There is a Brachoisaurus in my Shower

Abu's House (copyright Christy Hammond)

    As Abu tries to zip up her backpack this morning, she grins; a mischievous look I haven't seen in weeks; and says, "I have too much useless stuff in here, Mom. It won't zip up."
     I frown, peering at her backpack. "Isn't it full of your homework from last night?"
    Her grin widens. "Exactly. Useless stuff."
    She waits for me to laugh at her joke, her expression barely shifting away from her humor, but it's there, a slight crease in the smile as she waits anxiously for me to respond.
   I chuckle, because it is funny, especially if you look at it from a kids' point of view and not as a parent. How many of us have briefcases full of necessary 'useless stuff'?
 
   Her expression relaxes and she finishes zipping up her backpack; her mood light and cheery. Score a point for Mom this morning.
    I grew up as the bossy first child who knew (knows) everything. :-) I wasn't the middle child and I certainty wasn't the baby of the family. I was so opinionated about things, that I didn't even believe that there was positions of childhood.
   Until Baby Blueberry came along. And Abu slipped into the role of middle child like it had been hers for the taking since she was little.
   But I'm not going to talk about how difficult that place has been for her; not today anyway. I'm just going to simply share the wonders of Abu. So one day, when she's old enough, and she comes across the crazy, zombie filled ramblings of her blogger Mom, she will finally realize what I see in her.

   Abu came into this world like lightening. And that is what I tell her. Out of all my labors, hers was by far the easiest and quickest. Six hours of light pushing and laughing, anxiously awaiting baby. Forty minutes of hard labor and there she was. Adorable, cute, and with such a petite nose.
    The next day we took her home, where an excited Bean was so overjoyed to have a baby sister. And over the next two years, while Abu grew into toddlerhood; I spent a lot of time chasing after Bean and Abu and cleaning up after all their antics.
  Bean was the instigator. But Abu wasn't innocent. She would quietly watch, and laugh, and clap her hands, loving every idea Bean came up with and happily joining in the trouble.
  
    One time when Bean was four and Abu was two, they decided to decorate the couch. And not just a little bit of it, the entire back seat of it. Eight long, irresistible feet of white floral fabric apparently just asking for more color.  Hero Hottie and I walk into the living room to find them standing on the couch, fiercely scribbling away as quickly as their little pudgy arms would go. The entire length was 'decorated' with blue and RED crayon. They grinned at us and showed us their Artwork. Two chubby face smiles, dimples in their cheeks and joy in their eyes.

  Abu, being only two and discovering the joy of crayons and color decided to do more decorating around the house on her own. We had just moved into our house and finished hanging up all the picture frames. One day, there is a drawing underneath one of the them.
     In black crayon.
      Bean insisted that she didn't do it. But Abu won't confess either. The next day, again another drawing underneath another picture.
   Bean is my main suspect because she's four and usually tries to find trouble when I'm not looking.
But she's still insisting it's not her.
  A few more days, this goes on, which is difficult to believe because I don't hardly ever leave them alone in the room, just while moving between rooms and cleaning. But there are scribbles under nearly every picture in the house and still I can't find the black crayon.
   Or the culprit.
   Then one day, I leave the room and wait a few minutes. Quietly, I sneak back into the living room, and there she is...
    Abu, black crayon in hand, underneath a picture, adding her own art to the walls.

    Abu of a thousand expressions, always making faces for my camera. Always passing out smiles to those who have lost there's.

   When Abu was five she had her first loose tooth. And the joy she found in that one simple event is the spirit of her and something I hope is never destroyed or tainted.

   But one day, while she was eating breakfast, or at least attempting to, she stops, frowns and says to me, “There’s something wrong with my tooth. It hurts.” At first I thought that her chipped tooth had worn down enough to cause her pain.

            “Open up.” I said and started looking at teeth. I wiggled one of the front ones. Nothing. Then I wiggled the one next to it and it wiggled. Just a bit, but enough.

            I grinned. “You have a loose tooth.” 

            She grins back, “I do?”

            I nodded and watched her grin grow. “I have a loose tooth.” She says and feels it with her finger and her tongue.

            “This is such a happy day for me.” She says. “I’m having a happy day.”

            And she whirls around the living room, smiling and talking about her tooth.

    

    The other day I go to take a shower and there is a solid plastic, eighteen inch brachoisaurus in my shower. I'm not sure what the creature was waiting for. All his other dinosaur buddies were on the other side of the tub, taking up valuable floor space in our tiny bathroom. But there he was, as if patiently waiting for another bath time. 

   Abu is slowly outgrowing play time with toys. Less and less, she spends time with toys, and so for many years, I cleaned up toys, straightened toys, put away toys, yelled at children to put away toys and then one day, the house was not being taken over by Barbies, dinosaurs, and Polly Pockets. 

    I grinned at the dinosaur in my shower and was glad to see him there. Just a small reminder that Abu isn't totally grown yet and I have time to enjoy her childhood. 

