Of Lizards and Kitties

Small lessons of the natural world must seem very gruesome from 36 inches off the ground. I rescued a smallish lizard from our kitty yesterday afternoon. I have done this before and assumed it was dead - or very close - but it eventually came to and ran off for his lizard home. This lizard, however seemed a little worse for wear. I gently scooped him up and let William take a close look. We looked at his very long fingers and toes, William noticed his tiny eyes that were sometimes open and sometimes shut. We set him in a sunny spot and locked the cat inside for awhile and went along with playing in the yard. William checked on the lizard and came back with reports "His eyes are OPEN!" "His eyes are CLOSED!! - He has TINY eyes!" Mr. Lizard never really moved, so I figured he was dead and brought him over to sit next to William and talk to him about how the lizard was hurt too bad, and that the kitty wasn't mean, but that's what they do etc. etc.. I'm mid-sentence explaining about all of the things that kitties sometimes eat when our little lizard cocks his head and looks over at me like he wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to bury him alive or anything. Much more hopeful now, we set his shovel under the azalea bush and go back into the house. When William checks him again, he's gone - run off for home at last. As we are in the middle of giving a jubilant 'good job lizard' we both notice that the cat has gotten out of the house and is sitting in front of his new prize of a jumping twisting pulsing lizard tail with a bloody gooey nub of an end flipping itself all over the place. 'Uh oh' I say before even thinking and I look over at William who gives out an exasperated sigh that he has clearly picked up from my lesser moments. His eyes are also as big as dinner plates and I can practically see his fluttering heart. He stutters trying to get out what he's afraid to say or ask - "Kitty ate my lizard!?" "No sweetie," I tell him. "our lizard had a small tail - this is a very big tail". This doesn't make him feel any better. This is when I launch happily into how lizards have very special tails so that when a kitty gets their tail it breaks off and they can run away and grow a new tail. Maybe this seems to magically unreal because he is giving me a doubtful look when he asks "Lizard is is kitty's tummy?" "No, sweetie, the lizard is o.k. - his tail broke off and he ran away." I end up drawing many crude diagrams of lizards and kitty's eating their tales and happy lizards with little broken off stumps where new tails are growing.

For the rest of the evening he went on with a continuous chatter to himself and his bath toys about lizards and kitties and tails breaking off and growing back. He used toys and fingers as props as he went through the story over and over. Finally I hear him asking me from his bath ..."What about when the mommy lizard asks the baby lizard 'what's wrong?'" He asks me this again, while he's laying in bed ready to go to sleep (and I hope NOT have nightmares) and both times I tell him that the baby lizard can tell his Mommy that a kitty got his tail, but he's o.k. and now he will grow a new one. This questions seemed easier to answer to the much repeated "Lizard is food?" that he kept posing. I wasn't sure how close that was going to come to the also gruesome realization that some of our food was once alive and possibly a baby or a mommy as well.

Thankfully he slept peacefully though the night and gleefully ran to his teacher this morning ----"sometimes kitties eat the lizard tail but it will grow back!!!"

maybe this is an odd post to leave after negleting this place for so long ...but... it's all I've got right now.

"Can you please go away?"

