g-force

vern likes gatorade. on special occasions he shares with the kids. like today as it is the only thing besides water to drink. water with a shot of something colored? fine. pure water? that's only accepted at bedtime apparently. we are two days into our juice and milk drought so i offered their father's oasis. these pore children surviving on the liquid of their grapes and peaches alone. vern's flavor of the week? 'rain'.

i notice they are on to the juicy juice 'harvest surprise'. the fruit-flavored v8 for kids. maddy will stand over me from 2 feet below as i open the fridge and silently demand with her pointer finger for the cherry rather than the fruit punch masked tomato and carrot.

but sugar water flavored to taste like...unfiltered water? they don't even bat an eye before sampling it. "what flavor is green?" "rain." "oh, i love the taste of rain!"

the economy's so bad

brett favre considered coming out of retirement just for the free gatorade.

out of the blue, i've developed a crush on leno.

go tell it on the mountain

one night hanging out at the ranch upstairs in grandma and grandpa's bedroom turned the east room turned mine, i heard my soon-to-be aunt head up to their room formerly the south room formerly my uncles' bedroom. where i imagined still to be the streak under the light switch from their nightly tossing of dirty clothes attempting to hook and pull it down to the off setting from their once was twin beds. i was nine or ten and in love with my dad's remaining younger brother. i had yet to really connect with my soon-to-be aunt.

i knew she didn't go to church. i decided guiding her to her Christianity would be an in-road. recently returning from church camp where carman's 'the champion' was a theme song, i played my audio cassette copy on the little boombox i'd brought with me. every few seconds turning it up a little louder. and then repeating the 6 minute long piece that was mostly spoken word about Jesus boxing the devil with an 80's opera-etic rock vibe again. i've no idea what i thought was going to happen, but i sat alert for some-something. and when some-something didn't, i would re-figure the thickness of our old wood doors and up would go the volume until i played an entire round at max. (which would have been heard downstairs had my grandfather not kept three tv's on at once, and all at their own unsafe-for-your-grandkids'-hearing level.) i imagined my soon-to-be aunt sitting on the bed with the Word of God floating around her. that she was either breathing it in to be transformed into a loving will-be-aunt who would bake cookies with me and take me shopping or was scowling at the air blowing it away.

after whatever time a nine or ten year old imagines to be a lot, with no-nothing from her room, i went downstairs leaving my soon-to-be aunt with her thoughts. certain whatever the outcome, i had done something good. i had just learned at church camp we were all called to spread the Good News. and Good News is what i, my little boombox and carman had spread through the air. loudly.

i clearly recall my grandfather greeting me "you want to dish up some ice cream for us? penny already went to bed with a bad headache, not feeling well."

and that's the only time i've ever gone up to the mountain top to proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord. sparked by want for personal gain. "and they'll know we are Christians by our love" is more my tune. not that defines me, but to which i aspire. and no doubt - for personal gain. i really suck whenever i try to take the wheel.

then. i saw this on the news and for the first time ever felt the missionary-bug, which for me, is saying an awful lot:

http://abcnews.go.com/Nightline/story?id=7613395&page=1

i cried. seeing children brutalized by a man wearing a picture of Jesus. the desire to scoop those children up and introduce them to Love was huge.

by chance that very night i ran across a blog about american idol with good news that "One of my college friends told me her mom and Kris' mom are friends and that he had told his mom before he got to the final that he needed one more week there because he had been witnessing to Adam and felt like he needed just a little more time with him." say what?

and over 100 comments under that i scanned through further praising kris for being a contestant we could all admire and what good work the Lord was doing through him and no wonder he won as he had God's Word on his side and... huh?

i don't watch american idol. i couldn't tell by the post or comments if adam is a declared atheist or what for everyone to be so united in their praise for his fellow contestant witnessing to him. i know he wears eye-liner thanks to my yahoo and the today show, but that's about it. also thanks to my yahoo and the first fifteen seconds of the view, i'm guessing the 'or what' is adam may be gay.

