swimming adventure and neither did she.

The sign outside the entrance said that kids under 9 need to have an adult with them. Is that to suggest that by next summer. . . I won't even need to be there with Jordan?! The reality of how much they've grown is slow to set in. 9 is 9, not 15 and 4 is still very much 4. . . but seeing them as people I get to hang out with instead of little ones to manage has changed the way we interact so much and I gotta tell ya . . . we're having a blast.

Seeing Red?

So the slideshows have gone berserk, simultaneously turning red!

I don't know why. But bear with me. . . I promise to fix it somehow.

Any suggestions as to what the problem might be? Temporary? Photobucket? My computer?

Oh me oh my.

Burn, baby, burn

I'm like the What-Not-To-Do poster girl for the American Cancer Association. Where there is sun. . . there is pink Jana despite any and all efforts at sunscreen. I am going to have to get a gargantuan hat, one that promises to cover me and 6 neighboring sun-seekers, err, sun-hiders.

I'm demanding a common sense warning label on all spray-on sunscreens. Just as coffee now says "CAUTION - HOT!" and cigarettes promise cancer, and alcohol warns trouble for pregnant women . . . I want spray-on sunscreen to warn idiots like me that the effectiveness of the spray may be related to the velocity and direction of the wind when applied.

In other words. . . don't spray it on outside!!! I'm a lobster!!! Listen to me, people!!

Yes, this is common sense and yes, I am a relatively intelligent adult and yes, I am burned to a crisp. So take heed. CAUTION- DO NOT APPLY UNDER WINDY CONDITIONS

Burning aside, we had a fabulous day at the "beach" Tuesday. I use scare quotes because I wonder what really constitutes a beach. Is it the presence of sand? The combination of sand and water? Must there be waves? I really don't know.

Nevertheless, we went to Cuivre River State Park and found a lovely little "beach" complete with sand and sun, oh and plenty of water.

To the Zoo!

Back in St Louis again, we made our way to the zoo Monday after the food pantry. Sedona has been desperate to see th snakes and lizards but the last 2 times we were there, the reptile house was closed. So we tried again and this time met with great success.

Sedona's favorite was the pig-nosed turtle, while Jordan opted for a shedding lizard. We even saw what we think must have been lunch trying to stay as far away from the dining snake as possible - about 8 feet up on the glass! We came out just in time to see the sea lions being fed. Jordan did a rousing imitation, startling nearby adults and children alike.

The Dinoroarus exhibit was nice but for the dino expert we have here it was a little bit old hat. But again, great pleasure was found in over- acting and posing for pictures.

Morton Arboretum - Lisle, IL

We were able to make a trip up to Naperville last weekend and managed a little bit of time for exploring the Arboretum on Saturday.

Sedona slept through the first half of the trip but once she was awake she was going full speed. There were giant bugs (which Jordan loved shrieking and posing with), gardens and tree houses, rivers to walk through and even a souvenir watering can and bug goggles (Thank you, Grandma Marianne!).

A wonderful time was had by all but Sedona's flip flops. While climbing we left her shoes down on a bench, in the time it took us to navigate the tree house, someone took the shoes to the lost and found. Oops. The only bad thing was that it took us another 20 minutes to find out that they were in the lost and found and hadn't just been misplaced by us.

Monday, Monday, Monday (Yes, I know that it is Wednesday!)

So Monday means Food Pantry. We volunteer at OASIS Food Pantry every week to help unload, sort and stock all of the perishable items that are donated by local grocery stores. This means lots and lots of icky gooey slimy things piled into a single box that might, if we're lucky, have some stellar produce in it somewhere. Not a job for the squeamish. Fortunately, we are not. Sedona, in particular, is an excellant sport and works hard to help break down boxes and fill the refrigerators with fruits and veggies. Jordan excels in the bread and bakery departments.

