Dragonfly Green

dragonfly

The other day Ruthie came running into the kitchen from outside, screeching in a frantic but excited voice, “Quick! Quick! You have to come oustide! I have something to show you!”

The kids had found a dead dragonfly on the deck. It was dead and dried up, but completely intact. And it was beautiful.

I don’t know that I’ve ever had the opportunity to look so closely at a dragonfly, as I’m usually squealing like a girl and running away. I always thought they were blue, or black. But this one is a beautiful shade of green – my green, the color of my living room, half my wardrobe, and the future color of the exterior of my house.

And the wings? The wings… they are magnificently detailed and delicate.

This was a happy moment in which I was in awe, my kids were in awe, and the One Who Usually Destroys was gentle and curious. We looked at it from all angles, we set it down to see if it would fly, we ever so softly touched the delicate wings, we startled when the wind nudged it and made it seem alive again.

A little green dragonfly borrowed a few moments of focus and unity for us.

What magical things have you found lately?

Things to Remember

I have discovered that when Bryan is gone I act like I have no reason to get out of bed in the morning. I mope, I drag my feet, and we either spend four days in our pajamas or we leave the house at 9 and don’t return until 9 – both of which make me cranky.

Today I took the kids to a play date with actual grown-ups involved, and we have friends coming over for dinner tonight. Suddenly, I am light on my feet and flitting about the house, happily singing as I clean like I’ve never cleaned before.

Yes, today I have something to look forward to, and I’m not too overwhelmed by an over scheduled day to enjoy it. Not to mention I am cooking an actual meal for these people instead of tossing a few crumbs at my children and feeding myself energy bars.

I like this thing they call Balance. It makes me not cranky.

Stupid

Ruthie’s latest word craze is ‘stupid.’ I think it started when Bryan and I became fed up with our Comcast DVR randomly shutting down for the 42nd time, and one of us mumbled, ‘Stupid Comcast.’ Ever since then, Ruthie’s mantra has been Stupid This and Stupid That.

For awhile I tried the tactic of semi ignoring it, not wanting to whip her into an excited fervor by any strong disapproval. That didn’t work well, as EVERYTHING became stupid. So I tried redirecting it into inanimate objects, like STUPID COMCAST, or stupid bike. Stupid People were off limits. But still, everything was obsessively stupid, not to mention the occassional Stupid Thomas slipped in there.

The pinnacle of this craze came last week on our vacation when we had a stupid day in which, once again, everything was stupid. Ruthie came to ask permission to do something, I said she could do it later because right now it was dinner time. She screamed at me and ran away. She ran all the way across a large field and up a hill, and from that hill she screamed, ‘YOU’RE SO STUPID!’ at me.

The next morning I spent some time cleaning and reorganizing the kitchen area of our campsite. I threw away cups, tossed dirty dishes into a tub, and moved unnecessary items from the table. Then I came across a folded up piece of paper. I unfolded it to see if it was something I could throw away, and as my eyes landed on the one single word written on the paper, it was as if the gods were sending me a message that I had just not been understanding, and now they were making it as plain as the nose on my face:

stupid

Different Worlds

Bryan returned from San Jose tonight, and was home by 8:15. We sat on the deck talking on the first coolish evening of the week.

Bryan: Want me to build a fire?

Jen: Uh… ok… [pausing to to process why this sounded horrific to me, but not wanting to dash his obvious hopes] So… what was the weather like in San Jose this week?

Bryan: It was kind of cold, actually.

Jen: Ah.

So despite the fact that I have basically been on fire all week, I am now sitting next to a beautiful crackling fire – having inner Post Dramatic Traumatic Stress attacks.

Because I love him dearly.

Dog Friendly Parks

The Alert ProtectorWe discovered that Maple Valley is a dog-friendly town, permitting dogs to walk with their owners on the trails at the arboretum as well as relax at the beach when said hike is finished. The city I live in is not dog friendly, so this is a fantastic discovery for the Zugs.

Saturday night we brought a picnic dinner to Lake Wilderness and spent time swimming and wresting in the grass. It was a pleasure to have Scout with us, and so cute to see how attentive she is when Bryan and the kids are in the water. See her ears perked up? She’s on high alert!

The only sad discovery to this perfect evening was rice grain sized leaches all. over. my. legs. I totally freaked out on the inside, so as to not alarm the kids. But Ruthie? She simply said, “Something is sticking to my foot.” And she picked it off and went back into the water. We may go back, but I’m not sure I’ll be in the water with the kids!

Because I’m too distracted to write about anything else.

The other night Ruthie counted all the way up to 26, at which point she got caught in a vicious circle of never entering the 30’s. It went something like this: 24, 25, 26, 21, 24, 25, 26, 24, 25, 22, 23, 24, 21… and so on. It was hilarious, because she never seemed to realize she was stuck like a broken record.

