Messy

A shout out to my dear friend and fellow poet, Elizabeth Maurer. She bravely invited me and the kids over for a playdate yesterday with her, her dog Max, and their trampoline. Later, she challenged me to write a poem about it and while I initially demurred, some phrases kept bouncing around in my head, trying to get out. 

So Lizzy, it's rough and yes, messy, but this one's for you.

Messy

Being a mother is messy

in ways having nothing to do

with blood, amniotic fluid

snot, urine, vomit

pureed carrots, mashed bananas

mud, grass stains

or crayon on a white wall.

A visit to a childless friend unravels

when three children (mine)

mix with overly friendly dog (hers)

and fancy landscaping (also hers).

The boundaries of whose mother I am blur

when my friend needs me

as much as my son

after he falls off her deck

and scrapes his back and elbows

on the volcanic rocks in her flowerbeds.

How can I explain to her

that next time may still be messy

even if dogs and children

are kept apart?

That being a parent is not just about preventing chaos

by compartmentalizing variables

but accepting it will still be unavoidable

when large minds housed in small bodies

learn the limits of their world

and their wills?

She cannot know

until it happens to her

how a woman’s hands leave the wheel

the instant she conceives

and never return.

I can hope, though

she will open herself, get her hands messy

and find the art of nurture can be learned

only in facing the fear

that what we have to offer 
will never be enough—

that giving up control

before the unthinkable even happens

is what prepares us

to be the calm eye

in the storm.

Eight months

Here today, flan tomorrow

For the past year and a half, we've been using La Clase Divertida for our Spanish curriculum. Due to state budget cuts, CVA won't be offering it as approved curriculum next year, and I confess I'm a little sad to see our time with Señor and Señora Gamache come to an end. Despite the low-budget video production values, Jimmy and Audrey both look forward to watching each lesson and then doing the activities that go along with it--especially the cooking lessons.

This year we made torrijas (a sort of Spanish "french toast", and a huge hit with everyone), paella (not as much of a hit, so I ate the leftovers for lunch for about a week), and finally, flan. I have to say, the flan was actually the easiest to make, and the video instructions were quite helpful, since the written recipe in the teacher's manual was sketchy at best.

Jimmy and I made the flan yesterday afternoon--cooking while sharing our most flan-tastic puns with each other--then let it sit in the fridge overnight to set up. After lunch today, everyone had a slice and it was wonderfully rich and creamy. Just one more reason to love homeschool.

Keyed up

Jimmy's first recital was Monday evening. He played well, considering how nervous he was. And the choice of music was well-suited to his personality, I think.

Bio lab

Since last year we've been trying to observe protozoa for Jimmy's science classes. Two different orders of grow-it-yourself samples from a homeschool science company yielded no results. Last November I threw in the towel and decided to wait for warmer weather, hoping it would help the little critters to proliferate.

Fast forward to this spring, when I got smart and realized I could get protozoa locally at a convenient pond. After one failed attempt to find some on our own, Jim asked a colleague from the storm water department at work if he could recommend a good place to look. His buddy came through with a great spot to sample pond water, and this afternoon we got an eyeful of amoebae and paramecia. Apparently the key is to look for warmer, still water, rather than anything that is cool and moving. Good to know.