Happy graduation guy!

Peter's mostly-wonderful tenure in the Orange Star Room is officially over. I went this morning to his lovely graduation ceremony, which included a public vow taken by all the mothers in unison to invite the preschool director to every subesequent important event in the child's life: weddings, college, graduate, medical, law school graduations, etc.

The kids sang some songs quite cheerfully, and mostly behaved themselves the whole time (although the girls were noticeably more dressed up and more into Good Behavior than the boys were.) Each child received his or her certificate in turn, and then we retired to another room for cookies and punch. The teachers were sentimental, the kids were mostly just hopped up on sugar and Special Occasion, the parents ranged from dutiful to tearful (highly gender segregated divide there.) It seemed to me as though we were (in contrast to the kind of critique this type of event usually draws) inculcating the kids into what it means to be middle class: you go to a safe and clean school where there are always plenty of snacks and books and toys and supplies, and your teachers and your parents keep careful watch over you, and eventually you graduate. This cycle repeats itself as needed until you're a lawyer/doctor/professional of some sort, and all is well. It's not a bad model, although not the best one I can think of necessarily, but there is a certain tenderness included in raising children one can nurture and protect as a matter of course.

My own very privilaged and sheltered children are at this moment duking it out with wooden dollhouse toys (as in "Peter hit me with the bathtub!") so probably I should think of something useful to occupy them for a while. It takes a few days to get into proper summer mode, wherein one can play outside without inflicting great bodily harm on one's sibling for periods up to and including an hour.

In which Mama learns to use a socket wrench.

We are in the thick of our irises... the first blooms were a really deep purple, and now we're getting at least three more varieties, including some that I haven't seen before, with really slender leaves and small blossoms. They are so beautiful; I'm going to divide them in the fall and plant more in a wider variety of colors since they do so well.

Today was also the day of finally buying the garden arch I've been wanting more or less since we first bought our last house. The problem there was that while I knew they existed in the world, I didn't know precisely where to get one retail. Last summer after we moved, I noticed a gas station parking lot that had all this garden stuff - planters and trellises and arches and tables and chairs and things beyond mention, mostly metal. I didn't ever venture over, but this spring I stopped and scoped things out a bit. Mike and I and the kids, in a variety of combinations, have been by there probably half a dozen times, mostly when they're closed or we have the wrong car to accomodate any cool garden structures. Because, and I must just be brutally honest here, I really, really wanted a wrought iron arch. I lobbied for an otherwise meh house because it had one, although ironically the eventual owners took it out and put in a gate, which you have to admit is a reasonable enough choice, although I wish I'd been driving by when they took it out, so I could have just gotten one for free, assuming they would have agreed. But. Anyway. Digression aside: I ended up choosing one that was much different than the others I'd admired, but it's lovely, with delicate metal butterflies and flowers, and really beautiful shape. Behold! Pictures below.

Olympic Day

Today was Olympic Day at Grace's school, which she's been looking forward to pretty much since September when we bought the t-shirt which you see on every kid at her school in the photos at left. It was a huge improvement on what used to be called Track and Field, back in [my] day: there were a bunch of different and cool stations through which the classes rotated, and kids could opt out if they wanted, and they weren't competitive or even all athletic in nature. We'd be warned that the expectations were high regarding lunch, so I did the honors and brought Panera Bread for a picnic, and we joined hundreds of other kids and parents spread across the school grounds and happily ate. I picked up Peter a bit early and we attended the closing ceremony, which (oddly, to my ear) involved a heartfelt rendering of "God Bless the USA" and a speech thanking our armed services, while students waved their American flags. And then the Olympic theme song, and the (faux) torch got carried around the parking lot, the kids each took the flag of the country their class has been studying all year and marched behind it back to their classrooms, and the day was done. Grace loved it all - the ceremony, the fun games, the matching t-shirts, lunch with mama, the noise and the marching around. Peter was somewhat overwhelmed by the noise (sometimes irony strikes, and it is funny!) and the big kids and the orchestrated activity, but he had a pretty good time. It's fun to see him taking ownership of the school where he'll start kindergarten in a few months - he told Grace pointedly that this was only his *first* Olympic Day, and it's true.

