You would think that growing up in my family, and spending countless hours at the shop, I would have certain skills nailed down. For example, sanding with an electric sander, yet I have zero memories of me actually using one before. Today I got the chance, and all I can say is, it tickles… A lot! I also did some scuffing, moving panels, and removing a splinter from my hand. I’m exhausted and sore, but happy and the kids enjoyed their day at the shop too. We’ll put in a few more hours tomorrow before we head home to start our week. 😊

We were running late this morning when I asked the kids to put on their shoes. Big E put his on right away and I got Baby E in his, but C just stood there looking around.

“I can’t find my shoes,” she said.

I looked as well and they were nowhere to be seen.

“They are probably in the van. You’ll just have to walk barefoot and put them on when you get in the van,” I replied as I hurriedly grabbed the things we would need for the day. I sent the kids out and a few minutes later joined them. They got in their car seats and put on their seat belts. We were ready to pull out of the driveway when C piped up that her shoes weren’t in the van either. Uh oh.

I looked at the clock. We were late. Really late. Like “we need to leave now or you are going to miss the bus” late. Where were her shoes?!?

Oh. No.

The beach. They must be at the beach. We had taken our shoes off at the beach last night and when we headed back to the van, we carried them so we wouldn’t fill them with sand. When we got to the van, we took a few minutes to clean off the remaining sand from our legs and feet. She had set her shoes down to do that and when she was clean, she had climbed into the van.

But what if they aren’t there??? She needs shoes. The problem is she only has one pair of shoes. ONE!

I ran inside and looked around the house in the vain hope we had just overlooked them. While there my eyes landed on the ONLY other footwear C owns… her snow boots.

Now guys, this was the hottest day we have had this calendar year. We peaked at 89 degrees, and if didn’t find C’s shoes at the beach, her only option was snow boots. I grabbed them and booked it to the car, mentally calculating the time it would take to make it to the beach and then to the bus stop.

When I flung the door open and tossed the boots to C, “If we can’t find your shoes, you are wearing these!!” She looked mortified. I hopped in the driver’s seat and made our way to the beach. “What am I going to do?” She whimpered from the back seat. “Pray! Pray your shoes are at the beach!” She nodded, and I wouldn’t doubt whispered an earnest prayer skyward.

And there they were, C’s nearly worn out pink tennis shoes taking up an entire parking spot. I hopped out and grabbed them. They were dry, and clean- no worse for wear for their night in the elements. I handed them to a very thankful, happy little girl who spared no time in sliding them on. Crisis averted, but with our detour to the beach, we missed the bus. Thankfully we were able to stop at another bus stop on the same route and there we waited.

If it hadn’t been a Friday morning, I would have dreaded the rest of the week. 🙂

This evening after work, we picked up Molly and brought her to the new house. She is settling in pretty quickly and we are all happy to have her with us! She did great on the car ride, and though she hid in the bathtub for awhile, she is now out and about investigating.

Welcome home, Molly!!

The waves marched to their drum beat time as Baby E and I stood with our feet in the near freezing water, gazing out to the sea. Baby E likes to throw ‘pretty things’ into the water- a beautiful shell, an unusual rock- he sacrifices them all to the waves. Like an artist picking out the perfect canvas for her masterpiece, so does C scour the beach for unblemished sand in which to etch her musings. She prefers the damp, not wet sand found just out of the reach of the waves. As for Big E, he sits himself quietly to a task, whether it be watching a bug, digging a hole, or rummaging through shells and sand- content to be alone and unaware of the world around him, he loses himself to his business.

And so we spent the better part of our evening. Our normally desolate beach was streaming with people, each clinging to the warm air that has been so hesitant to arrive, for fear it might leave again.

Herman Melville was 32 years old when he published Moby Dick. In his lifetime, a mere 3,000 copies were sold. In the years following Moby Dick, he published a few more works, but none of them amounted to much, and in the end he took a job as a customs officer in NYC. Upon his death, his works were reexamined and by the centennial of his birth, their popularity was catching on.

