the End of May

So very much has happened in the last week and a half. Graduation was Sunday. J was chosen as a reader this year, and did brilliantly pronouncing names like "Abdhouramane" and "Chanthalangsy" and messed up on Ms. Bird. Even my perfect man's human.

Monday we had an impromptu barbeque. The kids (ours and the Brians') even helped make a patriotic cake topped with strawberries and blueberries, but I think the most american part was the chili in the hair, on the face, and covering the clothes of the littlest one.

One of the funniest sayings from the weekend came not from one of my own two cuties, but from my dear ma-in-law. As we prepared for a quick shopping run, she was mentioning the rooms in her house that she'd like to de-clutter. I added the garage to the list, unless it was Sam's territory. She said, "No, the garage doesn't have clutter, just Amy's stuff, and Jason's stuff, and Sam's stuff, and Christmas stuff....except for the box or two of [this]. And, well, there are a couple of boxes of [that]. And I guess some boxes of [the other]." At that point I couldn't contain my laughter any more and we both enjoyed a chuckle. I have her permission to retell the story at her funeral (a LONG time from now) when I ask for help sorting through things, but I'm sure by then I will have forgotten it. Who knows? Maybe it'll get sorted before then. But there are many things in life more important. Like shopping : )

Home

Home is full. This photo is from Jason's annual Latin Lovers' Barbeque. And this is just half of the students that came. Lots of food, a little ping pong, and gifts for all the seniors. Jason loves his job.

Home is busy. The night before, my three 9th grade girls joined me for Tyler Clements' music at the coffee shop, for the new Narnia movie, for a "sleep" over at our house, and then for breakfast and a pedicure. Lots of fun.

Home is not clean. But the cars are. Just in case someone might think us lazy, on Sunday (after naps), J slathered the girls with sunscreen and enlisted their help in washing the cars. Zoe says, "I sprayed in the water with Daddy." But to be clear, she ran from the spray and squealed with delight while Addie splashed in the foamy bubbles.

Home is a free space. We love it when Zoe says funny things at home, but I don't like her free speech everywhere. Her verbal skills often make me nervous. At her checkup yesterday, Dr. Kelley asked her how she got the boo-boo on her ankle. Her reply, "I got burned," had visions of myself in handcuffs getting slandered and left alone in a cell running rampant in my mind. When Zoe finally explained that the scrape was "by the sun," and Dr. Kelley gave his knowing nod, I secretly sighed relief and gave thanks that I'd go home with the kids at the end of the appointment.

And that makes me think of one more thing as I sit here on the couch half listening to Sesame Street with my tutu-clad three year old beside me. Home is good.

Tee ball

What an experience. The sport itself is kind of like a BMX bike with training wheels. All the rules of normal baseball seem to apply (though I know any true baseball aficionados will tell me otherwise), except that the kiddos hit the ball off a "tee" instead of whacking it mid-air. So take 20 three year olds, 15 of their parents and a very nice dad/coach. Put them in a field full of perfect gravelly dirt on a sunny day and ask them to stand in a specific spot to wait for someone they can't quite see and certainly don't know to hit a ball. Right. No one'll be picking noses or building dirt mountains or chatting with Mom.

Being the helpful mom I am, I tried to give very specific and encouraging directions to my little pitcher (which by the way is both the most useless and the most important position on the tee ball field: no pitching, practically all the fielding). "When the little boy in the red shirt hits the ball off that thing, run as fast as you can to pick up that ball, and then throw it over to the girl with the blue and pink glove. Try to be quick before the red shirt boy gets to first base!" Mmm hmm. I didn't even understand that.

After doing remarkably well considering the coaching she was given, Zoe took a turn at first. "But he's standing on my white thing, Mommy." How do I explain that when I never really got it myself? Dad couldn't make it for the big questions tonight, obviously, or this post might sound quite different.

Zoe seemed to have fun with Grandpa and Addie looking on, and after a picnic at the park, she was even excited to talk about it. But I think we're both glad it'll be up to dad from here on out.

Mother's Day

So this was a nice one. Jason asked last week, "Would you rather have your landscaping supplies or sparkle?" Now in most homes, you wouldn't have to ask a gal. But I honestly couldn't decide. Our "curb appeal" is about that of a nice cardboard box, so I've been kind of eager to put some nice flower beds in our front yard. And last year, we landscaped around the play area in the back, and it's been the gift that keeps on giving. (What mom doesn't love that their kids can run out back and play by themselves?!)

Eventually, I decided on the sparkle, though I fully expected to get landscaping stuff with gift money from the parents, so I could have my dirt and sparkle, too. And WOW! A "journey" string of 7 little diamonds on a white gold chain. I feel like a real queen. The jeweler has some sweet thing about how the diamonds' slight increase in size as they go down the row represents the growth of our love over time. But my favorite part was J telling me he knew I deserved the gift after he took out Friday's trash and counted 7 poopie diapers. I just feel blessed to have the kind of hubbie that counts those things. I think.

We chatted with my parents on the way to church, and J's folks came for lunch, naptime (with my new body pillow from the girls), dinner and dessert. It was a great day, and I'm glad to have such a loving family.

Oh, and I spent my money at Pottery Barn on a spur of the moment purchase. Oh, well. Dirt can wait.