Post Circe (but mid-processing)

This post won't be about anything profound and life altering, but that's not because Circe isn't profound and life altering. It's because I'm still processing, and there's a lot to process. Plus, I have stories from the children of their week, which also requires a little bit of processing. (They made a game called Call of Calvin Ball - it's a Call of Duty/Calvin Ball mashup, and it's hilarious, as far as I can tell through the doubling over laughter while they tried to explain it.)

They ate a lot of cereal and doughnuts while I was gone. And Z said they picked up a bit when I let them know we were on I-65. He laughed at the awkward silence that followed that statement and asked, "You couldn't tell, could you?" (No. Not really. But I'd kind of prepared for that, so it didn't bother me. Everyone was safe and happy and all together. I had hugs and stories and love. It's all good.) They also mulched the fruit trees, moved the compost, and cleared a workout space in the basement! What a wonderful surprise!

I convinced a local friend to go with me. So fun! I do hope she'll do it again some time. We had such a lovely time on the road, and at the conference. I'm also fairly certain both her husband and Z will appreciate us having someone else to listen to all the verbal processing that ensues post-conference.

This conference was perhaps the best I've ever been to. The venue was magnificent. The speakers were all thoughtful and engaged. The session topics were spot on and beautifully presented. (The theme this year was Forging a Likeness. Fantastic.) Blessedly, the air in the hotel worked, so we weren't sweltering all week.

At the beginning of the conference, we each set goals that we wanted to achieve for the purpose of the conference, then selected the sessions that would best support those goals. That's a fantastic tip for attending any conference, I think. It helps me, at least, to go into it with purpose rather than careening about from room to room like a biblioholic on a binge. At the end of the week, I did feel that I'd achieved the goals I'd set for myself. We have a fantastic plan for the boys' high school years, and I have a guideline for continuing my own education.

As a funny aside, one of my goals was to speak in a coherent manner to one of the presenters - to utter some kind of thoughtful thing that did not involve breaking out in a Beavis chuckle at any point. Don't laugh. This was harder than it sounds. I get a little star struck around the rock stars of Classical Education. These are the people whose work and words of insight and encouragement have been my constant companions for the last ten years. When I'm on a roll, it's their example I hold before me. When I'm exhausted and the chaos seems to have seeped into my very bones, it's their stories that remind me this is worth doing well and encourage me to take a deep breath and get back into the game. I appreciate their work and efforts, but at the same time, I get a little giddy and develop stress paralysis when I'm required to interact with them in any manner more intimate than asking questions during a session. To keep myself from chickening out, I shared this goal with my companions. (Who, it turns out, are incredibly hilarious and encouraging, but not much actual help. I love having friends who make me laugh!)

But I did it. I thanked Martin Cothran for his session on Aristotle's Seven Motivations of Man (which was truly fantastic), and we talked about young men and motivation. I didn't giggle once, but at the same time, I didn't feel giggly. I felt comfortable and confident. This man has raised children. He has looked at a 16yo son and had similar thoughts bolt through his mind that bolt through the mind of pretty much any parent of a 16yo son. And he emerged on the other side (several times over), with a good relationship with his children, and without throwing the whole project out the window or running away to Tijuana. (That last bit may only be a temptation for me. That's very probable.) But it was a delightful interaction, and I appreciated that he took the time to visit with me so affably and sweetly.

Then I just had to ask Wes Callihan for some suggestions for modern theologians for James to read. Because Mr. Callihan is brilliant, and James has exhausted all the names I already know. (At 15, I think I knew the names of maybe two, and I hadn't read either of them. That I'm having to troll professionals for suggestions to keep my child in titles cracks me up and makes me very happy.) Again, it was a truly helpful and interesting interaction. He is delightful and generous, and I'm so glad he took the time to be there, to answer questions, and to engage each of us who approached him. I should send him cookies. (I would send a book, but he's probably already read anything I could come up with to send. Goal #4 should be to remedy that.)

