the road trip, part one

me and the graduate


Magdalena grooving on some Rouri love

me with the raucous Sheehan clan

the morning afta party

I started this post over a week ago, and finally here goes.

Magdalena, Augustus and I went on a rollicking eight day road trip that was all love and connections. I have to say that almost every time I have uttered the words "eight day roadtrip" and "Magdalena and Augustus" I have been met, almost universally, with groans and looks of shock, horror and disbelief. Well let's just set the record straight and say that my children rocked the eight day roadtrip like a couple 'o salty dogs on a rum run. We had a ball, a blast, an amazing time. There were no bedtimes, no rules (ok, that's not totally true. There was a "no shrieking in the car while mama is trying to talk on the phone rule.) and no expectations except that of having fun. There were no dvd players en route, in the car or otherwise, no video games, no electronic distractions. Just hours and hours of I Spy, little kid style; Putamayo Animal Sounds (a must have) world music cd; She'll be Coming Round the Mountain; Adventures in Space; made up songs and children's songs galore.

The whole la-dee-da shindig started with a much anticipated trip up to Atlanta, which turned into a lovely stop in Marietta with my cousin Cecelia always ready with the spare room and whole milk Stoneyfield with the cream on top for the babes, on Thursday May 1st.

Then on to the meat of the matter, shooting up to Nashville to celebrate Dara Down's graduation from nursing school and oh what a time we had. We picked up our ace-in-the-whole surprise, Susan Walker who flew in from Colorado for the big event, and headed over to the graduate's house. It was a gathering of epic proportions. All the players were in attendance: Susan, Gail from Utah, Patty and LJ from Atlanta, and me from Jax. Mick, Dara's brother surprised her from New Orleans, Dave-o, his lovely wife Heather and their two babes were there and of course, Sean flew in from Ireland. Truthfully, I didn't know people still partied that hard! And got up in the morning for the graduation and the real party. And then the morning afta party! Who Knew?

Saturday was one of those movie set party days, picture perfect cool temps, crystal clear blue sky, and spring showing up right on time, food food and more food, children of every age everywhere-in the yard on the swings in the house upstairs downstairs underfoot and in your hair, children children everywhere. Jonny and his amazingly talented musician buddies jamming by the fire outside, henna tattoos at the dining room table, and pink make-up for all the babes. Only to be topped by late night sleeping children hotel talks and incredible grav-lox and the works for the morning afta party. And really, who can resist seeing three different sets of post-Atlanta babes playing together, children of mamas who have been as close as sisters for twenty years. Did I just say twenty years? Good God.

Here's to old school Atlanta buddies, reunions, and dear friends who remind me and will never forget (or let me forget) who I am.

homeschool heaven

Ok, so can you get with my whole homeschool love for just a minute? I mean, can I get a witness? Note the dedicated school room building, the little "School" flag hanging (you can see it behind the easel), the little green leprechaun footprints on the glass door from St Patty's Day, the blooming flowers, the covered sand table behind Augustus, the lush lush lush gorgeous green surroundings, the fine mom walking out of the photo, a.k.a. Mandy, the goddess and patron saint of the Love the Earth Homeschool Preschool extravaganza. Not to mention the three artists at work.

Now that's what I call school!

papa time, tea time, and crazy tattoos

roofers

the naked and the smoothie tea party

body art baby, a perpetual favorite

Recently we came home and Ethan was on the roof sweeping off the leaves, acorns (that tend to grow into oak trees in the composting leaves), small branches and Spanish moss of our roof. As soon as Magdalena got out of the car she yells "Papa, can I come up there?" to which, before I could answer a reasonable No Way!, her papa says - sure baby, come on up! Um, ok. But before you climb a 12 foot ladder up to our roof, maybe you could put on shoes other than crocs? And something besides a tutu? So out comes Magdalena, in her best roof sweeping pink cowboy boots, flowery skirt and too-small pink tank top. Because that was the outfit I was thinking of.

The rest is self-explanatory

wow, a hiatus

So so so so SO! I went on quite the little hiatus, did I not? And why you might ask? Well, I believe I hit blog burnout. And not from my blog (obviously), but from all the Unbelievable Amazing Inspiring and Incredible blogs I have been reading. All of these amazing mamas, writing books, publishing books, knitting something new every day, making summer clothes for a small army of children, homeschooling, working in the studio, remodeling 100 year old farmhouses and documenting it all, in breezy, well written hanging-out-with-your-chums-style of writing accompanied by phenomenal photos, and well, I just checked out.
I would read these blogs and think, exactly what do you do all day? Eat bon bons and watch tv? I mean, it's not like I'm moving in slow motion but good god, I keep thinking: Why isn't the porch finished? the laundry finished? the dishes finished? dinner made? Let alone, knitting a fabulous something or other, making darling little felt crowns for our buddies, remembering it's my day to bring snacks to the homeschool gig and bringing something besides a block of cheese and a bag of apples. At least they're organic apples. Sigh.
Anyhoo, I just came to a screeching halt. Quit reading, quit posting and just now thought, hmmm... wonder what the old bloggesphere looks like these days. So here I am. Back. With many photos to post and stories to share and life to document. But with out expectation. It is so nice to do that.

garden angel

Thursday and it's chore day and I am behind in my chores. More soon.

