Heartache

Funny morning. For some reason I woke up wanting to hear Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." So I put it on, and the music player happened to already be on repeat, so the song just kept playing over and over again. Have you ever paid attention to the words of this song? It's genuinely heartbreaking, and the lyrics have quite a deep meaning for me. So there was that ... the repetition of the song left me feeling more than a little fragile as I headed out to take the boys to school. (Yes, I could have just turned it off, but there's something about a song like that ... I just can't do it.)

When I got to the school, I saw a couple embracing just outside the school door, the woman wiping away tears behind sunglasses, her husband whispering in her ear. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to know what this means — any mom who's ever had to leave her baby at a new place for a first time ... it is so amazingly hard.

The boys have been going to this school since last September and I've never seen that at this particular school before.

So Wilder and I dropped Hunter off at his classroom and headed down to the east side of the building where Wilder's class is. You have to walk by all the other classrooms to get there. Wilder skipped ahead and I saw a father rounding the hallway's bend with a look in his eye. And, sure enough, I rounded that bend myself to see another mom, that man's wife, in tears. Only this time she was a Middle Eastern woman, her head and most of her face covered, and I could only see her eyes. And I could hear her little boy, probably one year old, sobbing behind the closed door, and her, unable to walk away yet, standing outside that door and looking at her boy through the tiny window. And I looked at this mom's eyes and oh my god it broke my heart. I just wanted to go give her a big hug.

And how strange that I've not witnessed that particular scenario one time in 10 months and then twice in one day ... I feel for those women, and it also reminds me of how incredibly deep our bonds with our mothers are. And now I'm sitting here missing mine so very much. Ten years and my mom's utterly unavoidable absence can still elicit this much heartache.

Anyway, by now I'm sure both of those moms are fine. But I'm a wreck. Damn you Cohen!

Addendum: One little detail I left out — as we saw that second mom, Wilder was walking down the hall in front of me singing "Hallelujah." I love that kid.

Memorial Day 2011

I think it was 1967 when my dad, Jon P. Scott, went to Vietnam. That means that before I was born in 1972, all the members of my family had already sacrificed, knowingly or unknowingly, quite a bit.

There was Dad, of course, a member of the Air Force who spent his tour in Vietnam driving transport trucks, which were often a target of the enemy because of the important things they carried. He risked life and limb nearly every day doing his job and serving his country.

My mom, Rogene, was pregnant, raising one preschooler to-be on her own. She gave birth while my dad was serving his country and then parented both Tara and Jay alone for the better part of a year. As a mom of two boys similar in age difference to my sister and brother, I know how very, very difficult this would have been for her. It's important to note she was around 24 years old at this point. I front a lot like I'm some tough girl — believe me, I have NOTHING on Rogene Scott.

My sister, Tara, at the very wee age of 2, saw her daddy go off to war. Anyone who's ever seen a little girl with her father knows how hard this must have been for her.

And Jay, my brother, didn't meet our dad until he was 8 months old. I try to imagine Wilder or Hunter not meeting Jerry until then ...

And they all sacrificed these things because my dad felt the importance of serving his country, even at the risk of losing his life. So today, Memorial Day, I just want to recognize the things that they all sacrificed. It's easy 40-something years later to gloss over these facts and think, "Oh, that was all a long time ago ..." But it shaped our family, both then and even now, I think. And, as that lucky third child born in 1972 oblivious to it all, I just want to tell my Pop, sister, brother and my much-missed Mama how much I love them.

Master Sunshine and DJ Moonbeam

Umm, Jonas Brothers they are not.

So, Wilder and Hunter have been regaling Jerry and I with their "music." It involves what appears to be thrash-metal/punk songs composed by Wilder, with titles such as, "I Almost Saw the Fire" and "ThunderDrums." Hunter throws in his support and backing vocals — mostly a remix hardcore version of the Scooby Doo theme song, followed by beating the nearest toy (in this case Buzz Lightyear) into a pulp with his "guitar."