Also, a couple weeks ago I took the kids to see Meet the Robinsons – part of the distraction of Bryan being gone for so long. Let me just openly remind movie theater managers that most G-rated movie-goers do NOT have the attention span to sit through previews. At the beginning of each one, Ruthie would shout out if this was the movie, only she kept getting the name wrong. It evolved…

IS THIS MEET THE ROBINS?

IS THIS MEET THE ROBINSES?

IS THIS MEET THE ROBIN?

IS THIS MEET THE ROBINHOOD? (my personal favorite).

There is one scene in the movie in which a scary dinosaur is trying to get the kid. Ruthie was terrified and jumped into my lap until this scene was over.

But Thomas? That was the ONLY part of the movie he paid attention to! He jumped up and down and growled back at the screen and pointed his ‘gun’ finger in retaliation.

It was awesome.

Gardening bliss and blunders, with a little TMI sprinkled on top

Today during naps I am forsaking my garden and geeking out on the computer. It’s cold, it could rain, and I have cramps – therefor I am grouchy and feel like doing what I want to do rather than what I need to do. I have just learned how to post .pdf files onto the blog, so I am one step closer to posting all the song lists (with lyrics included) to the mix tapes I’ve made.

More on that later.

IMG_6866.JPGEven if I don’t feel like being in the garden, I do want to share! This is a patch under the front window on the East side of the house. It looks rather scraggly for most of the spring and early summer because my dahlias (the tall things on the right in the back) don’t come into bloom until mid to late summer. In seasons past I have filled in the dead space with bulbs and annuals, but it always looks sparse and haphazard. This year I moved a large container to the space in front of the window and filled it with Sutera (the white trailing flowers), Petunias (the pink flowers), Heliotrope (the purple flowers), and Coleus (the red leaves). I am very proud of this arrangement artistically, because it filled in very nice, and was much more exciting than just the petunias I usually do. I had fun wandering around the nursery looking for just the right height and color combinations.

I had some Begonias left over from another planting, and decided to plop them into a small pot to add to the grouping. I thought this looked great, too, and it inspired me to just fill in the rest of the space with more annuals in all the empty pots I have around rather than dumping more time and money into planting perennials this season. My vegetable garden is work enough this first go-around

green beans.JPGSpeaking of which, I may have been a little rash in starting the vegetable garden this summer. Mostly because I never put down weed blocker, and when I came back from MN there was a carpet of three-inch-high crab grass choking everything out – at least visually. And novice that I am, it never occurred to me that weeds would grow inside the bean teepee, making it impossible to weed in there once the beans were growing up the bamboo! Fortunately I noticed this before the beans began climbing, so I removed the teepee, weeded, then put down some really attractive newspaper to (hopefully) choke out anymore weed growth in the middle. Needless to say, I have my work cut out for me this summer if I plan to stay ahead of the weeds.

I realize it’s been three whole days since I last posted, and this is hardly the essay you’ve been holding your breath for, but this is really all I’ve been doing since I got back from MN. This, and unpacking, catching up on laundry, and clinging to any adult who will let me come over with my kids so I don’t kill myself from the insanity of Bryan being gone again – we saw each other for a total of four days over the last three weeks. And because my patience apparently needs more practice, I started my period today, the day he gets back, which is the third month in a row I’ve started the day he gets back.

Please excuse me while I stick a fork in my eye to distract me from my horniness.

Practicing Patience

I have many deep thoughts on my mind, both introspective and contemplative, and I am starting to feel my circuits cross from lack of time to process via writing. I am to the point at which these thoughts bounce around in my head with no anchor, and my mind can not find stillness in the unorganization. I am praying for a quieting, a peace, until time allows the relief of writing.

In the meantime, I have added a new tab at the top of This Pile called ‘Reminders.’ Like my quotes section, this tab will reflect the bits and pieces of things that strike me, that move me, that make me think – most likely things from Scripture.

I feel a Caddyshack summer coming on…

Vanishing StrawberriesDo you remember that movie? The one where Bill Murray, who is a touch – how shall we say, simple? – goes to great lengths to rid the golf course of that pesky gopher?

Two years ago I tried growing tomatoes, but every *@&*ing time I went to harvest a juicy red one, some sort of critter beat me to it, leaving them half eaten just to spite me. Half way through the summer I was so frustrated that I was nearly tempted to just cut away the bite marks and finish what was left.

But, ewwww….

This summer I have three strawberry plants in addition to tomatoes. The other evening as we played in the yard, I noticed there were 6-8 strawberries that were nearly ready to pick. Two were super red, and the others would likely be ready to pick the next day. I built up the excitement of a harvest with the kids, as I want them to be excited about growing things (as opposed to destroying everything they own).

The next morning I took my camera outside to photograph the berries for my gardening book (I know, complete nerd), and to show all of the Internet how proud I was of producing sustenance for my family like our forefathers who came from the Old Country.