Easter belated, a bit

So far this the only photo I have. It's what our Easter baskets should have looked like if I had planted the grass soon enough. As it was, for the real Easter day, we had little sweet sprouts of grass. Lovely, but not quite lush.

Also, Augustus says to Frida, every opportunity he has when we are all together as an extended family:

(Frida will walk over to me and crawl into my lap or asked to be picked up)

Augustus: Ree-ta (that's what it sounds like when he says Frida), that not yo mama, there (pointing to Jeanna) yo mama, that not yo mama, that my mama, there yo mama.

And we all commence to crack up.

my secret (macro) life

In case you didn't know, I'm a bloggaholic. Ok, not really, but there are a few blogs outside of the realm of friends blogs that I visit on a regular basis and there always seem to be blog projects or challenges and this is the macro challenge here http://orangeflower.typepad.com/orange_flower/

All the photos are so gorgeous and well done. I blog at night, when everyone else is asleep, and never remember the photo during the day while there is beautiful light and flowers outside, so here is my first macro entry, late but oh well. The onions that didn't get fully drenched in tempura batter and fried to a crispy light delight. It looks kinda like a crazy face to me. Somehow pleasing. Not having an infant has caught up with me and I'm itchin for a creative outlet. I guess a bit desperately! Anyoo, more to come.

goggles and other goodies

primos

I dare say, Augustus loves his goggles

a makeshift stage

soon to be a fence

making a bed in the truck bed

I had just uploaded these photos, hadn't even begun this post when I was visited by a fairy miracle. Magdalena slipped out of the bedroom and onto my lap, wondering where I was, and pick me up please, come to bed. So I had the gift of snuggling down my four year old big girl, my wondrous magical darling of words and sentences and plans and "conversations" and agendas, as if she were a babe again. She held my hands in sleep, face turned toward mine, perfect peace and trust. Heaven. Absolute Heaven. Sigh.

But onto what I had in mind. No Easter photos! I (horrors!) forgot my camera on Easter Sunday! So I took photos with my camera, and my brother with his palm, and haven't had any success with getting the images to my computer. Fear not, they will appear, but this in the meantime.

Augustus will wear his goggles all day if he can find them, and when he can't, he wears his backups. One day he put them on in the morning, wore them to the library for story time, kept them on through Mrs. Owl, then decided to take them off for some serious art making. I hope he never loses his style, it is, of course, fabulous. As is, I will say, Magdalena's also. She puts together the most outlandish outfits, and strangely enough, red tights, pale yellow bloomers, pink boots and a chartreuse "visit Florida" t-shirt make a fetching ensemble.

Our fence panels were delivered on Friday and my husband, all his muscles, my brother Anthony and my brother in law Dave got the fence put up last weekend. I tell you what, my man can do some labor, as all the girls who watched him put in Kamy's sprinkler system will tell you, and it is a wonderful sight. Our fence is gorgeous! Our backyard has gone from not secure island of order between two disastrous neighbors to our own private haven of lush beauty and security and serenity. No more marauding dogs, no unsightly broken down fence, no unsightly over-grown house, just clean pure cypress fence and that crazy gorgeous tangle of oak canopy above.

While the menfolk were a'toiling, Jeanna, the littles (Augustus and Frida), Magdalena and I were out front rehabbing our plants. We transplanted some not-so-thriving azaleas to a spot where I hope they will thrive, planted my hibiscus topiary, planted my beautiful palms, and put all kinds of flowers in pots. I guess we'll get comfortable and stay a spell. Really, it is quite lovely. You should come for a visit.

I almost forgot to mention-Augustus got his first big boy haircut at a real barber shop. I mean this place was old school. So old school as a matter of fact, that if the barber who was out to lunch had been in, we would not have stayed - two overflowing ashtrays and at least 3 packs of cigarettes on his station. Nuff said. But we did stay and a sweet barber who was oh, I'd say at least seventy years old, took less than ten minutes, charged me $7, and transformed my curly-headed toddler into a very traditional little boy. The bushy bushy blond hairdo will be back by late spring, I'm sure, but for now he sure looks all grown up and official. Life is soooo good.

you're sick? again?, dishes, and gratitude

is it just me?

