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miss goody two stitches!


Here is where I post pictures of the ebullient first hours after a vaguely dismal four days.
I have lots of questions for my doctor tomorrow, a few directly about my thyroid NOT really operating at capacity. And about those dreadful emo days that just make me want to go ahead and cut myself as I recall them in the joyful days that follow.
I think I need to upgrade.

THIS, this is the quilt I made with Ford’s kindergarten class:

I kept all 20 of the students after school one afternoon and we monoprinted like mad with little bottles of fabric paint, 5 plastic plates and one very popular brayer.

It rocks!!! Surprise for the teacher tomorrow, just to let her know we’ve enjoyed those daytime hours this year, all free of sibling rivalry and backtalk. It’s been awesome!

kinder quilt: for teacher

Still, I spent this afternoon drafting a master plan for next year, and may lightening strike me, it involves homeschooling!

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flutter fluffer

butterfly
PROBOSCIS is such a funny word. I think what has happened is that I’ve heard it used inappropriately too many times, so that I’ve now become conditioned to think dirty thoughts when I hear the word. SO. Here’s Ford and his, um, proboscis. Uh, getting to the nectar?

butterfly see


Chas is mastering the lepidopteran art of mimicry and nectarology and proboscism.

stupid humans
Wha?

mmm

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infinity, to the power of 6

to the power of 6, originally uploaded by young@art.

I’ve been facing inward somewhat, lately, so it hurts a bit at the end of the day to look at some of the photos I took of the kids this weekend. I see the boys, living loud as they usually do, resilient to being ignored from time to time and obviously overlooking my inconsistencies as a parent.

They stretch so far! Infinity is a new favorite word with Ford. On a 6×6 yellow card, I write a note to him, late at night: a just-love card, with a footnote of grief. I could always respond better, be more consistent, listen every time. That I don’t, I think he forgives. I stare at this picture, listening to the sleepy sounds of the house at night, hoping that he always understands the infinity of my love or him.