Tragedy and The Garbage Man

Day one of our four day weekend started with markers, paper, a box, and a boy. With a day stretched before him, free of obligation, Nolan set out creatively. He designed and cut, taped and colored; worked meticulously until at last, with artwork complete, it was time to make a sign and prepare for the exchange of funds. Carefully, he stenciled, DO YOU KNOW MY PROJECT SALE IS TODAY on printer paper which he then taped to the trash can at the end of our driveway. His stash of coinage was emptied from an old plastic holder into the new blue piggy bank his dad had recently brought home from work. All projects and money were placed in a box which he had likewise meticulously prepared using markers, scissors, paper, and tape. The box was taken to the end of the driveway somewhere near the advertising garbage can, but unfortunately out of my sight and mind.

Following lunch, we spent some hours working on removing sod from what will be a new flower bed at the pinnacle of our driveway's hill. Both boys were helping me shake dirt from the roots and throw the sod into a pile. Tiny droplets of salty water formed on each of our hairlines. We kept working. Gerret tired and climbed the nearby mountain of dirt-less sod, proclaiming himself king. An hour turned to two and stretched beyond two. We kept working. Gerret de-throned himself and embarked on a grand worm hunt.

Sometime soon after, I heard the rumble of a large vehicle traveling our way and remembered just as the brakes squealed before our house that it was garbage day. Both boys turned to watch with interest and maybe a bit of fantasizing about driving something so large and pulling magnificent levers to lift and crunch. And then the garbage man picked up a box that I hadn't put out with the garbage the night before. Realization struck. An alarmed boy started to run down the hill to stop him, but only made it a few steps before it was gone. All of his money, all of his drawings, all of his morning's intent. Gone. I watched the man finish dumping the last can and stop to read a careful child's handwriting. I don't know if he understood. I don't know if he connected the words on that paper to the content of the box he had just disposed of. I'm fairly certain he was too far from us to make out the aghast expressions on all three of our faces, because I couldn't quite decipher what I'm sure was a slightly bewildered look on his. Time stood still as he read the sign and paused a moment to consider it. I wondered if he could somehow retrieve the box, but my hopes followed him around the back to the driver's side and then rumbled down the road and out of view.

Nolan just melted. His face contorted with disappointment. Pain came pouring from his eyes. My heart broke for him. I scooped him in my arms and tried my best to assure him. There's always more money and more projects to be made and I'm so sorry.

I felt helpless, but Gerret stepped up and really redeemed the situation. He seemed more distressed over it than Nolan. Compassion seeped from his heart; I could see it in his eyes. He couldn't stop hugging Nolan and expressing his condolences and inquiring Nolan's condition. Gerret followed him into the kitchen, offering his own new blue piggy bank (though empty). Even thirty minutes later, Gerret continued to be extraordinarily clingy. Time passed and healed; Nolan was onto the next thing, but Gerret was still inquiring and caring. He was truly worried.

If not for the extremely tragic circumstance, it was a very sweet experience to watch one son offer so genuinely all of his support and love to his brother and have that brother so humbly accept.

Of Weighty Concern

When her brothers were in their infancy, they were long and thin. The doctors inevitably took issue with their weight, but with little repercussion as they were developing normally and were healthy, happy babies.

Baby Ruth turned out lanky like her brothers a fact attributed to genetics; a fact of little concern until March when she suffered illness. The illness sapped her of energy and appetite. For a couple days, she reverted to a newborn regimen of sleep. Just sleep. I would wake her to feed and even then have to tickle her toes and pat her back to keep her from drifting away.

Recovery came and so did her appetite, but the sick week had taken a toll and my concern for her would not abate. She weighed in at her six month well-visit at a whopping 12.12 lbs, a net loss of a few ounces since February. With the balancing of the scale, my suspicion of her unusual slimness was confirmed and my anxiety was exacerbated. It is a woman's nature to worry and even more so a mother's. And so I worried. A lot. I worried about milk supply, sucking inadequacies, digestive issues. I increased the frequency and number of daily feedings and immediately ventured solid introductions.

After three weeks of careful observation and deliberate catering, I think we're back on track with weight gain and overall wellness (aside from her little cold this week (thanks again, kindergarten)). She is a content, energetic, curious, rolling, little baby. She may be small, but the mother heart in me says not to fret.

Family Night on Seneca's Shore

Tuesday night is Family Night at our house. The agenda includes singing, a prayer, some spiritual instruction, a treat, and an activity.

Tonight:

PTB chose our song, which started strong with three of us singing in unison, one mouthing the words on the off beat, and the fifth watching intently. It finished with just PTB and I carrying on, as per usual. The other three were otherwise engaged.

Nolan prayed for us and included in his prayer a reference to the baby trying to eat my phone, which in fact she was at that very moment. Intuitive boy, I know.

We moved seamlessly into the lesson which Gerret taught using upside-down scriptures, largely depending on his memory, and requesting a little aide from his dad. The lesson was about the life of Jesus, particularly the end of it. Gerret's teaching style is matter-of-fact and slightly comical, always.

We then drove to the Big M in Ovid (which is not big in the slightest) for a treat of fresh donuts (I'm sure at one time they were fresh), which we enjoyed on the way to Lodi Point.

Right there on the edge of Seneca we spent the remainder of the evening watching the sun set behind the opposite shore, skipping shale over the water's surface, collecting smoothed glass, interesting rocks, and delicate shells, rollicking on the playground, and just savoring time spent together.

The Chicken You Eat

I dont have much to say, but I do have this to share. Time to raise meat birds? Be vegetarian?