The Volcano Erupting! Le Volcan qui fait Irruption

 

Puck...Gaël, 5 avec un noix de coco dur a cassé/ with the hardest coconut ever cracked

 

Our Smallest Skater Tests his Wheels

 

Alienor (Valentine)'s Botanical Artisanry

 

Middle-Eastern, MIddle-Ages Dance Troupe (fundraiser performance), Une troupe de dance moyen-age, moyen-orient; performance "lever le fonds" pour un copain sans assurace maladie

 

Sun-reactive Photos

 

Block Creations

 

Argument for Children

There are some swell things about having children. When they're little, clearly, it is all about how tiny and  adorable they are. Tiny toes, small noses, soft heads, fat cheeks, big eyes. Their attributes are immediately obvious.

As they get older, things can become a little murkier. But one clear advantage emerged this morning when I reached for the shampoo bottle and found it empty: product. Product has been the buzz-word in hair care for the past decade or so. One no longer talks about "gel" or "mousse", but "product". It usually means gunk that goes in your hair to help it behave (this is called gummy bears in public for small children). My two older children have become as enamored of hair products as I was of body sprays in the 80's. They will spend an hour in the hair aisle of the drug store pondering the vast array of choices. Me? I buy the family-size bottle of whichever shampoo is on sale and order my one bottle of hair stuff for curly hair online.

So, head dripping wet and desperate, I reached for the closest bottle on the edge of the tub and found in my palm a manly-smelling, liquid gold. Amazing- who knew gold could wash hair? The next bottle I snagged was not conditioner, alas, but a sort of "milk for frizzy hair." Should do the trick, I thought, and made sure to de-tangle vigorously.

Thanks to my kids, I have soft hair that will attract cute girls by its masculine perfume today. Um, at least it is clean; thanks guys!

One of those Daughters

I am not "one of those mothers." They are known in the theatre world as "stage mothers," living vicariously through their child's very special accomplishments and driving everyone from the child to the director to the lights guy absolutely insane about how very special their kid is and how they need very special accommodations (like the lead role) in order to shine ever-so-specially. I have normal kids that do normal things and make normal mistakes and argue with each other in abnormally loud voices. I am more of the "hanging on by the seat of my pants" sort of mother, lovingly planning, cooking, reading aloud and driving places to which they must be driven. Note, I never promised "patiently" just lovingly.  I can often be heard to exclaim, exasperated; "what do you mean, we're out of erasers/shampoo/crickets AGAIN!?"

So it is through no merit of mine that my Lily has become "one of those daughters" that you want to write about, you just can't help it. She has finished writing her first book.

High School Beginnings

He may as well have been three years old, standing and waiting for a bus in the rain, my heart would not have been any less wrenched right out of me today. The beginning of the week was fine; there was so much to think about and do; schedules to examine, lunch to consider, in short, there was no time to think. Now that there was a solid five minutes of staring out the window (behind the curtain, invisible, of course), at my 14-year-old Aragorn waiting for the yellow bus that would take him off to high school for the next 8 hours, I was a wreck.

"It's about time. Seriously, get a grip."

Neen, the Resident Leopard Gecko

 

The Sounds of Child-Led Learning

One of those sounds is quietly chirping in the oddest corners of our house this week. Chirping like very small wings rubbing together in evening song, the direct result of my absolute love for my children. When Arthur came down the steps at 7am the other day and burst into tears, my first thought was; "Oh no, the dang lizard is dead." I was almost relieved, almost, when he announced instead: "I dropped the crickets all over." I dried his tears, taking the stairs 2 at a time to see if I could contain the damage. One fresh jar of crickets...righto.

Bats are Nice Creatures

I grew up in a house that we shared with bats. It was not a friendly situation. The bat would appear and the tennis racket would come out as we all shrunk in terror. Maybe I would have had a different attitude had I known what I know today about the importance and character of bats, maybe not. When there is one loose, swooping around your bedroom, the overall desire is one to flee or remove it, but I have chosen, in my blissfully bat-free home, to educate the kids differently. 

We have read stories about bats and talked about them when we see them in the night sky and in caves as good little beasties. Last week's library program did a great deal to cement this attitude, as we learned more about bats than I ever knew, and discovered how very soft and cute they are, in person.

Look; Bats! What we Learned at the Library This Week

 

 

 

Mrs.Peterson Shares Her Bat Knowledge, and an Egyptian Fruit Bat