After that (and there was a little giggling after the fact, along with tiny low fives among friends, because this was huge, as anyone who has heard my celebrity triggered verbal diarrhea can attest - like I said, I love and appreciate my friends so much), things came together. I was Home. I was exactly where I belonged, and able to shed the feeling that someone was going to figure out I wasn't qualified to be there and have me escorted off the property. (Our fears are not always rooted in reality. That doesn't stop them from being ours.)

In the hotel room (or the lobby, or poolside), among friends, we engaged in fantastic, thoughtful conversation. We perused books. We shared excerpts with each other. We ate and laughed and told silly stories. Deb the Magnificent drove us all over Houston and acted as our official tour guide (she was the only one who knew where things were, but I think also the only one brave enough to drive in that traffic). We laughed some more. Some of us laughed until we cried. We sat at the table in the back at the banquet because we were pretty sure we'd be a little loud. It was a good call.

I wasn't ready to leave when the conference was over. But my brain was saturated, and I missed my family so very much, so the timing was perfect. It was time to come home, to kiss my babies (even the ones who have to bend down now for me to reach their heads), to thank Z for his unyielding support in this life we've built, and to contemplate the themes of the conference and prepare to continue engaging in the conversation.

It's good to be home. It was good to be there.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Plan A, B, or C

Pick one, it's all good.

We had planned to go on a river float today but the river is too low, so that trip was canceled. While we all appreciate the safety aspect (and, truth be told, none of us was up for a 1.5 mile hike in the river...) we were a little disappointed. Not quite ice cream falling on the sidewalk disappointed, but close.

So we did something else!

Just because the water's too low to float down river doesn't mean it's too low to get wet and play and splash around, right? (Right!) It's about 8" deep in this pic below.

This was Jase's first river trip, so of course, it was awful. Until suddenly, it wasn't. I think he's starting to trust the process. (And just a heads up - he was not in danger, nor was he hurt or injured. He just doesn't like New Things. Ever. Once they're not New, they're fantastic, and he's quite the adventurer after he knows what to expect.)

He did go down the rapids (not Real Rapids, just shoals, really - and remember, the water was low). About halfway down, he panicked. He screamed like a yeti had hold of him and was chewing on this calf. Holy heck, that kid's got a set of lungs on him! He wasn't hurt. He wasn't stuck. He wasn't in danger. He was just afraid - and that warrants a rescue, because being afraid is Real. I floated over to him and scooped him up (where he proceeded to scream inmyface until we got to the calm water). I beached us and asked him if he'd like to climb into my float so we could have some snuggles (because those make everything better).

That's when we discovered I'd beached us in muck. Knee-deep muck. When it's disturbed, it smells like rotting trash. And when it swallows you to your thigh and starts stinking, well, that's when it's clearly time to start screaming bloody hell all over again. At least, that's how it goes if you're six.

I got us dislodged and back out into the current, got him calm and loved on, then we made a plan. And we did it. He walked back up the shoals, slowly, processing the whole thing aloud with every step. I held his hand, carried both tubes, and kept up a running stream of cheerleading and encouragement while trying not to slip since I didn't have a free hand and it's generally bad form to break your fall with the child. By the time we got to the top of the shoals, he was ready to try it again, this time on my lap.

Well, that was *great*, until my butt snagged on a rock and we flipped out of the tube. I don't know if ear drums can pucker, but if they can, mine did. I was braced for the panicked screaming and general freak out common to the timid child. But, no. I mean, he did yell, but he yelled,

"Don't panic! Nobody panic! We've got this."

And we did. We let the tube go (the teens were down at the next bit of shoals and we figured they'd grab it as it went by), got out of the water, and worked our way back to the beach head.

By the time we got back to the beach, he pronounced this day, "The best day, ever!" Which,when you're six, totally counts. He was ready "to go for a little swim", but to be honest, I needed a nap at that point.

