Stayin' Alive

I feel like an amnesia patient who has recently awakened from a coma and is really ticked off that she cannot account for the last nine months of her life. I am not sure where the time went. Although, soccer, dance, gymnastics, volunteer work, tutoring, and digging down deep to apply my creative side have undoubtedly spun the hands of time faster than I would have liked.

Hollywood and Curly Sue finished their school year last Thursday. There was a slight moment of panic when I looked at Curly's report card and it didn't say she was promoted to first grade, but her grades indicated that there shouldn't be any shockers come August. She has come along way since her trepidatious first assessment before kindergarten last August. She doesn't cry every day when she comes home from seven and a half hours of school anymore. She is above benchmark in all of her reading assessments, which is no small feat after my minor (we'll use that term liberally) freak out on the teacher when I discovered Curly was actually going backwards in December. She likes school and the friends she has made. She loves to tell me about Shannon's favorite color, and that Alexa only likes jelly on her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with no crust. She is happy. What more could I ask for?

Hollywood didn't finish too shabby either. He wants to join National Honor Society next year. He had a thrid grade recorder concert a few weeks ago and rocked it. We have never really had to worry about him adjusting to new environments. After all, this is the kid that as a toddler, would walk up to random kids in the grocery store and ask if they wanted to play (which incidentally would explain his teacher's comments that he has a difficult time working independently and staying on task). His class had to vote on awards that each of the students received at the end of the year. He received Most Dependable, and Biggest Helper. I told him those were admirable qualities in any human and he should be proud that people recognized them in him. Five minutes later he thumped Curly on the head with his water bottle.

Flag football is nearly over and piano lessons start next Wednesday. Curly's moving up a level in gymnastics next week. The wee one is talking in full sentences. She makes what she wants known. She is learning to swim at the water park when we go. She thinks the walls are her blank canvas. The hands of time are not showing any signs of slowing any time soon. I guess I should just hold on for the ride.

Outside Looking In

Insanity and inspiration are neighbors. In my own head, they are almost twins. At least that's what the self depreciating tortured artist in me says. Every week when I go to rehearsals for PMAZ, I am convinced the director is going to hear me sing and boot my butt to the curb, telling me he made a terrible mistake in auditioning me. On occation, blog writing is a water boarding experience for me. Drafts that are not quite perfect sit in the box for days before they are sent. When I finally post them, my mother calls to dutifully notify me of any errors. (Happy Mother's Day mom!)

With Etsy shops of friends popping up, and some pretty talented photographers flourishing in their businesses, I have become consumed with discovering a marketable talent in myself. I have frantically flipped over plenty of bushels and dug out many holes in the backyard looking for my talents. But, in a brief moment of inspiration not long ago, the annoying elfin creature, who sits on my proverbial shoulder and is named Sam, whispered the magic thought of grandeur to me.

"Teach classes at the Community Center," he chided.

Those six words eventually evolved into e-mailing the director of the Community Center to discuss the possibilities of teaching Literature Seminars and Writing Workshops, as well as tutoring. I really didn't believe I had a fart's chance in a hurricane of landing the job, but I was insane enough to think it was an inspired thought.

After showing a three member panel some of my own writings, a mock workshop, and explaining my philosophies of education and tutoring, I am getting my own page in the catalogue of available courses. My throat verps at the thought of it. They are going to figure out I am a fraud, the catalogue is going to have a giant red "CANCELLED" stamp across my classes. Sam is definitely going to have to come to classes with me.

Rock A Bye Baby

I must admit, I have had quite a lousy attitude as of late. Perhaps it is the stress of life, perhaps it is the cheerful denial of much of what has occurred in the course of the last year in our family. But it seems as though the burdens have been resting quite heavily upon me. I know I worry about far too many things. Things that are ridiculously out of my control. Mostly, I worry about my kids. I fear that I have failed them. I fear that I have not given them everything I possibly can to ensure their every happiness. A fair shot of surviving the world they will grow into.

A trip to the Post Office last week helped give me some much needed perspective. As I was yelling at Caitlyn to hurry up and get out of the car so that I could mail off all of our tax information, I noticed a rope around the landscaping in front of the building. There was a small gathering of people with binoculars, and cameras. I turned around to see two baby gray horned owls in a nest their mother had build in the arm of a very old, very large suaro cactus.

Caitlyn asked why a mom would build a nest in a cactus. She feared the babies would get hurt. I thought the same thing, until I started to walk around the entire space looking at the nest from every angle I could. It was then I understood what the mother had done. She had build her nest in a large enough space for the babies to be safe, and yet they were protected by the very needles she had built her nest upon. I am sure it was painful to craft such an environment. Yet she knew the babies would thrive there. They have. They are perfectly safe in the most unlikely of places.

Like the owls, I am not sure I could have predicted the place I call home or the life I have, but I think I get it now. You can be happy in the most unlikely of places or circumstances. You just have to walk around it, figure it out, and see just how big the possibilities are.

Here Comes Peter Cottontail

So what's a mom to do when the wee one brings her all of the Easter eggs that the Easter Bunny fills? Freak out? A little, but when in doubt, figure it out. We just put all of the empty eggs in the baskets for E.B. to fill. It actually turned out great because we then color coded the eggs for the baskets. Logan got green and blue, Caitlyn got pink and a few yellow and green with her name on them, and Reagan got purple and yellow. Of course E.B. left an empty one in their baskets to remind them of of why we celebrate Easter. That discussion was the best part of the day, it was led in part by Aunt Joce, who no doubt was praying for a little divine intervention herself in that moment.

Since Logan is getting older, E.B. is finding craftier ways of hiding his basket.

It took him about 20 minutes to find it.

Reagan's rules for egg coloring:

1. drop egg in cup with great force

2. pull out immediately with hand

3. inquire why the egg is "bo-kin"

4. pick off egg shell and take three bites

5. repeat until all of your eggs,

sister's eggs, and brother's eggs are colored and broken

They both loved their pink!

The apple never falls far from the tree....

The girls were happy to take a picture...as long as no boys were allowed

The sweetest part of Easter!