The Shimmer of All Things

Time does not take pity on a blogger. Each day you write not, events accrue until you face a metaphorical stack of moments to account for. Not that accounting is my business. I like to keep the tally in a more general sense. Still, with a birthday, a party, a gelatinous cube [cake], a newly ferocious tiger, a visit to the farm and the "battle of the monkeyman" passing unremarked, I feel I have some catching up to do.

I haven't even commented on that whole episode of the Icelandic volcano! Wren has been very concerned with volcanoes for a long while so the regular appearance of volcanoes in the local paper was a source of great excitement. I felt personally connected via Facebook where my friend Frances, living in Iceland, posted her experiences, and then again when I learned that Jonathan (Yes, the same long ago Jonathan) who is now a pilot (yes, indeed, the marvels) was grounded at Luton airport. This was all very thrilling. Off and on during the days of ash induced quietude (somewhere, quietude), I pretended I was being interviewed and had to say the name of the volcano and blundered it like a broken down telephone:

"Eye-sjar-fall-oh-cull"

"Aye-ee-ah-fall-o-kial"

"Eye-far-ale-o-joke-ial"

Meanwhile, out of the shadow of the ash, Wren and I went out to Fox Hollow Farm with his friend Henry. Henry was accompanied by Jen (or rather, we accompanied Jen and Henry). It was wet, decidedly muddy, and the beasts were restive being visited by toddlers. Since our visit to Australia (during which Mum worried about her puppy but Wren remains traumatized) Wren has been phobic about dogs. Unfortunately, sheep, pigs and even goats remind him of dogs with teeth so he did not want to visit with them. Even more unfortunately, a sheep escaped from the barn and barreled down the path towards us. Heroically, I stopped the sheep and held it until the farmhand appeared and restored it to its mates.

Thankfully, rabbits and ducks do no took like dogs. Wren loved the rabbits, whose beady little eyes stared back guardedly and who, despite their fur, did not like being cuddled.

Wet chicken

Demonic Rabbits

The ducks slurped in the mud. In the loft of the barn, there was a rope across some haybales. The idea is that a child will climb the haybales and then swing across the room, a la Tarzan. Wren climbed up the bale, swung off and fell into a chasm between two bales. This made him cry.

Ducks dredging the paddock

After the falling and the fearing, the highlight of the visit was driving the battery operated truck around the driveway. Wren drove a short distance and did not reveal a knack for steering. Henry drove around a few times, with minor corrections from Jen. Wren held on tight. Both boys liked it best when they had a ball in the back of the truck to do a delivery. Henry delivered the ball to the front steps of the farmhouse.

I do believe he enjoyed this.

And this...

After that we did the Seattle Suburban thing and drove through an Espresso stand to ensure optimum levels of caffeination for the drive back over 520.

Still to come....... the gelatinous birthday and some cake.

Time Capsule

I was looking for something to write on and picked up an old moleskine notebook I started using in 2003. By chance, it opened to an entry for April 23rd, 2005 - almost 5 years ago to the day. So, today's entry is titled Camping With Frost.

This entry is particularly interesting because, five years ago, Frost was 3 and three quarters. He was six months older than Wren is now.

Here is the entry:

DECEPTION PASS April 23rd 2005

Camping with Frost:

• Frost holds candy in very high regard. We find some tiny red tick-like animals on the beach. I call it a "crab. Frost leaves a candy on the beach for them, checking as they 'eat it'. Frost is thrilled "Mummy, they have never had candy before! I think they like us.

• He pretends to be "rats" and Kitty. Rats talks to me and eats a lot. Kitty eats with her face right in her plate and zombies come at night, being "nocturnal".

• "Mummy, camping is not like home. I miss my ratties and kitty and Daddy and I miss watching TV when I eat lunch."

• He sings a song "It's Kitty playtime as he wraps the hammock sides around over his head. I ask where he heard this song and he told me that it was on Teletubbies [does he watch this ? not with ME!] They sing "its Tubbie playtime" which "reminds me of this". I am concerned with all his TV Iconography.

• He loves digging on the beach with his big shovel. He makes volcanoes from sand with crater depressions in the summit. I put a seaweed "eruption" on one and now he follows suit.

