A Few of My Favorite Things

Little Girls and Fairy Wings - I wish the magic of childhood found a more prominant place in my memory. That's what daughters are for I suppose. What would I do if I didn't have her to remind of the beauty and magic of Fairy Wings and other imaginary things. And is it blaspheme when your 4 year old questions God's wisdom in light of the fact that he clearly forgot to give us wings? How could He commit such an oversight?


Little Boys and Potty Training (esp when big sisters help) - I must say I am behind on this one. Hesitant because invariably whenever I sit down to nurse Damon, Matt has to go to the bathroom. . . and he won't do it without help. So it is either me stooping over the john with one clinging for dear life and food to the teet, while I make a rather comical attempt at teaching the other how to wrap up business and keep it where it needs to go. . .OR a 'big sister' trying to help him. Hmm. . . I struggle as grown woman, with many years of 'going to bathroom' experience, with how to teach a little boy to go. How is my 4 year old little girl who is just barely beginning to notice certain anatomical differences, supposed to do it? Well, as long as I don't have too many more of these experiences: and we don't miss the window of opportunity entirely, resulting in a grown man with no restroom skills I suppose I will chortle along with the rest of you, and enjoy the memories I am creating with my children. . . .


The sound of cicadas - When we first moved here oh. . . 11 years ago. . . I was rather frightened of these bugs. . . greatful I never actually saw them, only heard their zappy, electric, eery song. But the other night as Alaina and I went on a "dusk bike ride" as she calls them, I heard these grasshopper like bugs, zipping out there quirky yet unique cant, I finally became acquainted and rather enamored with them. Still glad I can't see them, still glad I don't know exactly how many it takes to reach the startling volume they get to, but no longer afraid of them, and more intrigued with their peerless voices. And now they will be associated with the quiet, and special 'dusk bike rides' that Alaina and I enjoy on occasion, part of a sweet memory now.


Twilight Bike Rides - see above and read on. . . it must be a combination of the simple and the profound changes I witness when I walk behind her, straining to hear what she is babbling about up ahead of me, so when she pauses, I will have the proper response awaiting. The sun setting, making the mountains to the east a husky purple, the sky above a calming splash of warm pastel blues, pinks, yellows and reds. Alaina's own red hair, both infused with more fire and cooled by the twilight around her. The way she sits more confident atop the pink and white seat, the way she pedals slightly faster and stronger than the last trip down the road. Both moving further away from me and yet closer too, as she grows more confident in herself, and I witness the little woman she is becoming. This is one of my favorite things.