but not tonight, not tonight

“They say money can’t buy Happiness. But money can buy PopTarts, and that’s pretty close.”

My son is talking to me as I finish journaling, hang up some wet clothes, get ready for bed. He’s been high-energy all day from our roadtrip to a now-notorious, horrible brunch – where he ate only a small square of strawberry shortcake as he found the rest of the fare “disappointing”, to home again and a few play sessions outside with friends and next door at my mother’s, to a tokusatsu film together, and now – leaving me to write, he plays with his massive store of Legos.

He shaved his hair off the other day: now he’s just another lanky little jug-eared boy, his soft head all scruffy when he leans into me, still as physically affectionate as when he was just a little sprout. My Mother’s Day was another very sweet one, spent with my family in idleness. Besides the wretched first meal, my husband cooked a wonderful lunch and dinner. The gifts I made and purchased my mom, seemed well-received. My podcast heroes played my call-in and discussed it. My favorite kitty settled in on my lap and permitted me to pet him.

Now, in my studio: a fine flannel for a shirt. A vegetarian lasagna nestles in the fridge, for tomorrow night. Downstairs, I hear my husband return from a late-night run. My mind is going over things I don’t share publicly, thoughts about my children and school and our plans for the future. My mind will soon take a rest and tomorrow will be 

Another Day

mothers’ day

A lovely morning with the kids. Sewing. A lunch date with my family, and my mother. Some volunteer work. A visit from a friend. Holding my husband’s hand. About to get into bed with him, now. It’s been a long day!

 

 

This morning my mom came over and told me she was giving me the most beautiful thing she owned – some columbine she’d waited three years to bloom:

 

From Ralph and the kids: a coconut cream cake and a pop-out weasel card – both homemade! #wins

 

While I was out doing my volunteer thing, Ralph made a video. I love that he uses only: his voice, his uke, his car keys, and his wedding ring.

 

 

I’d love to write some awesome verbiage but today was a big day for me and I’m beat-ass tired.

G’night, my lovelies!

“this movie is just ropes & asses!”

My mom and I exchanged Mother’s Day gifts yesterday, before she traveled south to take care of my grandfather for a month. I would have liked to have spent the day taking her out to lunch and such, but she had to get herself on the road.

I had a lovely day today. The first thing my son said to me this morning was, “Happy Mother’s Day”. As I did my computer-thing he called for me to give him some couch snuggles. So, that had to happen.

My Mother's Day So Far

The rest of the day spun out beautifully. Fresh flowers, awesomeness, sunshine, good food, friends, hanging new curtains. The kids caught a frog then charged neighborhood kids five cents to look at it in its temporary habitat, a wagon filled with water and various floating frog-platform fauna.

Frog In A Jar

Treatment center work. I was not able to bike as I seem to have injured my knee, and any biking hills are treacherous. I’m trying to be patient through this. The work, though, was good for me. And I hope, for others. Afterward a man took me aside and thanked me and said, “Good job.” Something or some things I had shared, resonated with him. He shared a little about his most recent DUI and some medication he was detoxing from. He’s off to another treatment center tomorrow – I will probably never see him again.

Home to the summer-warm house and dusk. Homemade dinner by husband, hot bath.

Soon: time for bed.

But now? Time for a silly-arsed B-movie.

 
I hope you all have a soft and loving bosom to rest upon, or that you find one soon.

My Mother's Day

mother tell your children not to hold my hand/ tell your children not to understand

I spent much of Mothers Day with my own mother, husband, and two children. We took a roadtrip up to Oly and I bought fabric – a series of lovely deep colors in a rayon/linen blend, destination: dresses for my daughter who is already far grown out of the frocks I sewed her only months ago. We had hot dogs and lemonade at the park and watched a tremendous number of kids race through the play fountain. My kids finally cajoled my own mother into the fountain herself where she was blasted with water. They joy on the faces of all three was pretty awesome.

I’m not exactly sure why but Olympia is a lot “whiter” than my hometown, where the day before we’d spent a solid chunk of time at the travelling carnival. About forty percent of the attendants were Latino and the rest predominantly white with the smattering and all-encompassing racial makeup that benefits our locale. In both outdoor excursions it was rather soothing to spend a couple days amongst a surge of people. I have a theory that in the Northwest we get so desperate for sunny weather we’re out the minute one could decently call it spring. At the carnival Ralph and I adopted our new policy: buying the kids the $20 (apiece) bracelets that allow them to go on as many rides as they want as much as they want. This means we get no cotton candy or elephant ears which is probably just as well. For rides, my kids favored the fun house (I think it was called Ghost Party and looked not-even-remotely spooky) and the – oh I forget the name, back in the 90s it was called the Gravitron. Sophie even went on the Bonzai Bomber, the most ambitious stomach-turner they had to offer. I watched her from below. Carnival lights in the gloaming, it’s somehow wretchedly beautiful.

We had my mom over for Mothers Day dinner – slow-roasted beef on french rolls with au jus, corn on the cob, roasted tomatoes, fried zucchini. I gifted my mother a watercolor print of the columbine flower and an actual specimen in a pot – it’s a bloom she loves. I hadn’t known what else to get her as she really is lacking for little. In years past I would have bought her yards of fabric or some other material good, but I know she feels crunched for time and the last time I bought her supplies (luxurious yarn and bamboo needles) she never touched it and I ended up knitting her the socks myself – two years later. I know she likes hanging prints on her walls and she’s quite the joyful gardener. Columbine, a beautiful and delicate flower, it matches her nature. I had purchased her a (non-Hallmark) card a year ago, knowing the artwork on the card was a perfect fit – saving it for now. Inside I wrote:

Mom, You’ve been a wonderful grandmother. Our family is blessed to have you.  I have thought it was a happy side-effect that when we moved down to Hoquiam to be closer to dad in his last years/months/days, you were given the opportunity to know my family and experience life with young children again.  Your pesence in our lives goes beyond that of “babysitter” or a doting presence.  Instead you are instrumental and an integral part of our family.  So many families do not get to experience this.  Thank you for your care and friendship.

Are we supposed to write mushier sentiments to our loved ones? Well, I try to be accurate which often sounds decidedly non-demonstrative. I think on my wedding day I tried to give my husband a chuck on the shoulder rather than french kiss him in front of all those people.