• Frost and I enjoy birdwatching. He uses the binoculars but can't find the birds in them which causes frustration.

• "Hey, where did the Zombies go? Oh, they are going swimming. See how far out they are.. that black dot is them!"

• "Frost, do you need to pee?" "No, I am just dancing."

• He find slugs along the path and crouches down to watch them.

• Reading and writing: Frost writes his name and the word CAT and other simple things.

Frost and Alex on Preparing for Life's Challenges

I picked Frost (8) up from FCS this morning after a sleepover with Alex and the pig. They had played an hour of DS in the morning because:

Alex (8): We had to get up at 6am to pee and then we woke Oliver [the pig] and he started oinking and snuffling a lot.

Frost: We played this cool game on the DS. Its called SPORKLE. It has lots of quiz games. We played this game that was a brand quiz. There was also a Simpson's quiz

Alex: We were pretty good but it got hard.

Me: What's a brand?

Frost: Its like the small picture that a company has to show who they are. You know, like the SHELL symbol or the T&T symbol or the T-Mobile symbol.

Alex: We got a lot of them. We had to type the name when the picture was there and we got most of them.

Frost: That's why I like to watch the commercials on local TV. I need to prepare myself for all of the fun brand games like this.

Morels in Ravenna?

The kids and I were walking to the playground this evening and stopped to check for mushrooms under a nearby evergreen. It seems to be the place they grow in fall and I was hoping to find a specimen for my mushroom ID class tomorrow night.

After charging in vain through the cottonwoods last month, we were all shocked, delighted, stunned - to find a crop of morels growing there. We picked them all - Frost and Wren fighting over "the big one" Frost found - and plan to eat them for breakfast!

Our first morels! I can now add these to the chanterelles, matsutake and shaggy lepiotas I can find and eat all by myself.

One of the smaller fresher specimens

Frost, feeling the joy.

Wren, excited because we are

and wanting whatever is most desired.

Frost Makes Tea

Since we started sleeping with our bedroom doors shut, we have been getting at least an hour more sleep every morning. I discovered that Kitty Haiku had been waking the kids with stepping and mewing.

Now, Frost is the first to get up and I hear him clattering around in the kitchen making strange breakfasts which are more to his liking than those I provide. Recently, he has been eating humous and Mary's Gone Crackers for breakfast followed up by ovaltine in milk. Other days, he has toast and honey WITH NO BUTTER, rice crackers and peanut butter or a peanut-butter banana.

This morning I came in to find him dipping biscotti in a cup of Chamomile tea with milk.

"I made my own tea." he said.

"Great" I said. "I guess you wanted a biscotti?" [We made them last night at his request]

"I had a hard time figuring out how to make tea," he added, not yet done "until I discovered that there are instructions on the tea box."

"You needed instructions?" To me, brewing tea is a self evident process much like adding milk to cereal.

"Yes, first I thought I should pour boiling water in a cup and then dip the teabag in up and down and up and down. Then I thought I should put the teabag in the teakettle and turn it on to boil it. Then when I'd pour it out it would be tea."

"No, don't do that!"

"But then I found the instructions. It says: 'BRING WATER TO A BOIL. POUR OVER TEA BAG, STEEPING 4-5 MINUTES FOR THE FLAVOR TO UNFOLD COMPLETELY'. So I did that."

He finished his mug of tea with a flourish. Well satisfied.

"You did very well. Now that you like to make tea you can choose any one of my teas in the cupboard. There is Earl Grey, English Breakfast, Green Tea, Mint. You make them all the same way. Or you can use my little teapot to brew in."

"CAFFEINE!"

"Yes, they have a bit of caffeine but that's okay"

Frost is enamored of the idea of drinking coffee, because, much like alcohol, it is a forbidden and unknown substance. I buy him the occasional green-tea latte from Starbucks and he feels The Man.

You tell them its for fun

DISCLAIMER: This is a rant.

You tell them its for fun. They're on a team. Its not about who wins or loses.

