"Oh happy day"

"Sons are the anchors of a mother's life."

-Sophocles

botanic garden bliss--brunch and tulips with my boys

Molo Mama

Continent: Africa.

Every month my son's class studies a different continent.  Parents are invited to volunteer their time to help the 3 to 6-year-olds explore a new continent.  

I have not been to Africa, but thankfully I could call upon my sister Caitlin, who spent a summer in South Africa volunteering with children.  She suggested I first teach the boys and girls how to say "hello" in the South African language of Xhosa--"Molo" and "Molweni." Hearing their sweet chorus of high voices echoing "Molo" and "Molweni" in perfect unison, I felt the oceans that separate us grow smaller for just a moment.  I also felt the instant intersection of contrast and connection--two continents with more than the separation of physical distance; two sets of young children whose sweet voices melt your heart, no matter your culture.

We sang a little melody in Xhosa that Caitlin had taught me.  But the highlight for the children was letting loose on all the instruments I brought to class.  I had envisioned the room coming alive to the beat of the African music playing in the background.  And alive it was: once those little hands hit the drums, there was no hearing anything but the loud, louder, and even louder drum beats.

I found all kinds of great African recipes to cook with the kids.  Spinach stew, lentils and rice, and couscous were at the top of my list.  When I relayed these options to L., his face looked identical to the time I gave away raisins for Halloween.  Not wanting to always be That Mom, I decided to go for a South African cookie, much to L.'s delight.  We added bananas and peanuts to the plates, reminding them of where some of "our" food comes from.

Here's the crowd, eating the "crunchies"  and drinking iced rooibos tea.  After the children patiently listened to the very long African folktale, "Where Stories Come From," one question remained, "Was that true?"

Images from our inspiration,  "Aunt Cait-Cait's" South African trip as a Warren Wilson College Worldwide participant.  Caitlin worked in Nynga Township with pre-school children, in a community affected like so many others by HIV/AIDS.

Bringing things full circle, as I write this post, our Aunt Roxie has joined a Florida hospice team trained to comfort terminally ill South Africans.  For this moment in time, it feels as if All roads lead to Soweto.

"Tell them I'm a knight," Mama.

Wouldn't it be great to have the inhibitions of a three-year-old again?  Then, when we needed a little boost to our day, a little more confidence on the playground of life, we could merely reach for that magic red cape and presto: another leap in our confidence meters.

T. can be spotted all around town in his notorious red cape.  From the train station to the library--countless mothers and grandmothers tell me all about their son(s) who would wear an equally treasured cape everywhere.

He has been asked on many occasions, "Are you Superman?"

He looks up at me.  Now, I no longer require a prompt.  I simply reply, "No, he's a knight."

Boys in Bloom

This morning, L. calls me into the bathroom for help before school..."Mom, how do I get this to work?"  He says this, holding up my blow dryer and looking at his wet locks in the steamy mirror, trying to figure out how to dry them after his shower.  The terry towel wrapped around his nimble waist trailed behind him onto the floor like a full length bridal veil.

Just to top off this week of independence, L. instructs Daddy to dismantle his training wheels after school on Friday.  Once wheels are off, he jumps on, and wobbly rides away.  By the time he comes back down the street, his ride is smooth, controlled.  He looks like a two-wheel veteran.

In a parallel way, this week mirrors my motherhood journey...many seeds of parental preparation, many nights of wondering, and then in the roar of the hairdryer, they are off...

and every cliche about growing up overnight echos in the clanking of the little silver wheels that take their resting place as they fall to the asphalt driveway.  

I can hardly take it all in before I'm barrelling down the street, trying to catch up with the fearless pedaler.  

Thank goodness for a three year-old in the house. 

T. loves Great-grandfather's trains.  

And he loves painting with pine needles.

And the full-body, full-sensory experience of it all.

Since everyone around me is full of firsts and creative spark, I tried something new this week, too.  I took a photo and tried turning it into a painting.  I spent waaaay too long in Photoshop only to create something that now looks like an out-of-focus, extremely low resolution file.  

I think my time might be better spent riding my "two-wheeler."

Mud Season

Yes, that's a wall of water and mud he is pushing with his feet...

Mud on your face...

Splashes...the sound of Spring.

Boy before the mud bath...

Innocence in pink and blue...

(with mud accents, of course).

The squishy feel of Spring...

mud season

(haiku)

children find reward

soak up Spring's bountiful kiss

wade in rain water

Media Mama

this post was lost in cyberspace, found today!

There are a lot of seeming contradictions in my life: I don't eat meat, but I married a hunter.  I'm a pilot, but I'm afraid of heights.  I grew up in Florida without air-conditioning, but now I can't function in heat.

But probably the biggest one--the one that gets the most eyebrows raised, is that we are an American family that lives without TV.  Crazy, I know.  I'm surprised there is not a TPS, a Tube Protection Service, that you can report us to.

Aside from the many conversations that I can't follow or can't contribute to, not having a TV is a great thing.  And lest anyone feel the need to report us to the media-deficit-watchdogs, our boys do get to watch a DVD on the computer every weekend.  We've recently introduced a new-old rule, adding yet another contradiction under this roof: young kids, no Disney.  Why?  That's a whole other post...maybe its own blog. Maybe in another lifetime.

So when this week's school field trip came up to watch a live production of Disney's "High School Musical," you can guess my response.  "Ummm...no."

Commonsensemedia.org listed the age appropriateness of this show for 9-14 year olds.  "Yes, I think we'll pass."

My search for something fun, entertaining, and educational on this day of playing hookie led us right to our own High School backyard.

This week our town's High School is host to one of the most amazing events, Focus on the Arts.

Every media of artistic expression in represented.  For this one week, we have winners of Pulitzer Prizes, Tony Awards, Pushcart Prizes....you name it.  They are here to perform, to teach, to create.  Yes, to spread the gospel of Art!

So instead of Disney's "High School Musical," we enjoyed The Langston Hughes Project.

I can't begin to describe how inspiring it was to sit in the audience with my two lads, soaking up the live jazz and powerful poetry of Langston Hughes.

The description reads:

The Langston Hughes Project is a multimedia concert performance of Langston Hughes' kaleidoscopic jazz poem suite. Ask Your Mama is Hughes' homage in verse and music to the struggle for artistic and social freedom at home and abroad at the beginning of the 1960s. It is a twelve-part epic poem which Hughes scored with musical cues drawn from blues and Dixieland, gospel songs, boogie woogie, bebop and progressive jazz, Latin "cha cha" and Afro-Cuban mambo music, German lieder, Jewish liturgy, West Indian calypso, and African drumming -- a creative masterwork left unperformed at his death.

The rest of our day of hookie was spent picnicking in the fresh, spring air...outside soaking in the sun at the park with friends--one of whom is named, Langston.

So what to do when a field trip doesn't really resonate with you?  Ask Your Mama.

Earth Day Garland 2009