   She drew me a picture of our house. A house that I feel is too small sometimes, or missing character, or isn't quite my dream house. 

   But when I look at that picture...I see something immensely wonderful. I see how the pine tree out front is given a bit of the spotlight, because she has spent hours playing under its branches. I see the light colored door ready for its family to arrive home. I notice the furniture inside where we have dinners together. The hose container out front, which holds the hose that we play with in the summer. 

    I see an inviting house. 

    A house full of love and spirit. And it warms my heart.

    And that's what Abu, if she should ever read this, needs to remember. Part of that house full of love and spirit comes from her. 

   Wonderful, joyful Abu.

  

Monday Morning Blues

   So I'm sitting here, typing words on a screen, drinking coffee, and watching the soft breathing of Baby Blueberry as she snoozes on the couch next to me. Neither one of us feel all that great and I had to drag Bean and Abu to school, pretty much kicking and screaming.
   I have a hundred and one worries swirling around in my head, demanding escape but I don't know where to put them. I wish I could put them out with the trash. Sweep them under the rug. Or as my kids love to do with their toys, push them under the couch.
   I breathe. One breath, release. Two breaths, release again.
   Damn, that's not working.
 
   I would go jogging but Baby Blueberry isn't quite ready for the jogging stroller. And plus our chilly winter weather is too cold for her delicate baby skin. I'm nearly jumping out of my own skin for it to be spring again. Sometimes I wish I lived back in Oregon, where I could take the girls to the ocean and play in the sand. Where the temperature didn't drop into the minus and I didn't have to warm up the car for twenty minutes before I could drive it. Gardening is so much easier too. Dig the ground up, throw the seeds willy nilly and nature will take care of the rest.

  Gardening where I live now, has been a learning experience. Coaxing fearful seeds to grow and then watching the heat of the summer; scorch their leaves. Or a lack of moisture shrivel up your row of seedlings. Or hoards of grasshoppers to devour your harvest.
   Everything in Oregon is green. The ground, the tree canopy, the rocks, sometimes your walls since mold is a problem.
   Here I experience browns, and golds, greens in the spring, and blue. Brilliant blue for the sky, that hardly holds a overcast day.
   I enjoy the rain when it comes. Letting it wash over me, down my cheeks, through my fingers and if puddles should happen to form, and there isn't any lightening, than its time to let Bean and Abu jump until they're soaked.
 
   I went to church yesterday. Hero Hottie and I finally found one we feel comfortable attending. The sermon was basically about the masks we hide behind.
   "It's like having a messy house but not wanting people to see that. So we spend three hours cleaning before guests come over."
   Bean started snickering at me.
   Guilty.
   Because I know the way I want it to look...and I wish it appeared that way all the time. But life happens and before I know it I have dishes in the sink, loads of laundry that need folded and the living room needs dusted again. 
   It's usually happy chaos though. So I shouldn't give myself such a mental scolding when it's not perfect. When the mask isn't in place if someone drops by unexpectedly. Because I would rather entertain a friend anytime than only have them over when it's perfectly clean.

  I think my mood has to do with that sermon. Thank you Pastor. I wasn't planning on having to think, or change, or challenge myself by attending church. I was just trying to find my spiritual path.
  So what masks do I hide behind? Plenty. But I think the one that is eating at me, is my fear of failure. In school, as long as I was achieving straight A's, than I wasn't failing. Life was good.
   College was the same way.

   Then I hit real life. Full on, with no gold stars in sight. No extra recesses for good behavior.
   No report card to tally my success.
   No mask to hide behind.

   But here I am, ready to step out on the ledge and succeed at something that's for me. Not working for my Mom's business, not babysitting my nieces. Not helping Hero Hottie with his schooling, and art and such things.

   No, I need to take off my mask that hides my fear of failing and tell the world that this next thing I'm doing is for me. Is all me. There is no one and nothing to hide behind.
  
   This has been in the works for a year now. But I was too afraid to proclaim it until now. Even with all the little nudges that God has been giving me, trying to kick me in the butt and get me to overcome my fears, until the sermon yesterday I was still afraid.
  Heck, I'm still afraid. I don't want to fail. I don't want to do the wrong thing. So my doubts our still huge, even if no one can see them behind my mask.

  And my fear is caught in my throat.

  But I'm excited. I LOVE books. I LOVE words. And this is the perfect fit for me.
  I'm starting an indie e publishing company. Yay!!

   I will start with a romantic series set in the fictional town of Rocky View, Colorado. Because I love romance. Good romance. With a good story. And a little adventure.

  I will work on getting my fantasy book, Keraynn, up. Probably towards the end of the year or beginning of next year.
   But I'm also going to work on children's books. Bright, and colorful books about nature and gardening and all things outside. God's world.

  From there I'm not sure. I have to concentrate on the beginning of the story before I can worry about where to go next.
  But it's going to be a challenge, and it's going to be wonderful. And now that I've made it public, I can't hide behind my mask of self doubts and fear any more.

   So I'm putting all those negative thoughts in the trash...where they belong.