Ten short days...

That's all it took. Ten days of schooly, first-grade togetherness and boom, Fionna has her first communicable illness, the familiar nurse's call comes, and she's home for the day.

Good ol' pink eye has reared its head two weeks into school. Let's hope the rest of us escape it. And let's hope she's good enough tomorrow for her dentist appt. that's already been rescheduled three times. *~*~crossed fingers*~*~

Could it be like water on the brain?

Yesterday was titled "peaches on the brain" for good reason. Ditty after ditty, nursery rhyme, what-have-you flitted through my skull, all focusing on peaches. Granted I did peel and cut peaches for 3 hours, only 1.5 of which did Ainslie sleep for (meaning sticky hands plus knife plus baby is tricky stuff). But seriously, why does such nonsensical stuff just keep popping up?

So, today, I'm back to work in my peach "pit" (hardy har har har) and now I've got the text of Jamberry lilting through my cranium. Granted, it's one of our favorite books (especially Grady's) and I do love to read it but, gee, the peaches are bad enough without the accompanying lyrics. I think I'll just succumb....

Moonbery
Starberry
Cloudberry sky

Boomberry
Zoomberry
Rockets shoot by

Mountains and fountains
Rain down on me
Buried in berries
What a jam jamboree!

Peaches on the brain...

There was a chick named Renee and she had so much to do.

She picked dozens of dozens of peaches and decided to can them too.

Peach butter, cobblers, maybe jam, mmm.

Now she's working like a mad-woman. Oh yeah, got to tend the family too.



How did they use to do this? And without the conveniences I have, plus two, three times the number of children. Or, maybe that's how -- they put the offspring to work. Unfortunately, Grady has pronounced my peaches and all products thereof yucky. Fionna is great baby help but alas, she's at school...

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I wrote this yesterday but didn't get it published. Today, the tables are turned because Fionna is home from school (another post) and it's not any easier. LOL! Hats off to my grandmothers and all those pioneer women before them, boiling water in kettles over wood stoves and fires, no dishwashers for sterilizing or air conditioners to relieve the house of the cooking heat. The world may indeed be in a downward spiral socially in so many ways, but no one can say we don't have it easier.

"Dread"-ful picture

I'm being asked fairly often these days for an updated dreadlock photo, at least by the folks that only get to encounter me online for the most part. I've been wanting to get photo documentation of my dreadlock process (I think they've been in for 3 months now) but seldom have any photographers around (Grady persists in shooting me at waist level, if he gets me in the frame at all). So, this morning I got Lenny to snap a quick shot before I headed off to church (yes, this hairstyle is appropriate for the type of church I attend, lol). I know, not technically a good shot to show you dread progress but it will have to do for now. Note the slight glimpse of a lovely hairwrap I'm sporting, compliments of Tawnya. She'd done it awhile back but one of the charms tore out. So, she redid it this weekend. It's green-brown-coral-black and sports a goddess charm and sunflower charm. Body/hair jewelry at it's best, I do say. :)

Update on the wee one...

I think one of the strongest signs that I'm a third-time mom rather than a first-time mom is that this blog isn't really dominated by all those "updates" that seem to crucial the first-time around. I remember belonging to a bulletin board "birth month" community when pregnant with Fionna and on into her infancy. The littlest things were update-worthy ("pooping every other day now," "tomorrow we'll start sweet potatoes"). I'm not poking fun because I remember how deeply immersed and invested I was in each of those milestones. Our hearts truly do live outside of our bodies as we have children and, especially with the first, everything seems so new and poignant.

Having said that, I'll also confess to having come full circle. Poor Ainslie -- her baby book shows heavy signs of the "third baby syndrome." Meaning that, well, it's got a couple of completed pages, not much more. I decided maybe I better take a page out of my over-enthusiastic parenting book and share an update, seeing as how she just had a nice doctor's check-up and is really on the verge of exciting milestones.

So, at 13 months, she finally hit the 18 lbs, 2 oz. mark. This is up from 16 lbs. just three weeks ago which does make me wonder about the accuracy of that weighing. I'm sure the 18 lbs. is right as I questioned it and watched them confirm. Or, rather than doubting the old one, I can just take pride in the power of mama milk. She is 29" long. She's in the 3rd percentile for weight, mommy-brain dooms me not to remember the height percentile. We're vaccinating on a very delayed and customized schedule. She's only had dtap and hib vaccines so far and did receive one of each at the check-up. We've had some concern because she had a lump in her very little left breast. But, it appears to have "vanished" which supports the theory that it's hormonally-influenced by my hormones through the breastmilk. The doctor has no concern about it whatsoever which is very nice news to me.

