Daddy's Girls

"I am the wife of the Laird of Balnain, The Folk have stolen me over again." 

I thought of this line today when I realized what I have been doing online lately... Only instead of fairy folk stealing me, pinterest has stolen me. True. Too true. I put it off for many a month, but was finally dragged in by my friend Traci. Thanks, T!
Look what you've been missing around the border...
Jadyn had the idea of a photo shoot, for Daddy's birthday. I had to keep it a "secret" as Jadyn is smitten with Daddy, and doesn't like him to see her looking too pretty or caring too much. So the girls chose new shirts (Mickey & Minnie) brushed their hair all shiny and we had the "secret" photo shoot. Of course Phoenix was involved, much like Where's Waldo - but we got some sweet shots. I love these sweeties! They chose their favorite shot, cool frames, and the gifts are now on Daddy's desk:

PS I tried a Pinterest photo technique (of course!), where I was supposed to focus in tight on the subject, and the background would blur. Not sure it worked. Maybe because the sun was too bright back there? You know there's a "Pinterest Fail" category, too... :) There should be a Bethany Failed Photos Section, I am so challenged with a camera. I have such visions, such ideas! Alas... But! This group still turned out, even so.

And all this before poor Cole even got home from school... the long day of middle school has been a tough adjustment.
Stay tuned for a motley Halloween crew...

Chrysalis

My last (poem) post sparked some discussion with a couple of friends, and took the musing deeper. It seems that no matter what age we become, we never quite expect what it will mean to be that age. And sure there are friends and cliches to point the way, but... But. How is it that we can reach a point in life and still feel blindsided by what it means? Still assess it as a personal soul-search rather than a communal landmark?
I should be better prepared than many, having a husband that is significantly older, and close friends that range to age 80. "Should" must path the way to many a shoulda-coulda-woulda.
I should have titled the poem "What do I want to be when I grow up?" or "On being human." Who knew that many, most, or all of us desire a second act, a shake-up in the status quo at some point? I can tell you, it doesn't have to be a mid-life crisis.
Let's call it the mid-life chrysalis.
A chrysalis from which we hope to emerge purely ourselves with the wheat and chaff brushed off, the experiences learned and the satisfaction of the second act guaranteed.
I spoke of the busted forge, and as I've thought about it, my whole-hearted meaning was just that: authentic selfhood. No more trying to shape of myself something practical and easy to get along and be in the world. I don't have to will to be something I am not.
I used the math analogy because it is so concrete, to me. Putting aside esoteric mathematical concepts, it is an exact science.
I struggle with writing being an inexact science. There are so many variables, so many possibilities, so many qualities to being a good writer, being a successful writer... it seems simpler to not be a writer. (Why, oh why couldn't I choose accounting? :))
That poem was a heart cry, a banner uplifted for being exactly who we are.
And I am hearing from my friends that many of us are crying that cry and calling that call. Mostly inside, sometimes lamenting to others, but there it is.
I look at where I started, to figure out where I could have taken a different turn and delved into a career I would love.
That goes nowhere.
That road lies empty of family and children, as it was our choice to start our family right after college. Which leads me back to the beginning of this post: how can I be surprised to find myself exactly where we planned I would be? Lear Family Plan, circa 1996: family, then career.

Maybe it is as simple as saying: The time has come. (dum-dum-DUUMMMM...)
I am ready for the next act. I have soaked solely in this mother-calling for 12 years. I have raised my babies with care. I'm not going anywhere. I'm just going to find the resolve to move forward. To set aside some energy for chasing the dream. Once I figure out exactly what that dream is.
Am I a poet, to claim and charge forward?
Am I a memoir-writer?
Am I a memory-keeper?
Am I a bit of each?
Whatever I am, I am better at it because of friends. Friends who volley, talk, inspire and commune.
Friends who give me faces to envision and input to chew on as I muse on and around These Life Topics. Holla, ya'll.

A chrysalis is a tubular construction, and sometimes we have to travel around and around and around, re-treading and retracing that path inside until we burst free.

Fair warning, this ain't the last you've heard of this...
(dum-dum-DUUMMMM...)

On Being Me

Sometimes I try to forge

of myself

a thing of practical sensibility

and future potential

Mold my dreams into

those of an accountant or risk manager

or some-such concrete job.

Turn my feathers into pencils and protractors

Take my spiral-tipped musings

and make them dollar bills

Turn these words that spill out of my

ear-tips and toe-tips and split ends

and finally to the correct metacarpals and phalanges

(ear bone connected to the...neck bone

arm bone connected to the....hand bone...)

Turn these cloudburst moments

into a puddle of numbers

For everyone knows it’s only mathematics.

