Sprinkled

Summer is here. We are two days passed the solstice, the days are longer, and there is the promise of sun. It is sprinkler season. There is no joy like running through water, barefoot on the grass, toes squishing. Bathing suits are optional, but the feet must be bare. The day can be hot, or just lukewarm; so long as the water is colder than the weather the feet will run and the grin will shine.

E is a champion sprinkler runner. He likes to keep to the edges, just teasing, barely getting wet, then turn about and dive headlong into the spray. He is courageous. Eyes squint and cheeks gleam. Body is in constant motion. Laughter and the hiss of the water fill the air, the soundtrack of summer.

He is in his element and the Js are in theirs, reliving the memories of their own slippery summer escapades. All the best fun is to be had with water when the days are long and the grass is not yet burnt and spiky. Three cheers for the humble sprinkler and all the pleasure it brings!

Sympathy please

Nobody likes to be sick. Grown men have been reduced to snivveling toddlers. Even mommies will call for their mommies. But there is nothing worse than seeing a little guy suffering through the coughs and the fevers and the queasy tummies and the dreadful upheaval of last night's supper. 

Poor E. It came on so quick. One night he was racing the halls, playing in the tub, a little hoarse in the throat maybe, but still -- the next minute he's up with a burning forehead and a coal miner's cough and his little body heaving and heaving. Poor lamb. 

He slept all through the next day. When his daddy took the picture above, E perked up and said, "You should take a picture of me throwing up." Only a three-year-old boy would want to keep that memory. 

 

 J's mother always used to tell her to "feed a fever" and so J ensured that her patient got a healthy breakfast when he was up to eating solids.


Cheerios. Breakfast of champions.

And E needed all the cheering he could.

But with a little encouragement from the engine that could...

our boy fueled up and was good to go.


Two weeks later, going on three, he still has the cough. He still wakes up with his eyelashes crusted together. He's getting better at covering his mouth and remembering to ask for a tissue instead of wiping his nose on his sleeve. At least he's sleeping through the night again, so long as he gets to lie next to mom.

Why Daddies are Great

Daddies are great. Especially this one.

This daddy will stay up late making you a lunch so you can sleep in just a little longer. He'll even cut the crusts off your sandwiches, just the way you like them.

This daddy will let you watch cartoons on his iPad while he makes you breakfast, oatmeal with blueberries. He'll let you put on the cinnamon, as much as you like, and give you milk to drink even when you forget to say please.

This daddy will take you to the park and play fantastic made-up games, like Troll and Goon. He will carry you on his shoulders when you're too tired to walk on your own. At home, he will play hours of trains with you, doing all the right voices, and he won't protest if all you want to do is make big pile-ups and derailments.

This daddy will teach you jokes like this one:

Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?

Because he was dead!

And he'll still laugh even when he's heard it a hundred thousand times.

This daddy will read to you, night after night, all your favourite stories, even if he really thinks the stories are lame. He will whisper softly in your ear until you fall asleep, but should you wake in the night he will come to you. He will lie down and whisper to you until you're asleep again.

This daddy shows you he loves you, in everything he does, and he remembers to say it too. Especially when there's been anger, or sadness, or tears.

This is our daddy-man. How lucky beyond lucky are we.

Gratitude

Two weekends ago, J and E spent a sunny afternoon at the Moloney-Reber hobby farm out in Sooke. There were new baby ducklings and E got to hold one of them. He was so enchanted that he didn't want to let the duckling go. J was so so enchanted that he took this photo of the moment.

Little hands holding a little feathered body. Little hearts beating with the excitement of something new.

J wasn't there to see this moment in the making -- she was, as she often is these days, at work. But she is grateful to the Aunt and Uncle who invited her boys to share a day at the farm. She is grateful that J took his camera so that she might have this photo now to share with you.

She is learning to remember to be grateful. It's easy to feel tired, cut off, left out and overwhelmed. It's easy to feel that she's taken on too much, given back too little. That she's doing things wrong. That things are falling apart.

Remembering to be grateful is an act of self-preservation. It is a way to shoulder weariness without succumbing to the weight. It is uplifting when a lift is most needed.

J can sit here now feeling great and full, although she is away, for soon she will be home and the night will be warm and light. There is so much to be grateful for.

B is for...

big and beautiful,

belly in bloom

barefoot, brimming and beaming, bouyant,

bliss

B is big brother

(or better yet, baby sister)

a new beginning,

beginning again,

going back to the buggy days,

broken sleep, bleary nights, blue mornings

bawling

B is about balance,

being present, remembering to

breathe

B is a bodacious, busty, body

(however brief)

B is a bellyful of baby

Photograph-E

Self-portrait, Age 3

 Among E's growing interests and burgeoning talents is a love of photography. Here are some of his more unique shots.

Naked-neck chickens

Abstract self-portrait: Shoes

Bathing duck, at the Moloney-Reiber Farm

Shadows of Father and Son

Post-work Mama

Daddy-man

Cutting board close-up

Snackbowl

Prints available upon request. Hey, if Aelita Andre can be called a professional abstract artist, then surely E can too.

Mr.E

E is growing. He is becoming more boy than baby. He runs (look how fast) and leaps and rolls and dances. He paints with fingers, brushes and toes. He eats (he loves) his vitamins and will feed you yours. He is quite the conversationalist. He is not one to mince his words. He plays Scrabble (but watch him, he cheats) and Uno and knows all the letters of the alphabet and how to recognize the word CONGRATULATIONS! when it appears on the screen after he wins. He knows how to navigate an iPad better than his parents and his favourite Youtube shows are Thomas the Tank Engine (he likes the one where Thomas gets covered in paint) and an animated short entitled Kiwi. Look it up.

E will be attending pre-school soon. The Js were invited to a new parents information session a few evenings ago. They brought their boy, not sure if the meeting was for families or not. Turns out it was really more for adults. J stayed while the boys played in the yard, took a trip to the coffee shop and book store, then returned to collect her. She was still in the meeting. The ECE (Early Childhood Educator) was giving  a demonstration on the ways toddlers learn. J and E crashed the meeting, to the delight of every parent in the room. "This meeting might be boring for you", his daddy cautioned and tried to lead him home, but E climbed up on his mommy's lap and participated gleefully in the brainstorming session on things you can do with an apple. His voice was the clearest in the room. (You could eat it, you could hack it, you could throw it...) He turned to his dad and said, "I'm not finding this boring at all. I like meetings. You were wrong!"

They'll be inviting him back to chair the next meeting no doubt.

E stayed until the apple brainstorming was over, then promptly announced it was time for him to leave. He waved to the circle of adults and cheerfully called, "Bye class!"

Must be a teacher's son.

Five Years

for J

in the
beginning we
hid ourselves in a tent
joined like paper dolls we lay
touching

and then
our second year
brought him -- could we have known
how incomplete we were without
this child?

three years
in, still growing
little white shoots pushing
upward, ever hopeful, toward
the sun

our fourth
bound us like a
leather belt -- held us up
snugly, without fear of slipping
under

five years
and we have built
a house -- each year before
a sturdy wall, a roof above
our heads

May Days

May is a busy month for the Rioux Famille. First, there is the glorious quasi-holiday of Mother's Day. This year, E made his mommy a card using his very own paints. There was some guidance with the lettering (thanks J) but the words "Happy Mother's Day" were clearly there. J surprised his baby mama with a night of sushi and cinema. They watched Jane Eyre. It was brooding and romantic and deeply compelling. A love story with a brain.

Then there was J's 30th birthday. A big number deserves a good celebration and so the Js took themselves (sans E -- thanks Gran and Grandpa) out to dinner at a swanky 5-star restaurant called The Chalet. The view was superb, the service was with style, and the company was beyond compare. The bill was expectedly high (5 stars has its price) but how often do you turn 30? Right? Js parents sent thoughtful gifts -- a 1981 Rush record that his mom and dad listened to the year he was born and an engraved IPad that effectively launched the Js into the 21st-century. Right now, E is showing them how to use it. Both presents (and parents) are awesome.

The last weekend of the month brought yet another celebration, the Js' fifth wedding anniversary. The Js escaped to a Bed and Breakfast retreat on Galiano Island. Once again, the grandparents pulled a heroic move and took E for the whole weekend. Since the fifth year is traditionally celebrated with gifts of wood, the edenic forests of Galiano were the perfect setting. The Js exchanged gifts -- a wooden birdhouse, a few rough poems, and (perhaps most exciting) enrollment in a collage art class for the month of July. They already know what you're thinking -- the grandparents will yet again be called upon to watch the boy while his parents spend an evening with their glue-sticks and art cards. At this rate, the Js should be giving them gifts.

 Their room was a haven, a nest, for two restful nights. In the morning they breakfasted on fresh fruit and savory breads, scrambled eggs with garden herbs and our preference of tea or coffee. The view looked out on Morning Beach and their hosts were avid birdwatchers. They'd arranged a variety of feeders to attract the local feathers and the show was delightful. Purple finches, black-capped chickadees, red-breasted nuthatches. The Js were in their element. They followed the recommendations of their hosts and visited an old graveyard overlooking the water and admired some unique memorials.

They hiked Bodega Ridge, dangled their legs from Lovers' Leap and held their breath counting flights of golden eagles below them. They overheard the call of a barred owl and caught a glimpse of her in the treetops.  After a month as good as this, June will be a tough act to follow.