And then this....

I think God knows when you need a little respite, and I guess I must have. This morning Miles took out the recycling for Raelynn with no showmanship whatsoever. This is unusual. When I noticed, I asked what he was up to. He said that he was doing it because she gave him some of the special clay she got for her birthday--clay which he had been coveting for weeks. I was moved and uplifted by his little act of retribution, and then I saw this in his room today. It must have accompanied the clay. I felt so proud of my kids and so rewarded.
She even took care to help him avoid getting in trouble by telling him not to use it during reading time. It's like oxygen straight from the mouth of God to my suffocating lungs. And I remember how worth it those kids are.

Parenting 101

If you are not prepared to wade through jello up to your middle while battling headwinds of 50 mph in the driving rain, you are not prepared to parent. For the last approximately ten years, I have been fuzzy-headed and frantic, sweating through the early years of the lives of my children and feeling sufficiently challenged in keeping them warm, fed, clean and loved. It was exhausting, but so physical. The mind slept while the body buzzed.

No more. My mind is scrapping against the wills of my growing offspring, and I become sharper by the instant. At some point, a shift occurs (but that's not the right word at all--too gentle and natural, as if to enhance comfort) in which you begin to stop throwing fish to your babies and start handing them the old rod to do for themselves. My children, it seems, have little interest in fishing for themselves.

I remember sitting with my sister at a playground and watching our little ones crawl around eating bark. One mother was trying to inspire her little one to leave the playground, and as she wearily wrestled the child into the air, the kid went slack, slithering to the ground like a wet noodle. My sister recognized the move for the classic it is and said, with resignation in her voice, "The limp fish. Very effective."

My kids have mastered the mental limp fish. They just can't. Can't what, you ask? Get breakfast. Fold their laundry. Find their soccer cleats. Figure out their homework. Practice piano. And on and on we go. The limp fish of incompetence against the soft muscle of my wasted brain. Game on.

I suppose it is their job, this feigned inability to perform even the simplest action for themselves. They are aggressively researching the causes and effects of the world around them, but that leaves me with one option: to be a force of nature, as immutable and consistent as gravity. I must keep my eye on the prize. Independence, both for them and for me, and the joy of knowing you have mastered a thing, and could master another. Wish me luck.

Cruising

Cruising was just plain old fun. I'm no fan of the ocean in general; give me a mountain, and I feel safe and happy, but a boat on the ocean? I'm a sitting duck, so to speak. Surprisingly, I found the huge ship not a bit scary (as long as I didn't lounge by the railing), and mostly just had a good time with Mike's big old family. We played around. There was a cool rock climbing wall next to the mini-golf, but that just felt like pushing my luck.

We watched some fairly amazing shows, the best of which was a rocking group of musicians who performed a bunch of oldies. There was also a sweet--I don't know what to call him--who performed crazy things like juggling and plate spinning, etc., and he was really entertaining. He naturally selected Tyler as a volunteer. Tyler really works the beard thing and it gets him a surprising amount of attention. He's very enjoyable to watch--and the judges agree, which is why he won the sexiest leg competition. If you know Tyler you can imagine this, and if you don't, no amount of explaining will really paint the picture. We also had the pleasure of watching Beth and Gregory sweat it out in the Newlywed game, and I think they were very brave as there were a couple of questions I would not have answered with all Mike's family looking on, not the least of which were his parents. Yikes. They performed admirably. Carrie posted some good shots of this here. We also suffered through a lot of karaoke--apparently, most of us are gluttons for punishment.

Mike's dad is rarely (if ever) seen without his camera on his face, and we had ample opportunity to pose. The upside is that now we have great pictures, and I never once thought Oh, I wish I had my camera!

The food was delightful, and primarily the sheer amount of it was great. I loved not cooking and still eating. Ah, the desserts.

There's me pointing something out to Mike which is not the very cute little tugboat that pulled us out of port.

Leaving port.

There I am with David, Debbie, Marianne, and what appears to be a snow capped island. That's Santorini. That place was unreal. I'll post about the ports soon, but the boat was an experience in itself. It's not my preferred way to travel, but it was truly fabulous to cover so much ground (or water) in one week. It was enough fun that I only managed to read one book while on board--that ought to say it all.

