It’s not really a pompadour, but I happen to like alliteration, so pompadour it is.  J’s been sickly the last week  or so–even though I’d thought we were finished with that snotty nose and fever business.  Because he’s sickly, his appetite just isn’t where it should be, although his sense of play is slightly elevated.  Consequently, any fun, sticky-yet-fluffy food that comes within his reach is destined to become fodder for the camera.

This is the highlight of my Mother’s Day.  Happy BSM!

Tags: Best Shot Monday, BSM, dinner, food, toddler

Only a few weeks ago, snow encased tree limbs, covered the green grass and fell on a muddy driveway.  Today, a sea of green surrounds us and the leaves are finally peeking out of their protective coverings after a long, long winter.  

The next-door, summering-in-a-converted-schoolhouse neighbors stopped over yesterday, asking if we might have a plat book or an abstract for our land.  They’re an older couple who bought the schoolhouse when it was offered up for bid.  The schoolhouse has been a part of the neighborhood for 80 years, and although it hasn’t been in use as a school since the 50’s, it was a community building right up until the couple bought it.  Kids played on the old, steel swings in the yard and the former homeowner of our house fixed the old handpump in the yard so that it would pump fresh water.

Like I said, it was a community property…everyone had access and no one really cared what happened with it as long as nothing was destroyed for the rest of us.  As a result, neither T or I were terribly cognizant of where exactly their property lines were.  We know where ours are, but just figured that the bushes and trees the couple was clearing out behind the schoolhouse was on their land.  

They would know where there land was, right?  

Apparently not.

When the couple explained that the right-behind-our-house neighbors were up for the weekend and had walked over and told them to quit cutting their trees, I was surprised.  I can see being a little unclear on a property line–by a few feet or so, but not like this.  This is a lot.

I didn’t have an abstract, but I’m pretty handy with a computer, so I gassed the iMac up and checked out the county’s tax and property database.  It turns out that the old couple was wrong by at least 30 feet.

Thank God, because they were gunning for some big, healthy pine trees that shield two old semi trailers, an old camper and various sheds and piled things from our view.  I’m thinking someone likes the feel of a chainsaw in his hands.

Still, several smaller trees are gone, so this afternoon I pointed Safari to Paint Creek Nursery’s website and did a little browsing.  I think tomorrow morning I’ll order 20 Norway spruce trees for a windbreak.  A few minutes ago I ordered two replacement American plums from Cold Stream Farm for a few 2-year-old plums that died over the winter.  To wrap up the evening’s spending spree, I finally ordered seed from Jung’s for the garden I’ll try to put in, in a few weeks.  

I might as well try to replace a little of what they decided to cut in my own way and in my own yard.  It’s just too bad it’ll take another 80 years for them to reach the glory of a few of those lost. 

Tags: land, nursery, property, spring, trees, yard

…is me.

I’m itching to get some good, old quality camera time, but, alas, there is the little problem with all the books and the questions and the projects and the paper-writing. Oh, yeah, and the highlighter fumes. Instead of playing paparazzi to my superstar child, I’m lost in a bad book while he learns to speak by repeating commands at me until I look up, dazed.

“Ma-ma?  Eat!”

“Ma-ma? Na-na!”

“Ma-ma? Book!”

“Ma-ma? Up!”

“Ma-ma! S**t!”

Yeah, it happened. Thankfully, I have sacrafied another book to the gods of lifelong learning and this time have only one more to go.  Firing up iCal and glancing at my schedule (yes, I schedule these things, or I wouldn’t finish), I found I have four chapters to read for each of four nights, then three essays to write each of three days and finally one essay and a summary of my learning for the last day.  So, in eight days or so, I’ll be finished and no one will have to hear about the insanity of taking 12 grad credits in six weeks again.  Happy day for us all, don’t you think?

Speaking of classes, I’m reminded of tuition and that leads me to this: I found out today that the stupid stimulus payment I was going to use to pay for these classes came in signifigantly short of what I expected–apparently because we got that huge adoption tax credit, we don’t get the standard amount.  Boo-hoo.  Poor me.  Oh, well.  I think it’s another stooopid idea, anyway, Mr. Bush.

And just so you know, I won’t let my bitterness about the stimulus payment get me too down.  I’m going to be celebrating the end of the year and end of my classes with a nice giveaway contest–another $20 Amazon gift certificate will be up for grabs.  More info later, though, after all the fumes have cleared.

Until then, Happy Mother’s Day.  I’ll be reading and checking my tracking numbers for the gift I bought myself :)

Tags: classes, Contest, mother's day, stimulus payment

I nervously opened the front cover of this year’s yearbook this afternoon, listening to the cracking sound of the binding opening for the first time and smelling that new yearbook smell. This is one of the hardest days of the year for a yearbook adviser. The truth about our labor arrived packed in 14 boxes, on 642 pounds of paper and ink.

Normally, the first feeling I feel is disappointment. Maybe we didn’t leave enough space around the margins or flubbed the body copy size. Maybe there’s a typo on page 1. Maybe the cover is ugly.

This year, none of the above. For the first time in the four years I’ve advised this yearbook staff, I waited and let next year’s editor open the box I’d pilfered from the cart that was being rolled away hours ago to its secret location. As she and her staff paged through the book, I slowly turned the pages of my own book, too.

“Yes!” I whispered.

“Yes!” they repeated, over and over.

Yes became a chorus.

Finally, finally, finally.  We did it.

J, you’re 20 months old, now.  Crazy, isn’t it?  Well, maybe not for you, but it certainly is for me.  You’re becoming more than just that cute kid who booby-traps the hallway with books and blocks for Daddy’s midnight stroll to the kitchen or bathroom.  You’re becoming someone with opinions and, gasp…words.

Even though you’ve probably noticed that there are a few extra books around here and that Mama’s dusted off the highlighter to draw in those books, you’re still as much in the spotlight as ever.  You add your own books to the mix, dropping them in my lap and firmly insisting, “Up!” “Up!” I’ve memorized the pictures and words to both the Pat-a-Cake and that Christmas story books, and you’re helping me along as you point to the Christmas star, saying “Staaaar!” and the cow, saying “Mooooo!” and Jesus, saying “Baby!”  

Sometimes you’ll surprise me with a “What are you doing?”  Sometimes I’m scared.  I think you already say, “Shit!” at the appropriate time.  I don’t say it.  Dad doesn’t say it.  Did Grandpa teach you something when I wasn’t in earshot?

Your favorite word?  Shoe.  I think you think it’s interchangeable with, “We’re going outside to play!”

Sorry.  It’s not.

It seems like in just a day or two you’ve gone from stubbornly pointing to your ear when asked to identify any body part to pointing to the correct part.  You don’t even stick your finger in your nose when I ask you to point to your nose.  I must say, you definitely don’t take after your father in that respect.

You can use a spoon, and I’ve given up on the block-piling because they bore me when you’re so interested in reading and telling me what’s going on in those books.  I’m writing you off as perfectly normal despite us.  

You surprise us daily, kid, and we love it almost as much as we love you.

Or do I have the wrong page up on the calendar?  Think I might be a little tired of this?