I know all this because when I get hooked on a book, I tend to research the author. This particular book is fascinating to me, because I don’t know much about the subject- whaling, fishing, life at sea. In my spare moments, I have researched the different species of whales, what the inside of a whaling vessel in the mid 19th century might have looked like, and I have examined nautical maps of where the Pequod would have travelled. I read about the real life story that the novel was based on, the sinking of the Essex in the 1820’s, and how a few of the crew survived at sea in their small boats only by resorting to cannibalism. While there are no women on the Pequod, I have learned a great deal about the fact that some whaling captains would bring their wife and children along with them on their 3-4 year long journeys. In listening to Moby Dick, I’ve had lessons about harpoons and harpooners, shipping lanes, whale diets, and sea faring superstitions.

None of these I knew above a week ago, and while I account I am still only half way through the book, I must conclude that it is an author like Melville that can stir a deep longing in me to see the world, be it ever so briefly, through his eyes. I already know the ending of the story, the fate of the Pequod carries no mystery, so it is the journey I am there for. So tomorrow morning, as I sit in my car amidst the endless mass of humanity, my mind will be more happily employed scanning the seas in my mind for the great white whale.

I heard screaming coming from the kids’ area when I turned off the faucet this morning from washing my hair. I quickly deciphered that it was Big E calling for me.

“Mommy!! I had a bad dream!” he exclaimed as I came near.

I laid down with him in his bed and tried to console him. “Do you want to tell me about your dream?”

“Not in front of Baby E or C,” he replied. So I led him to my room so he could tell me in private.

Based on the fact he didn’t want his siblings to hear, I was a bit worried about what his dream might have been. He sat next to me on my bed and between sobs, he told me this story…

“I had a dream that you had a big party. *sob* There were lots of people there. *sob* They all started telling you how great you were. *sob* And I wanted to give you a hug, but they wouldn’t let me get near you!!!”

Among all the possibilities of monsters, sharks, or ghosts, I was not expecting that. I looked down at my sweet boy as he cuddled up against me. His bad dream was that he couldn’t get a hug from me.

I held him tight and reminded him that in real life, I am always happy for a hug from my best big boy. He looked up and smiled at me, that sweet smile that only Big E can do. We sat together for a while. I pulled out my phone and found the pictures of the day he was born and we scrolled through them. We laughed at his angry-just-born grimaces, and pointed out all the people that came to meet him. He took to this quickly and his nightmare was quickly forgotten. 🙂

After MOPS this evening, I finally got the kids to bed around 9:45. I’m steeling myself against a rough morning tomorrow. There’s not much a of a post tonight because I am so very tired. Instead, here are some throwback pictures of my sweet girl, seven years ago! Time flies so very quickly!

Last weekend we missed a cousin’s party because of Baby E’s bout with the flu. When we got home we found some party favors that had been left for us since we couldn’t make it. Among them were 3 pool noodle horses, which the children immediately took to and have been playing with ever since. This afternoon, right before leaving the new house one of the eyes fell off of Baby E’s horse. He was devastated, so I told him I would find some glue and repair it for the ride home. The only thing I could find was Gorilla Glue. What could possible go wrong?

Well… it turns out Gorilla Glue doesn’t stick so well to pool noodles, which I learned the hard way when I handed Baby E his pool noodle horse while he was strapped in his car seat. He took one look at the eye, yanked it off, and stuck it to his lips… GORILLA GLUE AND ALL!

I dove at him once I realized what he had done and pulled at the googly eye, in an attempt to get it off of him before the glue set. As I grabbed the eye, I felt some resistance and he yelped as the eye pulled away from him… and stuck to my thumb. Yup… googly eye stuck to my thumb, which I then had to pry off as Baby E whimpered in the back seat.

Considering my thumb still has a thin layer of Gorilla Glue on it, it would be safe to say that Baby E’s lips probably do too. I hope he’s happy with a one-eyed horse, because I think it’s going to stay that way for quite some time.

You know what’s unnerving? Having all three kids fall asleep during your hour and a half drive home, only to need to make a stop at the pet store and wake them up to go inside.

I’ve seen a lot of kids that are silly-tired children. My children are not those children. Mine are grumpy-tired children, so I didn’t relish waking them up. There was nothing for it, it had to be done… so I stopped the car and called their names. Baby E came to first. Then Big E. And I had to yell poor C’s name repeatedly before she revived from her slumber. Thankfully the promise to look at all the adoption kitties once inside brought smiles to their faces and the errand turned out to be a pleasant one. I promised them some Rita’s for dessert, so after a quick stop there we made it home with plenty of daylight for playing outside!

