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Back to the Future

Saturday, September 17, 2011

I've had some people hint at me recently that they would like to see something new on this page a little more often.

While my intentions are all towards blogging 3-5 times a week, the reality is that by the end of my day, it has usually dropped right off my priority list. We'll see if I can pick up the pace again in a few more weeks once we have all the "extremely-urgent" items off of our "to-do" list.

But I'm not making any promises...


Despite the frost we had several nights earlier in the week (or maybe because of it), I managed to get all my potatoes and onions in by Wednesday. There is still a good chunk of garden to come in, but between school planning and the sun going down so darn early (what's with this "dark at 8:30" thing?! :-D), I am running behind on a few things. Our addition only has one coat of paint on it, still... and in a way I was glad that I was stalled at that point when we got to "discover" some leaks yesterday, thanks to a day of steady, slow rain. Now we get to figure out where the sources of those are before finishing the inside.

Jason almost got our fuel tank for the diesel furnace in place before dark on Thursday... but not quite. Yesterday, the rain made working outside unfavourable, so I expect we may now not have heat until Monday. It won't be a minute too early, either! Some mornings this week, I have really had to "psych myself up" to extend my bare toes from beneath warm, fluffy blankets to frigid morning air!


Both Jabin and Noah have said some things this week that tickled me to the funny bone. Of course, I don't remember what they are now...

Okay, I remember one. On Monday, Jabin was helping me pick rosehips to make jelly.

"Could we have rosehip jelly for a snack sometime, Mom?" he asked, clambering over some rocks to reach some berries that were higher on the bush.

"Well, yes, on our toast and butter," I replied, gingerly reaching my hand through a gap in some thorny branches toward a succulent-looking red hip.

"Not by itself?"

After several turns around this conversation, it occurred to me what he was talking about.

"I'm not making Jell-O, I'm making jelly," I clarified.

"What's jelly?" he asked.

"It's like jam, only without the pieces of fruit," I replied. "'Jell-O' is that jiggly stuff that is really bright, weird colours."

"Oh." After a few more moments, "It would be cool if my name were 'Jell-O'," he said.

Giggling, I asked, "Why's that?"

"Because I love Jello so much," he said, then went on with his picking.

Oh. "I guess we didn't think of that when you were born," I replied. Gotta love kid logic.

Yesterday, Jabin used the word "struggling" a handful of times, in context. It caught me by surprise at first. How many near-six-year-olds use words like "struggling?"

"Mommy, I am struggling with this one. My '2' doesn't look right," he calmly said to me, pointing at the question in his math book so I could help him out. He used the word several more times in the next twenty minutes.

Later, at supper, when I said to Jason, "Jabin's 'Word-of-the-Day' was 'struggling,'" Jabin added, "Yeah, I was struggling with math."


It really struck me last night how grown-up all my boys seem. Only a few short years ago, Jude was bringing our family into the new chapter of "school age" by being in grade one, Noah was a mystery we hadn't read very many pages of, and Jabin made you want to squish him into a hundred little pieces of love just by being alive.

Now, Jabin is running around using words like "struggling", "supposedly", and making astute observations every day. The "baby" is gone from his face, leaving behind a little boy with hairy legs (which he gets from his dad!) who thinks he can boss around his big brothers. Jude is only a couple of years from "pre-teen", and Noah is becoming more responsible all the time.

Reading through some of those older posts, it struck me that I used to be much more clever. I guess that's the benefit of posting more often--you think of better things to say. Or better ways to say the things you were going to say anyway.

From the archives, here is a few-paragraph blurb that gave me a giggle. I hope it does for you, too:

From August 10, 2008 (my 31st birthday):

"What is this thing?" Logan asked, looking at me. The "thing" in question was a small but surprisingly heavy shiny metal rod that had been shaped into a triangle, and was suspended by a brightly-coloured nylon cord attached to a very small, rounded, red wooden handle. My brother kept swinging it around by the cord. "Is it an actual musical instrument, or a weapon?"

"Both," I replied. "It's a child-sized triangle. I don't know where the stick is for it." A twinkle popped into my eye. "But musical instruments often double as weapons, you know. That's why you would always see the Mafia walking around with violin cases."

"Uh, Talena, those had guns in them," my Dad said, but I refused to be deceived.

"No, just violins," I replied nonchalantly.

"What, 'If you don't talk, I'm going to play my violin at you?!'" he teased, imitating a maddened Mafia henchman with evil intent about to play something dark and Russian.

"Well, you know, some of them were saxophones," Logan chimed in.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah. That's why they had so much sax and violins."

Disclaimer to the members of my family who may feel like correcting me on any part of the above conversation: While some of the exact wording may have been changed, the purpose of the conversation remains the same. This is how I remember it--and conversations around a breakfast table do not always translate well verbatim to the written word. End of disclaimer.

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