Orange

Today I would like to post something from my guest blogger, Colton. He is my 12 year old dynamo. His school assignment was to write descriptive lines about the color orange. Being the child of the earth that he is, he would rather have written about his favorite color which is green, but he didn't have a choice. So, I am happy to present his beautifully written description of orange.

Orange is… A radiant sunset piercing the deep blue sky. A wildfire mightily raging through a greenery of trees. Macaroni and Cheese patiently waiting to be consumed. Heat on a dry, summer day. A candle flame bravely shining light into the pitch black darkness. Explosions relentlessly sending startling noises all over. A tiger stalking its prey in a lush overgrowth of tall grass. A creamsicle, luring all to come chow on it. A fresh peach plucked from its mothering tree. The elegant changes in the leaves every fall. Sand dunes captive to the fierce blowing winds. A safety vest, alerting passersby because of its bright defiance of all surrounding colors. Strength and persistence, both in physical and mental aspects.

Walking and Talking

I took a walk with my 12 year old son a couple days ago. Walking with him is not like a spectator sport, in which you just walk and take in nature in silence. Walking with him is an event that you have to fully participate in. He talks and talks and thinks that if I don't talk it means that I am not enjoying his company, which is certainly not true. I usually just tend to walk silently and use it as mental down time.

Not the case with our walks together. He begins by asking simple questions, "what is your favorite movie?", "what is your favorite color?" I think he uses these to draw me into further conversation. We continue to plod along the dirt road.

Then the questions become more deep and soon he is asking me, "what were your dreams and passions?", "what was your worst childhood memory?, "how did you pick your friends when you were my age?" I realize that in asking these questions, he is asking for guidance in his life. He is struggling at this awkward middle school age with these very issues, and it is easiest for him to ask them while we are walking side-by-side on the road. We discuss so many topics that it is more of a mental workout than a physical workout. I'm just grateful that he is talking to me at this age and that he cares about what I have to say.

Before I know it, he is giving me advice. He tells me that I get stressed too easily, and that instead of getting myself overwhelmed and freaking out, that I need to keep it all in perspective and think about the positive aspects of tasks that I am working on. He says this works for him when he has a lot of homework. In all of his 12 year old wisdom, he tells me what to do to be happier. He also recognizes that I put everyone else's needs before my own, and he tells me it's all right to take care of myself first. Easier said than done for me. Sad when my son has to remind me of this.

When we head back into our house, I realize he has probably taught me more during the walk than I have taught him. He is wise beyond his years. He is simply amazing.

Now that the weather is getting warmer, I'm looking forward to many more walks with him. If you see us on the road, we will be the ones walking with our mouths wide open, sharing dreams and memories. He taught me that I do have the talent to walk and talk at the same time.

Scattered brilliant thoughts

Days started going by, and then a couple weeks passed. I realize as I look at my blog title that to the outside world it looks like my lack of writing recently has been due to having no brilliant thoughts, not even occasional ones. Au contraire! I have had multiple brilliant thoughts but they have been hitting me like shooting stars in the night time sky. A fantastic thought comes to mind, I get really excited about it, and then I look away and I lose the ability to concentrate on writing it down. I simply haven't made the time in my life recently to focus on what I want to do with my writing.

It has been so easy to watch everything else happen around me to everyone else. My work has been crazy busy lately which happens to finance and accounting type people this time of year. In my spare time, I watch baseball games and softball games, run animals to the vet, wash clothes, clean house, feed all living things in my house, plant gardens, and so on. While I enjoy doing many of these things (maybe not the housework part), I am falling back into the rut of letting everyone else live their lives while I observe and play cheerleader. I know this is often my role as a mom, but it should not mean that I sacrifice my writing for everything else. I need my own personal cheerleader to keep me on track.

The ironic part of thinking that I don't have time to write is that I really do have the time if I take advantage of snippets of time. For instance, this weekend my baseball player needs to be at the fields at 9 am to warm up before a 10 am game. Instead of sitting idly for this hour chatting with the other moms, I will take my pen and paper and write for awhile. I'm realizing that if I just wait until I can sit at the computer and have the perfect words come out, I will be waiting a long time. All of the brilliant thoughts I have during the day are getting lost because they don't get down on paper.

So, coming soon, hopefully, will be more than just occasional brilliant thoughts. I would be happy writing regular thoughts much more often with moments of brilliance scattered within.

Three Weekend Wishes

Here are my three wishes for the weekend:
1. No one in my family will get injured and Alicia will start healing from her concussion. No new injuries or illnesses allowed. No one will get even a scratch or a runny nose.

2. My puppy won't chew up any unauthorized, non-puppy approved items, including, but not limited to: TV remote, phone, shoes, bras, or carpeting. He will be as well-behaved as the puppies on wall calendars.

3. I will get to sleep in on Sunday, have coffee and the newspaper in bed, and I will have to make no decisions more stressful than figuring out which type of wine to have for dinner and what book to read.