I know you’ve predicted what comes next – there were no strawberries left. None. Not even the little green pea-sized berries that were forming on new branches. Some little fucker ate my entire crop.

With green beans, and lettuce, and tomatoes, and more strawberries on the way, I am declaring war. I have no clue what my weapon is, because I have no idea what I’m fighting (rat? squirrel? random white ferret?). But by gosh I will have produce this summer if I have to go out and get that silly green netting to blanket my plants with!

Hopefully I won’t blow up the house in the process.

My Little Graduate

Today is Ruthie’s last day of preschool for the year. I don’t think I mentioned this at the time, but at the beginning of March I pulled her out of the preschool she had been in all year, and switched her to a different one. She had been in a bilingual preschool learning Spanish – which I was really attracted to at the time – but as time went on I realized that I was not reinforcing the language in the home enough, and two mornings a week was just not enough time to retain what she was learning.

What prompted me to switch schools, though, was the teacher’s teaching style: she expected three and four year olds to sit still at a desk and speak in turn. She was extremely structured, and because she was the only teacher in the room with 10 children, she had to maintain control at all times – which meant zero tolerance for being a normal three-year-old. If someone jumped out of his seat to touch the teddy bear she was holding, he had to put his head down on the desk. If someone dipped her entire hand into a pile of shaving cream instead of just one finger, she got her pile of shaving cream taken away.

This extreme structure may have worked for some kids – and many of the parents in that school loved the teacher and had been involved for years – but it just wasn’t the environment for Ruthie, who has always pushed against her boundaries. Much of the time that she was in this school was also during the time I was working through my own issues of control and trying to figure out how to raise my ‘spirited’ child. To have so much control imposed on her at home, and then again at school, seemed to be too much for her. Not to mention that every school morning she fought me tooth and nail, and I had to pry her away from my body when I dropped her off.

She obviously hated it, and in the process was developing a reputation as a ‘problem child.’

I worried obsessively about the situation, feeling like this one classroom experience would make or break her entire educational career. I wondered if she really was ‘a problem.’ I wondered if the structure was good for her in setting clear boundaries. I wondered if a less structured environment would give her too much control and perpetuate her strong willed nature. I wondered if she would thrive with more freedom. I wondered I wondered I wondered.

I struggled for a couple months over whether I should pull her out or stick with it for the rest of the year. At the time, our family was transitioning in other areas, and I was afraid of disrupting too much at once. But when the bill came due for the final half of the year, we only paid for one month. I think I just knew it wasn’t working out.

The cherry on top came one Friday when I decided to stay in class to participate as many moms do, though it is not an official co-op. The children were given a piece of paper and a large Bingo marker, and it was demonstrated that they were to tap out the letter A using dots. Of course some children tapped dots all over their page, some drew the letter A without using dots, and some just wrote all over their arms. None of this was acceptable to the teacher, who took markers away from the children who did not do exactly as she had demonstrated.

And on top of this, she kept telling those kids they were doing it wrong, as if their college education depended on it.

I mean, really. WTF? They are three effing years old!

There was so much negativity in the room that day, that at the half-way point when she lined everyone up to go pee, I told her we had an appointment to get to and we high-tailed it out of there. I was so stressed out by that experience that I just wanted to get out of there.

That afternoon I got on the phone to another local preschool, visited the classroom on Monday by myself, and had Ruthie enrolled and in class by Thursday. When we showed up at the new school that first day, there were toys in bins and painting stations at the table, and do you know what? She ran over to the painting table, picked up a brush, and said, “BYE MOM!”

And from that point on I never had a problem dropping her off at school. When I tell her at bed time that she has preschool the next morning, she jumps up and down, so excited to see Mrs. White the next day. Her new environment is compelling to her, and gives her just enough freedom to be the four year old she is supposed to be.

I think it was the best decision Bryan and I could have made, and it really opened my eyes to the role we will play in her education.

I learned a lot from this experience, such as what questions to ask when looking for the right school or teacher. I learned what motivates Ruthie to learn. I learned how to tell when she is not succeeding, even if she can’t use her words to tell me why. But most importantly, I learned right from the get-go how important it is for us as parents to be involved with our kids’ education. I will never again take it for granted that so-and-so is the teacher, so she must know what she is doing.

This idea was reinforced for me when I read Raising Your Spirited Child. I learned many things from reading this book, including how to accept who my child is and work within that reality. I read a testimonial from a parent who had a very active and energetic boy. Once his mother accepted this about him instead of trying to make him change, she went to the school and asked who the most energetic teacher for his grade was, and had her son placed in that man’s class. She figured he would understand her son’s need to wiggle and be able to work with it.

