My Anchor, My Compass

We read Mike Mulligan and the Steam Shovel every night before bed. Most nights D7 lays next to me, his head resting on my shoulder. The more he gets to know the story, the more questions he asks. What happened to the other steam shovels? Where are the pictures of Kipperville and Kopperville? What does the word "rather" mean (Henry B. Swap smiled in rather a mean way)? J11 wanders around the room getting ready for bed, setting up his Bionicles, interrupting the story.

We read three books every night. D7 and I. I also try and read out loud to J11 every day.

Once stories are done, they each get a glass of water. I tuck them in. For just a minute I lay next to J11 and sometimes he tells me things. Things he is afraid of or worried about. Things that were said to him. I kiss him goodnight. I get up, walk to D7's bed. Lean over and his arms reach up and hug me. He always says, "I love you" first. Sometimes he asks me to stay and usually I tell him no, he's to old. But sometimes I crawl in with him and wait for him to fall asleep. Because sometimes he's that scared. Not often, but sometimes.

They anchor me. My kids. I think right now they are my anchor. I'm lost. I am. I'm lost and scared and lonely. I feel like I'm pushing hard towards something, towards somewhere, but that I have no idea what or where it is.

But when the kids come home from school. When they get up in the morning, or we sit and do homework. When I tuck them in. They anchor me, point me true north, plant my feet solid. I need them right now as much as they need me.

Grace in Small Things

Have you seen the Grace in Small Things site? I've been reading Schmutzie for a while and have been wanting to participate in GIST, but hadn't gotten started. Because I am so webstupid it's taken me a couple of days to figure out how I wanted to do this or where I wanted to do it. So first I tried it on this blog, then I started another blog just for GIST, then I finally figured out the best place for me to do this was actually at the GIST site. So, in case you are interested here's where I'm participating.

Are you still reading this?

And by the way. Coming up with five things every morning that I am thankful for or appreciate? Way harder than I thought it would be. But I think it's good for me. Because I've been fighting the panic again. And the anxiety. And a complete lack of focus. Which brings on the panic. And the anxiety. And the lack of focus. You get the idea.

So over at GIST I'm going to try and be a little thankful every day. Here? Your just gonna get the same old Madge you've always gotten.

Grace In Small Things - Part 1 of 365 (?)

I've been meaning to do this, but don't really have the faith in myself that I can keep it up. Still, think I'll try. You can see what it's all about at Grace In Small Things.

1. A new scarf started.

2. My overgrown lavender in the front yard (and the challenge of saving it)

3. Parker Palmer's A Hidden Wholeness

4. Football starts tonight!

5. J11 telling me loves me -- when no one else is around and when I least expect it.

A Little Whine About the Swine

Swine flu that is. Well, we think it is. We've heard that Georgia has the highest cases of the H1N1 (or they did last week) and that some doctors don't even test for it anymore, they just assume that's what it is.

All four of us seem to have it. It's not actually that bad, just kind of pesty. Mild fever and coughing/congestion. J11 has been sick for five days and D7 for three. I'm not sure if I'm sick or just insane from being housebound. I have not left the house except to go to the grocery store or drug store since Friday.

OK, so that's pretty much what my life is like all the time, it just seems worse now 'cuz the rest of the family has been here with me.

It took me 40 minutes to get a hold of someone at the pediatrician's office -- does not bode well for the appointment we have in 90 minutes. Tried to avoid the whole go-to-the-doctor thing, but J11's cough is getting worse every day and D7 is right behind him.

Wait! Those are GUNS!

A couple of weeks ago Bass Pro Shop had a community/kids event and my husband took the boys. J11 tried archery and came home with a bow and arrow set. D7 tried paint ball guns and we promised to buy him one before the next weekend.

A few days later we took him to Academy Sports to pick up a paint ball gun.

So I naively stroll into Academy Sports with the guys. I've been in the store a million times, checking out sports equipment, buying shoes for the boys. Stuff like that.

This time we headed to the other side of the store. I don't know what your sports stores are like but here in Georgia, we's gots us some huntin' supplies. Dang. We head straight to the paint ball gun area -- a whole freaking wall of them. I'm just standing there, hands in my pockets and I start looking around and damn. These are GUNS people. GUNS. All of a sudden I'm totally freaking out -- on the inside. My baby wants a gun that shoots stuff. We actually start having a discussion about paint guns vs. pellet guns. I recall my brother and cousin having pellet gun fights in the house and my thigh getting caught in the crossfire.

We start wandering around, back towards where they are selling real guns and there's a couple of good ole' boys wearing camo and checking out the merchandise. D7 looks up at the plastic deer mannequin target shooting thingy (god knows what they call it) and says, "Look! a Deer!" I respond (my voice raised about an octave), "yeah. a deer!"

D7 is all, "What's that for" and I'm all "stupid people shoot them for fun 'cuz they are mean and stupid."

OK. I didn't say that. I just told him some people hunt or something not graphic. D7 says, "We're not buying that. We don't shoot deer."

I reply kind of loudly, kind of loudly enough for the camo boys to turn around and look at me, "Damn straight we don't shoot deer."

Then I hauled my liberal, non-NRA, pretty much a vegetarian, ass straight out of the gun section, and tried to remind myself that target shooting is good. It's fun. I've done it. I liked it. And it's OK that my baby is getting a paint gun.

My boys are growing up and gravitating towards their father (thank god) and doing lots of guy things. It's good. They are both huge mama's boys and it's time for a little (ok a lot of) separation and some manning up.

I really am OK with the paint gun thing, and the idea of them being taught how to responsibly handle fire arms and to use them recreationally. We are so NOT a hunting family that I really doubt that's something my kids will ever try and if they even think about it, yeah, I'm going to be all over that.

It was just another one of those moments I didn't see coming where one minute my kids seem like my babies and then I turn around, open my eyes, and have to admit, yeah, they growing up. It's good. It's just a little shock to the system sometimes.

Plus, hello. Those are GUNS.

Note: This isn't an open invitation to discuss the pros and cons of hunting. I don't get it, but I'm not gonna be mad at you if you and yours do it.

Second note: Yes, I deleted all my pretty orange stuff and my blog roll (oops) and went back to a really plain template, 'cuz I always felt a little cluttered (and it was easier than decluttering the house)