"Of" The Week

I would rather be picking flowers but I suppose these stories won't wait.

Speaking of flowers, the weather has reached perfection in my book. When it hits 60-70 degrees I sing hallelujah. Beautiful.

Have I mentioned that my two oldest daughters are a handful? Things are actually not too shabby at school, the question is will I go insane or contract permanent brain damage during the process of trying to hold it all together.



Norah's parent teacher conference revealed that she is an outstanding creative writer. I knew she reminded me of my brother Nate who coincidentally, graduated with a masters from Columbia in theatrical writing. Norah is always off in another place, another time, and another land. As her mother I appreciate this, but the big vein in my forehead is starting to throb and will soon explode unless she learns how to channel her creativity more productively and appropriately. Food needs to be eaten and shoes must be put on.



Lulu is a super-reader. Challenger usually sends students home with 1-2 readers but Lulu receives 5 and devours them. Last week she read me The Friend. One of Lulu's challenges is volume control. Serenity Now!




Abram is a sensitive boy. He is sensitive to food, noise, texture, touch, you name it. I am the type of person who likes to think, Abram is the person that likes to talk, and talk. That boy does not have a thought enter his head that does not exit his mouth. I am working on becoming the mom that enjoys this insight into a 3, almost 4 years old's mind. But thank heaven he still takes a nap.

He attends school twice a week and loves it. He has all the letters memorized along with their sounds, including the long and short vowel sounds. He calls himself awesome. Awesome Abram.



All of this leads me to appreciate my soft, cuddly child. Sure, she throws tantrums and is often stubborn, but she actually gets her shoes when I ask her to. And she loves to be held. Every mother should have a baby that throws her arms around her mother's neck and won't let go. Rosemary is that baby.



Remember when I hit that bus? This is my surreptitious photo during traffic school where I learned so much about seat belts and disobedient citizens who obviously love to spend time at the police station on a Saturday morning because they won't stop talking about themselves. Sorry, that was uncharitable, but so true. I will never speed or hit a bus again.



I made these for a baby shower, all from my own garden. I like to talk about myself too.



This was my dress-up of the week. Although, I took it off as soon as I got home from church and put on jeans and a t-shirt.