Garden supervisors

  We haven't planted anything yet, but the garden is getting bigger. My husband is expanding the fenced-in area and hopes to grow some blueberries. I think they're tricky to grow, but what's the harm in trying, right?

  I call this photo "Working Man with Helpers."

Two busy days

  We have been busy the past two days. I have remembered to take my camera, thinking, "I could write about that," but then, who has time when it's so nice out?

  We went to the beach again. The kids always feel like we leave too soon, so I was determined to let them stay as long as they wanted. Two-and-a-half hours later, they were ready to leave.

  The Canadian Forces Snowbirds stunt-flying team put on a free show over the lake. Notice below how Cookie and Princess are leaning with the jets.



  The yard is dried-out enough for football and other games. You get drafted whether you're in the game (above) or not (below).



  It's the end of the school year, and the homeschool series at a local nature center is done. Gameboy and Princess were in the classes, which took the kids outside no matter what the weather. I like that, since it's something I'm not so good at myself.

  A local roller rink has hosted homeschool skate days for years, and we were there today. Cookie was proud to wear the orange skates and skate by herself for a little. I skated for awhile, until I became aware of strange movement within my knee. I took off my skates before there was trouble.

  No matter where she goes, Princess makes a friend.

  I guess we're finally done with Gameboy's play now because the cast party was tonight, bowling and pizza. The poor kid got weird blisters from roller skating and bowling on the same day, a day spent in odd shoes.

  Tomorrow, the calendar is blank. It will be a relaxing change of pace.

Garden report: Not yet

  So I joined the list at Growing Naturally, which looked like a fun little commune to join.
  So what have I grown, you might wonder. Nothing yet. We're still hearing reports that there might be freezing temperatures at night, and even in the day, it's not the kind of weather that makes me want to go outside and work in a garden.


  I'm happy to say my husband got things started, tilling the dirt, digging up weeds and getting things ready for that sunny day, some day soon, I hope, when we'll get some plants in the ground. I usually have good luck with pole beans, zucchini, tomatoes, and edible-pod peas. I'll try basil, corn, peppers and pumpkins sometimes, but they don't do well. I have strawberries, oregano and rhubarb that keep coming back.
  The fence around the garden should have a curved top made from PVC pipe and covered with deer netting. It got destroyed in a wind storm last fall. We'll have to find some way to keep out the deer; I hope we can rebuild the top using the same pipes. I get pretty mad to see deer eating my organic peas.
  So, that's my garden update. I should get to a greenhouse and buy some plants, I know, but I always wait until I'm ready to plant them. I don't need to extra work of taking plants outside and inside every day and night, watering them and keeping the cats away from them. I'm happy with the greenhouse leftovers.
  I'm sure other people in the country are harvesting strawberries now. Lucky.

All dressed up for opening night

  My son just finished being in a play, and here he is with his sister on opening night. He's still in his costume, and she got dressed up, too.
  Not long ago we had a really nice day, and my son said, "What's the date today? I want to build a time machine so I can come back to it."
  I think I'd program this evening into my time machine.

Dance year ends gracefully

  I was washing the hairspray out of Princess' hair late last night when it occurred to me that I wouldn't be taking her to ballet in the morning. The year is over for the dance school, and we have our Saturday mornings back. I'm glad it occurred to me, because I see now, there was a risk that I'd suit up my two girls and take them to class despite the fact that the spring recital was Friday night.
  Cookie had a little show on Sunday for her preschool class, but that was a small, informal thing. Princess is in Pre-Ballet I, which means she's a part of the big show. I had to get her there two hours early to practice on the auditorium stage, she had a strict dress code, and as she excitedly told me, "I have to wear makeup, Mom; I have to!"
  I got her to rehearsal a bit late, but we made it before they went on stage to practice. I was late because I got caught in a time warp fixing her hair. I started putting it in an extra-good bun, enjoying the mother-daughter time, and when I finished, it was, like, 15 minutes later. The anxiety I felt while driving down there, knowing we were running late, was enough punishment not to do that again.
  Princess told me after the show that the ballet helpers were putting bows in the girls' hair and had a problem with hers. She couldn't tell me what the problem was except that one woman told another, "We have a bun issue here." The phrasing made me laugh. It's a little like "Houston, we have a problem." I thought her hair was done to spec. It looks a little different than the other girls' tiny, flat buns, but as Princess pointed out, "Mom, I have a lot of hair!"
  I don't have pictures of her onstage. There were big signs proclaiming "No Photography Allowed!" The people who sat in front of us have pictures. Video, too. I'm glad their daughter was in a different class, otherwise, my girls' show would have been the one during which I had to look at two bright display screens (wife on camera, husband on video recorder) and listen to the clicking of picture after picture being taken. Really, the no-photo rule is a good one. It's not a very classy ballet show to have an audience full of paparazzi.
  So, no pictures, but the show was beautiful. The girls were graceful and smart, remembering their steps and covering up their mistakes. I was impressed that no one got too scared to perform. Watching my children onstage puts them in such a different perspective. They seem so capable and creative, ready to leave home to start grown-up lives. At least for now, they still need me to pick them up backstage, drive them home and tuck them in bed.
  It seems such a short time ago that I was signing up the girls for 9 a.m. Saturday dance class, wondering how I'd get there week after week. The girls worked so hard and learned so much, but here I am, swelling with pride for waking up and driving. Go, Mom!
  If Princess wants to move up a level for next year, that class is Saturdays at 10 a.m. That's better, right?

