hatched, 20 years apart

You'll have to trust me that they are brothers. Also trust me that they were having fun. The elder had refused to go out with us on a sail boat for some time but the kayaking (I'm guessing) has made him more open so this time when I asked him to come along he simply said yes. The idea of standing on the "V berth" in the bow was a trick the younger one had been perfecting and we'd discovered gave the fun of being on the bow without the necessity of holding on to him. And it worked for the eldest too -this was the first time he enjoyed sailing. Naturally on this outing the jib caught on a spar and tore making that giant sucking sound. Swoosh there goes the bank account into the hole in the water (i.e. the boat).

And can I complain? No. It is an embarassment of riches. I know it. Every day I know it.

bipolar life continues

Are these 50 year old toes? Now really? And do the business gray pants go with the LL Bean flip flops?

Today the case of wine we ordered when visiting a winery outside Livermore CA arrived. Naturally the 6 year old immediately found his scissors and was trying to open the box. If he could get it opened I figured the first thing he'd do was shake the champagne. We'd tasted it after a friend's daughter's wedding. Three of the bride's mother's bridesmaids were there -between us all we have something like 16 children (something like...). Now, two weeks later I could only hope the safety scissors couldn't make it through the packing because I was busy holding onto the 6 year old's brother while another grand mal seizure tortured his muscles and try to calmly distract the younger one from both the box and his brother's grimacing face. Fortunately the safety scissors really are safe (and useless, but that's the point isn't it?). So, hey, just another day in almost paradise. The wine is safe, the 6 year old is about to be tucked in, the post ictal (I checked the spelling by the way) headache chased away with a nap and pepperoni pizza, my toes are still blue ... and I'm still 50. It's only almost afterall.

Caleb Kayaks!!!!

And I'm naming names for once. Not just the"eldest".
And it took me 2 weeks to finally put this in here because I couldn't think of words for it. I still can't. I can't even think of any way to make it funny. Disasters can be funny. Tragedy, hilarious. Stupidity entertaining (guiltily) -but ... How can I even begin to convey what it feels like after 26 years and one brilliant idea after another (but the failures were comical) to finally find one that works? No one is holding that kayak, or guiding it. There are no strings attached. You can not tell from the picture what a miracle of normal this is. That amazingness of just like everyone else is only apparent to those who have seen all the not so normal. There are no crutches here. Even to me it feels vaguely insensitive to rejoice that he doesn't look handicapped here. Too bad. Of course it isn't wrong to be handicapped- but by golly it sucks. This didn't. Not at all. He stayed out for an hour. As soon as we can we'll be out there again.

Weird sky

Remember what I said about being a bad mother and a bad daughter all at once? Well this last week MY daughter was left to deal with ALL the consequences of poorly adhered pouches (not bags) -let me say, no let me not say it. There is no delicate way to put this but the blood (once she had consulted with the on call nurse) was the least of her troubles. Meanwhile I was punished by 90+ degree days in a house with no AC (in case you were wondering why the heat wave the end of May). And the sky was scary looking (or possibly risque depending on your imagination). And I probably am a BAD daughter too -but I have very GOOD daughter. She is the wind beneath my wings -ok, not really, but she is pretty cool right now. And cool is good.

cool

How lovely and cool this caterpillar looks to me. Eating fennel must make you feel cooler too. Something must. We have no AC, no central air, no air con-ditioning, no tolerance for whiny children. I can only be glad the grandmother is at her house with the granddaughter. Only window units there but they have smaller rooms and I imagine a breeze from the river. So it's not so bad right?

It doesn't actually make me any cooler imagining the breeze off the river. But then again I am not fetching coffee, or helping with pouches (not "bags" I'm told by the certified colostomy nurse and surely she knows) (also "pouches" is more friendly). Nothing but sweating. Then the guilt sets in that mother and daughter are both there (as in not here) together. In case you can't figure it out that makes me a bad, bad daughter and a bad, bad mother. And sweaty.

They say we'll have storms tonight and I keep waiting for the wind.

It's the little things

Here's another view of my garden -and taken yesterday . There are little red wild strawberries all over the place. They look really big next to the 2 inch gnomes.

The strawberries are ripe, my college girl is home for the summer, my mom is back at her house with the college girl, exams are graded, and a new class started...

And just about anything wil make me cry in between the moments when I feel life is overwhelmingly sweet and good because it is all so sad and difficult. That pretty much sums it up.
Oh, and the nice trauma surgeon says at the end of the summer my mom could have the colostomy reversed. Let me just pencil that in.

Mother's Day

It started with the 6 year old's awakening shout of, "Happy Mother's Day" followed by his giving me a small stuffed fox and then deciding, no, he wanted it and crying when I wouldn't trade for the killer whale he had. It ended with me cleaning up my mom because things are still... well awkward. She keeps telling me I'm wonderful. If I am it's not at all by choice.
Really I remind myself that if I keep in mind where we were a week ago, and the week before that we are doing better and better. But then I think about a week before that and -no, really this is not an improvement.
That many weeks ago I knew more than I wanted to know on any number of topics but absolutely nothing about stomas. If you don't know what this is be happy. I can only say my mother is tired of the nurses telling her it (hers inparticular) is beautiful. Nurses are funny people...
Meanwhile I have graded the final exam and posted grades and am now waiting to hear from that one student who always wants to know how I came up with their grade (by doing exactly what the syllabus said I'd do...). Truthfully it has been a good bunch this semester and a number are certainly smarter than I am. I only say that to sound humble -who really thinks this at the end of the semester? Mostly I think, how, when I said everything so clearly, could they still seem so confused? Irrationally I write a question to be challenging and then am annoyed with the ones who are too obviously challenged by it. It really hasn't been long enough since I was a student to be changing sides so easily. Still, in us vs. them, it's so comforting to know who us is - in the classroom at least. I've no idea which side I'm on anywhere else.
I think the non-picture taker in the family took this picture today because he knew I needed reminding. I couldn't be a mom without him.