Venice

I expected little from Venice--I don't love the idea of a city built in the mud on stilts, and I can't help but imagine it floating off or sinking. You can see what I mean, yes? To where did that door lead when it was built?

I thought I'd find a smelly place with an occasional picturesque canal. I was pleasantly surprised. Venice is beautiful. This next one is one of my favorites. What are those colorful doors for? So much of the city seemed like relics of a different time. Fertile grounds for the imagination, I tell you.

We met Mike's family in the square in front of St. Mark's--fortunately, I love Mike's family and had a great time roaming around with them. Two of the many things the Wonnacott's are good at: shopping...

and eating.

Here's Mike in front of the facade of St. Mark's. Fun square, but no place to sit. Venice was definitley a place to be on your feet.

I loved all the little alleyways that zigzagged through Venice. It made the light do interesting things and lent the whole place a mysterious air.

This little alley made us think of Miles, who's like a little monkey with his shimmying up the walls in our house.

Mostly, though, we just roamed in Venice, and it looked like this:

Florence

So many pictures, all requiring a thousand words. Florence was akin to a spiritual experience for me--you may have picked up by now that I've been crushing on Michelangelo, and after reading The Agony and the Ecstasy I was so primed for this city. I could blog this one for days and never be done raving. Instead, I'll give you the abridged version.

Here we are in the rain outside our hotel.

Here's the work you know and love in the piazza I know and love. This copy is one of a bunch of great statues in the Piazza Della Signoria.

Here's the only intact bridge left after WWII. It used to carry the Medici across in the passage at the top, and is now lined with fantastic shops selling mostly jewellery.

This is Gregory (my brother-law) enjoying one of the many little cars. We were equally delighted with all the small vehicles and took an exorbitant number of pictures of them. Miles approved! We loved getting to be with Beth and Gregory--somehow it's thrilling to see people you know out of context like that. Someone to whom you can say, "Hey, we're in Italy!"

A beautiful, rainy alley on the way to Santo Spirito.

One of the only amazing things we were allowed to photograph. This Pieta was done by Michelangelo when he was 79-80 years old, and he intended for it to go on his tomb. The face of Nicodemus is Michelangelo's face. This was, for me, a powerful piece.

This is one of the many delicious things we ate. Do we have amazing pastries in little shops all over and I'm missing it, or is it just not an American thing? And the gelato....We actually stopped for gelato on average four times a day. So yes, we exercised restraint. The winner: rice flavored. So good. But a word of warning concerning eating in Italy: do not sit at a cafe, or the cost of your hot chocolate quadruples, and don't trust your waiter at dinner when he tells you what to order. If you do, be prepared for 70 dollars of steak as a second after you've already eaten your fill of anti pasta and first plate. Not that this happened to us, you understand, but I'm just saying. Good times, Beth and Gregory, good times.

These people really work the whole moto thing.

Really.

And here's inside the duomo's cupola.

Wow. Everything here is really close together. After Rome, it was lovely to stumble so suddenly on all this beauty.

Here's Mike in front of the duomo (the church--you can't actually see the dome from this angle, so quit looking.)

This is the campanile (Giotto's tower)that we climbed to get a most thrilling view of Florence. Worth the hike, and you get that pleasant soreness the next day so you feel justified in downing one extra gelato. Or two.

Said thrilling view: one of 4.

And how about those police officers, wearing their fancy uniforms designed by Armani (or are these the ones by Valentino--I mix them up)? Either way, nothing says law and order like a good purse.

Here's a throwback to Rome, since we're on the subject of uniforms. This is the Swiss Guard who take care of the Pope in the Vatican City, complete with uniforms designed by Michelangelo himself. Come on, now--the man could do just about everything else; even his genius had to have a limit.

FYI: This blogging thing is hard on me, because I want to regurgitate everything I know and learned here, but I feel limited to what I have pictures of, which isn't half of what I saw there that really mattered to me. So maybe next post I'll record some of that for my own records. I'll understand if you skip it.

When In Rome...