On the food front, Ainslie is becoming an enthusiastic eater. Fruits, lately watermelon and peaches, are a big favorite, and she'd eat an avocado a day if I could keep them around the house. This, however, does not lessen her fondness for nursing. :)

Her eating prowess may be related to her mouthful of teeth. She's currently sporting nine with three molars working hard to pop through. She is struggling mightily with those molars but still is so happy-go-lucky. A cheery little spirit, my Ainslie. And she has more teeth at this age than the other two did.

She only has a three definite words so far -- mama (only heard when she's extremely desperate for me), "og" meaning "dog," and "Oh" meaning "Mo" (the puppy). We're working on signs. So far, panting for dog is all she does, although I'm fairly certain she understands the signs for nursing, water and duck. Oh, and she understands "chick chick" although I don't sign for that as I've been using the bird sign for duck and didn't want to confuse things.

For quite some time now, Ainslie has been a climbing fiend. Up a chair, onto the table, down the other side and back up the chair again. Or up on the kids' plastic picnic table. She can get on the beds and couches unassisted now. And found a little cheating way to get on the cedar chest and stand at the living room windows. She's actually pretty stable and has only fallen a time or two, but it still gives heart attacks to walk into a room and find her standing on the kitchen table or something (if you've read old posts, you'll understand when I say she still hasn't managed to get on the stove as I once accused).

On the big milestone front, she is so near to walking. She can stand unassisted (both without pulling up and without support) for quite awhile. And she always smiles the biggest smile and scans the room to make sure it's been noticed. She is walking very enthusiastically with our little push walker. In fact, if it was a more maneuverable design, I think she'd be all over the place. As it is, she can't turn it so she'll zoom back and forth as long as someone is willing to turn her around, over and over and over again. Then back to crawling it is. (BTW, that's why the pictures here are blurring. I was walking backward as she zoomed forward at me.)

Where are they now?

My children that is.

Well, I'll start with the obvious. Fionna is at school; the two little ones are home with me. Grady, of course, is naked. Ainslie is bare-butted. I mean, is there any other way to be?

Grady was just shortly ago drinking his morning "choci milk" and looking at this way cool book we were given for their birthdays. Food for Thought is so creative and original, it can keep it him busy on his own like few other books we own.

He's moved on now to making pictures for me with foam stickers.

Ainslie is exploring the role of "Destructo Girl." She's discovered unshelving books, oh glory be...

So I was wrong...

To give Grady full credit, maybe his cry-fest wasn't completely unfounded over the bike crash. The next morning he awoke sporting a fabulously puffy eye.

And now a few days later, a nice dark bruise and lump remain on the outer edge of his eyebrow. Naturally, now that he's past the initial upset, he actually is quite pleased with himself. The story has already morphed into the tale of his "mega-crash" and how he didn't get *really* hurt because he's indestructable. That's my boy...

Busy with a capital "B"

What a weekend. I may be the quiet, hole-up-with-a-book kind but my kids, not so much. Let's see, last week was the first week of school, so that automatically vamped up our schedule a notch. Friday afternoon we had a lovely playdate with local friends and friends who moved from town but call us when they're passing through (Hi Shaela! *waving*). Great playdate -- the kind where the kids are making up total imaginary games in the best possible way and playing in a big group AND the mommies get to talk. We rushed from there to a movie night at Kamy's to watch the long awaited "High School Musical 2" only to realize we had a scheduling snafu. The movie was playing 3 hours later than Kamy realized and she had conflicts, so I end up coming home with 2 extra girls for a sleepover. Flash forward three hours, three pizzas, lots of nail painting, and it's finally movie time. The kids (including Grady who was exhausted but determined to have his "first sleep over") watch the movie, and I head to bed with Ainslie. Lenny was holding down the movie fort as nighttime tv is his "thang." Thank goodness for him as he carried sleeping girls to sleeping bags at 11 and was still up at midnight to handle the "call my dad so I can go home" scenario. Next I know, it's 7 a.m. and two awfully exuberant girls (considering their bedtime) wake me up for "we want breakfast and tv." Their choice -- ramen noodles and Sponge Bob. I know, you're cringing. Heck, I was kinda cringing, although it was pre-coffee so my cringe-reflex was down. But sleep-overs are a rarity for us and this one had been highly promoted as being the ultimate, so ramen and Sponge Bob it was (I'm sure they'll survive). After a bit of tv, it was dress-up, play with the chickens and jump on the trampoline. I walked the dogs, came home and got all kids dressed (Lenny had headed up before I was up) and took our guest home. Then, onto the next crazy busy activity of the weekend, the zoo (in nearby one hour away town that I'm not naming, lol). We met up at the house of a friend from Fionna's kindergarten class last year. She's moved to a new school but her Grandma and I are working to keep the girls friendship together since they get along so wonderfully. So, off to the zoo. I lucked out because Grady, who was so disgruntled that first Fionna had a sleep-over and now a friend for this, fell asleep for the ride, as did Ainslie. We hit the zoo for a couple of hours and had pretty good luck seeing animals, considering the heat this time of year. The hands down favorite for all I think was the sea lion exhibit. We all liked the underground (air conditioned, hooray) room where we just sat and watched and watched. Then, we headed out for a lunch at a fast food place with a play area (again, thankfully, air conditioned) where the kids played for another hour or so. Then it was home. Again, I hit the sleeping kid jackpot because Grady and Ainslie slept on the way home AND stayed asleep for probably another two hours once we got home. Lenny was napping too, so Fionna and I vegged together.

Today, Sunday, I walked the dogs again. Then Fionna, Ainslie and I headed to church (we attend our local Unitarian Universalist church), while Grady got to go do a couple of tows with Lenny. Later this afternoon, we visited a local park where the highlight was Grady taking a spectacular fall on his like-bike and getting only a small scrape for which he cried as if his neck was broken. No one can say my kids don't do drama...

So, how's that saying go? Oh yeah, I need a weekend to recover from my weekend. ;)

And finally...Ainslie at O-N-E!

Grady at 4...

(BTW, we haven't gotten Ainslie's pics taken yet. She keeps getting mosquito bites on the face. Grrr...)

Fionna at 7...

These were done at our local Sears portrait place. It's my tradition to do pictures near their birthdays.

"Now we live on a farm!"

No, we haven't moved. But evidently we now meet Fionna's list of requirements for "living on a farm." The list? Here it is:

cats to catch mice -- check (never mind that they are indoor-only cats and there better not be any mice)

a sheep dog -- check (Mo, our new puppy, technically a bird dog but that's just a technicality)

chickens -- as of Sunday, check

a dog "just for fun" -- check (Munch, our old dachshund)

By the way, the first picture is of the chicks in our bathtub. Lenny jumped the gun a little and picked up the chicks before building a coop. So they hung out in the tub for a couple of days while he built during his spare time (aka about 5 minutes per day). And the picture of Ainslie is her being enraptured by the chicks which she calls "og" and "oh," both words for Mo, the dog, her new favorite thing.

I hope, where ever you are, it's good...

My mother-in-law passed from this life yesterday. Ida Otero B..., born February 22, 1944, died August 1, 2007.

If I had to come up with a theme of my MIL's life, I'd say she did the best she could with what she did. I think it's probably a trait of a dying generation but she just accepted her lot, accepted what life gave her, and lived it.

I know she grew up very, very poor in a Spanish-speaking family with at least five children in the family. She dropped out of school in the 8th grade to work. A heavy smoker her entire life, she told me once that she imagines she started the habit when she was 10 or 11.

The mental picture I have of Ida isn't a rosy one necessarily. Although not necessarily of a man of many words, my husband also doesn't spare words, doesn't bother to brighten up a difficult story. The story of his growing up involves largely his mother's alcoholism. He's grudgingly and briefly mentioned details like sitting on her lap in the car, her operating the peddles and he steering, to drive her to a bar or liquor store. He imagines that he was 7 or 8. He remembers being stopped by a cop when they were driving like this once. The cop merely told him to get his mom home safely. He remembers driving her to the bar like this and then falling asleep in the car waiting.

I don't mention this to denigrate Ida. How can I? -- Alcoholism is a beast that ravages many a family. I mention it instead because she beat the beast. Institutionalized at some point in my husband's childhood (he doesn't remember how old he was), she quit drinking. And never, ever drank another drop. Surrounded by alcoholics, social drinkers, you name it, she never succumbed again.

The last few years have been hard. Lenny's dad died about two and a half years ago. Again, in the tradition of a by-gone era, Ida seemed cast adrift without her husband. She lost her home, her car, lived in numerous rentals and temporary places. But again, I never saw her rail at life or her lack of "having." She just kept on. And certain things never changes. Fresh tortillas every morning, weak coffee, comforting and traditional foods (for this family) like chile con carne, beans, mashed potatoes, whatever, she always offered what she had.

I know, these details don't add up to much. They seem pitifully small. But in my mind, and I know the minds of her family, they paint a picture of a small, simple woman who kept on going, as long as she could.

Where ever your spirit has gone to rest, I wish you happiness and peace. Know that your grandchildren will be taught to appreciate your love and tradition.