And the request didn't even break my heart as I was cheerily poking my upper half into William's Rocket Ship tent to ooogle at him sharing his yogurt with the wooden caterpillar that my dad made for him. I said "Of course! I understand completely." Which I do. That and I'm still high on the motherly bliss of the festive Birthday events of the past two days. And no it was not MY birthday and yes, I understand that it was not about me at all - but still, for me, is was two of the most wonderful (as in 'full of wonder') two days ever! William enthusiastically helped decorate the house and yard, in rainbow colors, balloons, caterpillars, butterflies, ribbons and cacoons. He gave solid approval of my interpretation of the birthday cake request - (though now that my brother mentioned it, it did kind of look like a giant hamburger). And the sweetest friends and family packed all their kids into cars and came to help celebrate on a precious and beautiful April weekend, when I'm sure the temptation was strong to just laze around (as much as one can with small children) in p.j.s all day. I was struck by how lucky I felt that we have such lovely friends and families - not just lucky - blessed. And William was glowing with joy, before anyone even arrived he had tested every activity set out: the dough was good, the craft paper and crayons - nice, each ribbon wand was unwound and tossed over the balloon chain that was strung from the house to the avocado tree. Pipe-cleaner caterpillars were arranged and re-arranged and sometimes tasted, when one thought he was unwatched. And then he waited perched on the steamer trunk, as he looked out the window next to the kitchen door. It was only moments before both sets of grandparents arrived - and the squealing and jumping began, and then the house was full and people were eating and drinking and chatting and laughing, and there were four babies under a year - my own baby Jacob being the oldest of them! The oldest! I can hardly believe it. The house seemed to empty as quickly as it filled, only that electric feeling of anticipation was replaced with a soft wave of 'wow'. The yard still looked beautifully festive, and there was now a big blue rocket ship with a very shiny silver cone top, and William and Jacob were running and crawling all around and in and out of it and they were laughing and William was waving orange and pink ribbons around and it was late afternoon when the light is just so magical and the clouds were coming in and it was all so beautiful, the kids, the yard, the flowers on the table, the day itself. I had the silly thought that we must be truly entering the golden-age with the kids, that it must be written somewhere that three is the official age of it getting really really good. But who knows, and I don't mean to minimize any great moments in the past few years, I just couldn't help but thinking of our pediatrician looking at us with our brand new first baby - radiating joy and love and amazement like we were, and telling us 'Just wait. This is the least of him." I remember thinking that I got it at the time, but I really had no idea.

On Monday, his actual birthday, there was the much looked forward to Birthday Circle at school. This is where Mommy and Daddy get to come sit in class, we bring a big board with pictures of William from when he was born until now, and they do the birthday circle thing. When we got to the class they were all singing Do Rae Me... and we caught William bobbing his head along before he saw us. The table was already set up. In the class, there were two groups of four little tables put together. At the one where William was sitting there was a big tile with a beautiful painted sun with a face on it. Around the tile were paper cards with the Months of the year written on them in fancy script. The month of April was pointing at William and there was a brightly colored globe about the size of a cantaloupe sitting there. Directly in front of William were three votive candles, three colored rectangle blocks and a small wooden card with a red number 3 painted on it. His teachers initiated conversation about when he was born and a tiny baby and then asked if he stayed a baby - and that was the cue for him to stand up and carry the Earth around the Sun (the table) while everyone sang the months of the year. And then one of his teachers lit one candle and they talked about when William was one. Until it was time to walk around the Sun again and talk about being two - and then one last time for turning three. The look of pride and joy on his face as he rounded the corner carrying that little globe was beyond words. And that's about when I had to start trying NOT to burst into tears. Then he sat back down and his teacher played the piano while everyone sang "Happy Birthday" at one point he looked back over his shoulder at me and grabbed my hand and said "mommy!" and I lost the battle with the tears. Not wanting to be a complete freak and terrify the children with any serious red-faced crying, I did manage to keep it together except for some dabbing at my eyes and 'over-smiling'. But when each of the other children raised their hand to get up and give William a hug, tell him that they loved him and say Happy Birthday, well it was tough, and I lost the tear dabbing battle too. It was possibly the sweetest expression of friendship I've ever witnessed and right there and then I completely understood just why William had been looking forward to his birthday for so long.

