angelbirdflies

I took a well week off from work. A week to focus on wellness and get my healthy feet planted firmly under a solid, shining, energetic body (positive affirmations you know). Day 1- tending to a very sick little boy. He has been sick for four solid days, running a temp between 100 and 104 degrees. His little lungs are all congested and he has to take breathing treatments four times a day in combination with some heavy antibiotics for a serious ear infection. To combat the blues we colored eggs and transformed the front yard into a flamboyant invitation for Spring.

Pristine splendor dancing across a hidden horizon and the family takes some time to enjoy the inclimate splendor, Bodhi particularly liked this mode of transport and building our reclining snowman. Who is crash dieting in the front yard as we speak and is sweating bullets and girth beneath a wide sunny sky.

Good bye. How does one say good bye? How does one relinquish the warm hands that carried you over troubled waters, that gently wiped salty spray from crying eyes, or warmed suppers to fill an empty belly and warm an aching heart. I don't know. I know that I will be glad when she is no longer in that restrictive body, yet the warm memories of my Bonny, my Grande', come rushing to the surface, filling me with a nostalgic longing. The melodic cadence of Italian flowing in a stream of sweet nothings peppered with injunctions to "eat", to "have courage", to "love", won't follow my sons down the driveway or greet them crossing thresholds. I don't know how to make her Italian roasts, her greasy breakfasts, her meringue pies. I don't know her prayers or even her deepest hopes. I know only that she loved me, utterly and completely, and she is leaving and I am sad.

Prescott. Going home is always an odd experience, both familiar and devastatingly unfamiliar. This time was no different. Mama, beautiful and plodding forward as only a mother can. My brother, gorgeous, brooding and cloaked in a 007 veneer of uncertainty. My dear sister-sister, a touchstone of devastating joy and constant support. Overall it was a poignant trip, made more moving and painful as it was a good-bye visit to my Grande' who is shuffling, ever so slowly into the wide horizon of unknown possibilities.

My big brother came for a one day visit, with our mutual brother-friend Leroy. It is wonderful to link with blood, occasionally trying and hair tearing, but this visit was beautiful without either of us schlepping our baggage and stories all over the place. It is interesting to witness the passage of time on the canvas of those closest to us. A poignancy of time-lapse memory, singing a melody across the years.

feces, BM, stool, waste, excrement, poop, shit, poo-poo, number two, dropping a load... No matter what you call it we have it in spades at our house and I've been drowning in it. Yes, yes, I realize that there is a great little metaphor dangling over my head at this odorous hour, but I prefer to just focus on the facts at hand. I am potty training a two year old and a puppy simultaneously, and doing a poor job with both I might add. This morning, my little ray of sunshine took off his underwear pleasantly and pooped on his brother's carpet, then waltzed over to me (in the back room) and announced, "I POOP ON BRO-BRO'S FLOOR!". Later that same day, as I finished cleaning him up after his second pee incident and was tending to my urine splattered kitchen floor, he said, "I HAVE TO POO MAMA" simultaneously trailing poop all over the kitchen and down the hall as he scurried toward the toilet. A few short hours later, Maia escaped from her temporary s...

THIRTY-FIVE... Can you believe it!! I know, I know, I don't look a minute over thirty-four. I hear that all the time. Well the day started with an elaborate pity party with hair shirts and fan-fare and plenty of doctors waving needles. I sang out into the wide sky Bonnie Tyler's signature song, "I NEED A HERO", and Shane came riding in on his white horse and whisked me off for a hike in the wilds of Colorado. AAAAAHHHHHH! Now that is a birthday worth celebrating! So Happy Birthday to Me ... OH... and to my brother who also happens to have been fortunate to have arrived on MY special day, two years earlier than me.

How to build a castle with a fabulous eight year old. First you need to make a floor plan. We checked out a small mountain of library books. Next , Owen devoured these resources and began a series of diagrams, drawings and floor plans. Next, make a model out of clay(well Mom didn't have clay, but I do know how to make a mean play-dough, so that is what we did). Owen began sculpting immediately. Bodhi, was equally inspired (or he just wanted to be like Owen) and began, squeezing, poking, cutting and eating the playdough with a wild abandon. The castle complete, the next step - paint it. A little wash of food coloring can work wonders, particularly with motes and the like... Next , draw some characters and have mom make a back drop. These fabulous creations prompted a fabulous story telling/book session (which is in production now). The final step -CLEAN UP of course and there is no one more excited by this than Bodhi. Stay tuned for a link to the upcoming book.