I want to hug my little girl

My 17 year old daughter and I have had an up and down relationship over the last couple years, but we have come to understand each other better in the past few months and I think we are finally learning to coexist. She has a a completely different personality than me, which I have learned is ok. I remind myself daily to "celebrate the differences" and try to understand her way of doing things and not try to control every situation. In turn, I think she is finally learning that I'm not the enemy and in fact, we enjoy each other.

It was her idea for us to take a yoga class together. Last night we went to yoga and being in the yoga-ish environment together was a unique and beautiful experience for this mother and daughter team who have fought so often. It felt like our hearts were opening up to each other by sharing this hour of tranquility and calm side by side in our poses. I knew this was something we could share together that would do us both good, mind and body. We bounded out of class with renewed energy and a sense of peace that we are on the right path together.

Today I let her skip school and go snowboarding with a friend. The call came mid-morning from a phone number I didn't recognize. Alicia has been hurt and the ski patrol is attending to her. She has crashed and lost consciousness. My heart begins pounding and my hands begin shaking uncontrollably. I can't even think straight. The image of her peacefully holding her yoga pose less than 24 hours ago is replaced by an image of her crumpled up and twisted in the snow. All I want to do is get to her and hold her but she is two hours away.

I am in absolute panic mode. They are transporting her to the hospital. The doctor calls me and tells me that she will call me back as soon as they can assess her. I spend an hour pacing my kitchen, loading my dishwasher but forgetting to turn it on, opening and closing the fridge not knowing what I'm doing, wiping the kitchen counters. Anything that keeps my hands busy and my mind calm. Any peacefulness that the yoga infused into me yesterday is gone, replaced by terror and worry.

I finally get the call saying that she will be all right but she definitely has injuries. She has a concussion, headache, and nausea, and abrasions on her face, a fat lip, and a bump on her head. She has no memory of the fall that she took. Thank God for the people who stopped on the mountain to help her and for the ski patrol who took care of her. I get to speak to her on the phone and her voice sounds so faint and so young. I just want to hug her. I want to be there with her but she is in the hands of strangers taking care of her. For the first time in her life, I'm not the one with her and I can only listen from afar. I can't stop crying, mainly due to the relief of knowing that she will be ok, and realizing how much worse it could have been.

Her friend is driving her back down from the mountain, and she will be home later today. I can't wait to see her beautiful face. Only a mom can understand.

Our Family's Earth Hour

Imagine two adults, two teenage girls, and one 12 year old boy sitting around the dining room table in the dark playing cards by candlelight. This was the scene last year at my house on Earth Hour, the hour designated by some environmental group (I'm not sure of the origin) to turn off all electrical devices. We were pushed into doing this by our 12 year old environmental activist. As the highly anticipated hour approached, we ran around the house turning off lights and computers, and my husband attached a headlamp to his hat, which created the effect of a cave spelunker running around room by room. Our dogs looked at us like, "why are all of you sitting in the dark?"

Well, once we got used to reading our cards by our candles, we spent not only one hour in the dark, but two or three more, because we were having so much fun and frivolity. The wine and beer helped set the mood, at least for those of us adults. The laughs were plentiful and we all had a grand time.

I write about this because we are now approaching 2010's Earth Hour. It will be March 27 at 8:30 pm. Along with our recycling efforts and hoarding skills (I don't throw anything away that can be reused), we will be doing our little part in reducing climate change and saving the planet. My son feels so strongly about this that he edited my blog yesterday and added an Earth Hour graphic to the right-hand side if you scroll down a bit. He continually pushes us on this issue, which is good, because you need a little kick in the butt once in awhile. If it weren't for him, it would be easy to just let that hour go by and take no action. He demands more from us, and I admire his passion and drive.

So, if you aren't doing anything on March 27 at 8:30 pm, or even if you are, turn off your lights and sit in the dark for the hour. My son and the world will thank you.

Loving a labrador

We have had our yellow lab puppy Tucker for almost five weeks now. He is the third labrador retriever in our household, and he has added a whole new element of chaos to our lives. He looks like a polar bear cub with a long tail. He is of course as cute as can be, and then some. I think puppies are made this adorable so that you can't get mad at them when they chew up your shoes and pee on your floor.

He has made me realize how much I love the "labradorian" way of life. In their minds, each day is greeted with a zest for adventure, every person is viewed as not only a friend, but a cherished soul, and there is not much that can dampen their enthusiasm.

I wake up to those little black eyes peering into mine, that mouth licking and biting my feet, and I just can't resist placing my lips on his velvety soft little nose for a kiss, which usually leads to biting and chewing on me. He is a pain in the ass sometimes, but I love the little guy and I know he loves me. I'm pretty sure he loves just about everybody he meets, so while I want to feel special, I think I'm just one of his pack. I'm the one who feeds him, so my value to him is just a notch above everyone else in our house.

He has gained an average of 3.5 pounds each week that we've had him, and he is now topping thirty pounds. Soon he won't be able to sit on my lap on the couch and he'll be relegated to the floor with the other two dogs.

So for now I let him jump on the couch and sleep on my lap, and it is like puppy nirvana. These days won't last for long.