Plans don't always go according to, you know, plan. But the day doesn't have to be a waste. We don't have to stay home because a trip is canceled. We don't have to get out of the water because something didn't pan out the way we expected it to. He's learning a lot. So am I.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

We're Almost Done... Peeling

Dang. We went on a float trip on Saturday. It was supposed to be a four hour float trip that included a stop mid-way for lunch and time to play in the water. How cool is that?

But the river was low.

It was so low that the trip took seven hours. Yikes!

Now, I'm not known for being the most prepared mom in the world on the best of days. Most of the time, we're just kind of winging it, glancing at one another to make sure we're all still upright. I figure if I account for food and hydration, and return with approximately the same number of children I left with, it was a good day. (We didn't even lose anyone to that man eating tree on the right!)

But that day, we had a friend's child with us. So I was on super good behavior. I made everyone spritz up with sunblock, reminded everyone to drink, reapplied sunblock just before we got in the river... man, I was rocking this responsibility thing!  We even remembered to wear sneakers to protect our feet (and, evidently, to host mayflies, which was a little weird, as they were rather distracted with mating and didn't seem to care what they landed on to do it).

Except... we were good for four hours of sun. Not seven.

And my friend had told me that she'd sprayed her son down very well. Since she's Super Responsible, I didn't make him re-do his before we got in the water. But she didn't expect that he'd take his swim shirt off, so she didn't do his back. And I didn't know that.

:hangs head in shame:

I BURNT SOMEONE ELSE'S CHILD!

Of course, the rest of us got fairly well toasted, too. So, you know, at least I'm liberally negligent.

Anyway, we have another float trip tomorrow. I bought more sunblock (higher SPF, too). And I bought two containers of it - one of them is going to live in my bag. It may take me until the last of my children is out of the house, but I WILL get the hang of this gig. I swear I will.

(And we did have a blast on this outing. Even with the burns and the occasional need to lift our floats and duck walk across the shoals. For which there are no pictures. Because I was waddling along with everyone else.)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Fourth, early

Our little town had its annual Independence Day celebration last night, so that's when we had friends over and cooked out. The Charter service man came to switch out our modem in the morning. Hopefully, that will reduce the amount of downtime our internet suffers. He was fantastic, Charter, we're not so thrilled with so far. Then we commenced the preparations for the party.

We could not have begged for better weather - sunny and bright, but breezy and comfortable. Wow. Just wow. Z rocked the asado action on the smoker, and I think if we hadn't had guests I'd have eaten the whole thing myself, keeping the kids at bay with a poky stick - so, unbelievably good! Thankfully, part of my filter is still in place and I didn't assault the guests. Or run cackling into the woods with the pan of asado.

The teens got restless about an hour before the fireworks began. They wanted to get down to the square while it was still light and see the sights. Since none of the adults were quite ready to roll yet, the boys asked if they could take their bikes. We have a million bikes, so there were plenty for everyone who wanted to ride, and off they went. I'm guessing they had fun. We put eyes on them when we arrived at the square an hour later, and everyone had shave ice and was laughing. No blood, no limping. We called it good. It was nice, though, to run into friends who volunteered that they'd seen the boys and spoken with them and were so glad to see them. I love it when people volunteer good things about teens. They get it, and they get the kids. That's good stuff, right there. The rest of us, big and little, were happy to take our time moseying about in the meantime.

The fireworks were, once again, absolutely spectacular. It's one of my favorite parts of living here. Well, the whole thing, really - the show is amazing, the people are sweet, the food is fantastic. It's a good combination.

After the show, everyone (plus a few we picked up at the square) came back to the house for a bonfire and to finish off the desserts. That was, quite possibly, the perfect ending to a lovely day.

Today, we laid around doing nothing. It was delicious. Jacob told me he really needed a full week of that, and then interrupted himself to add, "Oh, wait! You have Circe coming up, which means Dad will be watching us, and we'll have a week of doing nothing. Oh, that's perfect!" And off he ran to share his revelation with his siblings. Z grinned when I shared that story with him, but he didn't deny it. I guess Kinderspringa shall become a tradition. They could do worse, really.

Have a safe and thankful weekend!