But there you are on a Sunday afternoon, in a freezing wind, cowering on the sidelines and biting your tongue to stop yourself yelling instructions to your poor 8-year old who is playing soccer against boys, who, unless they are from some other branch of the hominid line, are clearly some years past 8 candles on the cake.

What am I saying? These kids don't have candles! They have daggers stabbed into a block of ice carved in the likeness of my son. They sleep with aphorisms like "shoot for goal from the half-way line" and "There is NOTHING in front of you but your fears" which is why they run right through, into and over my son who is looking a bit aimless in his new red soccer shoes and sounders pants.

So, we get one goal. Its in the first 10 seconds as the other team is still muddled. This is the only goal we get. The oversize team gets 8 goals. We make some good plays but

"the bad team" [as Wren calls them] just kicks through.

Three of our players sub-out crying.

Frost says "I feel bad. I feel disappointed. We got one goal and then we didn't get any more. And they were kind of big."

"Big fuckers." I want to add. " They were big fuckers." But most of all I judge their parents. Do they enjoy sending in their soccer ninja's to crush the ego's of small boys? Is it about competition? Money? God? Is it a small-penis thing?

I really want to know what club you have to join to get your kid on a soccer team that wins. Not all the time. Honestly, I am Not That Parent. However, in 3 years of playing soccer Frost's teams (no, not the same team) has seldom (if ever) won a game.

I think we may have drawn occasionally.

Josh can correct me as when things are going swimmingly and we are All Having Fun, I don't keep score. It doesn't matter.

"If I play soccer more seriously will there be a trophy?" Frost asks.

"Yes, I think they have trophies in some leagues." I say. But I am dismayed.

I ran the line I heard his coach tell the team at the beginning "This is for you to have fun playing and get some practice. Get out there and have fun."

Frost is not buying it. "I had fun kinda. It was fun playing soccer. But it was not fun getting creamed."

I guess this is where I should rise above my irritation and say something big and wise like "eventually you'll be bigger than someone else" or "they probably practice every day and aren't allowed video games."

But I don't. I can't stomach the optimism.

Instead, to offset the tone of this rant I shall leave you with some stolen phrases you may chose to use if your child is mis-matched in a sporting endeavor and seems to care about it:

1. "You don't have to be perfect. Effort and improvement are important."

2. "You are a valuable part of the team"

3. "It is okay to make a mistake, we all do. What do you think you learned from it?"

4. "How can we turn this into a positive?"

5. "I'm proud of you for trying"

6. "I'll bet by next year you will be able to handle [them], you just need to grow a little"

7. "I know you are disappointed that you didn't win, but you'll do better next time."

Hairquarium

I took Wren to the aquarium today. Its been a while since we were there and he was keen to see the octopus. I hobbled along with him (because I had a scooter accident and have a big swollen left knee) and sat a long time gazing at the big fish in the bubble.

Sturgeon (below) was the biggest fish

Octopus was stuck to the glass

etc

Etc

First {real} Haircut

This morning Josh said "I think Wren needs a haircut." I had thought the same thing so I took Wren to the hair-cutter today. I have tried this before and it was not successful [crying, thrashing, leaving half-cut]. This hairdresser was much better. She gave him a box of toys and started cutting straight away while he looked through the toys. This lasted long enough for her to cut Wren's whole head in layers.

Before

After

The Back

The Hairyness & Toys

Carkeek

Frost has joined a soccer team, practicing on Monday afternoons. The first two weeks have been icy, rainy, dark. Because the field is some distance from our house, Wren and I stay at the park and play while he practices for an hour.

Last week, we saw a Grey Whale blowing in the bay at Carkeek while we watched from the bridge. It was incredibly cold. The wind off Puget Sound was so strong it went straight through my fleece and I had to hug Wren in my coat to make him wait.

This week, it was cold but without the wind, and the tide was out. We went down to the beach where Wren collected sea glass. No whales to see but Wren insisted on sitting down at the top of the stairs where we had seen the whales, and to watch the flat smooth sound in hopes of seeing one.

"They are there," he said.

Fruit Labels

Does anyone else see the problem with my fruit-bowl? Have those little stickers on your marmoleum floor? Have to fish them out of your kids mouth all the time?

