The boy loves him some trees. . .

Can't find Jordan? Check the middle to top of the nearest tree - even if it appears impossible for humans to climb. This is where the boy spent an ever increasing amount of time this summer and now, into fall he is only more determined to commission a tree fort for next summer. I am so with him. I want a tree fort. A lot.

I had another picture where he was actually smiling and loving life but a branch obscured the rest of his face and well, I make no claim to be a photographer. So here is a slightly over exposed and under focused shot instead. But hey, you get the idea, right?

Alright, Alright!

So I get it. . . I totally suck at this blogging thing now. So much for my grand future as a mighty internet presence, mocking trends, establish chic, displaying my dazzling intellect for all the world to see.

Alright, so clearly I was never getting there anyway, but a girl can dream can't she? Well, I say she can if and especially if she has been cooped up with sick kids for what is nearing 173 hours. Yes, 173 hours. Translated into sanity, let's see, if you carry the one and subtract five, multiply by 2, yes that sounds about right. . . . you get COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY LOSING IT.

I yelled at a sick kid a little while ago, sent him to bed, even harassed him a ways down the hall. Yes, I'm very proud. I will say only this. . . every woman has her breaking point. Mine happened to be somewhere during hour 14 of screaming and wailing hysterics about a headache. Now to some it might seem like the child was in severe pain and I am a wretched excuse for a mother. Some might be right. But I'd like to add that the screaming increased whenever I ventured past the doorway. Coincidence? Instructions and gentle meditation to help ease him to sleep with a hunch that sleep is just about the only thing left that might help . . . . flailing, wailing, screeching. It has been heck of day.

Sedona started this little adventure last Sunday with fever, headache and the eventual vomitting. Jordan took a sympathy day on Monday and pretended to be sick with her all day. All the high maintenance without any of the actual ailing symptoms of a real sick person. And so it has gone back and forth all week. I even managed to get in on the fun and spent all of Thursday in bed. Hoo-hah!

Alright, clearly I've lost my mind. But maybe someone out there who has sick sick kids who refuse to take the necessary steps toward healing (e.g. sleeping, being quiet, closing your eyes when suffering from a headache) might know the crazy little place where I'm standing.

I remember a time when a little boy was my only responsibility. He'd get sick, I'd sit and hold him, rock him, cuddle him back to health. We doted. He healed. Life moved on. Ahhh if only there weren't 7,000 other things happening in and around this house and a screeching 9 yr old that doesn't quite fit completely in these achy arms of mine so that I might sit and cuddle for days. But there's that other kid who requires feeding and washing and hugging and loving too. Hmmm.. .. that's a little bit more complicated isn't it?

Ah well. . . I suppose my self absorbed ranting should draw to close at some point. So here's to a good night's sleep and a tomorrow.

New digs?

After a measly 6 months, yes 6 months, the rabbit who remains nameless finally has new digs.
Well, I think so anyway. Are the "digs" the clothes or the shelter? He surely does not have new clothes as we simply do not ascribe to the dressing of pets, well particularly rodent type pets, in clothes but never you mind that - new shelter is what he does have.

Sedona still calls him "baby rabbit" and Jordan occasionally calls him "Carrot". Oddly enough, we learned that rabbits don't actually eat much by way of carrots. Rather, ours prefers lettuce and apples. A perfectly respectable choice.

I know you've all been dying to know the latest in the rabbit world.

Where ya goin?

There are only two answers to this question in our house. . .
1. upstairs to take a bath (please note: we do not have an upstairs)
2. crazy.

In hopes that we might help you better understand answer #2, you can share in a minute or two of our craziness. This is on the way to Naperville a few weeks ago. You can't really see the little buggers, but you'll hear plenty. Keep in mind also that Sedona apparently watched part of Bring It On (much loved cheerleading movie) just the day before. . . . explains a little bit about her tone.




And on the way home:
"If you don't quit horsing around, somebody is going to get hurt!"

Bloodied but still darn funny. Guess which one has the actual bloody nose and which one is "just helping make it better and to remember what to do"?

Rainy day pink

While baking has always been a rainy/snowy day favorite around here, Sedona added a little extra flare to our hurricane induced 12 hours of non-stop rain (thank you, Gustav) today with pink food coloring in the chocolate chip cookies. I can't say that once they were cooked they actually looked pink, I also can't say that judging when they were done was easy, but boy oh boy that pink batter was fun!

A father writes a sappy, selfish end-of-summer benediction

May you remember the summer and learn to appreciate the strength that lies in young energy and imagination.

May you never sweat the details, but understand that it is the little things that mean so much.

May you never settle for a life in which you are not challenged.

May you learn to appreciate the cosmically powerful forces behind the phrase: What the fuck?

May you never ashamed of your shortcomings, but understand that those are signs of your strengths.