We pack lunches and set out to see what kind of trouble we can find once the work is done. Sometimes we find ourselves in the city, others, just downt the road near the riverwalk/old town Saint Charles. This week, though, we decided to try out a new park we stumbled across. It was a bit short-lived as injury and an incurable case of I'm-sweaty-whining set in, but we had fun while we were there.

See?

Desperately Seeking Sunflowers

We went in search of sunflowers today. There is rumored a field full of sunflowers, stretching across a valley near the Missouri River. We saw them. But they were held too far off for us to touch them and flop down and play in them. The stood there, waving, I imagine, at those of us bound by gates and silly orange signs.

Nevermind those silly sunflowers.

Today we found the mud. The streaked and dried, river just receded, still dripping just below surface, riverbank mud. We wallowed. Well, they wallowed. Each making a mark in the sand before sending sticks to challenge river's edge currents. We watched as wood of different sizes and shapes fared so oddly in the currents and whirlpools of the Missouri River.

I can see the moon from bed tonight. Only as the wind blows heavy branches aside and there it sits. And I'm thinking . . . somewhere, everywhere, the river flows in the darkness, sticks still struggling in its course. Rocks, thrown by excited little hands, heavy, still the bottom. Such insignificant changes for a mighty river, it seems.

But somehow, the grit in the bathroom sink, and the shoes not yet reclaimed signal greater change. The passing of 9 year old summer days, crawling in bed with mud still behind his ears.

Pink Bats and Independance Day Fun

The boy is fighting with the neighbor kid in the front yard. I am slow to intervene. While I've never allowed fighting or weapons, something is different today.

Both boys are smiling. They are in character - last time I was out there it was dragons, though it could just as easily now be Wolverine and Magneto. Regardless, my favorite part is the weapons they have chosen for their battle. One has a large pink wiffle ball bat, the other, a single red boxing glove (thank you Aunt Michelle). Neither, I might add, has any detectable skill in this field.

Meanwhile, Sedona fevers on the couch and I clean the office. I may have finally decided on a color for the kitchen, my short attention span and painting whimsy forcing a potentially radical change. We'll see. Swatches are taped up and I think I'm narrowing in on a plan. I am also plotting bright obnoxious flowers for the bathroom, maybe a few in the corner trailing up to the ceiling, maybe the whole of the ceiling above the tub. You never can tell what I'll do when I get my hands on a bucket of paint.

So that's our 4th. Hope yours is lovely.

You, the people . . .

will hereby receive the slideshow format you desire.

So, umm, vote.

Which is easiest and/or most enjoyabe to view? I am ever so indecisive.

Frontier Park and Foundry Art Center

Last Tuesday we ventured out to the Missouri River in Old Towne Saint Charles for some picnicking, reading, running and exploring.

My favorite moments:

1. blowing bubbles that float and bounce across our blanket, coming to rest atop sweet clover blooms without popping.

2. kids playing what looks like slow-motion tag. skipping and flopping across the empty grandstand stage. Each issuing so many time-outs, they are both barely moving, time-outs only to stop and strategize as it seems the other might be gaining an advantage.

3. the sound of flip-flops mixed with too long, untied shoelaces slapping on the cement.

4. cottonwood floating thick in the air. reminding me of home so long ago.

5. laying, faces to the sky, reading The Phantom Tollbooth, nibbling Cheez-its.

Once finished at the park, storm clouds looming, we made our way to the Foundry Art Center. A fascinating old, well, foundry, that made tanks in WW2 and later railroad cars. The building preserved, now hold artists' studios (who are happy to share what they are working on with curious little eyes) and traveling exhibits. It also features an exhibit of local school kids' work. Very cool. Mine loved it all.

What would you do for a Klondike Park?

So here's the plan. . . .in the interest of not falling even further behind, we'll jump in where we're at and then go back to fill in the gaps.

Today has been a rather lovely day. We went to see the Free Summer Kids Movie at the local theater like we do every Wednesday morning but with the addition of 3, yes 3, buses of preschoolers out to see the Veggie Tales feature today, there were no seats.
We were nonplussed. Ever the innovators though, we took our packed lunch and headed out to Defiance where an old glass quarry serves as one of our nations fine parks.