This is basically what I did. I recognized that Ruthie was not in an environment that would help her succeed, and was actually perpetuating the notion that school was a drudgery. I did not want this for her. I wanted her to be in an environment that would provide age-appropriate structure, but would also allow the strengths of her independence and leadership to flourish. I did not want her in an environment that compelled her to rebel against the system.

There will be plenty of years in the future to deal with that.

So now my school district better watch out, because I plan on sticking my nose into everybody’s business. As a good friend with older children has encouraged many of us with young children, a mother knows her child best and should listen to her instincts. I will do whatever it takes to help my children succeed in their education.

(I’m stepping off my soap box, now).

Farm Fresh Jen

IMG_6458.JPGI have returned from a very full and fun day away with Jenny and Andrew, visiting friends two hours away in Ellensburg.

Watching my daughter running around on a farm, barefoot and wearing a pretty summer dress, took my breath away. Watching my son’s excitement at touching a real, live horse for the first time took my breath away.

Realizing the colossal amount of lyrics to 80’s music known by Jenny took my breath away.

Have you ever been gone for just a little while and felt like you’d slipped into the time warp of Neverland or Oz, only to return and find everything just as it was when you left it?

It was just a day, yet I find myself wandering around the house, touching things, looking in the cupboards, wondering what has changed while I was away.

But nothing has changed: newspapers on the floor, dirty dishes in the sink, happy dog to greet me. Tomorrow will be a regular day to enjoy right here at home with new things to explore in our own back yard.

It was good to be gone, but it’s great to be home.

Garden Fresh Jen

Last year I came up with the brilliant idea to rip out the rose garden on the south side of my house and plant vegetables. I’m not a big fan of rose bushes. I tried to be, since they were already here when I moved in, but we didn’t get along so much. They are finicky, and aside from the flowers, they are ugly with black spots and bugs.

At least mine are.

And besides, as a fan of gardening it seemed an obvious goal for me to plant a vegetable garden, and the roses were hogging the only south facing spot of dirt in our yard.

Buh bye.

However, ‘a brilliant idea’ differs greatly from ‘getting it done,’ or even from ‘hatching a plan,’ for that matter. Last fall was really the best time to rip out the roses and lay down a weed-killing barrier, but I never got around to it. I can’t remember why, but there is always a reason.

As February approached, the season in which I usually cut back the roses, I knew it wasn’t too late to rip ’em all out and lay down a barrier. But I didn’t.

And so, as spring approached I loathed the idea of going through another growing season with those blasted rose bushes, and NO vegetable garden. I comforted myself in the idea that a full blown vegetable garden was probably too much to take on as a virgin grower, and why didn’t I give myself the year to research and plan?

Ha.

On a random nice day a couple weeks ago I called the former owner of the house, and he came by to take two bushes he had given to his wife for mother’s day. A couple days later I took two to a friends house. Two others are waiting in pots to be picked up, and the third will be ripped out as time allows.

Over the last week I dug up a carpet of weeds from the hard dry earth, transplanted most of the ground cover to a new area, and laid down a path of stepping stones to keep the kids in line. And since I still believe a full blown garden is too much for me to handle this year, I started with green beans, tomatoes, and strawberries. Next week I will plant a few lettuce seeds in a shadier spot.

It still needs work – one rose bush and two ground covers still need to be moved, but I am now the proud owner of a reasonably sized produce patch with convenient drip hoses buried under the dirt (thanks dad!).

IMG_6424.JPG

I have to admit that I enjoy hard labor, especially when it is to beautify my surroundings and bless other people. Gardening especially re-creates me. This morning Bryan asked if I felt any writer’s block coming on as I prepared for my afternoon of writing. Frankly, my body is so tired from the hard work that all I crave is to sit and relax without anything on my agenda to accomplish, and nobody’s nose to wipe. It doesn’t matter if I have inspiration today – I brought a book and a magazine just in case, because all I want to do is be still and relax.

Not blogging as much this week has been both helpful and agonizing. Helpful in that I was much less distracted, spent more time focused on the kids, planted a new garden, went to bed earlier than usual, and didn’t constantly feel like I needed to be somewhere else. Agonizing in that my visitor stats have dropped two thirds, and I often wish I could share something funny or witty or cute or thoughtful with you, but the timing has just not been right.

I truly do have a Truman Show mentality and believe you all hang on every word I write. While I know my writing is appreciated for reasons A, B, and C, life will go on even if you do not get to read about the sadness I felt when Thomas was moved into a Big Boy bed this weekend (as an example). I just have other priorities right now.

I am blessed, and I am fortunate, and I have often taken that for granted by not living in the moment. I have a trail of regrets behind me, and I have many shortcomings that I need to stay on top of. Summer is the perfect season for new beginnings, and I am feeling refreshed as I throw my head back for a breather from past introspectiveness. The sun feels good on my face. I am tan already, and it’s only May.

It’s going to be a good summer.