Owl pellet dissection, blown eggs containing clues to a fantastic scavenger hunt, and paper airplane decorating/throwing tradition made for a sweet and memorable sixth birthday party. I couldn’t help but reminiscing the caution (bordering on fear) for last years celebration. This boys ill ease in a crowd prompted the beginning of the drop off party, a much-needed and well-loved change turns out. It also turns out that this style of kids birthday party is so, so much easier for us than the invite a whole bunch of kids and their parents over, feel pressure to clean and serve beers and nice meals, and your kids just want your attention but you can’t give it to them, variety.
And I tell you this six year old dazzles me. I cut no less than five inches of platinum blonde off this boy the day before his actual birthday. I wiped off his very dirty face, and cleaned his almost embarrassingly dirty ears, and what was underneath shocked me to tears. He is a beautiful, charming, and compassionate little boy, whom I am so lucky to call my son.
When I was a kid and lived by the ocean, nothing could beat starting the day with a run to the salty cove for a dip. I would go alone often, and sometimes meet friends – All of us knowing in our souls the beauty of wet sand sending ripples of light in perfect circles around our sneakers, the importance of seagulls and crashing waves touching our ears before any other sound- the magic that is immersing your whole body under a salty body of water before a regular day begins. Then I trotted off home to change into my school clothes, showering when I felt it necessary, but mostly keeping the salt on my skin to remind me of how good it all really is.
Running is like that. It takes you farther, earlier, quieter, than you could or would be otherwise. I imagine it to be a battle of synapses inside your brain. Some telling your legs to stop, and others insisting you just keep going, and some demanding you even to go faster. It has been a long, long time since I felt the rush of it all on a regular basis. Injuries and babies and shoulds standing in my way. I have ushered these roadblocks aside and made way for the whole thing lately. And this morning I am off to my first race in five years.
I have heard it is spectacularly beautiful- this course. I have heard it is crazy hard too. I am up for it.
These pictures have nothing to do with this post. Our game cam captured some critters that rise even earlier than I, and some gorgeous tulips from my Mama’s garden just because they are peach and blooming. Hopefully I have a good one of a grinning me after finishing this 10K for next week!
A first game of Tball can go many ways. The mass confusion, the wild excitement, the expectations… they can be a recipe for a really delectable dessert just as easily as a meal of rotten eggs. Oh sweet five and six year olds, they have an uncanny way of being absolutely unpredictable. Last night, a whole crew of them served up a tray full of melt-in-your-mouth, fresh out the oven chocolate chip cookies, for every face on that field that was plastered with a giant smile. These boys and girls were literally dancing on the field. When I told Rowan how much I liked his moves after the game he scowled at me. He had no knowledge of his fancy footwork at first base. None at all. Miles reassured him (and he was in the position to do so I may add, as the official “third coach”) that there was nothing to worry about, everyone was doing it. And he was right, those kids were all so happy and excited you could tell in every fiber of their being. It was like a bit of the full body baby laugh that everyone loves, spilling over into childhood. It just came bubbling out. I always hear the phrase, “My kids teach me more than I teach them”, and last night I learned so much.
My boy, just dancing on the field, having the time of his life. My heart is so full.
The buds on the willows are turning from their silvery- soft- velvet- rabbits- feet stage to the fluffy- Dr. Suess-ish truffula tree- lime green- over sized jelly bean stage. I can see the whorls of orange red flowers on the tops of the maples. I can see the red fog of all of them when I look at the hills. The leaves on the ground are no longer clumps of cold, black ice, the last bit of snow under the over hang of my garage is almost completely gone. The sound of rain, oh my goodness the sound of sweet rain on the windows has arrived.
And with that rain…
(excuse the blurry shot- just too cute, and take note of the frozen ice in the pond… over zealous fisherman they are!)
We have had to batten down the hatches due to a high fever in the house and it has kept us indoors much to our dismay. But yesterday around four o clock, I truly couldn’t take it anymore. I put a movie on for the three boys (Fireman Sam for those curious… to them that is the ONLY show), and I strapped Willow up on my back an walked through the rain to the mailbox. When we rounded the corner to the pasture the wind really picked up, as always does, and I tried to shield her face from the prickly blasts of rain by holding up the bottom of my jacket. I was able to peek back at her and much to my surprise and found her eyes closed, two tooth grinning with her nose directly in the wind- just like a dog in the car. I guess she wanted out to. I put down my coat and let my girl eat her cake. Of course there was only junk mail, but you know the trip was worthwhile anyhow.