The party is around the corner - the 'small family party' that now seems to be thirty some odd people witnessing my dusty floors and sampling my questionable baking - and most importantly - chiming in on a big "Happy Birthday to William!!" when it comes time to sing and eat cake. I finished putting his birthday-circle picture-board together for school last night (it's a 2x3 ft piece of foam-core with 16 4x6 inche pictures of William and family from the day he was born until now). It's propped up on top of the book shelf and this morning he took notice to it right away. "What' that!?!" with squeaky excitement. "It's your picture board for your Birthday Circle on Monday." As I was holding him up to see and he was pointing out all of the baby Williams and Grandpa and Medzmama, he had the sweetest glowingest smile, like he knows that something special is in store for him. But before he gets to bask in peer adoration at his school celebration, we have this 'small family party' the day after tomorrow. I was baking pound cake (Elvis Presley's Favorite Pound Cake) at 11:00 last night, and when the three cakes were finally cool enough I stacked them up on the cake stand to see about how it would look - and was a little dissapointed. Would it be crazy to bake three more and have a 6 layer birthday cake? Would the whole thing collapse under it's own weight? Thankfully, William didn't notice the plastic wrapped cakes sitting idle onthe counter, but he did try to con me into believing that Daddy told him it was o.k. to eat strawberry Pocky for breakfast.

Robins

There are Robins in our yard - bunches of them. I don't think I had ever seen Robins in real life before, but our neighbor, who I just met yesterday has lived here for over 50 years and she says that for about a month the Robins come to eat the berries off of the ivy fences and then they are gone. They are bigger than I had imagined, about as tall as a pigeon, but not so fat or so... um ... dumb. At least this first impression of them is that they are not so dumb, but I've had a lot of time to watch pigeons and I am frankly pretty distracted by how shockingly beautiful the Robins are to pay much attention to their behavior. They're not flashy-beautiful, they are mostly brown, but the red-orange feathers on their breast are also under their wings, so when they open them up to fly or catch their balance on top of the ivy they completely light up and become golden and glowing for a moment. I stand at the window mesmerized.

the birthday countdown

Three mornings ago while getting ready for school:
Me--"Guess whose birthday it is today!"
William, looking thoughtfully out of the corner of his eye and then back at me --"Weeyom's birthday!?!?"
Me--"Um, nooo. It's mommy's birthday!" with a big smile - only partially hoping that my nearly three year old will graciously tell my 'Happy Birthday' with a big hug. Instead, his eyes widen in excitement "Weeyom AND mommy's birthday!" He's practically floating with excitement at this point and I try to bring it back around to my birthday, but it's too late. He now owns my heart AND my birthday. oh well. But this did get me worrying that his birthday IS coing up soon, in about a month and I have done diddly squat to prepare anything. Last year his birthday was on Easter and I started planning the big Easter/birthday bash while the Christmas tree was still standing. I'm going to have to pull this one together quickly - friends - keep April 15th open - I'll feed you - even get you liquered up if need be. And I'm sure that even though his birthday doesn't fall on Easter this year, I'll be making those bunny shaped pound cakes with Elvis Presely's favorite recipe. mmm mmm mmm...

"Little Bird Little Bird Fly Through My Window"

Not INTO my window! I am so so sorry.

We've been been enjoying all the beautiful birds (and occasional fat squirrel) feasting on the mangy net bag of Finch seeds, but it seems that I need to move it further into the trees, away from our treacherous windows. I buried him in front of our cinder block wall where I am fittingly (or ironically) going to be planting Birdhouse Gourds soon.

Bread!

Inspired by the talk of a very easy and very yummy bread recipe over here, I decided to give it a try with William over the weekend. He had a blast spooning flour into the measuring cup, tap tap tapping it off with a butter knife and pouring it into the big mixing bowl. He scooped up all that 'tapped off' flour and put it in a tiny bowl to use for dusting and/or just playing with while I figured out just how much 5/8 was..... While I was busy with advanced math, William was busily dumping all of that extra flour into the mixing bowl - I did not realize this until after we mixed all the water in. I saw the empty little bowl and asked him "Where is the flour?" "Yeah! In the big BIG bowl!!!" - Well - it turned out beautifully! Even better than the 'spare' loaf that I mixed up while he wasn't looking (just in case...you know...) Here is a picture of his lovely loaf of bread - all that remains of its crusty yumminess: