Strawberry Fields Forever

   I was going to extol the virtues of spending time in nature with family. Some bleeding heart stuff about activities with kids and how it brings you all closer  together with memories; blah, blah, blah.... I could have even gone further with delightful pictures of the girls and I angelically stirring a bubbling pot of jam on the stove. Yeah, coulda. If I hadn't just spent the last hour scraping that bubbling jam off the top of my flat top cooker. Did you know that jam turns to concrete when cooked in such a way? mmmhhmm, it does. Yup.

   Well, I still have to put out the garbage and maybe take another crack at some of the concrete embedded into the stove. It might just be one of those memory spots, but hey, the floor under the stove got swept and swiffered when I pulled the stove out to wash the f#@%$#^#$@$#!!!! jam off the side of it. I still have the largest basket and one of the smaller baskets to deal with tomorrow. Perhaps I can manage to splatter the ceiling or walls with red droplets of goo that will make me tear my hair asunder and cry like it is the end of the earth. That is another day though. Happy Father's Day.

Bountiful Peas

June and we're already eating peas!

Trouble in Paradise

The night sky is dark, as I wind down my editing. A few changes have been made. Most will not notice, but I do. Tonight I am troubled by a post  I read in the blog-o-sphere. A blog I follow found itself at the center of a particularly eerie and nasty bit of harassment. It seems that a follower of WaystationOne has sprung the bounds of decency and invaded personal comfort levels. It would seem it is a scary case of cyber-stalking that has left many shaken, including myself. I quite like the world of blogging and am thrilled at the new-found friends I have made. Really though, in this world a facade is presented that only holds what the writer wants or cares to show.  Many people are anonymous or use pseudonyms in the blog world and beyond. Social media and networking are huge pieces of the world today and they enter our world like never before. I like to think that most people are honest and decent human beings with the best of intentions, but unfortunately that is not always the case. There are some out there that mold the world to their own vision of what they want and do not see through a social filter. They forget about what their actions mean  in the greater scheme of things. Other's thoughts and feelings are a mute point that does not compute into their own world. A cry for help perhaps? Maybe, but aggression  and salacious behaviour are never the way to go. I hope that his handling of the situation rectifies things for himself and potentially for others that may not have come forward, but are suffering the same way. For every voice that is heard, how many others remain silent, but struggling. For myself, I have wandered through some old posts wondering what I might regret sharing, if a similar situation arose for me. I am what I am though. The words on the page are me, as are my thoughts. I cannot edit me in my own space, my own home, but perhaps I can just remember that caution has its place in the world. I will return tomorrow and offer my voice to the world. It is my voice, however big or small. I will not deny it, but have to remember that sometimes all that glitters is not gold. Peace to you. Travel safe and well.

Reaching further

Child

Beautiful, gangly

Hanging, laughing, falling

Determined to master the monkey bars

Adventurist.

~~~

I was inspired by a new style of poetry that I was recently introduced to. This is my interpretation of a Cinquain poem. My little monkeys were inspired by a climber in a friend's back yard. Climb higher, reach farther, dream further my little ones...

I apowogize

A moment from this week;

My baby has a smile that will melt your heart. I look into her eyes and see myself, love and everything that could be for tomorrow. She gives incredible hugs and loves with all her soul, as I am sure that most three-year olds do. She also has very distinct thoughts, feelings and emotions that she is not afraid to let pour forth. This might illustrate itself in her saying "I don't want to" to anything and everything, in her carrying the cats around upside down by their back legs to show that she is a big girl and she can, to giving tender hugs and remarking on people's tears when they are sad. Above all else she cares and I was reminded of this a few nights ago.

After a mostly pleasant and reasonably quick dinner outside, the girls pulled out their bikes to practice riding in the street. I was encouraged to get out my bike, so that I could show the girls "some tricks". I wowed them with figure 8s, but with slightly flat tires let them do all the entertainment and fun. Our neighbours returned home, so the girls proceeded to show off their prowess on their rides to a new audience. Nibbles of ice cream was their reward, as well as a fluffing up of my tires for a future ride. The evening wound down with pointing out hot air balloons and remarking on greenery in our garden tour across the street. Before I knew it, the bedtime hour had come and passed. We waved goodnight, with sticky-sweet smiles from their strawberry patch and raced to get on pjs. I noted that it was late and a school night, so there was enough time for brushing teeth, but unfortunately no stories. As I tried to tuck in my littlest bundle, she showed her displeasure by kicking at the blankets and yelling "NO!". 

Now I know that there are many soft and wonderful Mamas out there that would take this in stride with angelic smiles and wonderful solutions. For me, it was late; too late. When I hit the end of the night, I do not want to deal with my little angel's antics any more. Not one little bit. Unh, un. So I tried to play nice Mommy, failed, threw up my hands and walked out of her room, closing the door behind me. I know that I cannot win the war with her some days, so I just don't even try. I went to my other daughter's room and tucked her in. I covered her in kisses and hugs and told her I loved her, as I left her room. With no noise from the younger, I went to peek in on her. She was still sitting on her bed where I had left her, with a frown upon her face. 

She looked at me and said, "Mommy, I apowogize."

Quiet as a mouse.

My irritation melted. "I appowogize. I shouldn't have kicked you. That wasn't nice. Kicking hurts."

My thoughts flew to daycare and I kissed and loved all her teachers for everything that they did for me and her every day.

"I'm sorry."

Her little face was sorrowful and I was so in love with this big, brave thing she had done. Hugs, kisses and love rushed out of me and showered all over her. I felt like somewhere, somehow, I had done something right and was being rewarded for all the tempers that flared over so many days. Sigh, these are the moments that make me glad and proud to be a Mommy and for this I am forever grateful.