Ben's Bells, Ralph Stanley, and The Littles

They don't like being referred to that way, the elementary school cohort in Amster's life. True individuals, they require different pieces of my attention.  Always have, always will, I imagine. That's what makes it interesting.

Because of a difference of opinion over child care, my presence was required on Thursday afternoon.  Somehow, life knows when to send me the means to soothe my soul. I was in need, and The Littles were there to help.

Off the bus and into The Schnozz, Kindle taken out and promptly put away as I declared my car an electronics free zone. No, not even just on the ride.  I kept to myself the fact that some of the most interesting conversations I've ever had have occurred just on the ride.

Train switches and round-abouts, bicycle riding and banjos and being the elder sibling, a little bit of teasing and tickling and a whole lot of laughing and we were in the parking lot.... because none of us had any quarters for the open meters surrounding our destination. The Littles help me figure out the Pay Here Machine, Miss Texas ran back to put the ticket on the dashboard, and, after a brief discussion about the difference between the visor and the dashboard, we were on our way.

The last time I brought them, I couldn't keep up.  On Thursday, we all tumbled in together.... noting the restroom on the way.

It's a beautiful, open, courtyard in the middle of downtown Tucson, where the temperatures were in the upper 60's and the sun was playing hide-and-seek between the clouds. The kids carted the supplies to the table

and started painting like old hands.

There was no poking or teasing.

There was serious concentration

and an eagerness to share  

the more interesting of the fired pieces we were able to decorate.

There's something about the atmosphere that brings out the best in everyone.

They were amazed that the activity came with no fee.

We're doing a good deed by making these beads.

The notion was a big one for little heads.

There was silence, and random nodding, and then, accompanying Ralph Stanley on his Pandora Radio station playing softly on my phone, were Messers 8 and 10, crooning that they, too, would Fly Away, oh Lordy

It was a moment, denizens.  

All the pieces of my life were coming together.

There was nothing to do but smile.

At ten minutes to closing, we cleaned up

and rinsed off

and admired our work. 

Do you see the smiley face?

We made a donation, 

I hugged Ben's mom, who was working but still had the time to applaud my BE KIND Ben's Bells' logo'd t-shirt,

we bought some Kindness Coins and a BE KIND hand and took a decal or two 

and I dropped them off at Amster's office, full of stories and Mom, listen as she and I smiled and hugged.

Life is good.

Doing good makes it even better.

Doing good with little ones..... for me, that's the very best of all.

Special Time with Miss Texas

You can read it in advice columns.  It can be told to you by friends and teachers.  But actually doing it reinforces the truth of the matter: kids like having your undivided attention.  The secret that's often unrevealed is this: grown-ups like having kids' undivided attention, too.

It had been a long day, an exhausting week, an emotionally tumultuous time for me, for my friends, for the world.  The President spoke to the country, responsible gun legislation was on everyone's mind, my opinion was sought.  Elizibeth turned 15 and went to her first formal.  Parental insensitivity had been discussed and dismissed in draining, heart-wrenching, nearly-teary conversations.  Good deeds had been done, blog posts missed and posted late, sensations returned with little explosions of pain announcing their arrival, weeds sprayed, classes attended, and there I was, Friday afternoon, in the Schozz, on the carpool line, thirty minutes early. Some things never change.

Miss Texas and I were going to follow her agenda for the whole afternoon, starting with my being the first car on line to pick her up after school, Christina-Taylor's school, the one with the playground we created clearly visible from the parking lot. I spent some time missing my little friend before Miss Texas bounced into the back seat, shaking me from my reverie, startling me just as my kids did decades ago.  Some things never change.

Miss Texas was wearing her "Lawyer Shoes."

They can't be worn at school; no one could run in those little heels.

They are perfect for Special Time afternoons, though.

They make a wonderful sound on the tin floor and the wooden planking.

 She signed us in, just as CTG signed us in that sunny Saturday morning in 2011.

I do seem to spend a lot of time with little girls, don't I?

I think that's why I smile so much.

 Our GRIN aprons kept our clothes clean.

My ties barely made a bow in the back.

Miss Texas had to pull hers around to the front to keep it together.

I love first graders who can tie a bow.

The paint sat on the mantle behind our table.

 Those dollops on the pallette (two new words for Miss Texas)

 would be used to put three coats on the beads.

Establishing a strong connection between the pointed stick and the hole in the bead

 took no small amount of concentration.

 Then, we began to paint.

There was a large group of 20 and 30 year olds sharing our space.

 While we were using fat brushes and blowing to speed up the between-coats-waiting-period,

they were painting silly faces 

(photo by Miss Texas)

 and creating multi-colored masterpieces. 

Ours may not have been as amusing, but they put smiles on our faces nonetheless.

 We cleaned up our own mess,

though this picture is staged.

Miss Texas is a quick and competent cleaner-upper-girl.

She was done before I could gather my camera and my purse and meet her at the sink.

