Saturday Mornings

Lord I love Saturday mornings! On Saturday morning, when I'm sitting in my spot, in the corner of my sofa surrounded by dogs and books and coffee cups, a whole world of possibility stretches out before me. There are things I need to do: mow the lawn, clean the house, do something about that smell coming from the backs of Roxy's ears... And things I could do: write in my journal, read a book, putter in the garden... and at this time of day they are all possible, all pending. Later as the day matures some of them will loom large and demanding. Others will fade away. But this morning, as I sit here, the day is full of promise.

I like to keep my back door open in the morning. It allows the dogs to come and go as they please, and I get the fresh air and the birdsong. Flower likes to lie out in the lawn and survey her domaine. Roxy prefers to lie across the threshold, so she can always be sure of getting back in. Kobi prowls the perimeter, watching for unsuspecting birds and squirrels.

The squirrels in our yard are very savvy. There are dogs in almost every yard around us, and the squirrels have learned how to play them like fine instruments. They love to tease the dogs from low branches, or scamper from bush to tree right under the dogs' noses. The poor dogs spend a lot of time sitting at the base of the pecan tree, craning their necks up and looking frustrated.

This morning I am planning activities for Charlie. Charlie is in town from California for a week, half over now. Today's my day with him. He spends most of the time quilting and shopping for quilting stuff with my mom. Go figure. But today is my day to have him all to myself. So I've been surfing the net looking for unusual things for us to do. Did you know there's an international homing pigeon museum in Oklahoma City? The International China Painters' museum? I think we'll give that one a miss, but the pigeon thing is so odd it might be interesting. We might also go out to Lake Stanley Draper to pick up some rose rocks. Charlie has never seen them in their natural habitat. And Charlie swears he will have some insight into where Mambo is hiding. So I'm going to give him some time to poke around in my back yard. Heck, maybe he'll get lucky. Maybe he's the lizard whisperer.

The unexamined life...

Yesterday I got Grayson's Physical Education "report card" from school. Apparently they take records of the kids' ability in various exercises, such as curl-ups, pull-ups, quarter mile run, etc. at the beginning of the year and the kids are asked to set goals for what they'll be able to do at the end of the year. Then in the spring, they put them through their paces again and record the results.

Grayson's numbers actually got WORSE.... in EVERY category. Oh, except for pull-ups. He couldn't do any of those at the beginning of the year and couldn't do any at the end, either, so there's a net zero on that one. WTF? Looks like here is yet another thing I need to worry about. Clearly I'm not getting my kid enough exercise. OK, or myself either.

I read in a magazine this morning that the Obamas allow no television for their girls during the week. None. Man, Grayson is jacked into the TV or the computer from the moment he gets home ... sometimes both. It's on until I make him turn it off for reading time at 8:30.

I've been thinking a lot about my life lately. It started when I attended the funeral of my great uncle Don Lynn last Tuesday and the minister talked about the principles by which Don had lived his life. I sat there and thought: "are there principles by which I live? Or am I just flying by the seat of my pants here?" I couldn't think of anything I "believe" in or that I use as some sort of touch stone for my actions and choices. I couldn't name any "principles" I keep in the forefront of my mind.

Then there were the chickens and the irony of the animal I had taken in as an act of kindness killing the animals I had taken on as a gesture toward greener, more natural living. Sorry, but the predator/prey relationship was a little closer to nature than I was aiming. I wondered if I was stupid or just naive... if I had taken on too much, if I made sensible choices in my life.

The disappearance of Mambo made me question my sanity. Wasn't he right there a minute ago? Am I nuts? Then I started looking at my own levels of responsibility, of focus. Surely I knew better than to take my eyes off of him. I would have expected Grayson to watch him outside, wouldn't I? I began to think of myself as uncommitted to my responsibilities, unable to follow through thoroughly on things. And I admit I wondered if all the bad luck was some sort of karmic payback for just not living right. Living sloppily, haphazardly, without discipline or guideposts or plan.

Now here's Grayson's PE report card showing he's actually losing strength and ability and stamina. Giving up earlier, not trying as hard. Are these things he is learning from his mother? Have I just given in? I admit I feel tired all the time. I fall into bed exhausted at 9 and drag myself unwillingly from sleep at 7. I wash loads of laundry and never get around to folding them. Lately I even start books and never finish them... just keep them lying around on tables with bookmarks or pencils in the pages, holding the page I may or may not ever get around to coming back to.

I think we need an overhaul... a life makeover. I think if I don't change the direction I'm going, I'm going to wind up where I'm headed.

When it rains

It seems dreadful luck comes in packs.

I've lost Mambo. On Sunday I took him outside to get some fresh air and sunshine. I set him down on a log inside a circle of garden fencing and did a little work on a flowerbed nearby. I moved over to the garden to plant one plant. When I came back to check on him, less than ten minutes later, he had vanished.

Oh! Grayson's face when I told him! I spent four hours looking for Mambo, turning over every stick in the woodpile, feeling under every bush and even climbing over fences to search neighbors' yards. Nothing.

Every morning and every afternoon I come home and look for him. Sometimes at lunch I come home and just walk the perimeter of the yard, hoping I might catch him out in the open, sunning on a log or something. I just can't imagine he can have gone far. But chances are he's already dead... taken by a hawk or a neighbor's dog. Poisoned by eating a pesticide treated bug.

I just can't believe I was so stupid and careless. I told Grayson it was okay to be mad at me for letting Mambo escape. In his typical fashion, he told me he wasn't mad at me. Just like he forgave Roxy for killing the chickens. He has forgiven me. And I'm reminded again of what a remarkable, gentle kid he is. I swear he has the open, forgiving nature of a saint. I'm amazed sometimes at how good he is.

Oh he's not perfect. He watches way too much television, whines about his homework, and is recalcitrant about cleaning his room. Like any kid. But his bad guys always turn into good guys, and he's prepared to see the "nice" in everyone he meets. He is eager to please people, flexible in his ways, and forgiving. Always forgiving. I love him so very very much.

So why did I bite him?

Yes, I bit my son. In my defense, I was asleep when I did it. It happened like this:
Grayson often still crawls into bed with me in the wee hours of the night. Most of the time he doesn't even disturb me enough for me to be aware he's doing it, I just wake up and there he is. Well, Monday night he had climbed into bed with me, and I was having a dream that someone was trying to abduct me: he was trying to stuff a rag in my mouth and shove me into a car.

So I bit him. I bit down through the rag in my mouth onto his hand or finger or whatever. Only it was Grayson's elbow I was biting! I guess he had his elbow out and it was pressing against my face and so I bit it!

Grayson sat up in bed and said "What happened?"
I came to in a kind of fog and realized I'd been dreaming, and then that I had probably actually been biting something and that something was likely Grayson! "Did I bite you?" I asked.
Grayson: dazed, groggy: "I think so..."
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart, did I bite hard?"
"kind of."

Turns out I bit him hard enough to break the skin. He has two tooth marks on his elbow! But in typical fashion, he forgave me. He wasn't upset or scared or angry... in fact, we both laughed about it and went back to sleep. That's my boy.