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If Only Applesauce Tasted Like Breast Milk

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This entry was written by kara, posted on September 29, 2008 at 10:08 pm, filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.
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    I can’t think of a better representation for 11, 6th grade, middle school, lockers, braces, than those painted-once-over stripes. Andy’s dad painted those stripes (Did we thank him enough? Why don’t I have a picture?) and when I heard Andy ask Google to play The Steeldrivers’ ‘Where Rainbows Never Die’ as he painted over them ... I’m getting too personal (we both had glossy eyes). I can’t write about Sophie anymore. I can’t even post pictures without her permission. As it should be. So much is changing. She’s had this room since she was 2. It’s time. Andy scraped bits of slime and glitter off the walls before patching and priming. She’ll likely have this new room until she graduates. Confession: I like to complain about the ridiculous 2-mile drive that takes much too long through town to the middle school but I actually love it. She talks. My mom has always said this. Cars are magic that way. Also, this: http://www.pleiadesbee.com/2012/01/an-afternoon-in-sophies-bedroom.html 6th, 4th and 4th! ❤️ I asked Andy if he could do a little yard work tonight. He looked at the situation (we’ve been slacking) and determined we need a machete. No yard work has been done but he and James (who is thrilled with this development) are out shopping for a new machete. This is not at all how I hoped tonight would go. 🤣 Just in case you were wondering, back-to-school clothes shopping with these two is (still) a test in patience. (But I still love them, even when they’re smelling mannequins’ butts.) Walked through her middle school (!) schedule with her tonight. Sat at a desk in one of her classrooms so I could see what she will see. She rolled her eyes and begged me to get up which is 11-year-old speak for “I love you,” right? I grew up on land. Now, in the summers, kids who live on our street are in and out of our house, all day long. And my kids are in and out of our neighbors’ houses, all day long. At first, this was so stressful. I was always frantically picking up for “company.” But then I realized kid friends are less company and more family and, honestly, they don’t care. Especially if you have a stocked pantry. Owen and James are so lucky to have each other, yes. But imagine sharing everything. A birth date. A room. Activities (for now). Toys. Clothes. Minds (so they say). By luck, Sophie has several girlfriends her age on our street (she’s spending the night at one of their houses right now). The boys, not so many except for S, and I’m so grateful. He’s such a cool kid and handles my twins’ love/hate relationship with each other with ease. His presence and friendship has made this summer so much nicer. So while I often (every day) miss SPACE, there are benefits to living within barefoot running distance to your friends’ houses. And for that, I am grateful. Summer Saturday night Bingo at Grandma’s May 2013. Photo by @mpace1. Our time at @fernsidecincinnati has come to an end. Even on the days the kids weren’t thrilled to go, the help they received navigating such a complex death was so much more than just Andy and I could provide. And we are ever grateful. One month ago, through a collaboration with Fernside, the kids met with apprentice artists with @artworkscincy Hero Design Company one-on-one. They talked and played and within one hour the artists gleaned enough information from our three to present these incredible, handmade capes to each one. This world can be really shitty sometimes but there also is so much good if I can just remember to keep myself open to seeing it. I think about organizations like Fernside and Artworks and all that great love out there, from folk donating time, money and bodies that show up, that listen, just so they can add to life’s collective love. And, for me, that outpouring of love just for the sake of love really helps soften life’s hard edges — everything from death and my fears of what’s to come due to dishonorable people in power to hard parenting days and hard marriage days and unexpected mold on the bread and paper cuts. One time, when I was in high school, I was in a foul mood and my dad asked me to walk with him down our driveway (it’s a long driveway). “Sometimes,” he said, “shit happens.” It struck me because (a) my parents didn’t curse much and (b) it was so simple. Usually our talks were l.o.n.g but those three words really summed it up. The shit can be devastating and its effects lifelong but it happens. It always has and always will and it is necessary to dig deep and take the time for anger and grief (which Fernside taught us) but it’s also necessary to note all the love before life hardens completely. Maybe we live many lives, following paths and journeys filled with lessons that all boil down to one thing: love. Shit happens. Love happens. There has to be room for both. I think these capes are a simple, beautiful way of reminding us that by being open to love, love often wins. Thanks Fernside. Thanks Artworks. Thanks to all those who add to life’s collective love. We watched Jake, Grandma’s dog, for a few days. He just left. James is comforting a very distraught Io. @blueoven bread from @fortthomasfarmersmarket, @bethanyrosepottery plates, bowls and tray (our collection is slowly growing!), cutting board from a guy selling them out of his home on FB Marketplace, and @ditmer2018 candlesticks for Wednesday night dinner. I admire those who make things so much. They claim they’re too big for this now. #barebonesmotel #3kidsproblems cousins, crammed into a wind tunnel #summer Dinner before the Dude Perfect Tour, Uncle Tom’s Christmas gift to the boys. They.are.excited. These two were the best bat/ball/water getters at my dad’s Cincinnati Dragon’s game and they took their work very seriously. Except when they forgot. bee Celebrating a belated birthday with Grandma tonight! Owen is sunburned (mom fail). Sophie is telling everyone she is going to win. Andy’s clearly playing his favorite game. (We’ve played so often we’ve had to make new detective sheets.) So apparently our children have learned how to access our Google calendars. Also, the orange? That’s the nightly toothbrush order bc we can’t handle the I-went-first-last-nights anymore.
    TAP

  • Favorite Essays

    Choosing Compassion in a Culture of Fear

    Seeking the Bigness in the Everyday

    The Love in Trying

    The View from Up High

    Season of Innocence

    The Huffington Post guest post: Apologies to the Parents I Judged Four Years Ago, a TIME's top 10 opinion piece in 2012

    Simple

    Changing Love

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