There are splotches of stain traced up my arm, a visual reminder that not everyone makes their living in a boardroom or in front of a computer. Many etch out their pay with sweat and muscle. My arms ache this evening, a portent to the pain I will feel in the morning. I’m not used to this.

I went to work in my parents’ shop today. We spent the day staining and wiping down large panels. I don’t get the opportunity to work there often, but I enjoy it when I do- my long dormant skills get the chance to flex.

My father has been working as a wood finisher for over 50 years. The passage of time and experiences has made him into a master of his trade and watching him work can leave you in no doubt. What he lacked in formal education was more than supplied with a quick mind, attention to detail, and a unique ingenuity that considers problems and renders surprising and effective solutions. He’s an inventor, a genius in his own right, and a talented artist. For him it is the thrill of the chase- the problem that needs an answer, and one that can’t be found in a book or a website. It’s understanding how chemicals interact and colors weave into each other. His is an encyclopedic mind of how a type of wood will accept or reject a substance and how a unique ingredient will produce a desired effect. He likes the hard jobs, because he can do them, and he can do them well.

For so many reasons, I enjoy the moments I get to share with him in his domain. They are special to me, so I don’t mind the stain or the sore muscles, not one bit.

“Dear God,” C said as she began her prayer. “I pray that we have a good night’s sleep tonight and that the people on the other side of the world are having a good day!” 

I finally saw my first daffodils this afternoon. They are my favorite flower, mainly because they used to grow in abundance around the farm house I grew up in. Daffodils remind me of my childhood. Honey suckle reminds me of my grandmother. And hydrangeas remind me of my wedding day. Those are my favorite plants.

I’m currently listening to the audiobook version of Moby Dick. As much as I love reading classics, this is a novel I have never gotten through. I started it years ago, and even though I enjoyed it, I never finished it. So I decided to loan it from the library and listen to it during my commutes. If you have never read Moby Dick, you are missing out on a literary masterpiece. It is easily one of the most quotable books I have ever read, and the turn of language is stunningly alluring. I challenge you to spend a few hours with Melville, and not walk away mesmerized.

I read a little backstory on Moby Dick this evening and I learned that the book was a literary failure in its time, and that by the time Melville died, it was no longer in print. What a tragedy for him to have never known its outcome. I’m leaving a few quotes that a quick google search revealed, which barely scratches the surface of this incredible novel.

 

 

If you were in the environs of my children’s elementary school, say between the time of 5:15-5:45 this evening, then I owe you an apology, for that was my child screaming his unearthly howls in the depths of the elementary school book fair.

I left work early today because I was not feeling well, and I made it home for a nap before getting the kids from daycare. Thankfully when I had woken up I was feeling better, so after picking them up I agreed to take them to their school’s art show and book fair. I had already warned them that *if* we were getting anything from the book fair, it would be a book, and not useless, overpriced junk.

When we arrived, I was actually very impressed at the art show. It was “Under the Sea” themed and they had taken an entire classroom and converted it into a bright, exotic, undersea art display. There was no telling which of the small snails was C’s or which slithering snake belonged to my boy, but we were all impressed none the less.

After that, Big E showed us his classroom, and then we found our way to the book fair, along with about a hundred other people. I told them they could pick out one book each, but nothing expensive, and I had power of veto. C found 3 off the bat that she wanted and spent her time narrowing it down. Big E finally landed on a Mo Willems book, much to my delight, and Baby E grabbed an expensive, non age appropriate book with a toy attached. I told him that he couldn’t get that one, and if you have ever been around Baby E when he has his mind set on something, you can only half imagine the scene he then commenced. Diverting him to another book would not do. Only the one in hand would appease him. But since I have taken the task on to diligently mold a strong willed three year olds temper, I had to stand my ground. And so he screamed at me. In the middle of all those people he screamed and threw a fit only to be rivaled with the one at the dentist office a few weeks ago. Each time I tried to set him down, he darted towards the forbidden book, and so I was obliged to hold him as we stood in line to pay. Yes, I could have left and perhaps should have, but I had already agreed on the two books for the other kids, so we stood in line. And he yelled at me. And he fussed. He was altogether disagreeable. I felt the eyes of 40 parents staring me down, but the kind lady next to me shot me a glance of pity- the look only another parent can give you that has once stood in your shoes.

And so finally we paid and we left. By then Baby E had calmed down and we got to the van. Much to his disappointment, he was confined to his bed the rest of the evening, saving the moments he could sit at the table and eat with us.