Family comes in many forms

As moms and dads move on with their lives, new people enter the picture. These are Brent's new playmates when he goes to visit Dad.

I love my Duncan

A tired little boy on the way back from a tractor-riding, grass-cutting, playing fun weekend with Daddy. And his newest friend - Duncan.

Knowing when to bend

I don't know what else to say about these last few weeks other than they've been unimaginably blissful. Instead of fighting over bites, Brent and I talk about our day while we eat. I ask him what color dress Lucy had on, and he always knows, down to the gory details (green with white flowers, and pink shoes). We talk about what letters he learned today, or what projects the class worked on. It doesn't work both ways though. I think for just once he should ask me if I got my quarterly taxes done, or listen while I vent about a grumpy customer. For now though his stories are much better.

Instead of playing that fun manipulation bedtime game, we read books (always two, no more no less) and I make up stories (still two, always). He snuggles up against my arm and lets the day relax, and when it comes time for kisses and closed eyes, I rarely hear an arguement.

In the evenings, we color or go for walks; we chase caterpillars; we water the tomato plants and then maybe draw on the sidewalk for a few minutes - me sitting enjoying the fresh air with a cold glass of water, or sometimes an even colder Rolling Rock.... him with chalk dust coating his rear end and fingerprints on his apple juice glass.

Last night the power went out, only in our apartment it seems. We opened the blinds and read books out on the couch with the last of daylight creeping in. Candles glowed on the counter as we waited for the maintenance man to come investigate. I put him to bed, and sat on the couch waiting. I wondered if Brent would have trouble going to bed, with the erie silence and strange feel that a power-less house can have. I always enjoy it a bit, reveling in the quiet and thinking about how much our lives revolve around electricity - and how I wish to escape it.

I hear his door open, and he comes around the corner. "Back to bed", I said. And usually unless he has to go potty, he will immediately turn around. But his mouth turned over in the deepest frown, and he stuttered "But....I need....something". And he flung himself into my lap and sobbed buckets of tears. I just patted him for the longest time. I knew he was offset by the power being off, and didn't know how to express it. He finally went back to bed on his own, and I took a candle in there to replace his nightlight. Tucked in and almost asleep, I went back out on the couch.

Not 30 seconds later, more sobbing. I go in and find him face down, sadly crying again. "I had a bad dream....there's monsters in here...i'm scared mommy". I asked him where the monsters were and he pointed to the flickering images that the candle sent onto the ceiling. We took the candle out, and I did a special monster-repelling dance around the room to tell the monsters they weren't allowed in, and he was fast asleep in 5 minutes, dreaming of fixed power outages no doubt - to make sure the tv would work in the morning :)

Faces of Spring

The leaves on the trees were the color of fresh fingerpaints, green and new as they only are this time of year. The sun that warmed us was still refreshing, and the breezes whipped through the branches, singing their own lullaby on a spring day. We walked to the pond, admiring each caterpillar, every note of bird-song. It didn't matter that he walked out to where his shoes were sucked into the mud. Shoes and socks can be washed, but memories come once in a blue moon.

On the way back, we found a clearing in the wheat field, where the deer lay to sleep at night. The stalks of wheat bent over smoothly to make a perfect bed, and we rested in the blinding sun. He refuses to sit on the ground, so he plops down on my stomach and lays back against me. One second feels like a thousand, with the warmth of the sun's rays, the rustle of the forest leaves, the mockingbird's ever changing melodies. I grasp the moment and paint it onto my soul.

And then we head back. I watch him chase the cat through the leaves, watching so he doesn't run into the poison ivy patch. The winds die down as we round the corner for home, and serenity eases into the everyday once again.