Happy (Saint) Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day!

Yesterday James gave me this homemade Mother's Day card:

I hugged him and told him I loved him, and then we laughed, and I asked him, "Why did you call it Saint Mother's Day?" and he told me "...because moms are saints!" So sweet!

And I loved how he used a different color ink to highlight "App St.", (Appalachian State University) which just happens to be one of his favorite football teams. That boy is a mess, but I love him so.

Happy (Saint) Mother's Day y'all!

James's portrait

I've been working on this color pencil portrait of James forever, and not making much progress. So, I thought I'd post it here, and challenge myself to work on it every week until I get it done.... I love drawing these portraits, and it's very relaxing to sit and work on one while I listen to my iPod, but I don't like getting started unless I have an hour or more to work on it, and realistically, I haven't carved out a free hour to work on this in weeks. Sigh.

It takes many many hours to finish one of these, as the colored pencil is applied in many layers, and it is fairly slow, meticulous work. I think I've put about 20 to 25 hours in it so far, and I'm less than half way done. Anyway, I'm going to give this a go and try and get it done - soon. Like before he graduates from High School...

And here's the reference photo I'm using to create this portrait. I love this photo of James, taken when he was about 4 years old.

The Hand ! *WARNING! This is gross and tacky!

Hubby went grocery shopping last night (he is much better at it than I am), so when he brought all the bags home, I started unpacking them on the kitchen counter.

And then I pulled THIS out of the bag!

INSERT LOUD AND HYSTERICAL SHRIEKS HERE....

STILL SHRIEKING!

Actually, it's a gummy candy hand!

After I calmed down, I laughed my head off!

And I hope you didn't miss the note on the package about "...with crunchy candy bones inside"! I mean, what's a gummy hand without the bones? Seriously?

Hubby thought this was cool and bought it for James -I think it's a guy-thing. I think it is just gross and tacky...????

So, what is your gross and tacky gag purchase story? (Keep 'em clean, ok?!)

Invasion of the Body Snatchers, 2009!

When I was a kid in the 70’s, my best friend and I would watch ‘Science Fiction Theater’ or 'Action Theater' on Saturday mornings. We would huddle on the living room floor with pillows and blankets, and scare ourselves silly watching old monster, alien, and space travel movies, hiding under the blankets if things got especially scary. We had such great fun. One old movie, in particular, stuck in my memory - 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers'. It was very creepy, and for weeks afterwards, whenever someone behaved even the least bit strangely, I was absolutely convinced they had been snatched by aliens, like the victims in the film. The movie was about a doctor from a small town in California, who starts hearing from many of his patients that their family or friends are acting strange. While they still look the same, their behavior has changed, and they are cold, distant, and just “not themselves”. The doctor eventually discovers that aliens are taking over the town, using huge seed pods, which they have sent to earth. The pods had been stashed in the basements, attics, or garages of people’s houses, and at night when the innocent townspeople go to sleep, aliens emerge from the pods, and assume the exact physical appearance of a targeted human being, who is then destroyed. Talk about scaring the daylights out of two girls! I don’t remember the ending, except that all ends well, but I remember vividly the creepiness of this movie, and the saying it seems to have spawned in popular culture; i.e. when someone acts strangely, I’ve often heard people say “OK, where’s the pod???”, implying that their behavior is so strange that they must actually be an alien.

So fast forward to 2009. My house. In small town Tennessee. And my son, James, is clearly NOT acting like himself. This is a stereotypical 10-year old boy, who normally leaves a trail of clutter, shoes, and laundry behind him. I dread entering his room because I know it's usually a disaster zone, with books, footballs, and toys tossed on the floor, dirty socks and underwear (eeewwwww) kicked under the bed, and things generally just left wherever they were used last. As hubby often says, James lives how bears would live IF they had furniture. But last weekend I spent a whole day cleaning the house, and it was exhausting work – countless trips up and down the stairs, and hours of sweeping, wiping, dusting, and putting things away, and by the end of the day, I was wiped out. So I wasn’t surprised when later I overheard my hubby telling the kids that “…. We need to help Mom out, because we’re relying on her too much to keep this place clean…” Mental high fives! Yes! Thank you Lord! Now if only they would just take those words to heart....