May you have enough wisdom to reject those damned e-mail forwards with presentations to download and empty promises. Those are for people who don’t have enough to do. If you find yourself participating in these…find a hobby.

May you fall in love with the part of you that is God. May it become larger due to this love and attention.

May you continue pissing people off…they need to be shaken up a bit.

May you be willing to accept others’ weaknesses.

Wrestle and struggle against an idea as long as you need to…you’ll fully learn it that way.

See the power that words can have, and yet understand how useless 26 characters, 10 numbers and a handful of punctuation can be in comparison to daily action.

May you understand that there is no human-made political party that can hold a monopoly on God, His agenda or His ideas. Despite conventional wisdom, this is true even during an election year. If He fit into a party, then He would not be God. Believe instead in a kingdom outside of politics that is yet to be fully understood.

Understand that your parents are doing the best they can, and that, in the end, they too are broken people on the same crooked path. We happen to be on it a few years longer, but experience is not always the best indicator of wisdom.

May you fall in love with God's sense of humor.

May you never be afraid to cry during A Christmas Story or laugh in the middle of your parents’ funerals.

Don’t apologize so much, but continue on to make amends.

May you always seek what makes you similar to your fellow Earth travelers and not look for difference.

May you never fall victim to a fear filled existence.

May you struggle with your concept of God. May you nag Him with questions and sometimes forget the answers.

May you reject the media and artificial wisdom and focus on guiding axioms.

May you seek to understand others instead of judge them.

Allow this life to be full experience.

May you be patient with yourself and your abilities. You were made for a certain purpose. Stop searching for it and just be. If you figure this out, please let me know how you did it.

Try to understand that most of the things that others tell you and that you tell yourself are lies learned through repetition and redundancy and repetition. Don’t assume anything to be an absolute truth until you have struggled against it, and it has won.

May you always keep track of good friends and see yourself in their struggles.

May you pray ceaselessly for the wisdom of when to speak and when to shut your mouth.

May you always find what is fulfilling for your soul and pursue it tirelessly.

May you not get hung up on “the why” behind what you do, but jump in and trust God won’t drop you on your head.

May you always use the left lane for passing, and the right lane for being old.

May you find the strength to forgive yourself when you know you are the perpetrator of wrongs.
May you get to know old farts. Especially ones with a lot of scars. Ask them lots of questions. Scars are the indication of wisdom. They have much of it to impart.

Never be ashamed to be called any of the following: radical, unpatriotic, irreverent, smart-ass, asshole, jerk, obsessed, nauseating, inappropriate or late for a meeting. Working for others’ satisfaction will only tire you.

May you never be true to yourself, but only to God in the way you understand Him.

May you learn to love others for the parts of them that are yet to unfold. You don’t even know everything about yourself anyway.

May you learn to forgive your parents for their insistence upon imparting you with knowledge, for kissing you on the head in front of your friends, for growing impatient with you, for documenting parts of your life for all to read and for crying at your preschool graduation. They are loving you the only way they know how.

Guess who?

See that fine, bald gentleman in the second row, far left? (you might need to click the image to get an enlarged and clearer view).

"Well, umm. . . does he have ear puffs?", Sedona asks when trying to guess who I am.

I love a good boardish game in the morning.

Journals from the end

or beginnning, depending on where you stand. We are two weeks back into school routines and structured days and I'm weary already this morning, missing our wide open summer days. And so I reminisce (yes from only two weeks ago). Here are some notes that closed out this sweet summer.

"monkeys again. in cool unusual end of summer air. the crushing stillness of bugs and birds, air rattling leaves. somehwere a motor runs, whacking back nature grown over.

cheeto smears on mosquito bitten cheeks. a good summer sign. sign of time outside. sign of carefree messy snacks. (and questionable hygiene). a good summer sign.

I don't want to go back home! to tvs and computers. I want nothing to do with software or plastic, brochures or email blasts. I just want the breeze. even the occassional menacing insect I welcome. I want imaginations laughing and running unconifend by furniture or carpet or walls. I want space.

the sudden crescendo of crickets and tree frogs that rises up all around. then fades slowly only to swell again. creature sounds carried on the wind.

it isn't an attic fan or the whir of the washing machine. the electricity that brings o house to life tires the soul. there's a new electricity out here. rather, an life unconfined by time and flesh, One that simply is.

crunching through end of summer grass, dried and weary beneath our feet, we stalk butterflies.

moments to etch on backs of eyelids:
-Sedona squeals as she dives onto the swing, belly flops, arms and legs flailing as gravity yanks her out of the sky.
-Jordan remembering the differences between dragon and damsel flies. Slow and quiet enough to make not of which it is on the purple flowers and which tend toward the yellow petals.
-the feeling that we could have (should have?) spent all summer on trails and swings.
-orphaned spider monkeys in snow"