Kiss those babies,
Dy

Seasons in the Sun

We're learning to love Summer. Just a little bit.

There's always something historic to see, like the Observation Tower at Mt. Cheaha, built by the CCC in 1934, and painstakingly maintained by a team so that it can remain open and accessible to the public today:

Or to find, like the wildlife hiding in plain sight...

Or do... like playing in the water. This is probably the thing I appreciate the very most about living in Alabama - the water. Every place has history. Not every place has water.

The kids don't really take this for granted - they pick up trash along the way, leave the area cleaner than we found it, and they're respectful of the terrain and the things that live here. But they have no idea how good they've got it - this is normal for them. How cool is that? I was 20 before I got to swim to the base of a waterfall.

Still can't identify most of the plants that catch my eye, but that won't stop me from trying. It's all about getting experience by continuing to try until you get it right.

And then we headed out, and up. Funny, it didn't seem very far on the way in...

(I wrote this several days ago, but didn't post it. No idea why, but I'm going to blame the heat. Or maybe old age - I think I went off on rabbit trails to identify that flower and then suddenly, they wanted food again. That happens more than I'd like to admit.)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

It's so hot

I'd promised Jacob I would bike with him to the post office today to pick up our local paper, as he's anxious to make sure we don't miss the 4th of July festivities on the courthouse square. Actually, I'd promised to do it yesterday, but by the time we finished picking blackberries, it was 97 degrees with 70-someodd percent humidity, and we were ready to eat blackberries and lay over the air vents. So we did.

This morning, the ride was on. I'm not convinced it was an improvement, though. Lord, it's hot. But he got his paper, and we got out there and moved. 3 miles! Woohoo!

(Why doesn't he look sweaty there? He was - we both were. It was hot. But it was fun.) Then he somehow convinced James to do it again (this time to the corner store) this afternoon. By the time James and I returned from a meeting tonight, Jacob was out cold. I guess it was a good day.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

So, we got ready for camp...

And *BAM* it's a month later!

:blink:

I'm... relatively certain it didn't take us that long to get ready for camp. But there you have it. No clue where June went.

Anyway, the boys went to camp with their new Troop. It was a tremendous experience, and they came home a bit taller (which, frankly, is getting ridiculous at this point), randomly cracking up and spewing stories. The adult leaders have shared photos from the week, and almost every one spawned another round of stories and backstory. Clearly, they had a magnificent time.

My highlight, other than having them home, is that they came home and immediately got their smelly camp clothes in the wash! W00t! By mid-morning today, it was all done and put away, and the footlockers are back in their spots in the basement.

John did well enough on the rifle range to receive an invitation to a rifle competition later this year. He just beams with quiet pride when he talks about this. Such a wonderful experience. He rappelled from the high tower, and played his guitar in camp. Good stuff.

James took fishing. I have no idea why - he hates fishing. He handled it in his typical stoic fashion - the photos from that crack me up - and when I asked him about it, he said, "I don't know. I thought maybe there was something about it that made it fun and I was just missing it. So I thought I'd give it a try." It may not, in fact, have worked, but we remain convinced the theory was sound.

Jacob - this was his first year at camp. He was the youngest camper, but he did fine. He's a seasoned camper-in-general, and he's always up for some kind of adventure. He joined everyone in the mud run. He scampered about from class to class, laughing, smiling, and having a fantastic experience. He taught himself to swim in his free time. He did so many neat things, but his favorite? (His hands-down, no-kidding, this-is-the-coolest-thing-EVER... favorite!) Leeches. :gag: Yes, of all the fantastic opportunities in his path, getting a great big leech stuck to his foot was the highlight of the week. Other things merited a thumbs up or a, "Yeah, that was fun," but the leeches got a full-body leap in the air and the big eyes and the excited voice in the telling.

Meanwhile, the littles and I went to a crafting event, ate snow cones, went swimming, laid on the floor singing songs, read stories, and chased fireflies. When someone invents time travel, every new Mom should jump on the opportunity to fast forward a few years, get some experience under her belt, and then go back and just relax with her itty bitty ones. It's all good. It's really good.