I want to do a nice post about our vacation-- I do. But I know I can't capture it with words. Pictures will seem pretty flat in comparison to the reality, also, and that's why I keep postponing it. But I don't want to lose it, either, so...

Post One: Roma!

This is where we started our big fat vacation, and it was a great start. I walked poor Mike into the ground. Oh, I heard his pleas for mercy, but I forced him to keep up. I think he's glad I did, because there was so much worth seeing. We did forget our camera for the entire first day. I blame jet lag.

Highlights: Borghese Gallery, mostly the sculptures by Gian Lorenzo Bernini

Mike doesn't even remember this museum which we struggled through the rain and our exhaustion to get to (and I admit it's a little hazy for me, too), but some of the sculptures made me want to dance and clap like a three year old. I have a thing for sculpture. Seeing that marble, all polished and looking so soft just pulls the rug out from under me--I get a moment of solemnity akin to reverence--and then unleashes a tidal wave of plain old joy.

This was maybe my favorite one, and the picture doesn't do it justice. The hand is just digging into the flesh, and you have to remind yourself the thing is made of stone. I loved it.

We did a walking tour at twilight, and that was a perfect way to see the whole city and get a history lesson with it. I was't sure about spending the cash for the tour, but I'm so glad we did. It was awfully dark by the end, and I did have the misfortune of grabbing the tour guide's chest just a moment before my eyes fell on Mike standing on the other side of me. That part was awkward. Again, I blame jet lag.

Best part of day 2 in Rome had to be Saint Peter's Basilica and the Sistine Chapel. Having just read The Agony and the Ecstasy (biographical novel about Michaelangelo), I was ready to be impressed. But there's really no ready for that kind of experience. This is about one fourth of the square outside where you almost don't mind waiting in line. I kept wondering how the Pope feels about having such a constant crowd running amuck outside his home. I sort of expected him to poke his head out of the window and hollar for us all to keep it down!? Geez, can't a Pope read in peace? Shout out here to our good buddy Rick Steve for the tour.

The Basilica was enormous, and really beautifully proportioned. Best part: The pieta of Michaelangelo's. Marble, or butter? Hard to tell--it's that soft. I'm not that into the whole Madonna and crucified Jesus art thing, but this was moving. Here's my fairly bad picture taken through the glass.

And the Sistine Chapel--the first thing that struck me was what an ugly building it was in, and then it makes you realize how amazing the art is to have preserved so ugly a structure. This is also where we are starting to finally gather that those Italians don't like you photographing much of anything much of anywhere.

The Vatican Museum was awesome, and then we spent the rest of the day just wandering around, you know, the colosseum and stuff. We loved Rome.

Lastly, I can't fail to mention the food. We ate at restaurant called Lucifero's in a little back alley in the Campo di Fiori which our tour guide recommended, and it was hands down the best pasta I've ever eaten: creamy and light sauce on a spinach ravioli. Sounds simple, but it was perfection. Also, there were two of the best pastry shops on earth by our hotel, as well as a charming outdoor market with fresh fruits and vegetables the likes of which you just don't find in an American grocery store.

I wasn't really expecting as much from Rome as I was the rest of our destinations, but I was wrong to short this city. Definitely somewhere I'd like to go again.

Grazie Mille

I just wanted to throw out a big thanks to everyone who called and came and sent packages or brought goodies to Miles after his bike crash. He wrote thank you notes, but then we left for Europe and so some of them have yet to go out. We'll get them out, but here's and extra thank you. I was really surprised by how many people stepped up for little Miles. I think he was, too, and I'm so glad he was able to see it! It's good for him to know what kind of world he's living in, and thank you all for making it that kind of world. He looked like this one month ago:

By some miracle, he is fine now, and he looks like this:

I expect the scars will lighten as they continue to heal. Thanks to all the wonderful people who love my little man. Do you feel better yet, Aryn?

Without further ado...

Here it is: the long-awaited Regency Park Elementary Talent Show. There were some twenty-odd acts, most of them comprised of genuinely talented children singing, dancing, and making music. Toss in the occasional magic act or gymnastic routine, and voila! A talent show. And then there was Miles.