Our finest moments include, but are not limited to:
1. Jordan determines that it is just so beautiful and relaxing that he wants to live out here when he grows up, just in the country, build his own house etc. And Sedona adds that "we should better come here every single day". I think it was a hit.

2. A long since drowned tree reaches, algae covered, out of the water near a bridge we were crossing and Jordan sees "a mythical creature being eaten by an alligator." Also note that the fish near this particular bridge followed us back and forth from one end to another, disappointed I imagine, that we weren't offering them any food.

3. Purple flowers set lovingly in sweaty hair.

4. Headed towards the Phoenix Composting Toilet (a marvel, I might add) surrounded by silica sparkling sand, Sedona yells "Wait! The bathroom is in the snow!". The sand was very white.

5. Sedona hopping and stalking a small yellow butterfly.

6. Sedona singin, "C'mon strong legs! Take me to the water fountain!" A variation on our usual tune that remedies the hiking & whining blues.

7. Unbearable gratitude as our time there came to an end. Both kids and mom saying thank you thank you thank you. Such beauty.

And now a few photos.

Adventurin'

Stay tuned for an obscenely detailed chronicling of our summer adventures thus far. We're determined not to let the summer slip by while we sleep and couch and laze about. We're out and about and journaling and photographing and well, basically annoying everyone who doesn't join in on the adventure with our incessant recapturing. Audiences here are tiring of us, I'm afraid. So you're next. I'll get some of the highlights up in the next few days (I think. I hope. I dare not promise.)

A Recent Explosion

Yesterday was a long day. Just one of those really long days.

And if that wasn't enough. Then there was an explosion.

The kids were parked and pizza-ed at tiny tables in the living room while I readied my own plate in the kitchen. And then something exploded. It sounded like a gun went off in the living room.

I ran around the corner and screamed, because I'm calm and super-mom like that, "WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?!!!!!" (remember that part about it being a really long day?). But staring back at me were not the guilty eyes of my usually guilty children. They were terror stricken and I knew immediately that they had had nothing to do with whatever the mystery bomb was.

And then I saw the slime. Dripping down the living room wall. And as my eyes scanned the dripping, they came to rest on what can only be likened to brain matter and more slime on the floor (hey, I watch Grey's Anatomy, I might know what brain matter looks like).

Panic.

Confusion.

Drive-by?

South Central?

Aliens falling through the ceilings and bursting through the walls?

WHERE DID THIS STUFF COME FROM?!

I won't tell you how many baffled moments passed before I thought to look in a bin of donated items that was sitting in the living room. I should mention here that we've become a clearing house of sorts for items intended for those less fortunate. Which is really, a fabulous thing. People generously giving. Sadly, they are all giving to me to give to someone else who, without fail, disappears or is in transition or yet to be disclosed, and the stuff piles innocently around our house until it finds its way to those in need.

And so, I finally look inside the bin of donated household items, a few books, a pie plate, picture frames etc. . . . . .and discover the alien gang members who'd recently assaulted both living room and unsuspecting children. . . . . refrigerator cinnamon rolls.. . . .with frosting.


It was a lovely thought to donate such a yummy treat. I will, however, need to be informed in the future if there are any perishable or otherwise unstable items in the boxes, bags and bins that I collect seeing as they've been in my living room for 3 weeks.

So the slime turned frosting was scrubbed from carpet and walls and the children don't seem to be suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome just yet, but we'll be sure to keep an eye on it.

Did I mention that it was a really long day?

Drive-thru Challenged

Anyone familiar with my eating habits knows that I am no stranger to the drive-thru. However, in recent months drive-thrus have become more challenging than I ever dreamed they could be.

Not since the days of 2-3 year old Bayley (who would ever so insistently request, loudly, a biscuit. Her little mouth however did not form the word biScuit but rather BigTi - well you can figure the rest)have I suffered such confusion at the drive-thru window.