And then last night, I was stunned when James came bopping down the stairs carrying a laundry basket with the sheets from his bed, passed by where I was sitting in the living room, and headed into the laundry room where he proceeded to load the sheets into the washer and start the wash cycle. And then load them into the dryer when they were done. And that’s not all... He took the sheets out and MADE HIS BED when the sheets were clean and dried. I am not kidding. And there's more! He even gathered laundry from our room and his sister’s room, and washed, dried, and folded three more loads, insisting all the time that he could do it all by himself saying“… I can do this. You need to take a break, Mom!”. Totally blew me away; I’m about to faint just thinking about it! And when I wake up, I’m gonna go and find the pod. It has to be hiding somewhere…..

Update 9/24/09: James did ANOTHER load of laundry last night. I'm still looking for the pod...

Carly

I am so thankful that James, at age ten, is not yet at the stage where he is interested in girls. Hopefully we have a few more years until he is awash with teenage boy hormones, but in the meantime, he has taken a fancy to a girl he met while staying up at his Granny and Papa’s house a few weeks ago. Carly is the granddaughter of my in-law’s neighbor, and she is often at her grandmother’s house during the summer days. She’s a year or so younger than James, and very much a tomboy. “I really like Carly”, James told me after they met. “She likes to play football, and basketball, and she doesn’t want to play with sissy girl stuff.” Hmm, I thought to myself.

Since then, James has been to Granny’s house several times. “Do you think Carly will be able to play?” he asks shyly, as we drive. “I hope so,” I tell him. I am surprised with how tenderly he talks about Carly, and how much he looks forward to spending time with her. And I am a little nervous too; I am definitely not ready for school age crushes and broken hearts, and I pray that this friendship will not cause James embarrassment, hurt or pain.

So about ten days ago, Tom and I took Rachel and James on a family drive, noodling our way through NE Alabama and back into Chattanooga. We had a great time just driving on the back roads and stopping wherever we saw something that interested us. Towards the end of the day, we stopped at a truck stop on the interstate to fill up with gas and get drinks, and as I was making my way to the drink fountain, I saw James browsing through the typical tourist trinkets that abound in truck stop stores – keychains, refrigerator magnets, shot glasses, knick-knacks, and such. As I was filling up my drink cup, James came up to me and tugged gently on my arm. “Can I get this?” he asks. "I want to give it to Carly," and he opens his hand to show me a keychain, with the name ‘Carly’. I am honestly stunned! He has never bought anything for a girl before, other than his sister, and of course that doesn’t count…. I find myself in a bit of a quandary because I am always telling Rachel and James not to waste money on stuff like this keychain, but I think it is a good thing that he wants to get her a present. I find myself rattled and confused because I am not sure how to handle this. I’m sure he asked me knowing that Tom would probably tease him if he found out James wanted to buy a present for a girl. So I stick with my rules, but feel instant regret as I tell him “No, you may not get that!”, but right them , Tom comes up, and sees what James is asking for, and he also tells James “NO!” and sends him out to the car.

I finish getting my drink, and the whole time, I am feeling so bad for James. I like that he thinks about people and wants to do nice things for them, and I want to encourage him to have a tender heart and want to do things for his friends. But admittedly, this whole boy-girl friendship thing is just throwing me for bit of a loop; James would never think about buying a keychain for his other friends, who all happen to be boys. What does this mean??? Aaaarrrgggghhh! So I head over to the keychain rack, I find the ‘Carly’ keychain, I pay for it along with my drink, and I slide the keychain in my jeans pocket. I’ll give it to James later and he can give it to Carly.

The drive home is uneventful, and when we get home, James heads straight up to his room. After a few minutes I go up the stairs, planning to talk to him and give him the keychain. As I am walking down the hall, I see Tom in the room with James, and Tom is fishing a keychain out of his pocket too. He bought the same keychain! So I give James the keychain I bought, and now James has two of them to give to Carly. We laugh and shake our heads. But I feel restored somehow, and I am squirmy with happiness inside that Tom bought one too, as it revealed a sentimental side of him that is hidden too often. As corny as it sounds, it feels good. Even if it is just a silly keychain.

Do you think they would notice the butterflies???

Mornings in our house need to run like clockwork. That’s just the way it has to be. So we have honed things to a precise routine that involves having breakfast, packing lunches, and heading out the door. Things that break the routine are, well, horrible….

So this morning James comes bopping down the stairs, holding just the pant legs from a grey pair of cargo pants/shorts. These are the type of pants where the legs can unzip to make shorts… And he asks me "...are these pants khaki?" Sensing impending doom, I say "No. Why are you asking?" What I really want to say, but don’t, is “…Um, hello! They’re NOT EVEN PANTS! They’re just the legs!!!!” But I know what he is about to say and I can feel my stress level rising.... This is not going to be good. "Well,” he continues, “Today is choir sharing and I need to wear khaki pants to school". The monkey wrench has been thrown into my morning routine. I know for a fact James doesn’t own a single pair of khaki pants, and I’m mentally churning through Rachel’s wardrobe, desperately hoping she might have a pair he can wear.

Now it would have been nice if James would have mentioned this requirement for khaki pants earlier, say, like this weekend, or even yesterday when we were buying him sneakers and socks, but he waited until this morning – ten minutes before we need to leave the house to announce this need. AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!

So up we traipse to Rachel’s closet (yes, I’m that desperate) but the only pair of khaki pants she has is 1) too big for him and 2) decorated with embroidered flowers and butterflies…. I hold them up, thinking, maybe.... perhaps.... would his shirt cover the butterflies... But even I know that is not going to work. Rats.

Sigh… So, we drive to school, drop Rachel off, James and I drive back to Wally World, and buy him a pair of khaki pants and a white polo shirt, and I drive him back to school. Late, but in khakis, sans butterflies. He has no idea how lucky he was that Wal-Mart had ONE pair of khaki pants in his size.

Is it just my kid, or is this a common thing with boys?

A walk in the fields...

James and I took a walk in the fields the other day.

The sky was blue, the grass in the fields was ruffling in the breeze, and the trees are lush with new leaves.

I actually think that is poison ivy... but it looks pretty on the tree!

these flowers are so graceful...

the field in front of our house...

wild daisies!

James running ahead on the path...

Scenes from the farm...

Here are a few photos taken at our farm in the last 2 weeks....

Spring is here!

I don't know the name of these white flowers, or if indeed they are even flowers at all. I think they may be leftover from blossoms or seed pods last year. I just thought they were so pretty.

Peach trees in bloom!


And the honeybees are out working the peach blossoms....


James with his best friend, our border collie, Missy!

James on the tractor. Can you tell he wants to drive it???

Blessings!

Adrienne

Metaphor Monday

The River


My son, James, is on the cusp of big changes. He turned 10 last October, and since then has grown 4 or 5 inches taller and 10 pounds heavier; he’s at that gangly, thin stage – all arms and legs, with disproportionately large knees and elbows. I’m quickly losing my little boy, and it saddens me somewhat. He is increasingly fond of his independence, and where he used to sit with me for hugs and cuddles, nowadays he flits into my presence, gives me a brief hug, and then fueled with boundless energy, he dashes off again. I reach for him to hug him back, but he’s already gone, tossing his football in the air. I’m finding that it’s hard to get him to slow down, to shift his thoughts away from the spur of the moment, and to really get him to reveal his heart. To an outside observer his interests may seem shallow, as all he talks about is football, dogs, basketball, and his school buddies.


Recently James and I walked to the river that runs on the back edge of our property. Just a few weeks ago the river was up near the top of its banks, flowing very swiftly, swollen by days of heavy rain and runoff, but now, the river level is very low, and it flows languidly along its course. As we stood there looking at the river, James said to me “Isn’t it funny how the river changes, and yet it’s still the same river, going to the same place?”


This weekend I was cleaning up around the house and I found all his candy and valentines from his school party dumped out on the table. As I picked it up and put it all back in the paper bag, I noticed a small red bag, obviously handmade, with the words “from James” on the side. I was curious! Here was a valentine he had made for someone but had obviously not given it to them, so I peeked inside. There was a small piece of paper, and written on it was “Happy Valintines (yes - that’s how he spelled it) Day Mom! I love you, James”.


Lately I’ve found myself struggling to relate to James; his interests are so focused on things I don’t understand, and his pace is so frantic that he seems like the white water river flowing over the rapids, picking up speed and boiling over the rocks, whereas I’d like him to slow down and be a more gently flowing stream. But the simple valentine he made for me reminds me that like the river, he is not just the rapids, but he does still have periods of depth and gentleness. As he told me, it’s the same river, heading to the same place. And for now, I’m happy and blessed to watch it flow.

Blessings,

Adrienne