children in the congo accused of being witches and tortured in the name of Jesus. an american idol shoulda-been-winner gay. yeah. while there are some parallels i feel compelled to draw, i'll not. i am gonna stand on my mountain-high soap box that all mothers have over their own though and say: kids,

a) if you're like your uncle and feel a call to share your faith with someone you think is lost, keep that exchange sacred. sacred is not the blogosphere twittering away in prayer, praise and back-handed judgement because you opened your mouth and gossiped about your 'good works'. mothers will gossip regardless, esp if you win whatever form of american idol is around, but know in yourself to keep that type of thing between you, your friend and God. it's your friend's business to share and no one else's.

b) any faith, religion, can be perverted and abused and used as a weapon of discrimination, hatred, negligence or manipulation. when you think you know what a muslim, hindu or jew thinks, really consider your sources and dig a little deeper. keep in mind how some children have been introduced to Christianity. with hot wax and an image of Jesus on the offender's robe.

c) don't just go blaring your boombox around.

today begins our first summer vacation

the three and four/five year old classes merged for one pre-k-spacular spring concert/graduation 'with treats after' this morning.

some refer to our little mayberry town as a bedroom community. with the closest target a full hour away, i do not know how big they consider the house. seems our sleepy little village of 500 is more liken to an old pop-up camper out in the backyard. there's nothing wrong with camping, but mayberry-style there are few modern amenities. access to running water. toilet paper.

the kids performed at the community hall which is one big room with stage up and one big room with kitchen down. the 6 steps down sport a lift. it's old, taped together, the door is rumored to lock shut when you want off, and caleb hit a button while i was boarding. we nearly escaped catastrophe at goob's reception. so not child-proof. the full flight up has a dual entrance. from the north and south are two cases of steps meeting at a little square landing that make for a grand circle run up and down and around for the little kids. quite parent-proof. not as much joy for a wheelchair. funny how the easy 6 steps down have a lift, and yet up... testimony to mayberry's values: food above show.

vern carried me up to the see the kids sing about peanut butter and jelly and the senior pre-k class graduate with gown and paper cap. i also got my share of cake since we each - grandma, vern, myself and caleb - all got a dessert for maddy. vern. his back is our biggest blessing. i really should have thanked it by forcing grandma to eat maddy's overage.

it was a fantastic end to the year. caleb has learned what things are girl things, instructed us that he does not need to count past eleven - the number of kids in his class, renamed locomotives 'choo-choos', found his singing voice, and rhymes. it was exactly as we had hoped for his first year of social training. maybe a little less on the girl things, though - that has foiled any attempt at watching 'the little mermaid'.

i was so excited for the pre-school's open house last august. seems i even put on some make-up. the chance to meet other moms. to go in and help out at halloween and Christmas parties. to catch glimpses of caleb's life outside us - the budding social networks, snacks, projects, kid-isms. a little sad at how time was passing, excited to see around the corner of toddlerdom, and encouraged that with caleb's growing up would too be my in to the what and who and where around here. vern's from mayberry. his parents, siblings, siblings' spouses, siblings' spouses' parents, siblings' spouses' siblings... cousins. anyone not related went to school with someone who is. i'm not from here. that means everyone knows me, thinks i know them and introductions are rare.

when we moved here eight years ago i ran into the post office and locked the keys inside the running tahoe. in the rain. word of this got to my in-laws before noon that day. a year later and some mayberrians would still greet me at the postmaster's door "do you have your keys?" and chuckle along. me never knowing if it was the old school superintendent or farmer who ran the ground to the north of the farm before moving into town or... i believe that's why our postmaster bob took pity on me even though our senders never remember to correctly address mail to our po box. my great-aunts, on-line businesses and the federal government have a thing for using our street address instead - breaking postmaster bob's cardinal law of which he never fails to stamp or give hand-written reminders.

so for my great pre-k-spectations. we pull into the drive and see the pre-school, a large addition to the back of the director's house, is two stories with a split-level entrance. stairs up to go in, stairs down to his class. sets of families pouring in and out. no lift. just the sight set my eyes on fire. me and my bladder were way-pregnant and not up to vern carrying me in for the meet-and-greets. i sat outside. there would be no perks for caleb's mom. no networking. no special party days. no crafts, treats or kid-isms. life outside us for caleb would be void any interaction with his newly anointed s(tuck)ahm.