We discuss the order to placed as we wait to speak into the frustrating little speaker box and we are all agreed on the plan, confident that each will be provided for. But somehow the minute I start talking Sedona panics and is sure that her order will be forgotten! So she chimes in, loudly, repeating things I've already listed. The poor soul on the other end of the speaker box doesn't stand a chance at accurately entering the orders. So we add and subtract and clarify and subtract an item again and then put on back on with no pickles and around and around we go.

Only to then realize after we've pulled to the window and handed over our money that in all the hubbub we removed one too many child-sized drinks. Arg.

Now, I have experience in this field. Not only is my own order often obnoxious in its specifity, but I also deal with it much more frequently than Jeremy, who is already drive-thru averse. If it can't be ordered entirely with numbers, ("I'll take a #2, #4 and 2 #5's please. All with Dr. Pepper. Yes that's all.") then it is already more trouble than it is worth to him. But this recent added confusion might just be enough to send him over the edge. Stay tuned.

**** A special note: This post was actually written umm, yeah close to a year ago, and somehow never posted. But I am happy to report that all have survived and grown more accustomed to the ways of the drive-thru window. Little ones have calmed and learned to trust that they probably won't starve and probably won't be served sheep's head. Plus, in an effort to become better people we don't see the drive-thru nearly as often as some of us might like to. ******

Imagining Invisible Friends

While the boy always had an affinity for tiny invisible friends, ones that would sit on the tip of your finger or be inadvertently (however routinely) squished by unsuspectig family members, Sedona's invisible world is not so invisible.

Sedona's imaginary friend looks remarkably like Sedona. Her name is "Sedona-seeka-lolla" which I imagine has some significance in Sedona-ese. A little blond girl wanders in and asks "Have you seen Sedona? I am her friend from school, Sedona-seeka-lolla." And I, of course, play along. Sedona-seeka-lolla and I talk for awhile about what kind of girl Sedona is, about tiny pink cats (a favorite in these parts of imaginaryland) and eventually she excuses herself to some other more important engagement. Moments later Sedona comes back into the room and says something like, "Hey, Mama. Have there been any girls here looking for me? What did they say? Where did they go?". There are also many many phone calls from long since disconnected and repurposed cellphones in which I am left to sort out whether it is Sedona calling me, her mother, or Sedona-seeka-lolla calling for Sedona. It is ever so confusing.

It is great fun and fortunately for me, not to the complete exclusion of tiny invisible creatures (with which I have some experience). She still carries a tiny pink cat in her hand every now and then. Not to mention the adventures of Sedona-ese.

She loves to draw and at the just-now 4 year mark, doesn't always capture the world in an easily recognizable fashion. So I say something encouraging and very nurturing like "That is lovely, Sedona (assuming it is, in fact, Sedona I am speaking with at that moment). I like all the different colors you used. What is it?"

The answer?
"smicka googa lolla seeka loo".

Ahh yes. How could I not have known?
Maybe we've been reading too much Dr. Suess. She always has enjoyed "On Beyond Zebra" which explores a few dozen invented letters and sounds that are used to describe much more interesting things than our sorry ol' 26 ever could.

Coolest kids ever?

The sketch solicited for Mother's Day. . . .
I can't not share. . .

Mama-mania

On the eve of Mother's Day I am presented with THE perfect Mother's Day present. Well, presents. Jeremy and the kids ventured to U City today and did some walking and some shopping and some eating of giant burritos. What their little adventure yielded though is a greater inspiration than they might have guessed.

In addition to an incredible caricature sketch of the kids, some rockin cds, and a lovely new windchime (for the wind took my earlier chimes away, tearing the strings, leaving silver tubes scattered across the yard), I got a book. Mamaphonic.

It is a collection of essays that insist that creativity does not die with the onset of mothering, but rather can truly begin. They are essays (the 4 I've already devoured anyway) that tell tales of creativity and perseverance with little ones. Scatter brained toddler years that put some artistic pursuits on hold while often birthing new ones. All the while the mind and heart of a writer, poet, artist, critic, dancer, lives on and grows into a newer, usually better, writer, poet, artist, critic, dancer.

