The Phoenix: Epicuriousmothering Rising

I've erased two essays already because they just don't sum up life right now. So I'll sum it up by bullet points: Henry: turns 16 this week (FINALLY), tried to skip his first class but called me to make sure it was ok (I may have screamed no! it's NOT ok! over the line), told us at 1am that he wants to quit soccer (which we may have over-reacted about and perhaps scared him for life), told us his birthday wish was to take his brother and sisters (with out us) to Jump On It (trampoline place) for his birthday after he gets his license.  He wears flannels almost every day.  Size XL. OH, and he's doing a month long Eagle project in conjunction with the Elementary school and PTA of a Book Drive.  Let's just say that he's learning something, but I'm learning A TON.  I will be VERY glad when it's over. Phoebe: ballet, ballet, ballet with moments of home time.  She keeps getting asked to do these things for super smart people (like take special te...

I don't know what it is with music lately, but it's bringing up some amazing memories and feelings. Today, ten minutes ago, I was making Teriyaki sauce for marinating Sunday chicken, when this song on Pandora came on.  I don't even know what it is or was called or who it was by, but it's this beautiful love song about how time and age won't change the love he feels for his love.  All of a sudden, I was crying, big old tears rolling down my cheeks because I was thinking of my brother, Joseph. I know, love song and brothers?  Nope, they don't often (ever) go together.  But today while I was listening to the song, I remembered what it was like to feel completely safe and loved and protected and that's how Joseph always made me feel.  (Well, once he grew out of handing me umbrellas and pushing me out of two story forts to see if I floated like my namesake "Mary Poppins" and sticking boogers on the end of vacuum hoses and sticking them through doors...

Today as I was racing down to pick Phoebe up from ballet, I heard a song by Regina Spector.  In it, she  says something about graffiti-ing up their babies toys and being a super cool parent.  I smiled and thought of all the super cool friends/family we have who do things like that with their kids (not graffiti up the toys--ick, toxic!) and what fun and deliberate parents they are.  For years they think about how their little son or daughter will be, what great clothes they'll buy for them and what fun books they'll read to them, trips they'll take them on, and how they're going to deal with . . . THEM. Yeah, I'm not like that. I was never like that. I never even thought about babies. I knew how they came, but only barely. It seemed all so impossible and far far far off. And so . . . Henry took us both by complete surprise.  To put it mildly. When I think of myself pregnant with him and the first few months after we had him, it's of a young woman ...

George is dead. Piper's frog is draped like a tragic figure over a hard cold rock, his sightless eyes causing me no end of grief. I killed him. I did. I forgot to buy his crickets and he went a whole week without eating. The worst is that while he was slowly starving to death, I've never eaten so well in my whole life. Thanksgiving . . . sob sob sob . . . not for George. Finnegan comforted us during dinner as Piper's eyes filled with tears, his voice soft and sweet, "Listen, Piper, he had a good last life.  He ate a big cricket and had a clean cage with clean water.  It isn't soooo bad.  It's a good last life." Bah. Honestly. While I was vacuuming and trying hard to NOT look at George in his cage (because there was NO WAY I was going to touch his tiny dead at my hands corpse), I began playing my favorite game of all,   Let Me Count the Ways I'm Failing as a Mother . Oh, I am a master at this game. A GENIUS really. There I was ...

Here are some photos of the last few weeks: Finn in his Tiger costume Piper as the cat (aka a girl version of Toby) and Finners My people listening to Finn read I caught Piper walking down the hallway at school and couldn't help but take a photo of her.  Yes, she dresses herself . . . every single day. Henry working on his Eagle project at home (he got dressed to make a phone call). Celia in her support roll as Mummy with Grandma and Grandpa Thomas Finn eyeing the remains of pie crust cookies. And now . . . tis the season of Pies. I love pie.  John loves pie.  All our kids love pie.  And so, we make a lot of pie around these parts.  For years I didn't make pies because I was totally afraid of the crust making part.  They're terrifying really.  Until I watched my younger sister-in-law make a crust.  She was fearless.  She cut in the shortening, poured in the water and wahlah! A perfect easy to rol...