vern bussed maddy and caleb up and in. i pushed myself back to the passenger side of the tahoe, thanked my luck for vern having parked at the edge of the commotion and faced the bean field hoping my luck would hold and no one would notice me. crying. the more i tried to not, i did. i should have expected it. this is mayberry. the k-12 building is an old two-story relic herself and i have to go around the building just to get into the gymnasium. we're lucky to have a pre-school, much less expect it be up to some public code. still. i was completely caught off-guard.

that was hard.

in march the director decided to go back to nursing after ten years with the pre-k crowd. her fellow teacher will be carrying on the pre-school, "insert name 2", next fall. i've only met her once before - at goob's reception last week when i returned her wave thinking she merely relation or classmate of until caleb cried out "cindy!" and she came over, bent down to smile at owen and told me. in the house they are actively converting into the pre-school, she informed her husband the first order of business was to install a ramp.

i am over the moon. no more newsletters home thanking the parents who helped at x/y/z that did not include me. a few more days like today. when the only other mom i recognized came over with playdate offers finally putting me with caleb with vern's parents who brought him to and fro each day. confessing she felt lost with all these parents who knew each other from when they were in pre-school together, and her not being from around here. "we started brandon a couple weeks late. did they have an open house? i feel like i missed so much not meeting the other parents there! we never got to a good start." handily, her son and mine are good mates. her husband is vern's classmate and town electrician who rewired our house, also the cousin of our dear friend. so. i know a lot more about her than she might suspect. before i sound too towny, i might add she and hers were the only ones i knew. later vern spoke at length with his brother about all the characters present that went well over my head or observance...but that's where i go off on another tangent beyond my excitement for more days like today without requiring vern or his back as (pause for a breath) i was eating maddy's third portion of cake, caleb suddenly turned to me and said, "you know the best part of today! you won't ask me what i did when we get home! because you are here!"

otherwise known as a school year of: "what was for snack today?" "bunnies." "you ate bunnies, huh?" "yup." "and what were the bunnies made of?" "bunny stuff."

our friends turn older

today is my brother's birthday.

yesterday belonged to a bridesmaid and groomsman who have stuck it out with us separately since junior high and jointly through the eleven years vern and i have been together. nevermind the trials of the 8th grade, high school, or college. in just the past year or so being our friend has meant pulling our tahoe out of a ditch during a white-out blizzard. on a nearly shut-in gravel road. at 1-something am.

answering a cell one afternoon greeted with a muddle of high-pitched sobbing because salon girl cut caleb's bangs, and thus, all the boy's trade-mark charm and adding insult to horror his side-burns are cut to a long point and he doesn't even look like himself and please tell this man here he did a very bad thing having salon girl castrate caleb's mojo and it won't grow back - It Won't Grow Back In A Week - for my brother's wedding and Forever Caleb Will Look Like An Elf and i'm 36 weeks into a surprise pregnant and cannot walk or dance or even stand for family pictures and will forever look huge and wheelchaired and our dad is dead and you just don't chose willy-nilly at a time like this to cut off caleb's hair and you have to tell him because he Does Not Get It and thinks i am overreacting. probably getting this call for immediate crisis-intervention in the middle of target or lunch or? and undoubtedly with some words of support for the big bad him, gently expressing that now probably was not the time to have tried a new lord of the rings hair style for the boy.

those kinds of friends our children refer to as aunt and uncle, and not because we throw those terms around lightly. two of them shared a birth date yesterday.

their cards are yet here on the desk. along with my brother's.

we rock.

sweepers

vern's mom watched caleb here at the house while i worked mornings. in 4 or 5 hours she never failed to sweep, fold clothes, replace the toilet paper roll (even if it had another good day of use left), wash pans and load the dishwasher. it nearly drove me nutty because at the time i hated having anyone pick up after us. i used to stockpile unfolded clothes in our room and counted my one blessing: she feared our front-loader. i would plead with vern to make sure all our pans were clean before i lost all sense and stock-piled those behind our closed bedroom door as well. vern found it amusing. me. not his mother. he rather appreciated his mom taking over his household chore. when the dishwasher handle broke and required a special pull to open it vm could not get, i let out a sigh of relief. we have yet to get it fixed.

