Stumped

I have always wanted to have private thinking spaces in our backyard for each kid.  (Goodness knows they / I  need them!)  This weekend, I found inspiration: stumps.  A funky property up the hill from our house was selling beautiful round chucks of wood.

In order to lift them into our car, I had to include Jeff.   In fact, I had to use an "if you love me..." pass.  (You can't use those lightly.)  They do, after all, alter our "stuff" equation in the wrong direction.  But, the stumps are home, and each child has chosen their spot:

• Will's is beside the hole he is digging from our yard to the Boulder Creek; 
• June chose a sunny spot next to the rope ladder;  
• Clara claimed the space around the water fountain.  
• We put John in the corner.

We'll spend some time this spring planting flowers and personalizing.  Hopefully they will get some use.

Fifty Jo Gina

For Christmas this year, Santa brought a fish tank.  Now well into the New Year, it finally holds some fish.

Jeff describes that process of picking out the fish at the pet store as some cruel Russian Roulette.  And it proved true.  Will's Sucker Fish and Clara's "Black Molly" survived, but June's "50 Jo Gina" did not fare so well.

I hope we're not putting some horrible bacteria into Boulder Creek, but flushing it down the toilet just wouldn't do for June.  So June is convinced that 50 Jo Gina came back to life in the water.  (Will authoritatively affirmed her belief, based on his expert knowledge of Greek Mythology.)

Anyway, 51 Jo Gina will soon join us.  Hopefully, she will stay for a while.

Snowball Fight Hike

Our fallback family activity is hiking.  Skiing may be more in the repertoire as the kids get older, but for now, I'm quite happy with winter hikes.   Lately, this also means snowball fights.  Our kids excel at stockpiling and running and enthusiasm, but lucky for Jeff, they have absolutely no aim.  He sat on a single rock, but didn't get hit once.

Is it cruel to be so amused by my own kids' inabilities?  I find it hilarious - all the build up and determination and confidence.... and then total ineptitude.  I have a flash of thinking myself dark.  Like tonight, did I laugh a little too hard when John tried to sit on the dishwasher but missed?

Anyway.  It's just a snowball fight.  And even if they can't aim, I'm still thankful that Jeff's their target.

Big Sky Hike

Today, the kids were out of school.  So...  we went on a hike! That, and drank Root Beer Floats.  In fact, the hike was a necessity after the floats. The sugar high lasted for hours.

The big kids did some off-roading, leaving poor John on his perch in the back-pack.  As I watched them, I thought about the push / pull of wanting / not wanting them to run off, as they did up a big hill.  

It's not fair really.  I generally want them to detach from me and explore, until they do.  Then I want them back, safe, within my reach.  But, I'm thankful.  These explorations are just the beginning.

That's them, waving from the top of the hill.

First Haircut

I put shears to John's shaggy locks this morning -- for the first time. It added about 5 months in 2 minutes. Now he's a little boy. (A little boy with a jagged Mom-cut, that is.) June keeps saying he looks just like the boy in the Nutcracker, who (poor thing) also had a bowl cut and blond hair.

But he's beautiful. And goofy. And growing. And oblivious, thank goodness.

Tangled

I spent probably three hours yesterday untangling things: First yarn, then an extension cord, then Clara's hair (impossible), and finally (and most challenging, next to the hair) a 70s-ish dangle of colorful plastic circles and strings. (That's another story).

I feel a little humiliated, but also a sense of surrender. Some days are not about creation, but are just about untangling webs. Sigh. But I do love the tanglers.

Colorado Hookey

It is cold in these parts. Really cold. But blue-sky beautiful, mixed with heavy snow hanging on the trees. Every winter, I vow to get out more. It does get easier as the kids get older... With that goal in mind, we played hookey from school last Friday for an adventure into the mountains. We caught the sunrise as we drove towards ski lessons for two, and a hike/ski/sled-ride for the rest of us.

There was one hour when I seriously questioned my judgment. It was the hour when I handed my sensitive, hysterical daughter over to the fairly insensitive, laissez-faire, 20-something ski instructors. She was terrified, and they were heartless - to my mother bear side. But between her schizophrenic mind (I'm doing it! I'm NOT doing it! I'm doing it! I'm NOT doing it!), and one instructor who finally gave her some attention at the right moment, she did it. And had no regrets.

So it was a day to remember. My favorite kind.