Augustus whippin' up the multi-grains in the midst of madness

the mystery of whistle straws

the definition of best friends

can you tell Augustus loves Henry?

I've been hearing that question, "Are you sick, again?" so often lately I want to say, no I'm not sick I was just rockin' out at the Pixies show all night and smoked 8 packs of cigarettes, why, do I sound horse? Sigh. Moving on, though, right? After my sad sad midweek last week, all I wanted was my mom so to the rescue she came, doing laundry, picking up the house, and reading to the kids so I could sleep on Thursday. Jeanna took all the kids to our regular Friday library gig, then Saturday I slept while they played at the beach, and Sunday, that incredible Auntie Jeanna, aka Tita, took the kids to the greatest park around and my mom sent in dinner so after all that rest yes I say! I am finally feeling better. Thank Heaven, God, Mary, Jesus, Buddha, Darhma, karma, Krishna, Shiva, Kuan Yin, babaganoush and Ganeesh.

So let me ask you, does your kitchen ever look like the one on top? And I need to say, it's not only when I'm down and out sick that it looks like this, it's other times also. Granted, Augustus cooking the multi-grain flapjacks does add some panache to the scene, it's still a bit of a disaster. I just didn't get the fast gene, or I guess the "I care" gene. No, it's not that, because I do care. It just doesn't' seem to get done. Or, if it does, I'm certainly not blogging! Jeanna says it's because I have different priorities, and she says that like it's a good thing. I'm just going to have to take her word for that one, and recommit to not going to bed till the dishes are done. At least, when I'm all better I'll recommit to that one.

Have I properly raved about my/our homeschool co-op that is becoming the light of my life, dream of my dreams, that thing which I never dared say out loud lest I jinx it? Oh the mamas in my life, oh the babies, oh the big kids. Of them I cannot say enough. The sheer bounty of it, the abundance, the fabulous-ness, the love, the love the love. The group is ever changing, ever growing, ever evolving and the specifics are hard to pin down, but the flow is so...well, flowing and groove is so groovy and the moms are all so bright and gorgeous and different and talented and creative, it is such a blessing to be counted among them. Not to mention that each one of them have stepped up in the last six weeks at least once, most of them twice, to pick up my kids and take them to co-op or the library or something.

And really, for it all, I am grateful for each and every spec of it. This Lent our family has gotten together almost every Friday evening for some kind of seafood feast and it has been so wonderful. My brother Anthony, aka Tito Chuchi is forever on the floor with the kids either reading or playing or being a de facto climbing jungle gym for them to romp over and on. My sister-in-law Suzanne, Aunt Su-su, made "dirty shrimp" for one of the Fridays and the only thing that was dirty really was the front of my shirt. We've been at David and Jeanna and Frida's new house or my mom's house hanging out a lot lately, all of us together, and it really is the sweetest life. Here, with my man and my babies, and the rest of my family to share it with. And that is all I have to say about gratitude right now.

ode to a cat named Sunday

the first time Magdalena discovered Sunday

where there's a baby, there is Sunday

Augustus checking him out

Sunday loved it all

sweet Sunday

ode to a cat named Sunday

Sunday died on Wednesday. He gave us nothing but love. And fleas. Sunday is dead. Long Live Sunday.

Sunday was born on my birthday. Sunday and his litter-mate Bubbles were six weeks old, I was six months clean, and those kitties taught me the nature of unconditional love. They were pure love. We lost Bubbles years ago to a car, and I mourned her with a sadness I did not expect. Sunday, however, has been my constant companion for 12 1/2 years, and his passing, I knew, would be tragic. (As I write this, blubbering at my computer, Magdalena asks me why my eyes are like that, then pets me and says, you'll be ok, the cookies will help you feel better, and Augustus in his little, halting voice says it o-k mama)

Sunday was the best kitty on the planet with my babies. All the tail pulling, the rolling over, the dressing up, the putting in bags and boxes, the covering with blankets, was taken with aplomb, and he always returned to the babies with purrs and affection. So as you see, he was still teaching me about unconditional love. He loved the babies best. Even my friends who are allergic to him couldn't resist him. When Kamy was here, he found a kindred spirit and climbed up on her and would not move unless moved upon.

Yesterday we came upon him, still, on the porch, matted hair, damaged body. Ethan dug the grave, Magdalena said immediately, "don't worry mama! We're all going to die and we'll see him in Heaven!" Magdalena wrote a goodbye, then wanted to draw cat skeletons, I wrote the ode to a cat named Sunday, Augustus was naked, we processed through the backyard to the grave site with 7-day Mary candles, incense, cat nip, string and a dried rose from my Valentine roses from Ethan and said goodbye.