i stopped working when maddy was born. then one day last year we had to rush caleb to the er and his mom kept watch over her. in our haste to get out the door, absent from its keeping place, his mom still managed to inquire the whereabouts of our broom. "don't worry about it, mom. just enjoy playing with maddy." i giggled to myself. we were gone all of 45 minutes. clothes were sorted, dishes were drying in the rack and she was yet a fluster until vern went out to the garage where he'd left the broom. he then looked on helplessly as she swept our home. "really, mom, this is unneseccary." i found it amusing. him. and his mother.

so one can imagine my delight when yesterday vm dropped caleb off from pre-k. she opened his door and he came barreling out and up the steps. she did not close the door and follow with his back pack. she came around the car with a broom in hand. the outdoor broom from her garage. vern had mowed the night before. he never sweeps the clippings. she often comments on it. apparently yesterday after picking up caleb, she had reached her own breaking point. caleb raced for our broom and he and his grandmother happily cleared our entire walk.

i'm going to invite her over next week. i'll get the dishwasher door open, direct her to our stockpile of baskets in the bedroom and then play with my kids. and after that, i might even just let the older two go back to the farm with her for pb&j and chocolate milk while i...

the kids adore their grandparents, and i really love my mother-in-law.

graduates

our nephew threw his cap over the weekend.

the class of 1959 marched into ceremonies as the band played "crazy train".

all three children sat peacefully still.

goob celebrated at his open house complimenting the potato bar not with cake, but root beer floats. oh, wait. floats and cake for the lucky ones who stayed late to enjoy the eating of the serving ware table's edible decoration.

he told us where he intends to head the next time he graduates, a will-be graphic design guru: green bay to work for the packers. dude. working in our favor, goob has the same drive as his older brother who said at 18 he was going to be a funeral home director and is. all we need is for the third boy to become a skilled car mechanic and we'll be set for life. and death.

looking at the parents standing to receive roses from their graduates i realized i look more like the parent than child. parents just keep looking younger to me. the high school graduates, now tweens. i understand why when i graduated all my great-aunts and uncles kept commenting on how i was when i was five. indeed. i'm sure through their eyes that's how old i yet looked. as will caleb - only with his charming boy-ness looking up at me replaced with apathetic teen-ness looking down.

when i graduated from high school, mom gave me luggage. i told her not to waste money on the whole set because i could not begin to carry the monster-sized piece. she quite naturally responded as the set was being rung up that she knew i couldn't, but a husband most likely could. when i had a husband, that suitcase would no longer appear so grand in scale. the ease in how she said that, in passing and with certainty of the future like when i remind joel to pack burp cloths, awed me quiet.

mom's big undertaking was in going through all of her meticulously catalogued negatives to reprint any pictures i wanted from our family albums. mom took shots with her 35 mm like most normal people do with digital cameras now. a lot. her album pages held six a side, and lined the entire back wall of our basement. and every shot has the date, subject, roll and negative # on the back. it took weeks to go through it all, fill out all the reprint sleeves, re-file. that gift is the first 400+ of our family album collection.

"all the places you will go" by dr. seuss, one demand: graduate from college, and one strong encouragement: do not skip your honeymoon.

three years later i carried that green soft-sided behemoth with the matching hanging bag, toiletry bag, two carry-ons and a coat all by myself through mnpls airport when my connecting flight from mexico to home was missed. my knees crumbled a year's worth in that hour, but i did it. and now that i can't even carry myself, vern lugs that suitcase filled with clothes, diapers and security blankets about everywhere we go - even for the simple over-nighter.

looking through her albums now, i am so happy for things like scanners and photoshop to get the shots my 18 yr old self did not find the value in.

this is where my mind wanders during every graduation season. mom.

newsworthy

this morning it is not the fda going after cheerios. now caleb thinks they are bad for us and positions we may as well allow him to eat cinnamon toast crunch every morning. with a side of apple jacks.

i suppose it could be worse, and he could be discussing with me whether miss california should lose her title.

i've had my head in the sand all week. intentionally. with spite. such are the petty day-to-day goings-ons. otherwise known as marriage which God gifts us to further refine ourselves. my flaws boil to the surface and then - well. they get a proper sanding down after i've cooled as i pull my head out again.