Back to the beach

  Lake Superior is the biggest freshwater lake in the world and our playground. I bought a blank book that I titled "The Beach Book." Sometimes when we go to the lake, I record what it was like that day and what we did. I thought to do this because it's very different depending on the weather. It can be hot and full of flies. It can be so windy, it will knock you over. There can be 6 feet of ice chunks piled up, or waves crashing higher than the car. Or it can be like our last visit, quiet and calm with no people anywhere.

  It was about 8 p.m. It seems as if we were just at the winter solstice, with the sun doing little to light or warm our world, and already we're approaching June with its incredibly long days.

  The year seems so lopsided that we spend plenty of time outside enjoying the daylight, even if it's late. People who live in even more extreme latitudes might laugh at me, I suppose. Or maybe they'll just understand what I'm talking about.
  (That's Cookie playing "sink or float." You can see her stick floating in the water. Next, she'll find out what happens to the rock.)

  It was nice to visit the beach and not feel in danger. If the basalt rock is covered in ice, I'm afraid they'll slip in. If the waves are pounding hard on the beach, I'm afraid they'll get sucked in. But now, if they fall into the lake, I'm confident that I can pluck them out and endure the chilly drive home.

  The kids run around all summer without shoes. I think it's good for their feet, despite the cuts and splinters. During this visit to the beach, I was still wearing a hat and jacket, not to mention my shoes, but the kids can't wait to run barefoot on the rocks.

Mom gets creative

  Cookie, age 3, not her real name, had her first dance recital this week. She's in Creative Movement, which is pretty casual because it's for ages 3 to 5. In higher levels at the ballet school, there are strict dress codes. But for Creative Movement, they wear what they want, and the recital is held in one of the dance studios where the kids can feel at ease.
  Nevertheless, it almost came to pass that this would be the only memory I would have from Cookie's first show.

  She had misunderstood me, and thought that she was going to see a dance show, not be in one. She went from scared to mad to screaming pretty quickly.
  I was trying hard to avoid parental ultimatums. That meant no "You stop it or we're leaving." or "That's it, you're going to stay out here." Why? Because I really, really wanted to see her dance. I told her to stand in the other room until I came to check on her. (The clock was ticking; some of the other classes were already performing.)
  Thirty seconds later, I returned. "I have an idea," I said. "You come sit on Momma's lap, and when your class is dancing, you can join them if you want." (She had been screaming to come with me, so I wanted to act like it was my idea.) She gladly came with me. When it was time for her class to dance, she jumped right up to join them.

  They were super cute. Her hair, so often a wild lion's mane, was gorgeous.

  Some of the advanced students performed for us. After the show, they were greeting the audience and posing for pictures. I told Cookie to stand with the pretty ballerinas for a picture. I'm not sure what the look on her face is saying, but it might be, "I'll stand here because I'm too tired of screaming and fighting you, but I'm suspicious of your motives, don't understand who these people are, and would really like to just go get a cookie. If I let you take the picture, you'll let me get a cookie, right?"
  Yes, dear, you may have a cookie.

Making mouse cookies

  We made peanut butter cookies from a recipe in "Taste of Home" magazine. I don't usually like recipes that involve this much decorating. I was pleased to see how well my 3-year-old made the cookies all by herself. Of course, I made the dough the night before so that all we'd have to do is decorate and cook them. Otherwise, they get tired of the whole project, and I'm left decorating the ridiculous things myself.

  Each kid had a plate to work on, and each ingredient was separated into a bowl. It was like a cooking show, where they hire someone else to do the dishes. (OK, so it wasn't exactly like a cooking show.)

  Here are the mice waiting to go into the oven. They get their little tails after they're cooked, but before they cool down. It was funny to see how slight changes in the placement of the candy pieces made them have different expressions. One, especially, looked really angry.

  Our cookies did not turn out like in the magazine picture. The mice are pretty flat. We made these to take to a party, so we only took the prettiest ones. On some of the mice, the faces had slid to the side while cooking, so the mice looked dead. Those were our personal favorites, so it's best we kept them anyway.