Control

For as many endless possibilities there are, sometimes I feel there are none. For as many people there are to talk to sometimes I can't find one. Tantalizingly just out of reach. Going nowhere and somewhere all at the same time. Powerful and powerless. Half empty and half full, and other times neither.

I think most of us are generally on the brink of insanity. Some of us do a better job at keeping it under control, but a sudden force can send us spinning into the dreaded abyss. Sometimes I wonder how much control of our lives, our minds, we really have and how much of it is just an illusion.

I would love to teach my children to have some control. To have control of their bodies, their minds, their destinies, but how much control do we really have. Yet, I feel that regardless of how much this immeasurable ability may be, we still need to exert our force to change for the better.

Parallel Forms

Parallel
Never crossing
Endlessly moving in two directions
Lying without touching
Walking without crossing
Listening without understanding

Disobedient Lines
Sometimes crossing and connecting
Making angles
Forming one
Intertwined and charged
Moving in opposite directions
Pulling back
Running.... parallel

I Jub Ju!

Before The Bee was even able to walk or talk, before he was able to utter two words, during the days of his ravenous hunger for breast milk, and the endless poopie diapers, the Bee proclaimed, "A-wah-woo." An instance of appreciation, he was being changed once again by his loyal and caring servant.

He has blessed me with this simple sentence many times throughout his life erasing any doubts I may have had that day about the possibilities that a nine month old could speak a sentence. Not just any sentence, but this one. Something he felt was important enough for him to learn so early.

"A-wah-woo," transformed into "I jub ju" and has now become "I Love you...I love you." I love you mama." "I love you." "I love you all da time," he tells me with crazy enthusiasm. Lately, there has been an "I love you" about once an hour and sometimes more. An"I love you in the wee hours of the morning when he crawls into my bed, and the first words uttered upon awakening in the morning. Other times, he serenades me with an "I love you" song he makes up himself. Often, there is a hug to go with it. Never have I been so loved I say.

"I love you, too Bee.""I love you all the time." You will forever be my Lovebug.

30 Minutes Between Jekyll and Hyde

Oh. Hello there. It's been many months and in that time I got laid off, took a vacation to the usual snowy place, did some phone banking and walking to get a Measure passed, and eventually got my job back. That's the short version as the long version is too exhausting to even think about.

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Mother's day was great. I love my handmade cards and gifts and the store bought one was great, too. Hopefully, I will get to the sewing projects in my new book soon.

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One thing I love about being a mother and teacher, is that I am always learning, too. They have as much to teach me as I have to teach them. Like, did you know a 30 minute sleep deficit makes a huge difference in the behavior of a six year old? If my oldest goes to bed past 8:30 pm, you can almost guarantee that the next day he will wake up cranky, stomp around terrorizing everything and everyone (everyone being his brother), take every available opportunity to defy his elders, scream and throw non-stop tantrums reminiscent of the ones he threw when he was two and three, and just be a plain ole' poop.

On the other hand, if he goes to bed before the witching hour, he will actually seem somewhat normal and almost downright polite. "I got ready for school all by myself, " he'll proudly proclaim before I've even gotten a chance to get out of bed. "Look, I made toast for the Bee and me so no need to fix breakfast." His homework will promptly be completed, dinner eaten, and I will be rushing around getting him ready for bed before his fast approaching bedtime. "Please may I have dessert?" will be his last request before swooping him into the shower while watching the clock and hoping above all else that he will make it to bed in time, because I much rather like Hyde than Jekyll.
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Edited to add:
Some days, no amount of sleep can keep Mr. Jekyll from making an appearance.
"Well, hello there Mr. Jekyll. Can we please see Dr. Hyde?"

Moving On

This last month has been filled with travel, family, frustration, love, singing, and hiking. My little men are growing so quickly, and I fear that I am missing so much being at work all day, so much that I will never get back.

Both boys love singing. The Bee has been amusing us with encore after encore of Jingle bells, and after a month of it, it seems like it coming to an end. It was a brief respite from the tiresome ABC song. He will not let us sing with him either so we can enjoy a few rounds with him. He sticks his little hand up just inches from our lips and proclaims, "Just me, Juuust ME!"

The older boy has been entertaining us with his new ability to read some simple take home books, and his holiday poem of "Five Little Trees." His performance during his holiday play went smoothly, and he did not run off the stage to sit on his teacher's lap like he did last year. The mouse did not dutifully perform his part in last year's The Nutcracker.

As both boys get older, they seem to be enjoying each others company more and more. Meaning: they play for longer periods of times without screaming or getting in all out fights. Though the older boy does not know his limits, and has been know to use his baby brother as a stunt prop and punching bag. In the last two weeks, both of the Bee's eyes have endured some type of injury because of this. One episode involved the older boy attempting to use the top of the couch as a jumping off point, placing his brother as an obstacle, and instead landing on one of the Bee's eyes. The Bee who is very obedient, and thinks watching his brother jump over him from great heights to be very entertaining never learns NOT to listen to his older brother's crazy requests. I fear for his life, and hope that the Bee can survive his big brother.

Now if you think we are negligent, don't. Most of these incident happen with us present in the room. The older boy is smooth and quick, and he can turn from angel to hell-raiser in a matter of seconds fooling his parents into thinking he is doing nothing more than providing some brotherly love. Things can turn ugly with a blink of an eye, and that applies to both my boys behavior and life.

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Most of my life I have been without a home. Going from borrowed home to borrowed home to borrowed shack, or whatever the case may be. I have slept in borrowed cars briefly as well. There has been an intense need all my life to be in my own home. To be in a home that belongs to no one but me and the banks, because really they are the ones who own our houses, although I would be content with the illusion of it all.

I currently own a home I do not live in. That someone else is borrowing. That someone else is living in and temporarily calling home. I myself, am in another borrowed home too far to live in the home that is mine. I am feeling an intense need to settle, to nest, to be done with all the moving. Something so within my reach but so unattainable as well.