Anyone who has spent time caring for young children knows how quickly the mind seems to go soft. How quickly the possibility of intelligent, coherent conversations with adults become impossible. How quickly the ability to form witty, or even intelligible, sentences seems to leave you.

I know this place. I know the lurking, stinking suspicion that the artist/writer/dreamer/thinker that once filled this skin has been replaced by a somewhat poorly kept, slightly larger, slightly sleepier, slightly stupider version of her former self.

I know the silly girl dreaming of greatness, sure that she was marked for something grand - just never sure quite what. And sometimes too sure that it wasn't this.

And then I stumble on moments that fall into places I didn't know had been left empty, gaping and without purpose or sweetness. I find wonderment again. I find an imagination again. I find out that this greatness is so much more.

I find the time somehow just before bed to go rambling on here. I find that my scattered brain may have just straightened itself out a bit - or at least scattered itself into something more adventuresome. I find a beginning.

And with this one silly book, I find a dream I had long since abandonned. A dream I had threatened to loose. A dream of being a mom who thinks, a mom who is still a whole person and not the barren rind of a cantalope, all its juicy sweetness sucked out, a shriveled empty remnant of what was, for a moment, something wonderful. A dream of being a mom who creates or at least basks in, if nothing else, wonder and excitement.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms who do just that in their very own ways. happy Mother's Day to one mom who believed I could too.

I CAN be taught!

So I went back into the previous post and with patient guidance from dearest husband, I learned to embed links.

Here, have another one:

Our other blog, (while sporadically tended), can be found at Sentralized Nuliks.

It chronicles a bit of our spiritual adventures and the details of our work with/on SENTralized this past year. There will also be a new SENTralized blog up shortly that is a public forum for all those interested in or involved with SENTralized, giving equal voice to any who can find their way to the keyboard as opposed to my voice telling the stories all the time. Should be welcome addition to our bloghappy bunch.

Help yourself, too, to the SENTralized site.

Enjoy!

Is my insanity showing?

For those of you who might have followed the afore mentioned directive from Mr. CEO* . . Here is a short list of favorite posts to keep you busy and give just a brief glimpse of what kinds of shenanigans we are typically up to around here. And yes, I am buying time to write something new. And no, I do not know how to embed links so you'll have to kick it old school on these.

Huge Butt

It isn't funny . . .

Who knew?

"Just kinda makes me, like, . ."

Ummm, well you see, I . . .

"I'll just, you know, protect the world from bad people."



Read on, brave ones!
More soon,
Jana

Busted. . .

I've fallen away.
Terribly, embarassingly, away. . . .
from this blog anyway. Though life here has hurried on.

While I figured you all (careful there - not ya'll) had long since abandonned hope. Then just this morning I notice on Jeremy's new blog a directive sending folks here!

You can imagine not only my surprise but certainly the frenzied writing that must ensue.

Rather than substance though you are left here with me talking about talking. Ah such beautiful meta-narratives.

So what has been happening here?
In bullets with promises to elaborate in the near (yes NEAR) future:
-The boy scouts.
-The girl lip synchs and dares us to consider submission to America's Funniest Videos
-Jana sunburns then blisters then sunburns then blisters. . . .
-Jeremy writes and sends Jana into a frenzy.

But really, things are good - in that "goooood" with a sigh kind of way. Life marches on and the kids are bigger and the days seem busier but really, we are having fun.

At a wedding recently, we commented to the Father of the Bride that he looked like he was a really good dad after seeing the slieshows showing him being, well, what looked like a really good dad (attentive, silly, thrilled with said daughter. present. . .)to which he smiled and replied, "I had a lot of fun."

And we just keep thinking today and tomorrow - don't miss the fun. This is the fun stuff. Slow down or run faster - doesn't matter. Enjoy one another.

And so we do.