I am really sick of branded food and the issue is more acute when its a kiwi, an individual banana, one lemon. I also object to having to buy grapes in those mesh bags. I presume this is because the bag is branded while individual grapes would be tricky to label. Not that I want to buy individual grapes, I just don't want to be the customer unpackaging grapes and cutting the 5lb bunch in bits so I can afford a bag.

I know this is not particularly newsy but I am tempted to paint a fruit bowl, a la the old masters, with these stickers on them.

Can I eat another part of him because I have ate his head?

Saturday

We took the kids down to the community center for the annual candy rush despite the cold. Having the two spare scooters we could all scoot along together and arrived ten minutes early. We waited in the gymnasium where there were volunteers holding age group signs. Wren was in the age group 1-3 while Frost was 7-9. There was greatest competition in the Age 4-6 category but the pressure was fairly high among the infants too.

Presiding over the event was an adult-costumed Easter Bunny.

"I do not like the Easter Bunny." Wren announced. "I do not want to see him."

Other young children were hugging its legs and begging for candies as they posed with the bunny for cell-phone pictures. I managed to snag a photo between inundations and Wren liked to look at the picture. He looked at it many times until he dropped the camera and I put it away. Then he reminded me "I do not like the Easter Bunny."

We followed the unpopular bunny to the field and tennis courts which were covered with "treats". Wren walked around looking at the ground but not picking up anything. I knew why. Apparently 1-3 year olds do not get candy. It was all 'healthy' stuff like granola bars, lara bars (made of raw foods), vitamin C gummies and pretzel bags. This was not the promised land.

Does this look like an easter egg hunt to you Mum?

I persuaded Wren to grab a few choice Lara bars for us and then led him over to the 7-9 year old egg hunt which was about to begin. "On your marks, get set, GO!"

Wren rushed right over to some Reeces chocolate candy. I urged him towards a solid chocolate egg. This was more like it.

Frost rushed around collecting plastic eggs which had undisclosed treats inside. Most of these were not candy. Frost said he didn't care, he really liked the surprise. We ended up with strings of shiny bead necklaces, plastic rings and tiny animal themed erasers.

Frost races for mysterious plastic eggs

Of course, our home efforts at chocolate consumption made up for any deficit in sugar.

Later, I baked hot cross buns from scratch. From scratch, I tell you. I was inspired by the Trotsky and Ash blog (written by friends of Kellie in Brisbane). I used their recipe and it was a success!

Here is Frost eating one for bedtime snack (with a Simpsons... still arguing about reading real literature vs comics. Honestly, gifted or not... this child doth not seek our Literature.)

This is what they looked like at the end, toasted, buttered, aromatic.

I was going for the "arty food blogger" shot but my point and shoot can't handle depth of field..

But I settled for the "lump of bun on a plate" shot instead.

Update: Sunday

At bedtime last night Frost asked me about my favorite part of easter when I was a kid. I said that my favorite part was The Family Egg which Dad brought home every easter from a chocolate shop. It was a huge chocolate shell filled with chocolate truffles, pralines and other individual chocolate delights. We broke it up and ate it piece by piece for days. Frost liked the sound of that and I am going to order a large chocolate mould so we can make our own Family Egg next year.

He also thought that they would have it at Haighs, the famous Australian chocolatier and wondered if we could ask GRANNY [Aside: Mum, please could you bring the kids a splendid chocolate from Haighs when you come and visit next? Could the shopping list also include Vegemite and another pair of blundstones for Frost. May need to be ordered over winter. ALSO, a pair of Ugg boots (faux is fine) for Frost. Will Pay!)]

After breakfast the boys opened their easter bunny chocolate.

Wren: "Can I eat another part of him because I have ate his head off?"

Me: "Yes, if you have eaten your breakfast".

Wren: "YES! Is is EATING CHOCOLATE DAY? I have ate his head now I am going to eat his base. Do you know why I am eating another part?"

Frost: "Why"

Wren: "Because its Tasting Chocolate Day"

Frost: What do you do on Tasting Chocolate Day?

Me [from other room]: Its called Easter.

Wren: EAT CHOCOLATE!