Where we're at.

oh. has a month really almost flown by since I was lamenting the green lung lava that threatened to drown us all in its persistent bubbling forth?

I have been so maniacally busy, all these days. gone is my internet addiction, since there is no time for it. gone also my drumstick ice cream cone addiction, since the little layered packages of hydrogenated deliciousness are just too hard to hunt down and I don't have time anyways and besides, I'm not all that unhappy anymore so the need for chocolate has simmered down from a raging tempest of need to a pleasant burbling once-in-a-while thought. I still love coffee though. I still spend extra time thinking about coffee, even decaf like I drink. Also yarn. I find my mind wandering, as children tumble past me on the playground throwing woodchips and crashing tricycles, to what my next knitting project might be, and where I might obtain the yarn for it.

There's a whole choir of fiddlehead ferns sprouting along the outside of the chainlink fence as if to cheer us on. They reminded me of a scarf pattern I want to try. Our playground is in a beautiful place, completely surrounded by trees, and more than one kind of bird. The kids like to pretend they can see exotic animals in the distance, just behind that bush there. Do you see it? The antelope? We've seen woodpeckers and hawks, slugs, lots of slugs, and tent caterpillars. I guess this is their year. Some things get squished, and some get sucked into the field of static electricity put off by our yellow plastic slide. The kids stand underneath to demonstrate static's hair raising properties, and if I accidentally touch them as they slide down, I get a good jolt.

I can't say that every day is magical and creative and fun. There are some really stressful times, like today when I opened a new package of bubble wands and suddenly the children became piranhas, all teeth and needs. "BACK OFF!" I said too many times to feel skillful about. But later I turned them all into sharks with good results. "Great white sharks have to be very sneaky, or their prey will get scared and swim off. So we're going to sneak onto the playground, very quietly." Ahhh....peace and quiet for about 45 seconds. In a place like our playground, though, things do get a little bit magical once in a while. We are surrounded by trees, and airplanes fly overhead. The nearby airport is not a commercial one, so the planes are more varied than I've ever noticed. A two story carrier, a shiny seafoam blue plane, and a faraway jet plane with huge plumes trailing. A robin redbreast cleaning up fallen cheerios.

There was a lazy afternoon of hopscotch, but I was tired of drawing squares for them so I drew some smaller boxes, for the squirrels. Then some very tiny squares, for the ants. Then some which were very far apart, for the crickets, and some lilypad shaped, for the frogs. Suddenly hopscotch was fun again, and we lost track of time until all the parents came, one by one.

Another afternoon was rainy, and Gavin built a bowling ball from some waffle blocks. Then we were setting up lincoln log pins and these crazy little kids were waiting for their turns, in chairs that they brought over from the table. We had a mini-bowling alley right there and absolutely EVERYBODY who played, cooperated in setting up the pins for the next player. There was no fighting, no whining, just happy kids talking excitedly about bowling and reciting the order of players. "After Gavin it's Trinity, after Trinity it's William, then David, then me. Right?"

One of the highlights of the past month, I've been wanting to put down here, was on the way to work, riding what has become our usual bus since we are almost never out the door before ten o clock anymore. At one point, the driver stuck his head out the window and said, "Hey, Mom."
When I looked up, trying to figure out if I'd really heard him say that, he explained that she lives along his route, and she waits for him outside every morning. They just celebrated their 50th and 75th birthdays last October. "You're never too old to be somebody's kid," he told me. I totally agree. I'm not that old, but old enough to feel a tiny bit foolish for being so glad when my dad hops on the same bus as me so he can walk me and Edie home, or when we get there and my mom is in the middle of fixing us dinner.

This isn't a forever thing, this living at home again after being old enough to have grown up already, but for right now, it's pretty good. It's exactly where we need to be. And the sunset comes in my room at night, and the frogs.