Sometimes, it's a two-corn-dog day.

So, reports from the mama-kid trenches (so described since Daddy is gone, and was gone before, and is going to be gone again, and our hygene has remained good but everything else is going downhill - bedtime, laundry, dishes, etc.): Peter firmly maintains that zombies are made from chickpeas. And when a zombie finds a person, he or she turns that person into chickpeas, a bowl of chickpeas, with a spoon. And that's how baby zombies get to eat! This might or might not be connected with the word of the day at preschool having been "falafal" recently. Another WODD was "palindrome," and Peter announced to me during church on Mother's Day, "Mom! Poop is a palindrome! Also Mom!" Um... good. So, yeah, chickpeas. Peter prefers corndogs, himself, but (shh! don't tell!) we actually buy the vegetarian corn dogs my colleague recommended, and now they're the only kind he likes. Mmmmmm.... vegetarian, organic, fake corndog. Sometimes as breakfast, sometimes as a snack, sometimes ... both in one day.

Grace is in the midst of "bring every possible stuffed animal you own to school in rotation" days at school, which is a little like Take Your Child to Work Day, except probably more fun for the child. We're in the beginning of reading aloud a favorite novel from my own well-spent youth, White Ghost Summer, which is I think set in the early post-WWII era but doesn't have any of the stuffy and over-mannered quality of other fiction I remember from that time frame. It's delightful, and always good to renew one's pleasure in a book from childhood with, you know, one's actual child.

Both kids are thrilled with our veggie garden, and I sent Peter out a day or two ago to shoo a bunny out of the backyard. He came through with such enthusiasm that I'm sure the neighbors all got word that we had a RABBIT! in our GARDEN! We've kept the gates shut since then, and no tomatos appear to have fallen prey. Our next job is to plant the cosmos and sunflowers they're growing inside, as soon as I have the twenty minutes required for the job. Probably Saturday.

It's my last week of teaching, and I'm both so glad to be done with this long first year and sad to see so many of my students graduate. I spontaniously promised donuts to my 31-person MWF a.m. class on Friday, and they were pleased and I was pleased and it sounds like fun. My colleague and I had a good meeting over lunch today about our official description of the goals for our students, around which my courses for the fall should be shaped, so I'm excited to work on those syllabi. (We also planned that our next meeting ought to be a cookie meeting, since there's a coffee shop/bakery in town that is apparently really good.) I was nominated for Teacher of the Year by at least one student, (along with I have no idea how many other professors) which is heartwarming and nerve-wracking all at once. I had to submit a teaching philosophy of no more than one page to the student senate, and apparently the award is announced at commencement. (My submission included the observation that in every course, students teach me something I need to know - totally true - and a description of myself as "embarassingly uncool" - also totally true.)

A shirt arrived in the mail today that I ordered through the online running group I belong to (awesome advice-givers, cheerleaders, comiserators, and general sources of wisdom.) I'll try to take and post a picture that gives you some sense of it - the slogan is "Run Like a Mother" which makes me feel fierce and giggly at the same time. It's cool, and I'm excited.

Spring planting and blooming

We're having the fun of discovering what grows in our yard, and of adding in both flowers and vegetables as we see fit. So far we have five blooming trees - three lilac, one crab apple, and one snow crab that we rescued from an unfortunate planting situation. (In brief: if you're going to plant a tree, you must dig a hole. Really. Even if you see trees that have mulch mounded up around them such that it looks like they're more or less just plunked on the ground with soil heaped around them - no. This is not how to plant a tree. There's just no way around it: you must dig a hole.)

In flower news, we have peonies that are doing well, zillions of tiger lilies, daylilies everywhere, purple coneflower taking over the place, and a bunch of stuff we haven't yet identified. Some surprises: phlox in various hues of pink and purple; some hyacinth that probably need to be relocated; and really, really healthy rhubarb. (We've given away two big batches already and have had one rhubarb crisp and used rhubarb as ice cream topping. And it's early May!) Upcoming: more on the insane veggie garden we're planting.