Only. Only only only.

To fight against a foregone conclusion

And light that fire

to torch that forge

t’would be a short-lived flame.

Wordy girl with a phrase on the lips

call it a day.

That forge is busted.

BL 10/9/12

An Update on "Po"

Hey there, all you Po followers!
(He's a big hit.) (All the rage.) ( Like Psy.) ( See below!)
This week, in an astounding leap of preK skill, Po has gained a few letters.
He calls name-writing his "homework" so that he can be as big as his siblings, and have the dreaded HW.
Now, I don't have photographic proof of this letter gain, more's the pity, but I'll vouch for it.
Yesterday, just yesterday, Po wrote "Phon."
I KNOW!! Amazing gains! Now, hold your breath, because he also wrote "iPhon" and then he did also write "oPhon" immediately after that, as well as some distinctly lopsided stick people. But, still! from From "Phon" to "iPhon" in only a day - call The Man, we have his next techie!

My friend Rachael, and Cole, have pointed out an Asian tendency, from Chinese to Korean. It all lines up, people. The Asian cultures have a clear history of legends of The Phoenix.
Now, this also *could* be an indication of PreK fandom. Gangnam Style was sweeping the country just a few weeks ago, so this is barely a lag in real-time. With Psy such a Korean phenom, Phoenix is on the right track!
Please to be amused at Gangnam Style (first the original). This one, my kids, and oh, let's face it, me too, have enjoyed.... A dedicated Mom, ya'll. :)
Your Gangnam cheat sheet
OK. That's all the info I have for you today. You're welcome.

What September Brings: Po

Hey hey. Here's what's going down around here. Lots of kids, lots of cats, lots of commotion. I can tell you, upon downloading (uploading? onloading?) this last batch of photos - 80 out of 86 were of the kitties. And I only took 70 of those. :)
But this day is not about kitties.
This day is about the alter-ego of young Lear.
Mr. PreK has been signing his name on everything, and is proud as punch.
Check him out:

Po

"Po" doesn't see the need for all those extra letters. "Po" says "Let's hit the high notes, ya'll. Yeah, yeah, I gots other numbers in my name, but this? This I can WRITE!" I was laughing with my friend about his school persona, and how the kids & I call him "Po" whenever we talk about School Phoenix. "Po" is very well-behaved, and in fact his teacher calls him a "joy in class." "Po" recites the classroom rules and follows them each day.

But when the day is done, and that bus rolls into our neighborhood...

Dun-dun-DUNNNNN!

Phoenix surely gets off that bus, and "Po" is left for the next day.

Roaaaarrrr, where's my snack? SIT with me! You idiot! Cry-baby! I wanna hold Chloe! Waaaahhhhh!

Crash bang boom, jump off the furniture onto the table and then onto Isabella's head.

Phoenix is a rather loud boy. But, you knew that already.

And yeah. He does call everyone mean names. Including me. 

He's very familiar with his room and time-out after school. In fact, his attitude could be characterized as After School Tourette's, as he blasts through the house, letting loose all that has been held in through the school day.

At the end of the day, after he's done all that other great stuff, but still won't go... to sleep...

Then, we have bedtime Phoenix.

Bedtime Phoenix requires snuggling and hand-holding (of course), and likes a little role-reversal at the end of his day. And so every night:

"You be Phoenix, I'll be the Mommy."

I channel me some Phoenix, and recite things that he's told me about his day. And that's when I learn other things about his day:

Me, as Phoenix: And then, on the bus, Jack sat on me! And he spit on the girls and Vega!

Phoenix, as The Mommy: Well, Sweetie, you spit on Jack first and you shouldn't do that.

Me, as Me: Wait a minute! Phoenix! Did you spit on Jack? Buddy, you didn't tell me that.

Oy vey, this boy.... he smiles and sucks his thumb contentedly, flashes two fingers and says: 

"Two more minutes. Stay with me two more minutes."

And when he's supremely tired and can't be bothered to pull his thumb out and speak, he flashes those two fingers and blinks heavily... on his way to dreamland.

Where Po and Phoenix meet, and all their differences are of no consequence.

B Quotable

The other day I read this sappy  darling blog post by a mother of 4, who is relishing the act of mothering during multiple nighttime wakings by her toddler. In other words, cherish the moment. Only, the particular moment in which I was reading that particular post, was more like a grrrr-rage-rock moment, not a teary-eyed mommy moment. You know the one.
I curled my lip at the screen and walked away from my desk to find Rick & tell him about it. He listened and chuckled and eyed me for foaming at the mouth. Good man. Always be aware of the possibilities. I hemmed and hawed about child challenges, the frustrations of night-waking, bed-wetting (them, not me. whew.), fit-throwing, and many, many more as I aired out ranted. And then I summed it all up with a sentiment you may feel free to use, as needed.