What is most impressive to me about Miles is his absolute and total confidence in himself. There's no nerves, no what-if-I-mess-up fear at all. He just strolls out there and goes for it--I think it never occurs to him that he'll be anything but brilliant, and if he falls on his face, well, that's entertainment too, right? What I wouldn't give for just an ounce of his self-assurance. With that kind of attitude, he's bound to have some talent (even if it is somewhat bizarre). I love his pizazz. He really is my little bit of sunshine. Enjoy.

Tag-age

Here's my post about tags, and feel free to give me your thoughts. Every so often I see friends of mine getting "tagged"--and I enjoy this. I think it's interesting to read a little snippet about somebody, especially since it's coming from them. You see a little of how a person sees themselves. Still, I don't think I have ever responded to a tag myself, and tonight I'm wondering why? I'm going to take a walk through my excuses and try to figure it out.

I'm too busy to sit at the computer blabbing about myself for the sake of the three friends I have who'd read it (I know, as I sit here blogging). But honestly I do think time is a factor. I'm not one of those people who love the computer and really enjoy the time I spend sitting here. Maybe I need to brush up on my keyboarding skills. But I feel like it's often the last thing I'm inclined to do when I find I have a minute.

Still, I often do have a minute, and if I really wanted to, I guess I could use it to write 25 facts about me. I have before attempted to do just this when the little niggling voice at the back of my head makes me feel guilty for ignoring the tag. So I begin with what I know, and I find it isn't that much. Or it isn't that accurate. Or it is accurate, but isn't how I'd like the world to see me. And as I rummage around in the dark of my mind for these random things to throw out in to the light of the online community, I always stumble back around to the same thought; does anyone really want to know that I can't resist any dessert, or that the only concert I have ever been to was a Simon and Garfunkel concert when I was thirty? Do I even really want to know that about myself? Is anyone really out there thinking, gosh, of all the 50 people I tagged I really can't wait to read about Courtney? And is that who I really am? The sum of all these tidbits of information? Somehow this disturbs me.

Because you can't really get to know a person online. Text isn't a replacement for face to face communication--nor is voice, for that matter, though I think it's better. Sometimes attempting to respond to a tag just makes me feel lonely. Right this minute, I am not engaged with any person. Sure it is a form of engagement. You'll read this, and in a way I am talking to you. But in the moment, I am sitting alone at my computer with a stomach virus, the kids are in bed and Mike went to a movie by himself. I may be engaging in a community, but it is a faceless and impersonal one. The warm feeling I get when I read your comments is because I know who you are, and I love you in some capacity. It's almost like the comments remind me of who you were, like memory more than anything else.

Bottom line: I love reading about other people. Keep posting those thirty things I might not know about you. And know that when I don't respond your tag online, I'm really just confused by it, and unsure how to be a person on the computer. Next time I see you, if you really want to know, I'll tell you that I love books even more then dessert, and that I hate cats, even though I have one I'm mildly fond of.

Thanksgiving

Christmas is over, and guess what--I didn't do much with the old camera. Thought about it a couple of times, but decided I'd rather enjoy the moment than miss it behind the lens. But I'm glad I spent our day at the beach over Thanksgiving snapping pictures. Here's the only one of Mike and me. Mike's taking the picture, so don't mistake his expression of concentration for an expression of constipation.
Mostly I took pictures of my children. Something about the light on the water highlights the beauty of the kids. And I really like my kids. Here's what they did.

Mike and Tyler had to flex their muscles and compete. It is Muscle Beach, after all.

Raelynn and Miles also had to compete, and for the same reasons Mike and Tyler had to. Siblings, you know.

Miles lost interest, but Raelynn wouldn't quit.

This is just Paige, looking like her wild self.

From there, to the sand! To the sand!
Miles spent most of his time running toward the water....

and away from the water. Always testing his boundaries, physical and otherwise, that one.

When that got old, he dug.

Raelynn was a little more contemplative. Paige mostly stuck to the sand, which was smart since it was chilly.

I love any picture where I can see my babies twice. Lately I've just been really feeling the joy of them. That they exist as they do leaves me feeling almost stricken with the miracle of it. Dumbfounded. Awestruck. You get the idea. I gives thanks, indeed.