the family of a dear friend was involved in a boat explosion in tampa. our neighbor's scary dog finally did break his chain. he mauled the neighbor a yard over while we five were playing in our backyard, separated from where the dog was kept by a few mere feet.

for weeks i prayed every night God simply grant me an extension. just a little more time to do a little bit better. we got pregnant. i always thought that was kind of funny. not really the extension i meant.

i feel like i'm wasting this relatively easy span of time with sand in my eyes. but. i'm also very thankful we have this (relatively easy span of time) to work on the deeper crap no one has energy for once newsworthy happens.

the cheesiest

jeremy williams and i had an on-going challenge to see who could eat the most macaroni-n-cheese. i remember this as vividly as i do swallowing lima beans whole and that cinnamon did not make warm squash taste better. mom babysat. proper nutrition was saved for supper.

even so.

this never occured to me until just today. i about dropped the spoon i was using to divy up mac-n-cheese for the kids: how many kraft boxes did she mix up to aid in our weekly throw-downs? it's been a savored childhood memory. 8 bowls. one summer day i ate jeremy under the table with 8 bowls, and until an hour ago i had never questioned my record's integrity though jeremy did appeal the last bowl should not qualify as a full portion. i countered that i had beaten him with the 7 th to finish up what was left in the pan. not only could i eat more, i was faster.

where my mom was in all of this, i have no recollection. but at 9 or 10 we were certainly not feeding ourselves. and if not for this battle of the mac with jeremy williams i would not believe my mother to ever have let us eat so much of anything in one sitting. she had to have been staging the repeat helpings for us with 2 or 3 bites to a round. had to.

being a mom now. it casts light onto the shadows surrounding some of my fondest memories. i see a new side of who my mom was back then. i like that part. we'll see when maddy hits her tweens and illuminated is what mom must have been doing when i was one. i don't go overboard for mother's day. but in 10 years? the brain cells might be so bright with understanding that i'll be sending my mother a truck load of roses.

pretty toes

i read the first of suggestions from my old college roommate, snow flower and the secret fan, in three sittings last friday. wholly neglecting supper, bath, story, bed and all-heck-broken-loose times. i vaguely recalled later hugs and kisses good-night. it'd been a really long time since i sat down with a book. we had an affair.

it struck me how i was reading a tale about women whose futures were predicted almost entirely on the beauty of their feet. their feet after being bound and broken and reformed into 3" long 'golden lillies'. and when i say women, i really mean little girls. i realized i squint when i am horrified, and it's really hard to read while squinting.

i was born with feet. not raw golden lily material by any stretch of the imagination. as a child i used to imagine where they were. so odd the idea that a part of your being could be lopped off, bagged up and - incinerated like garbage. i finally expressed concern that my feet were just lounging around a landfill to my mother, and she clued me in. this eased my mind that they were not among mounds of disposable diapers nor would i one day bump into them floating in a big gallon jug along with the old basemented canning jars. i was 6 months old when they were removed and the process of reconstructing my knees began.

dad told me had i been born any earlier, and i'd have spent my life in an institution. earlier still, and society would have had my infant skull crushed against a rock. and in this day of ultrasounds, aborted.

i went to mexico my junior year of college. visiting the pyramids, my professor quietly told me had i been born in that ancient society, i'd have been considered a god. that still makes me smile a little, though i know i would have caved under the pressure. i mean a god. having my food brought to me while living in temple luxury is a nice idea, but i'm sure i would also have been expected to have grand thoughts. and possibly speak in public. i would surely have been found out eventually. or murdered by the Christian invaders. or on a really bad day, both.

after squinting and squirming for a good half hour, i had to laugh again. i can only imagine a matchmaker's reaction at seeing my toes. having a crushed skull might have been more out of bewilderment than brutality. and i have to let go of the idea wandering in the background that vern is a little off for finding what's left after my surgeries and amputations to be beautiful in its own right. i'd never considered a pretty foot or lower limb to be such a subjective thing. or at least extend so far beyond the preference of polish color and heel height. i so owe my husband a cookie. or at least one night off to sit and read si's 'brett favre' while i tackle the kids.

what she said

the last 12 lines of this. i had a little light bulb moment. i needed one. bookmarked in this way because sometimes i forget to keep charging that socket's battery and allow what lightens to dim.