So, yeah ... not the Jonas Brothers. But based on what just came out of Wilder's mouth, maybe Liam and Noel Gallagher. Hunter was trying to nail down a drum solo, and W hollered "You're RUINING MY BAND!!!!" at him.

ADDENDUM: The title of this post is an inside joke, but a very poor band name, so if anyone has suggestions, by all means ...

The Brothers Scott Bi-annual Photo Shoot

Every February and August, I try to take pictures of the boys together. I think as they grow older, I'll be so happy I did this. I hope they treasure them someday, too.

So today we took some pictures. It's so hard to get them to sit still, but we usually manage to get a few decent shots (out of dozens). Soon I'm hoping to get some of pictures printed and put up in frames in our house. So let me know which your favorites among this bunch are.

Hope everyone is well!

Hunter: Taking poops, talking fancy

I feel I can say with some certainty that my near future contains no diapers at all. Hunter has pooped three out of the last four days on the POTTY. If there is not a dance that exists in the world that celebrates solely the act of a toddler finally catching on to the toilet concept, someone should invent one.

In other news, Hunter, who hates for me to wear my hair in a ponytail or bun, told me yesterday: "Mama, take your hair down. The sun doesn't shine on you when you wear it like that."

As Jerry says: "That kid's got a real inventive way with words." I hope I've got a future writer on my hands ...

Monday rambling

Well, here I am getting ready to take boy No. 2 (W) into the doctor with what I assume is strep throat. Hunter had it last week (along with an ear infection, poor kid), and now it appears it's made its way onto the next kiddo. We've gone a long time without anything major, illness-wise, so I'll just keep this in perspective. It can ALWAYS get worse.

And, in fact, life has been pretty good lately. Wilder is going through one of those periods when he seems to think the sun rises and sets upon me. He tells me he loves me about 10 times a day. He told me last night he wanted to marry me when he grows up (a little odd, I know, but I think this is a normal declaration for boys?). Yesterday, at the shoe store, he found this gigantic heart necklace that he was absolutely despondent that I wouldn't let him "buy" for me (I told him that my birthday is coming up and he and his papa would have to go shopping and he could pick me something out then). "But I love you so much, Mama ... I want you to have this big heart necklace!"

Just so darn sweet.

Not much else is going on. I'm hitting the home sites hard again looking for our future home. Discouraging. I know we'll find something, I just really want what I want this time (given that I hope we don't move again for many, many years) and am having trouble finding it. Actually, I did find the perfect house for us, but unfortunately I don't have a couple extra hundred thousand dollars lying around. Darn.

Oh well. Hard work will prevail. Seems to me it almost always does, and home-searching seems to be my second part-time job these days. So we'll see.

Gotta take the kid to the doctor. Signing off ...

Buddies ...

Here's a great picture of Hunter and his friend Peyton on the tire swing at the park yesterday.

More hiking in the snow

A link to some pictures from our latest hike.

Pretend games

Right now, as I type, the boys are playing one of their favorite games to play together. It involves gathering almost all the pillows and blankets in the house (including couch cushions, bed linens, etc. ... it'll take us quite awhile to return them to their original destinations later), and then making "beds" for themselves on the floor or elsewhere (right now, Hunter is on the floor and Wilder is on the train table).

I have no idea why this game appeals to them so much, or why it is they get along so well (mostly) whenever they play it. I guess it has to do with Wilder being happy to take the lead and play the "nurturer" who puts his little brother to bed, and Hunter being happy to be doted on by his big brother.

And I like it because they are quiet when they play it and, for the most part, they get along. Which, of course, doesn't always happen. They're pretty typical brothers in that they love each other immensely, but just can't seem to keep themselves from screwing with each other's heads most of the time.

Anyway, I just wanted to make this post so that, when they're 17 and 15 and doing whatever it is that boys that age do, I can remember that they played this little game. It's so sweet.

Brrrrrrr

Thirteen degrees outside (feels like 4 degrees with windchill) and the boys are out there romping in our snowy back yard. I have no doubt this will end with some tears, but for now, at least, they're having a ball. Oh, and Betty's out there, too. That dog loves her some snow.