And so, we're wrapping up June. Back to school in the morning (please, Lord, let them remember who King Henry I was...) and then we'll figure out what July holds. Hopefully it plans to move a bit more slowly than its predecessor...

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Starting to Feel It...

The heat, that is. It's been a wet, wet Spring, and that means 85 degrees feels significantly less do-able than 70 did. Stepping outside feels like a sort of sauna-meets-obstacle-course. Which is fine if you have athletic ability and... gills. For mere mortals, however, it's a little tricky.

Not stopping us, though!

This weekend was the annual Howard Hill Southern Traditional Archery Tournament. (This is commonly shortened to the "Howard Hill Shoot", and for the purposes of this post will be, "the shoot".) This shoot has been a dream of Z's for years. Back when we lived in the desert Southwest, it was one of those Someday things - too far away to be plausible for two broke kids, but cool enough to merit a standing spot on the list anyway. But now? Now we're less than two hours away from it!

And we all have bows again! So, of course we had to go! Ward came, and some other friends came. It was hot. It was humid. The sun shone, and the atmosphere was fun. The boys shot,

and shot...

Em and Jase hung in there for the whole trail (thank you, hiking group!),

...and I have clearly not lost the ability to laugh at myself.

Z was in his happy spot. It was a good day in our little world.

Oh! We got to see Byron Ferguson in action! AND we got to meet G. Fred Asbell! (If you're into traditional archery at all, you know why this is cool. If you're not, it's the equivalent of Classical homeschoolers getting to watch Andrew Kern lead a socratic discussion *and* visit with Martin Cothran. Very cool.) And, just like every time I get to see Kern and Cothran, I walked off yesterday in a happy haze without getting any pictures. But it happened. And it was awesome. Everyone's got next year's shoot penciled in.

Because of the rain, we didn't go down Friday, and had a spare day on our hands. The Huntsville and Madison Anime Convention (HAMACON) opened, so I took those who like it enough to spend their own money on admission, and we spent a surprisingly fun day at the convention center. Parent Passes are free, too! That was a pleasant bonus.

There was some incredible art, neat activities, special panels and discussions. There were also regular showings of interesting (either new, or particularly noteworthy, or unique) anime. The gentleman running the projector took the time to give introductions, insights, and some Q&A for the audience. We had fun. Nerdy, nerdy fun.

And, we got a cat. His name is Homer, in honor of the Homer Ball. He came home with the boys after a hike on Z's birthday.  (Z has never wanted a cat. Hence, the name.)

I think he's comfortable here.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Waterlogged

I had to go through my pictures to see what we've been up to this week, but after I looked at the pictures it all made sense: my brain is waterlogged. This has been a week of water, water, milkshakes, and water. We were invited to share Memorial Day with some special friends. We sat on the deck and visited while the children roasted themselves to a gentle crisp in the pool.

Immediately after that, we had to get a few bodies squared away on camp physicals and vaccinations. Milkshakes all around! We had one visit a day, all week. It was a long, long week. The boys are all quite philosophical about getting a shot. Jase is... not. Well, he may be, but he has a very different philosophy than the rest of them. If my mother were here, this would be the part where she'd smirk and whisper, "One just. like. you." But, we survived! And on we went...

Swimming with our homeschool group. The weather threatened mightily, and it scared off many of the people who'd planned to come, but those who came had a BLAST. We had an hour of clear weather on either side of a slight squall. When the rain did come, the rule was that as long as there's no lightning, they could stay in the water. And they did. We had to lure them out with food and previous obligations ticking away on the clock or they might have stayed until dark. It was a fantastic outing!

And Saturday, we got to join some friends and the Friends of the Locust Fork for their annual hike to Cornelius Falls. It's a fairly challenging hike, but entirely do-able. (Although the Littles stayed home with Dad, and that was a good call.) The payoff at the end of the trail is magnificent! We swam and played in the falls for an hour or so before heading back up the banks to go home. It was hard to leave. This is a seriously gorgeous little spot.