I have crowded nest syndrome!

You're welcome. Now go forth and let go. No need to rant, when one simple phrase will do. Why let the empty-nesters have all the fun with the phrase? Happy Friday!

Speechless

When you're grinning this big, it's hard to say a word. Promise.

Phillip Phillips and...???

I only wish I could enlarge it. 

Phan Girl

Oh, do you know what this is about??? Hold on...
I should be put in the naughty corner for leaving poor borderland sitting alone on the interwebz, no updates on school days, no updates on Life When You Can Do What Want All Day... (let's just debunk that one here & now: as yet, there have been zero days where I got to do nothing, while the kids were in school. Zero. My friend Louise said that day will come... when the last child walks down the aisle. Ha!) And, importantly, not recent shots of my kitty babies! Oh the sweetness of them... That Chloe is my lover girl. She stalks me and waits in my seat and sits on the counter to watch me wash dishes. Uh-oh... she's Phoenix with fur!

Anyway, instead of doing nothing, I'll be doing something later today.
It involves a GA cutie, let me show you his adorableness...

Phillip Phillips, at Centennial Olympic Park tonight! I may or may not be rushing the stage. I may or may not be holding a homemade "Phil Phan" poster. Want to get in the spirit of Phillip with me?
Maybe you know this one from the Olympics:
http://www.phillipphillips.com/splash/

Pay no mind to the dark-haired chick in the video. She may or may not know I'm his new girlfriend...

Introducing Pete & Chloe

Stop the presses! The Lear kids have pets now! Our new 2 lb babies are 3 months old, adopted from the Humane Society, and the perfect kitties for our family. We held a lot of kitties last weekend, and it was evident immediately if the kitty-personality would mesh with our busy crew. One orange tabby tried to crawl out the celing the minute he got a look at our octo-armed mass of squealing offspring. (He was adopted an hour later by a one-child family, with a tween-aged son. He was snoozing in the boy's arms when last we saw him.)

Chloe put her paw against the glass, up to Jadyn's hand, and the minute they handed her to us we knew she was the one. She loves being carried around, cuddled, passed from lap to lap... a sweet pea! Pete was the next one that we knew would be ours. Like Chloe, he purred immediately and was fine with being passed around. Our litmus test, the pass-around.

 Chloe is white with grey, Pete is grey

Sadly, I am not getting much done these past 2 (quiet) days. I watch the kitties and laugh at them playing... they are just so darling...
On cue: {awwww}

Tales of School

First day, check!
Good day, check!

Phoenix, aka Mr. PreK, ran off that bus this afternoon with his arms wide open. He detoured Dad and I got the prize.
"The bus driver had a horn he talked in, and he told us DON'T get off if it's not your stop!"

The girls both had good days, with familiar faces in their classes.
Equally important: the lunch-boxes all came home empty, except for a stray grape or two. Whew. Nothing like a thumbs up on the lunch. (OK, I stacked the deck. Pringles & Oreos for 1st day lunch treats. Such a cheater! Such a name-brand-first-day-cheater! You know they were all like "So, where's our afternoon snack of Pizza Rolls & Ruffles & whatever else the cool kids eat after school? Huh?" Me: "Well, umm, animal crackers and juice? huh? No?") You know they all ate all afternoon like 4 houses on fire. That school biz is hungry work. I think they're still eating now, all the way to bed.

Cole strolled in, off the middle school bus (of which we had NO drop-off time for) and was happy with his day. He couldn't find a few of his SEVEN classes, but was fine with asking teachers and wandering around until he found the rooms. The locker was good, lunch was good - "I ate with a new friend" - the bus was good, his hair was good. Middle school success, check. He would like to make some vending machine purchases in the near future, but that was the only bump in his day. Not enough change for extra chips.

Are you with me so far? Did you hear that 4 children had good days with no mishaps or drama? It is like magic in the forest! Phoenix (you know we were crossing our fingers & sitting on our thumbs that HE liked his class) reported that he played a while, took a nap, and ate all his lunch. The boy next to him may not have eaten. Another boy may have fallen asleep before him. Phoenix wasn't sure, as he himself was "under his tile" (= towel = nap blanket) and closed his eyes. I am all about the PreK news. All about The Boy and a Good Day.

He ran to me like this, at approximately 2:42pm:

And at around 2:52pm he said he had missed my hand, so he kissed my palm. Then he held it and sucked his thumb and all was right with the world.

School Day One, I love you. Be mine.

Tomorrow? Big borderland news! And photos! Can you stand it?