UPDATE FOR PHOTOS:


Playing in the snow.


Wilder peering in the window at me.


The boys found this guy on our deck railing. I have a sneaking suspicion someone I'm married to put him out there to be found.

That's a lotta love

Wilder: "I love my Little Puppy very, very, very, very, VERY much. And I love YOU even more than that!"

Wherein I rediscover the beauty of loaned books

Here is a sight that warms my heart. It's Wilder and Hunter, totally immersed in their library books.

Now I'm embarrassed to admit this. I love words, love a well-crafted story, love illustration, love typography, love design. And I've NEVER taken my kids to the library. Well, there was that one time when Wilder was 1 and I took him to story time and he acted like a crazed psychopath on crack. But I've never taken my kids to the library to just pick out books, pour over them, hang out and smell that amazing smell that comes from having thousands of books in the same building. God I love that smell. When I walked into the library today I literally closed my eyes, smiled and inhaled as deeply as I could.

So now we live pretty much across the street from an amazing library. It's on the same campus as where the boys go to school, and it's been recommended to me by quite a few people. So today I finally decided that enough is enough -- all kids should grow up going to the library and experiencing the wonder that is checking out any book that tickles your brain fancy and taking it home for a week or two. When I was little, I remember my mom taking me and how I LOVED (like, "love" isn't even strong enough a word) to bring home a gigantic stack of books.

We had a great time, saw friends from school and left with 11 books and four movies. It's so great that you can get so many wonderful DVDs from the library now. I know, I know ... I'm late to this particular party, but my enthusiasm is nonetheless in the extreme.

So now I have my card, both the boys have their own library card and we are set up to go at least twice a week (the boys are signed up for library activities on Wednesdays and Thursdays).

Incidentally, one of the reasons they're so happily collapsed in our family room reading books right now is that I dragged them on a very long hike this afternoon. Wilder collapsed on the porch when we got home, proclaiming: "I'm EXHAUSTED!!" My job as a mother is done for the day (pretty much ... there is that part still where I have to feed them).

He loves me, loves me not

A few weeks ago, Hunter would hardly have anything to do with me. "Go away," he'd tell me when I tried to talk to him or cuddle with him. "I love Papa." Of course I hated it, but I knew it was a phase. Last week sometime he started telling me he loved me AND Papa (and sometimes he'd throw Wilder in there for good measure). And then this week, he's all about loving Mama again, sometimes even telling Jerry to go away and professing his love of me. Lately he's even been spontaneously professing his love for me out of the blue.

"Hiding" in bed under the covers. Whisper: "I love you Mama."

Coming up to lean against the computer chair as I work. "I love you, Mama."

Walking through the room I'm in. "Hey Mama ... I love you."

This morning, as Wilder is putting his coat on to go to school, Hunter asks: "I don't go to school today?" Jerry says, "Nope. It's your Mama Day." He gets this goofy grin on his face, walks over to me, sidles up between my knees and wraps himself around me.

It's pretty great.

On Monday he started in a new classroom at his school. It's bigger, with more stuff and older kids, new teacher, all that. We built it up as new toys, new friends, lots of fun, etc. And I expected that it would probably go off without a hitch. I think we're pretty lucky in that both our kids handle change well. Wilder, in fact, has been acting like he's the persecuted one because he DIDN'T get to change classrooms. So anyway, after we'd gotten Hunter settled in his new environment and I'd given him a kiss and hug, told him I loved him and would pick him up later ... all that ... Wilder and I are walking out to go to his old, boring classroom and Hunter runs toward us. "Mama!?" A look on his face that I can't place. Is it panic? Oh no ...

But no. He just wanted another kiss and hug. "I love you, Mama." And turns around, runs back into his class and finds a toy to play with.

A new year, with SNOW!

It finally snowed big here in Colorado. Yesterday we headed out to sled at a nearby park in what, with windchill, had to be temps close to zero. It quickly became clear that Hunter is a cold-weather kid, and Wilder, with the declaration that, "My EYEBALLS are cold" and a few tears, is not. Not yet at least.