We've got our bags re-packed, our on-the-go food prepped, and we're ready to go back for more! For the first time in a long time, I can actually say I'm looking forward to Summer - good friends, beautiful country, and a willingness to explore - what more could we ask for?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A Little Service

The boys and I drove down to Cullman yesterday to help the VFW place flags on the graves of veterans for the coming Memorial Day observation. They had a lovely turn out of people from all seasons of life, and everyone was very thoughtful and respectful.

Cemeteries are a big thing here in the South. They have decoration days and walking tours. People make a point to visit them when driving to other places. It's definitely A Thing. I love the idea of it, but after two hours of reading each and every headstone in this cemetery (so that we did not miss any of the veterans, we read each one carefully), I don't know that I could do it as a past time or a hobby. The endless litany of the lost -- infant children, toddlers, mothers, fathers, siblings, soldiers... every headstone representing an entire home, sometimes an entire community, mourning and filled with sorrow... it's a crushing weight when focused.

And people get attached to their cemeteries, here. One kind lady we spoke with was telling us about the cemetery where her parents are buried, and how there are many unmarked graves from when workers would follow the saw mills for work. If someone in the family died while they were stationed here, they would, understandably, bury the person there locally. I thought it was the lack of marker identification that bothered her, but she wrapped up her story with, "And then, when the work moved on, they just up and went! And left 'em there!" As if that were the more incomprehensible option. Well, I guess to her, it was. I don't know if the boys caught that, but I had to suppress a smile.

But I do get it. The cemetery my father is buried in is behind one of the high schools I went to, and I would often wander over during my lunch hour to sit in the solitude to think and pray. There is a sense of connection in the individual. And we need to strive for a sense of connection to the whole, to every soul who shares this earth with us. But for me, the weight of loss in finding that connection at the cemetery is too much. I'll seek out connections among those who share the earth with us now, and try to make our involvement one that makes the story a person will have a better one. It won't show on a headstone, but it will show where it matters most, and that's okay.

Kiss those babies!
Dy

A Soggy Adventure With Good Company

That was pretty much the gist of our weekend. Since last year, when I first found out about it, I've been anxiously awaiting the return of the Chickamauga & Chattanooga Battlefield's once-a-month bike tour. Normally, you have to walk these tours. I don't mind walking. We hike every week. But I do have a little bit of a mental block about walking civil war battlefields. in the South. in the Summer. We did one once. It was horrific. The whole experience was just one of those things that'll be funny in ten years. (It hasn't been ten years yet, so I can't properly tell the story yet. Someday, it'll be hilarious, though.) And while I was certain it would be a completely different experience with a completely different group of people, well, it left a mark.

So I was anxious (really anxious) to rally up a new experience to wipe the RAM and re-set the whole memory bank. (Been talking with James a lot today.) I asked a friend if she thought her family would like to go, too. They said yes! WooHoo! (I love them.)

So, last weekend was the first one of the year, and we were ready to go! The kids and I got all the things squared away: tents, food, chairs, first aid kit... Z modified the trailer to haul a billion bikes plus a cooler and the plow disc.

Reservations made, dates and times confirmed. (Ohhh, yes, I felt like such a grown up! No more showing up in New Orleans two days into Mardis Gras and no clue it was happening. Not this girl. At least, not when I have children depending on me. I could unravel completely after Jase leaves home.) But this time? I had this.

Except, the weather. The rain came, and it stayed. The weather app just showed clips from The Neverending Story as The Nothing swept across northern Georgia. We broke camp in the morning, just in case. (The lady at the campground couldn't believe we were checking out early and was rather insistent that the folks giving the weather report were from Atlanta, and they have no idea what they're talking about.) We smiled at each other as the rain drops began hitting the windshield as we pulled out of the visitors center.

Then we raced over to the Battlefield to see if they were still having the tour, or if it would be postponed. Yep, still on. They knew it was going to rain, but didn't really mind. So we dismantled the Rube Goldberg machine that has become our trailer, checked the bikes, and saddled up. Off they went!