I cried and cried and cried and am still crying. In bed, as we were going to sleep, Magdalena said, I'm sorry that old cat died mama, but the dogs just knew it was his time, that's why they killed him. She has some kind of wisdom, that Magdalena, I could learn a thing or two from her.

Viva Sunday!

memory manifesto

or, as Nora says, Things We Never Want To Forget

how Augustus says everything with an "ia" on the end, like scaria (scary) or Cotia (Cody), how he wiggles his whole body when he speaks, and that his name for Frida is Ree-Ta

that last night Frida was serving coffee (pretend, right?) in the nursery at the church and came over with the little tea-pot and said "more coffee?"

that Magdalena read her first sentence today: I love Magdalena written by me and wrote her first sentence: I love you.

that Augustus' face lights up when he points and says "nummies!"

that today we had a really good day, (hardly any fighting!) it was our regular stay home family Wednesday with Frida

how Magdalena pets me, and today, wearing not one, not two, but three tu-tus all at different levels, came and gently hugged me and said, "I love you soooo much mama". Sigh.

that tonight as I nursed Augustus down to sleep with Magdalena snuggling up, Magdalena slipped her hand under my arm like a whisper and held my hand

I didn't post this right away, I saved it to draft because Augustus woke up and I had to run.

Another thing I want to remember, although maybe not what others might want to remember.
Augustus woke up at 1am barfing. After the initial barfs, every time he would stir I would jump to grab the barf-bowl and hover over him, ready to sit him up to catch to bounty, and he would open his eyes and say "I not mama, I not". Then, after he would inevitably start, he would say "I DONE, I DONE!" with his little eyes as wide as saucers, trying to will the event to be finished. Poor kid. There will come a time in my life when barf in my hair is ancient history, and along with it, all night snuggles, stories before bed, and me being the first place to go for comfort that is all-encompassing.

the sleep of angels

Augustus sleeps

Really, is there anything more perfect than a sleeping toddler? And I mean that on so many levels. I can never quite capture the perfect innocence, the perfect vanilla breath, the perfect love of love sleeping.

We have been sick here, and I mean Sick. Uugggghhhh. But it has given me the opportunity to slow down and snuggle. A lot. Lot's of big girl snuggles, lot's of little boy snuggles, and lots of Frida snuggles also because as does Augustus does Frida. The homeschool mamas have been amazing at picking up Magdalena and taking her to the library two Fridays in a row, taking her to homeschool (because homeschool is not at my house, funny, right?) because I cannot take two sneezing snotting hacking feverish toddlers anywhere, not to mention that this mama is exhibiting those very same symptoms. Begone sickness! Maybe that will do the trick. I'll let you know.

the big seven-oh and a cruise to boot

best friends; Lien and my mama


the kids rocking the big chess set

the obligatory gorgeous beach shot in the Bahamas

the family cruise shot, sans Anthony and Suzanne

and, of course, Augustus in his off-the-hook style

So my mama, the Matriarch of our family, abuela to the babies, celebrated her 70th journey around the sun with a family cruise. The cruise was interesting, great food, super fun stuff for Magdalena, gorgeous scenery. But the main attraction was being with our family with no calls to make, no errands to run, no dishes to do, no beds to make, for four glorious days and nights.

We hung out on the Lido deck forever, had poolside drink deliveries, basked in the Caribbean sun, went on family excursions, ate breakfast, lunch and dinner in restaurants every day, got room service, jet skied, glass-bottom-boated, and had a fabulous time all-around.

Did I mention that I decided to go sugar-free about a week before the cruise? And that you can basically eat dessert 24/7 on a cruise? And that every night there are these delicious looking chocolates for your eating pleasure awaiting on the pillow? And that the desserts served at dinner were gourmet, chocolate and insanely decadent and obviously divine, given the utterances of those eating them? No, I guess I hadn't mentioned that. Sigh. My timing is just plain goofy. But, here I am, about a month in to sugar-free and still going. I guess we'll see how it all unfolds.

pre-k as you like it

the fantastic carousel at the Jacksonville Zoo on our regular Tuesday field trip

first snack of the outing

spontaneous kid connection

two little blackbirds with Ally, Magdalena and Frida

Pre-school. Did we know it could be such fun? I wanted to be a part of a homeschool preschool co-op, so I called out to the universe, started a yahoo group called Love the Earth Homeschool Preschool, and the universe answered as it does, with abundance.