Here's a picture of them before we all got so cold we high-tailed it home to lay under blankets and cuddle (well, maybe just Wilder and I ...):



Today is a bit warmer, with a high of 20ish. The boys and I bundled up and took a nice long walk in the snow in the open space behind our house. At one point, a massive bald eagle flew low right over our heads. It was AMAZING.

This afternoon we are taking the sled across the street to what is affectionately referred to in this neighborhood as "Kill Hill," a VERY steep sledding hill. The sky is a deep blue, the air is crisp and the snow is glistening. THIS is why we moved back here, in part.

Happy New Year. May much love, light and good fortune fill your lives in 2011. I'm sincerely just hoping for more sleep. ;-)

A heaping pile of ... yeah, you get the picture

It's good to know God's still got a sick sense of humor ... and also a good one, in my opinion.

So this morning, a little drama ...

Was sitting at home on the verge of tears, trying to motivate to do something fun with this day when I got a call from Wilder's school. He'd choked on his breakfast and, though breathing normally, was still complaining of something stuck in the his throat. I called Jerry while throwing mine and Hunter's coats on, and Jer told me to get him and get him to the emergency room, because if that "something" got into his airway, we'd have trouble.

I honestly was pretty calm, but as I drove a little maniacally to his school, I had a little conversation with the creator of the universe in which I actually threatened him/her. "So help me," I muttered under my breath, so Hunter couldn't hear, "if anything happens to my boy on the same day you took my mama away, I will ... well, shit, I dunno, but I will figure something out."

I got to school and quickly saw that Wilder was OK. At which point, not being as calm as I guess I thought I was, I burst into a mess of tears. Since I was about a hair's width from them all morning anyway, it didn't take me long to get all weepy and weird. I explained my overblown reaction to his teachers, who then proceeded to make me cry more with hugs and kind words.

Jeez, I'm a mess.

But back to that little threat toward the Great Beyond and the whole sick sense of humor bit? Yeah, I'm pretty sure that whoever's in charge out there had a great little chuckle over my empty threat. And he/she got me back later, as I stepped in a gigantic pile of dog crap in the back yard while playing soccer with the boys.

Message received. Got it.

Rogene Ann Scott (Kallemeyn): 9/21/43 to 12/15/2000

I remember thinking at some point, in the first months after she died, that someday she would be gone 10 years. I couldn't imagine that amount of time without her. Today is that day. I still have a hard time figuring out how I made it all this time without her guidance, but it's a testament to the kind of mother and friend she was that I've done OK.

Love you, Mama.

The fog lifts ...

OK, I admit it. I'm not a big fan of December or Christmas. I mean, I like so many things associated with the holidays, but there are so many more that I don't like, chief among them the proximity of the holiday to my mom's death. Try as I might, I can't get past it. Yes, I know she would want me to (she LOVED Christmas) and yes, I know I should for my kids' sakes. For the most part, I do. But there is a time each year when I am in an incredibly dark place, a place that I can't lift myself out of. I just have to endure it and wait for that day when I wake up and realize the fog has lifted. Every year I wonder if it will; because, honestly, some years, the fog just feels like a thousand pounds on my shoulders. I go through the motions, but it's like I'm swimming in molasses with all the color drained out of my life. This has been one of those years.

Yes, I probably need meds. Got it ...

So anyway, a few days ago, the fog lifted. I don't know if it's chemical, hormonal, or if it was just a function of a couple of very good friends who spent the day with me and helped make my world feel normal again ... the power of friendship cannot be underestimated. And, lucky for me, I have some amazingly good people in my life.

So, at any rate, I'm enjoying the holidays a little bit more now. And because of that, I wanted to share some photos here that have made me smile each time I look at them. And share one anecdote:

Today, when I picked Wilder up from school, he brought me a beautifully decorated card and brown paper bag. I opened it when we got home, and in it was an ornament for the tree that he had made. And yes, I guess I'm a big sap, but it brought tears to my eyes. It takes my little tree, that I keep jokingly and lovingly referring to as the Mexican hooker of the flora world, and makes it into something very, very personal and lovely. When it comes time to take the tree down, I will wrap this ornament in tissue paper and keep it safe for all Christmases to come. And I suspect that it will be one of those things that, in future years, makes me feel a little bit better about this time of year.