 Then, it was time for snack.

We hadn't stopped on our way downtown.

We were anxious to get going, and it was a long drive.

But tiny tummies need nourishment, so off to Eegee's we went.

While the ham sandwich was tasty,

it was the ranch fries that made us smile.

What are YOU doing this afternoon?

Can you include a little one in the activity?

I promise you smiles and laughter and love.

Lots and lots of love.

My Daisy

There she was, ringing my bell, just as promised.  Her big sister and I were inside, barely able to finish opening the front door before she began her spiel.

She introduced herself with a knowing grin. She smiled, made eye contact, and spoke loudly and clearly as she stated the reason for her visit.  She offered a shiny brochure,

all the while reassuring me that the cookies were in the car, and delivery would be immediate.  Still, I was allowed to fondle the folder.  I was the customer, and the young lady was looking to close a sale.

Little Cuter requested one box of Thin Mints, and G'ma will be pleasantly surprised if I show up at the pod-castle with something vaguely familiar from her past.

Two boxes seemed like a reasonable purchase, until I saw the newest addition to the pantheon of boxed goodies: 

"Yes, that's a new product," my Daisy Scout was pleased to inform me.  The trefoil shortbread cookies were trying to tempt me, but I couldn't resist a cookie called savanna smiles.  Note the lack of capitals; this is an unprepossessing little bite of heaven and if you haven't placed your order yet I recommend that you head right over to your neighborhood seven year old and procure a box or two.

The nutritional information is right on the package, along with the pictures of healthy girls doing healthy things. The box goes on to inform me that there are five life skills the girls are learning through going door to door, selling cookies. I can't argue with goal setting, decision making, money management, people skills and business ethics.  Watching my seven year old human comport herself with dignity and delight warmed the cockles of my heart, and I told her so. She beamed.  She grew two inches taller as I complimented her bearing and her presentation.

Then, I invited her in, as I wrote the check.  She's Amster's faux-daughter; she's been in my house dozens of times in the two years we've been friends. Yet, she paused.  She stood stock still, searching her memory banks, considering.

"If you're not allowed to come in while you're selling the cookies, I understand.  Rules are rules," I said, trying to let her off the hook.

"No, you're not a stranger," and, as she crossed the threshold, she clued me into the Daisy policy on selling to strangers. Once she got started, there was no stopping her.  She recited the Girl Scout Pledge ... several times... each of her right hands and fingers in the Spock-like position.

I didn't want it to end.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, there was more.  Tucson Electric Power has partnered with the Girl Scouts of Southern Arizona in a collective effort to save enough electricity to power more than 400 homes for a full year!

Not only did I get cookies, I got a light bulb, too.  

Life was good this morning, yes, indeed.  

Halloween with Helpers

There's a lot involved with decorating.

This is especially true when your mother has a J-O-B and absolutely no interest in knick-knacks.

It's a good thing that my part of the village which is raising these children is filled with wonders.

Just ask Mr. 9.

Gramma Rose, who's nobody's grandmother by blood but everybody's grandmother by love, brought the Hawkeye's t-shirts when she visited last month.  I smiled just a little bit to myself; the machatunim tailgate at an Iowa game every year, having deep roots in the heartland, themselves.  All the pieces of my ever expanding family fit very nicely within one another. 

I am the luckiest girl in the world.

Miss Texas thought she was pretty lucky, too.

My walker never looked better, nor did that spider hat on her head.

"Why does this have a bow on it?" she wondered

"Because it made me smile," was enough of an answer.... for both of us.

"What's a mallet?" she asked...

and I became Daddooooo, explaining tools to Little Cuter.

I sent her out with Mr. 7 to install the pumpkin.

The walker didn't make it over the stones, but the hat refused to be left behind.

 

 I had to remind them that we were supposed to be making my scarecrow.
There was so much more fun to be had, after all.

 Turns out that I was the one with newsprint up to my elbows, having stuffed the scarecrow myself.

Mr. 9 took care of the head, including a Happy Halloween message on the back, so I could see it as I drove down the driveway. 

Mr. 7's creation looks a little bit sad to me.....

After much deliberation, we installed him on the first rock, knife in neck.

Boys being boys, it didn't take long before he was an obstacle to be overcome.

"Watch MEEEEEE...."

I haven't heard that sound in a very very long time...

Big Cuter 1990 Sunset Beach

All that jumping led to a calamity for the 'crow... the headless 'crow...

 the 'crow who needed a kiss to make it all better.

 Then it was off on my not-as-smooth-as-JannyLou's driveway

 where, boys being boys, weaponry was involved.

 Mr. 7 wields Big Cuter's wooden sword from the Renaissance Festival.
Mr. 9, a more modern, high-tech kind of guy, opted for my aluminum hiking pole.

Miss Texas was content with Chica.

As with all (faux) grandmotherly events, this one ended in the best way possible.

Their mom came and took them home.