This is you last night in the middle of a 10 minute lecture about this painting we painted together for dad. I’m not kidding about the 10 minutes. At one point you stuck the paintbrush in above a button hole on your shirt so that you could better gesticulate with your arms. The part about the lecture that struck me came at the end. You said, “the rain should get a ticket”. I asked you why rain should get a ticket (naturally thinking that weather would want to ride trains on the island of Sodor). Your response was nothing short of amazing. You explained that the rain had come and washed away your painting of a monster (in October) and therefore it should get a ticket. First of all that did actually happen, and second of all I am not even going to ask why you felt compelled to bring it up in regards to this painting (perhaps, young underloaded synapses). Before I had a chance to ask, you got pouty and had to come for a hug because, “what the rain did made you sad.”

And naturally one would put frozen peas on one’s ice cream.

Triticale is a cross between Wheat and Rye.  It is grown as a cover crop.  Above is our Triticale harvest in repose on the seed sideboard.  When the Triticale was in it’s full glory this past spring Seth would randomly squeal with delight, “wow mom, wook at dat Twiticawwum!”  We were recently in the company of adults, and I asked him which cover crop we were growing.  He confidently announced, “Twiticawwum”.  Of course everyone was awed by his botanical recall and pronunciation ~ I swooned with pride.

Above is one of my favorite snippets of quilt.  It was hanging right above the dry Triticale.  These are actually weeds (mustard and something wart/hound-ish) however, out of context the mustard at least has great structure.

In the Cutest Photo of Seth Contest that is. The judges gave this entry a 10 for composition, a 9 for quality of smile, and a 10 for technical execution under pressure ~ they also unofficially praised Gramps for his “artful content”.

So this is what you get up to when I leave you for a few minutes to check my email. You foraged in the basement and carefully inserted these oars into the back of the car. How the Thomas turn table got there beats me, but it makes a nice finishing touch.

So I guess this is a theme for today. Here is your spectacular spatula assemblage that was very carefully and quietly assembled while I cleaned up the cuisinart after our cold slaw production.

After removing the assemblage to “stop the car from rolling” we took a quick jaunt to Mountain school. On the way you were pouting because none of your friends would be there. Upon arrival you were quick to point out that someone was there. We headed over to investigate, and sure enough it was Jenz and Savannah working on the watering system. This was indeed the coolest thing ever. Not only was there an unsuspecting bird seed table sitting there, but the Home Coming Queen wanted you to pour bird seed in her beaker! The team work was spectacular, you guys really are 3’s.

One of my favorite corners in Mountain School is the “Correspondence Desk”. I love the bits of paper and pencils, the neat pigeon holes for thoughts. I think it emphasizes the letter writing side of observations. Our generation does not draft letters daily as our grandparents did. Which is not to say that your great grandma Marge is not hanging around editing every observation i pen. She is definitely in the spirit of this place.

Alas, introspective personal moments are always superseded by the summons of offspring. This time you beckon me to come witness the biggest pile of fireman’s hats ever assembled on a Radio Flyer cart.

Yep, it’s a pretty impressive pile alright! What gets me the most about you is your unstoppable concentration. It’s already quite a feat of balance to get those hats on there, but even when one slides you don’t let it phase you. You just keep patiently adjusting the pile. Extolling the strong points of your technique as you go. Eventually the piling was abandoned for the chance to play race car driver with Savannah in matching formula 1 helmets. While this was cute and energetic I still prefer to observe you hard at work, engrossed in the task at hand. It’s moments like these that I see the future you – auto shop fast forward.

An yes my dear, it is because of your nerdy moments and unflappable bed head that mommy loves you.

Thursday night we made cookies.

Seth of course had to have his own bowl of ingredients. So we had one bowl of properly proportioned flour mixture, and Seth’s bowl which contained about 200 times the amount of baking soda necessary. Even though he did have his bowl Seth was not going to give up interaction with the official ingredients. I turned my back for one second and I heard him pipe up, “look ma’ starfish hands”.

And of course Seth does very little that does not involve a hammer. The hammer was officially used to pulverize the rock hard brown sugar, which Seth enjoyed doing very much. However, it eventually became the tool de jour for all phases of the cookie making extravaganza.

Could you look any more like the Whitman twins circa 1970?

I hadn’t been to the store in a while, and we were pretty much out of everything, but I did save one egg which I tried not to break on the way from the fridge.

Well the cookies were pretty good. I love these little mid-week parties where we forget about everything else and just focus on the joy that there is to be had in making something yummy!

This is where I go to “check out”. Jim never ceases to tell me how beautiful my garden is (thank you Jim). This always strikes me as funny because to me it looks like one giant “coping mechanism”. I have always turned to plants and the outdoors to find peace and rejuvenation. I think they are directly linked to my “inner child”. The part of me that writes use cases in the same voice that was used to weave Barbie plots back in the day. I use the same decisive internal art director to rearrange my potted plants as I once employed to decorate my doll house. I can just envision myself inhabiting this Libertia. My fairy self could easily live there. In fact, it’s a perfect haven for my inner unicorn who is often without a forest to roam in this hectic world.

Seth – Here is what I saw leaning against the cool rail of the brick stairs to the garage. Idly waiting to see if you would stir, wondering if we’d get to make an evening of it. It’s the infamous Friday-night-after-day-care nap. One minute you are whining about this and that, the next minute silence, head nestled in an tear stained car seat. I wake you, carry you to the kitchen hoping you’ll rouse for dinner, but the cards are staked against me. The crying spirals to tantrum. “I want daddy, I want daddy, da da…”. I cuddle you tight on the bead, bearing your full weight on my pulsing kidneys – laden with guilt. I made a choice not to stay married to daddy, and no one said it would be easy.

Your tantrum is acute. I know exactly how you feel. It is that choking sadness like when someone dies and you can’t get them back. You beat your fists, sweat gluing your little hairs to the flushed skin of your temples, barking and moaning at the same time. I tried to be compassionate, but then again I made the choice. I can’t harden myself to you, I am your mommy. I can’t beat myself up, I trusted my gut. I can weep with you, but that is only on the surface. I know what you were expressing was from the deepest well, your subconscious grief – thick as the light of sunset.  ~ Mommy

There is nothing more satisfying when you notice that you are out of onions, then going out to your own garden to harvest some. Boy were they sweet to boot!

The graphic designers of the plant world.