So here are the shots from the last week or so. Hope everyone is having more peace and joy than frantic and crazy this holiday season.

Hunter asleep with Jo-Jo, the reindeer his Arizona grandparents sent him.

He is in LOVE with this guy.

The other night, we made a secret reading/drawing/storytelling spot under Wilder's bed. He and Hunter insisted on sleeping in the same room this night. It didn't pan out, but they sure had fun for the couple hours it took us all to realize that no sleep would be happening as long as they were in the same room.

My friend Karen brought her girls (same ages as the boys) over the other day.

Can you tell they like each other?


The aforementioned ornament. On the left is Wilder in his Kwanzaa crown. And on the right he shows off his creation with a "Happy Hanukkah!" sticker on his forehead. I love that he's learning so much about different ways to celebrate this time of year.

LegoMaster

Wilder with his latest Lego creation. It's a "shooter house," and it can "kill a dinosaur."

Boys ... :-)

Wilder's turn ...

So a few weeks ago I wrote about Hunter's parent-teacher conference and how it made me so proud of him. Well, guess what? What a lucky mama I am ... because the same thing happened today with Wilder's conference.

I will start by saying that I am always a little more trepidacious when it comes to Wilder's conferences. I want to state adamantly (and especially for Future Wilder if/when he should ever read this) that this is not because he is any less wonderful or smart or good or anything than his brother. It is simply that Wilder and I have a more complicated relationship. We are different than each other (and yet in some very important ways the same), and sometimes I am at a loss as to how best to motivate him or encourage him.

That said, he is brilliant. Just brilliant. In so many ways. He's smart as a whip. His embrace for life is a constant source of amazement to me. I am constantly trying to figure out the multitude of ways in which his mind works. He builds things from nothing and proudly shows them to me, and his pride is never -- not even once -- misplaced. I already think he could grow up to be an amazing engineer, architect or sculptor. Or, really, anything he wants to be.

At any rate, maybe it's because I struggle to understand his particular brand of brilliance that I often wonder if his teachers will, too. But today I was so psyched to see that his teacher gets him. She told me things about the way my boy learns that I did not know, things that I will keep between our family because it's really not important or all that unique ... it just makes me understand him more and adds to my arsenal of mama-tools.

And she told me things I already knew: That he's an incredibly quick learner. That he's extra-empathetic for his age (this is something both my boys share and I cannot tell you how happy and proud it makes me to be raising two compassionate small people). That his exuberance for school is almost unrivaled by his peers.

And, Future Wilder, if you do ever read this, know this: You are one in a million, kiddo. We may butt heads more often than either of us would like, but I never, at the end of the day, fail to be impressed by the way you meet life head on, by your incredible and incredibly absorbent brain, and by your kindness. And, when it comes right down to it, you have made me a better mother and a better person. And I adore you, my little love.

I can't wait to see what future P/T conferences hold ...

A recipe you must try

Yesterday was Jer's birthday, so I was searching for a cake recipe and came across this one at allrecipes.com. It was highly rated. It called for boiling water, but I made it with hot coffee to enrich the flavor, and then made a simple chocolate glaze that I drizzled over the top.

For the record, if you make it, you MUST serve it with blackberry ice cream ... the flavors mesh so well together. It was fantastic!

Ingredients
2 cups hot coffee
1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup butter, softened
2 1/4 cups white sugar
4 eggs
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Directions
1.Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease 3 - 9 inch round cake pans. In medium bowl, pour boiling water over cocoa, and whisk until smooth. Let mixture cool. Sift together flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt; set aside.

2.In a large bowl, cream butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at time, then stir in vanilla. Add the flour mixture alternately with the cocoa mixture. Pour batter into a bundt cake pan.

3.Bake in preheated oven for 45-50 minutes. Allow to cool.