I, of course, did not "create" the co-op, it came together with little resistence and much love. Mondays are our regular school day, Tuesdays are our field trip day, and Fridays are at the Downtown Main Library with Mr. Keith, the oh-so-fabulous story-teller and Miss Marie, our darling, patient and infinitely creative family art teacher.

We learn, we grow, we create, we share, we love. Shaa-zam!

whirlwind life and love

family Christmas

a fabulous visit from Kami and Jess

Christmas on the beach and Aunt Nancy gettin' jiggy


our Three Kings


in procession

and singing along

On Christmas Eve in the kitchen Jeanna said "This is our one day". As in "One day, we'll have kids and live in the same city and we'll raise our families together and celebrate life together, one day" Our "one day" is here and now and our life is good and wonderful and precious. Our family came down in waves from Georgia and it was glorious. We played on the beach, we ate, we laughed, we told stories, we remembered to love and honor each other.

Leading up to the holidays, there were many conversations on the spirit of Christmas, the reason for the season, Advent, the birth of Christ, the Star of Bethlehem, the shepherds, Mary and that long march, no room at the inn, Joseph, and the Wise Men. We've never emphasised or really even talked about Santa Claus, the American icon who knows if you've been naughty or nice, he never really fit in our idea of Christmas, so this year when Magdalena, who is such the savvy four-year-old, started asking questions, we needed some answers. So we explored St. Nicholas and his rich history, who he was and what he did and how the big round guy with the red suite and white beard and hair is here to remind us of St Nicholas, and how Santa Claus carries on the idea of the tradition of St Nicholas with gift-giving.

It typically went like this:

Magdalena: So Santa Claus is dead?

me: No.... he's not dead, because he's a representation of St Nicholas.

M: So St Nicholas is dead?

me: Yes.

M: So he's like Jesus, he died and now he's alive again because he's Santa Claus.

me: No..., that's not really how it works.

(pause. thinking thinking thinking. "Here comes Santa Claus" comes on the radio while we're driving)

M: Mama, the guy whose singing this song doesn't know that Santa Claus is dead!

I just told all my mom friends, listen, you might not want to bring the whole Santa thing up if you're doing the myth with your kids. A few of my mom buddies looked at me as if I were completely batty and didn't understand what in heaven's name I was doing. Just trying to insert a bit of meaning into the whole thing, ya know, don't really want to build up a non-existent figure into something important only to have the reality of "Santa's not real" rip the foundation of trust I've established with my kids out from underneath them, I guess we're just communists anyway. Sigh.

We closed the Christmas season with a celebration of the Epiphany, the arrival of the Three Wise Men/Kings to bring gifts and honor the Christchild. Magdalena, Augustus and Frida with scarves for headdress, processed into my mom's from the beach and carried boxes representing the gifts of the Magi, gold, frankincense, and myrrh. There was a lighted star above a small manger with Sunflower, Magdalena's baby doll, in the roll of the Baby Jesus, while we sang "We Three Kings of Orient". It was surprisingly perfect. As it should be.

first time feast

I know, it's not people. It's totally carnivorous food. I couldn't resist - it was my first crown roast, my first big festive thing-I've-never-tried before that wasn't a cake or dessert, and it was gorgeous and awesome. We ate Christmas Eve dinner at my sister Jeanna's house, it was a small family celebration (some local family were out of town and our out-of-town guests had yet to arrive) and it was lovely. Crown pork roast with a wild mushroom stuffing and a glazed pear and kumquat garnish a la the holiday issue of Martha Stewart magazine. Now, that is something I never saw coming, me getting excited about Martha. Who knew?

a lovely holiday of Thanks and more

Augustus, sand and sky

giving thanks, Florida style
extended family for Thanksgiving

Augustus and Uncle Neil in motion

Magdalena, an orange and sunlight

Magdalena helping Ethan clear a fence line

Thanksgiving was a glorious family celebration this year. Neil and Tammy came in from the panhandle and Tim, Dave's brother, came in from Texas. We are thankful for so much, so many blessings, so much love, so much abundance. I was at the commissary, shopping the Sunday before Thanksgiving, and I asked someone working in the refrigerator behind the dairy section if there was more cream. While she went to look it struck me, if this is the worst inconvenience I have, waiting for somebody to find heavy whipping cream, then all is well. I thought, I've never waited in a bread line, never lived through food rationing, never lived in fear of shrapnel. I've also never had these particular thoughts before on Thanksgiving, I guess it's a sign of the times. But that one little pause, waiting, with about five other folks, gave me the opportunity to be even more thankful than I was. I ended up grateful that, when there was no more cream, all I had to do was stop by Publix on the way home. Easy.