stupid pickles

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Boys are awake. I was sitting next to my youngest in living room. We hear his big brother shout from the kitchen, “Stupid pickles!” Pause and then ask what happened, not sure if he was in the pantry or fridge. TEENAGER replies he was trying to get pizza for breakfast and the box was “perched precariously.” The jar fell on his foot. The pickles are OK. So is he. Pizza is being eaten. Here I figured he’d go for leftover cake.

May 24, 2014
Saturday morning just a little after 7am

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vivid crazy daisy blooms
and a shamrock plant for luck
are the flora and fauna
keeping me company
in the kitchen
plants hold down the counter top
I hold down the sink edge
elbows propped up
leaning, typing, thinking
as I pause just a moment
to daydream and woolgather
before moving the dirty dishes
along to the dishwasher
as happy voices drift up
my boys are playing in the basement
after visiting the kitchen for food
(thus, the dishes)
Blue dog is alternately napping
and wild front window woofing
‘cause the new neighbor
is having a moving party
the street is lined
with pick up trucks
my brother and his son
are coming over later
in this very moment
life is good
thankful and blessed
smiling a l’il brighter
thanks to a bouquet of
vivid crazy daisies
and a shamrock plant for luck
that I’ve kept alive
for nearly a whole year
I’m still here too
not sure what to do next
never had coffee today
wishing for a nap

January 4, 2014

he’ll be 13 in April

My oldest son has so many good life skills at age 12 3/4. My mom has said, “he’s an old soul,” since he was an infant. I continue to marvel at him, and wonder what God’s plan is for my oldest boy. He is so articulate, knowledgeable about so many topics, and good with people of all ages. He has such compassion and empathy in him, balanced by an in depth knowledge of warfare throughout history and weaponry. Lots of scripture and Bible teaching are buried in his great big heart too. I just keep loving him and encouraging him in all things. Nudging now and then. Downplaying and not gushing to keep his head from swelling. He’s a builder, a dreamer, a planner, a thinker and I hope a doer too. I miss him, his little brother, that great big Blue dog and striped cat too.

Initially written as a text reply, on January 23, 2013, while sitting at my husband’s bedside at Loyola hospital near Chicago. My friend, whose oldest son is the same age (well, 14 days older), was praising my oldest son’s conversation skills. Saying that he speaks intelligently and clearly, and comes across as very knowledgeable and thoughtful. Of course my Mother’s Heart swelled with a bit o’pride. He is mine. Forever and always my baby he’ll be, even now when he towers head and shoulders over me. Not ‘cause he’s a GIANT, though he’s built broad for football, just ‘cause his mama isn’t tall…sayin’ I’m under 5’ is close enough.

smiling aunt heaven (part 2)

That sweet, two year old girl wanted to go UPstairs, looking for her big four year old brother and bigger twelve year old cousin. She walked into the bedroom and said, “Where are the guys?” I replied, “They are DOWNstairs.”

So, she and I scooched down the stairs on our bottoms, laughing aloud the whole entire way. She led the way to the basement stairs, located just around the corner. I was surprised when she paused at the tippy top, handed me her wooden cars, said “Scared” and lifted her arms for “up.” 

As if I weren’t already head over heels in love, with my one and only niece, she looked at me with the cutest grin, and adamantly declared, “Let’s draw!” Oh, I found crayons and paper FAST! 

Good medicine. The best kind. Lotsa lotsa love.

~ Aunt Janean

January 12, 2013

I just shouted down the stairs to my youngest son, “It’s snowing!” He ran upstairs, from the basement depths, and promptly spread the word, by shouting the same to his big brother. My mom is probably doin’ some happy snow shoutin’ and smilin’ of her own, for a love of snow runs in the family. Blue dog loves snow too. Woof.

December 31, 2012

I very much enjoyed the ISU String Project concert this morning. My oldest son is the violinist third from the left in front. *yes I know he looks like a white and black spec, but it’s him* I tapped my booted toes, smiled my proud mama smile, sang along to The Monkey Song and took the ipad away from my youngest son for the three songs his big brother played.

The oven timer beeped, “done” at 8:30a.m.
I asked my youngest son, as he was quietly sitting nearby, to tell his big brother, “The cinnamon rolls are ready, it’s time for him to save his game, power down and come upstairs to eat.”
Next thing I knew the basement door was flung open, and that littlest boy used a great big voice to shout, “Get your butt up here! Breakfast is ready!”
I gotta admit, his big brother listened and I laughed aloud in reply.
I was still chuckling and smiling as I handed ‘em each a plateful of iced, cinnamon goodness, baked from a refrigerated Pillsbury tube.
Good morning.
May your day be A Good One.
I’m smiling here, still charmed by my youngest son’s cut to the chase translation.
~ Janean

November 4, 2012