A trip to the zoo is so much fun with a two, if you have never had the pleasure of doing it than borrow a willing toddler (with parental permission) and head out to your nearest animal park. The key to having fun with a toddler is follow , follow, follow ! All too often I see parents and caregivers rushing children on to the next animal, "Come on honey, it's time to see the zebra. Hurry along", in some frantic pursuit for more. Why? Who needs to see all the animals in one day? Bodhi will occasionally spend two hours visiting three animals. We always begin with the lion. Bodhi becomes stock-still staring at his regal friend and peppering his observation with "OOOOOH, OOOOOOH, look at that Mommy", in response to something unexpected. Next, our beloved elephants, with faces lined by wisdom and a movement that suggests a "no hurry" attitude that appeals to the toddler and busy mother, both. Finally, we wind our way to the penguins. This is genera...

WOW!!!! Shane and I went to see the off beat comedy, Love Song , performed by the Paragon Theater Troupe , and WOW! If you live near the Denver area, I highly recommend going to see this one. The intimate setting coupled with stellar performances and a fabulous script left me laughing and crying, sometimes simultaneously. I won't spoil it for anyone lucky enough to get to see it. Let me just say that the theme of opening was quite timely. We all hoard and closet our feelings to one degree or another in the hopes of avoiding pain, but in the end we avoid life... how much better to embrace the unpredictability of our feelings and step into the sticky beautiful messy existence that is our own unfolding.

Life is in the parenthesis, in the comma, in the spaces and in the pause. I have been thinking a lot lately about life in general which of course leads to a contemplation of life in specific, namely mine. I used to approach myself with Jesuit tenacity and finatical austerity. I was certain that I could mold this thing, this life, this "Angelina" into something valid, something purposeful, perhaps even exemplary. I meditated and cajoled, I coaxed and cursed, I exercised and hiked, I did yoga and ate vegetarian, I went to workshops, I read and read and read and then tried to understand it all. Then I became a mom. Let's face it, who has the time to examine life with a fine tooth comb once you have exchanged sleep for diaper duty/food preparing/story telling/child tending marathons. I went through an identity crisis with my first son. Wondering, "who am I now?", now that the backdrop of my life is no longer punctuated by long vistas of reflection and wide expa...

Of course, following the last post, I would be remiss if I didn't tell you, dear reader, that I haven't grown up all together. I painted a blue butterfly on my throat/thyroid and some wings over my forehead hoping for flight.

Boyhood... so beautiful, so precious, so transient. I read a poem recently by Billy Collins that encapsulates the importance of respecting and protecting the magic of childhood. I will share it with you at the end of this post, but let me first tell you how the day began. I have been a bear, a growling, grumpy pain in the backside mama-bear and there is no way around it. I could blame it on my illnesses but that would be a cop out, I could say that I am overwhelmed by the busy-ness of my life but that would be a whine session, so I will just say I have been moody...PERIOD. This morning I stood folding the six loads of clean laundry on the table (which I ignored yesterday) and asked to be left alone. Owen was a bit hurt and sequestered himself in his room, when he emerged he announced, "I am the pink panther today". Looking at him, my heart melted and swooned, while guilt over my scowling demeanor tried to chase me into a corner, I just stopped and looked at the magic a...

When I am feeling unbearably blue about the cold days of winter I pack up one or both of the boys and head off to the Denver Botanical Gardens. There is a marvelous indoor arboretum that smells of Hawaii and flowers and distant places. I wander amidst the ripening foliage, imagining a forest or a jungle, imagining sunny skies and languid days, until I am full again and then I step out into the cool-dry Colorado day, refreshed. We then begin the game of "beauty where you find it". A game I have played since I was a small girl and one that my boys take equal pleasure. The rules are simple and the world is the playground. Simply wander through your day and find reasons to take your breath away. They are everywhere. Here are a few that Bodhi and I discovered in the Botanical Gardens. The immeasurable beauty of a child is always an easy place to begin looking. Being a mother is a rare combination of poet, artist, teacher, chef and 24 hour maid, but there are ALWAYS moments ...