bethany's birthday

Wednesday morning my thoughts were memories. Nine years ago. Of a rainy Saturday night. Making myself a track around the perimeters of a Wal-mart in Waterville, Maine, waiting for just the right time to go back in the rain, and cross the parking lot to the little hospital, and become mother to a daughter.  And as I was making my circles, a woman and her son noticed me and judging from my  hobbling and wincing, the woman said to the boy, "Ten years ago I walked around this Wal-mart when I was in labor with you."  

Maine is one of my ancestral homes.  My great-grandfather preached in little white churches and lived with his family in parsonages through the state.  My grandpa and great uncles, whom I now call upon as my guardian angels, grew blueberries and dug for clams, and generally believed, as I do, that Maine was Heaven on Earth.  And so when Bethany came into the world in Waterville, Maine, and as we drove our new baby, the twenty miles, give or take, back to our home in Augusta, I felt as if I was making my offering to my ancestors who had been there before me.

I was grateful for that memory.  Here are some pictures from Bethany's birthday.

Before school.

Present time...right after school, as per request.

Something especially from her dad.

In the evening I took the girls to get haircuts.  Bethany wanted her hair cut to chin level. She loved it.

                                         I love you Bethany.

sophie's superhero

Grades are out. I'm handed an envelope and I know that in the long and thin of it, folded up, tucked inside, there's the fate of my mood,  for at least the next half an hour.  So last week I'm given Caitlin's pamphlet of a report card, wondering why a four-year old needs to  be evaluated in such a variety of settings and just what is the difference between I for  "improving" and W for" working on it," and thinking what business do you have critiquing my child if you can't see the redundancy there.  I hate that when they don't get a G for "good" in categories like "demonstrates a positive self-image" because then I feel like a lousy parent so I think, "well no wonder she doesn't feel good about herself..."
"Could you at least act like it?  "Dang it!"

And sometimes I feel so dysfunctional when I can't get to what the kids ask me to do quickly enough so they say, "Fine, I'll do it myself."  Or when they don't come home to a clean house, but, you know, I wasn't the one playing with the Lego's (Ben), or who ate mayonnaise for breakfast (Bethany), or who unrolled all the toilet paper in the bathroom (William).  So I'm thinking that teaching responsibility just looks ugly.  That's what my whole messy house thing is about.

And Caitlin is quite proud of herself for helping me out with Sophie.  Thursday she said, "I'm Sophie's superhero."  So at least she has good self-as-sister esteem.

We had the most glorious week of warm and beautiful fall weather.

Speaking of superheroes, Saturday Grandma Martha arrived.  She is moving from Maine to Utah.

Sophie turned two months old last week.

autumn joy

Autumn joy. Leaf love. What to do when there's too much to do.  Giving in to doing nothing but embracing everything.

That was Saturday, before the trick-or-treat.  Another Saturday thing was the Supersonic Wash.  The simple, squealing pleasure of  green foam, wiggling and waggling hoses, long yellow strips of sponge slapping against the windows as the van moved mysteriously along the tracks through the fun house of a car wash, all for ten bucks. My kind of multi-tasking. Wish I'd brought the camera.

Here's Sunday. Nothing says aftermath like the candy wrapper clutter of All Saint's day, even if it technically wasn't. I refrained from exposing our morning after mess with a photo,  but doesn't Mary look striking in this purple dress that Grandma Martha gave her for her birthday?

And Sunday amidst all the sabbath commotion I neglected to diaper William promptly, which brought about his first lesson in potty-training--the dishwasher is not a urinal. (Not pictured.) 

Sunday night I had to admit to kids that they'd been really well-behaved all day, which would lead a behaviorist of my leanings to believe that they should eat five pounds of candy and stay up until midnight every Saturday night.  The family erupted in cheers.  I enjoyed my sure to be short-lived popularity.

Monday, niente.  E poi martedi.

This is Tuesday.  Don't you hate it when every one's plundered, shaved, surgically removed all the frosting from the birthday cake and they just leave the dry, but nonetheless sugary and therefore still tempting to anyone over thirty-five cake bones sitting on the counter, so you pick at it all day until you realize that that's all you've had to eat and you feel totally sick but does that stop you, no?

 

Well, I guess I wasn't the only one.  There's the ominous black chair, William's regular partner in crime.

decidedly halloween

Saturday night was decidedly Halloween in our neighborhood.  As the costumes went on, and friends arrived, the clouds grew heavy, the wind blew leaves off trees, and rain started to fall.  I ran to ShopKo for ten umbrellas. Paid over a hundred dollars but it made the rain stop, as I suspected it would.

Sophie had two Halloween costumes--the pickle

and the pink teddy bear.

William was traumatized by Sam's costume, but Sam assured him that he was just the tickle monster.

Mary was Gabriella.

So we were off. First stop was Grandad and Lala's house. Grant, who was joyfully taking in the atmosphere of festivity, announced in to the wet autumn night, with all the presence of one of Shakespeare's players, emphasizing each syllable with a wave of his outstretched arms, "I love Halloween!"

pain,pumpkins,progress

Friday morning driving to Caitlin's preschool I read a bumper sticker that said, "Love is pain. Pain is love."

At first I thought, how negative.

Then I thought, how true,  acknowledging the existential unavoidable inevitable discomfort of giving to, caring for, living with and sometimes without others, as well as the very liberating idea that that willingness to feel the pain is the gift itself and therefore the very source of the joy of living.  So much food for thought on the back of a white pick-up truck.

So here's what was going on at preschool.

Pajama day and passing out treats.  I picked up Caitlin a bit early so we could get to the elementary school on time for the costume parade.

I'm often being handed something.

Friday afternoons the kids come home early from school.  One of the many things I love about Utah is that the snow falls, then melts.  I was grateful to have autumn back.

Here's what's left of my flower bed.  Mums gone by go nicely with the Styrofoam headstones.

I had been thinking about Pier 49 San Fransisco Sourdough pizza all week long. I ordered the Alcatraz, their supreme, that reminded me an awful lot of Sonny's deluxe.  By the way, in heaven, Sonny's Pizza will be restored to it's rightful place on Cabrillo Boulevard in Santa Barbara.  Until then the Alcatraz will do fine.

Here is the Lombard Street.  The barbecued chicken is tender, sweet, and tangy.  I love the caramelized red onions.  Both pizzas came with free pepperoni pizzas in honor of National Pizza month. So sad that October must come to an end.

After dinner the kids carved pumpkins.

Thank you for all the supportive comments I received about my laundry after I posted web cam. Some of you may have been wondering if I actually have a laundry room where I might better contain the pile. In fact I do. Last week I set a goal for myself to only wash as much laundry as I could fold. I love taking the clothing out of the dryer, smelling the sweet clean detergenty smell and feeling the warmth. Folding the clothing while it is warm gives me a feeling of being in control of at least one aspect of my life. So it's been a good week for me in that area... Now to work on a pile of something else.