I stayed behind. EmilyGirl still hasn't quite mastered bike riding. (Comes of living on a damn steep hill with a gravel drive and a terrifying drop into the creek if you don't stop in time. Since we've moved here, the kids have been learning to ride later and later.) So she and I trundled about in the grass, in the rain. We made it about half a mile in two hours, going one half a pedal push at a time. She never quite got the hang of it, but she never did give up. She did, however, fall quite a bit, and that was her biggest fear going into it, so... yay? I think. (I'm not glad my child wrecked. But at least now she knows falling off your bike isn't the most horrible thing that could happen. Conquering fear is good. Conquering fear on grass is even better.) I didn't make her cry, and she's been back on since we got home. I'm going to call that a win.

The boys returned wet, tired, and happy. The park ranger was amazingly knowledgeable and enthusiastic. The group they rode with was a great group. Jase had his inaugural ride on the Trail-A-Bike, and he was walking ten feet tall by the end of it.

And that's when the skies opened up and let loose the fury of a thousand shipwrecks. Holy cow, that was some amazing rain! We smiled at each other again, glad we didn't have to go back to break camp in the storm, and we all headed back home with a stop at Jefferson's for some oysters and burgers, and the necessary stop at Unclaimed Baggage to see what we could see.

And you know, it was a totally different experience. We just had to go with the right people. Our people. And it was fantastic!

¡Hablamos Español!

Ooo! It worked! (I had to look up how to type the punctuation and the tilde.)

Anyway, Em and Jacob took a fun mini-class the last two weeks that introduced them to Spanish vocabulary.

The class was wonderful, Miss Pam is a delightful instructor, and now we're all wishing we could either take her home with us or take a longer course with her. Such fun!

And the kids? Ah, I love these kids. They're so delightful, and so funny. We're pretty spoiled.

James is nearing his first progress review with the orthodontist. This week, he got rid of the bite plate, and he's one happy camper!

And while the Middles were at Spanish, the Bigs enjoyed some volunteer time at the Native Plants Garden in Cullman, then an Edible and Medicinal Plants session. I was on Small One Duty (for a child who doesn't particularly care for New Things, this has been a rough Spring) on the other side of the park, so this is the only picture I got from that. We don't think it's edible or medicinal. But it's pretty, and it made us smile.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Happy Mother's Day

I'd have posted this yesterday, but to be honest, I slept through it. We got up, dressed, and out the door for Sunday School and church, and I was awake. I was right there, on the ball, no stressing or worrying. Not even feeling particularly focused, to be truthful.

About ten minutes before the end of the service (which was a great service - this isn't a reflection on the pastor, at all), I realized I was dangerously close to going into full-on hibernation. I sat up. That didn't help.

I ate a mint. That didn't help.

I leaned forward. Boy, that really didn't help.

I sat back up and tried to stretch without shoving my arms into anyone's face.

Still no improvement.

So I got up and went to the hall, got a drink, stretched where only the little 11-month-old toddler and her mother could see me (they came around a corner mid-stretch - there was no way to pull out of it gracefully, so I just smiled and went with it).

I thought I was okay, so I slipped back in for communion. All was right with the world.

Until we got in the car. I fell asleep. Repeatedly and without warning.

And when we got home, I changed out of my church clothes and laid down for "just a bit". Kind of figured a little Mother's Day Nap was within the rules, right?

Five and a half hours later...

I got up then only because Z was starting to fret that I hadn't eaten enough, so he insisted I at least sit up and have a little something, even if I went straight back to bed afterword. Which, I didn't. I did stay up for the evening, for a nice visit with my mother in law and her sister, for hanging out with the kids and reading aloud. So, the day started nicely and ended beautifully, but I'm just going to have to trust everyone else on how the middle bit went.

I hope your Mother's Day brought you opportunities to make people feel appreciated, and opportunities for others to do the same for you.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy