Secret Lives Of Children

Saturday by Rieshy
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One of the joys of teenaged children is the solving of family mysteries.  Who broke your antique cookie jar ten years ago might be confessed during a family dinner as your teens choke on their green beans with laughter.

 I was given a rag doll when I was two.  Forty five years has not been kind to it, yet it is the only childhood toy that I truly loved and when I look at it I feel cozy inside.  Think Jessie Doll feelings of attachment.

Evidently when my children look at it they see a crazed murdering figure that may or may not come to life at any moment.

My youngest daughter once told me that she liked it too so I gave it to her and told her she could play with it at anytime.  Yesterday it was revealed to me that she only told me that she liked it because at the time she was afraid it had heard us discussing it.  She was trying to flatter and appease it so it wouldn't exact horrific revenge.

Doll appeasement, and at great price because I was so excited that she actually liked it that for a time I placed it lovingly on her bed.

My 8 year old son heard our conversation and revealed that he and his younger brother both find it, "really freaky, especially the way it sits high up on the bookshelf and looks around," furthermore he confessed, with a nervous head-twitch towards my bedroom door, it is why neither of them like to go into my bedroom.

Ah, another mystery cleared.  I had noticed the mad dash my two youngest always use when they have to fetch something from that side of the house.

So- young mothers, one day probably at a holiday dinner, you will discover how and why your son really cut his hand (perhaps while making carrot puppets with a butcher knife) or how that the garage trash can "spontaneously" caught fire (spontaneous- meaning tennis-can cannons)  Most importantly, if you want your kids to stay out of your bedroom; buy a doll.


I submit to you a lovely photo of "Boopie".  Freaky?  I think not. 






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Focus

Monday by Rieshy
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For reasons that I cannot presently remember I decided to cut back to 2 cups of coffee a day.

Today was the day.  I tried to relish my first cup, to truly be, "present in the moment" as I sipped my (nectar of the gods) french roast.  I burned my tongue.  Seriously?  I haven't burned my tongue since I first began drinking coffee at the ripe old age of 5.  My children call me Asbestos Woman.

That's been the high point of my day.  I am also out of chocolate and didn't have time to go running.  So I decided to go outside and breathe while my boys took a break in their fort.

I saw.

  
Not exactly the authorized storage facility for those tools.


 Is any child's play place complete without a rusty can o'nails handy?


I headed back inside so my head could explode in quiet.  Luckily I turned to take a couple more shots.

My kids helped me plant this tree when it was small enough to fit in my car's back seat.


Happy mistreater of tools that they are, I love that they have the time and place and imagination to build in fresh air.  

I made tea, my head didn't explode, they cleaned up the tools, my 13 yo scouted for loose nails.
Sometimes it's all about where you point your camera.





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Unintended Consequences

Tuesday by Rieshy
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With the exception of a hiking trip, Fall Break at my house this year is not very sexy; it's yard winterizing,  less limited movie/computer time and slightly more festive food, and pumpkin carving.



It's also paper writing time.

Is there anything more fun than writing research papers over fall break? What about teaching children how to write research papers?

Actually,  I love research papers... if only a pesky moral base initially inculcated by my upbringing and then later internalized hadn't interfered I would have loved running a business writing other people's research papers.  I even think teaching my own children how to do a research paper could be fun.  Except it's usually not.

They may attempt a smile (or not) but I'm not feeling the joy.

Winterizing the yard- what's not to love?  Wind, slight rain, mud, that earthy autumn smell, sweat and sore hamstrings. Some of us felt the joy. My 6 yo in begged me for all of us to work together in the yard again this morning.    I got to say, "You will have to wait until tomorrow to work in the yard."  My 19 yo (piano performance major and thus hand-selfprotective) had fun working with her little brother digging up bushes, plus the bonus of enjoying a joyous adrenaline rush when said 6 yo missed her hand by an inch while chopping at a stubborn root ball.  Give a 6 yo a pick axe...





Personally, life is fun.  Even the nitty gritty paper writing.  Having a week "off" is fun- even if it is a lot of work.  Long ago I learned that well-rested, well-fed, and underworked children get bored and fight.  Whereas well-rested, well-fed, and tired-from-work children appreciate life.

But in the end it boils down to deciding to love life.  I can't make my children love life; I can't even make them be happy but they can look around and see concrete things that they know they accomplished or learned and feel competent.  It's a step.

At the very least they can look forward to the relaxation of starting back to school... and my yard looks tons better.


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Farewelling

Thursday by Rieshy
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I dropped my two middle children off on a 4 day hiking trip this morning.  My in-car farewell was a general, "Don't break anything by being stupid." Which was followed by a short, extremely pointed, and child specific:  "Don't jump off anything high!"- actually this was repeated 3 full times a little louder each time and, "Don't lord it over your brother."

I'm sure my children heard, "Blah, blah, blah, blah... we are here."

Hopefully, even through all their hyper-ness and excitement they also heard the subtext of, "I love you and will (eventually) miss you both terribly."

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Green Summer Past

Wednesday by Rieshy




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My last time here I was bemoaning the Boot.  I tore my gastrocnemius muscle (which sounds really gross and intestines related but isn't) and spent the entire summer decked out in a sweaty hot black ortho boot.  It was one busy boot.  Our summer was a whirlwind of activity partially because of this young beautiful Swiss woman living with us for the summer.


Among other things we drove 19 hours to and from Colorado to visit one of my sisters, have fun with Grandparents and share the scenery with our visitor.  It was amazing and I did NOT GET ONE PICTURE. Not one.

Did you know you can hike in the Rocky Mountains in an ortho boot?  Many, many miles in fact.

Did you know you can belt-test for Goju-Shorei Karate in an ortho boot?  If you have awesome Sensei like I do you can.  Hardest test ever.

Then to end summer with a bang my 18 year old broke her jaw... in 3 places (along with 10 stitches and some wicked road rash) while trying out long-boarding.



Did you know you can't do anything with your mouth wired shut?  Really- not much of anything at all.

The moral of the summer to a western tune: Momma's, don't let your babies grow up to be long-boarders.


Summer's over, school is a whole quarter in, the boot's long gone, the jaw's unwired, and I'm back.

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Siren Sky to a Pulled Muscle

Sunday by Rieshy
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Blue air and clouds calling for,
swinging limbs,
rhythmic lungs; albeit noisy older ones.
Dripping sweat 
and a brain slowed to mere systems check.

Sports chew wrapped in wax paper 
assuming role of proverbial carrot.  
Must wait, must wait.
Just one more mile marker,
then dig it out of soggy sports bra pocket without looking weird,
hopefully.

Freedom, torture, joy, blessing.
Aloneness under Siren Sky.

Aloneness 
most gruelingly refreshing.
Skill not required, just endurance.
and
mothers are made of endurance;
But
by definition, not aloneness.

Except,
 the penalty box of injury, 
 turns each blue clear day into a siren wail of enticement,
singing low and sweet, "Lost miles, come and play, 
you were only 22 on that facebook real-age survey anyway." 

Mock my infirmity, oh Siren Sky. 
Promise the world, promise toughness and oxygen, promise sharpness,
 but in reality you offer only


further boots of ortho-shame.






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A Jaunty Monday

Monday by Rieshy
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My garlic tips its cap to you.



Horton will be by shortly


to listen for Whoses.





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