Don't Step on the Lilies!

"Don't step on the lilies!" Is an oft repeated refrain at my house.  I have even begun to hear my girls utter it to friends who venture too near the mounds of leafy potential.

Clearly planting a ring of lilies around their rope swing tree in the path to their treehouse was not a wise move on my part.  The ever present weeds are no help either, they tend to blur the distinction of intention.

They are a long awaited for pleasure.  It takes months for the green blade-y leaves to grow in and the tiny buds to form.  Last year as the plants were getting all covered with promising little buds my daughter, my baby--the ever loved and lovable product of my loins (and her adorable little friend), made a game of plucking all the buds off for their fairy potion. . .

Another year of waiting had to be endured for the pleasure of seeing my efforts bloom.

And even when they do finally bloom, they are lovely, but fairly short lived.  Then they spend months dying and turning yellow before going dormant for the winter.

It's rather like trying to be a mom and maintain some sense of self outside motherhood.  Carving a little  time out of my day to do something all for myself.  I work so hard to maintain it and not let the kids walk on it.  The lilies seem to be the symbol of this struggle.  Then despite my best efforts the weeds grow in, pests visit--unaffected by being unwelcome.  Other things get in the way of my symbol of selfhood.

And eventually my efforts may be rewarded, but in the end they don't have the longevity one would hope for.

Then I look past the lilies and see the giggling girls swinging on the breeze with faces lifted to the sky, or scrambling up the steps to the treehouse hand in hand while pretending to be magic fairies on some grand adventure. . .  picking the flowers from the weeds that are growing among the lilies--placing them in jars to grace their treehouse windows in a place of honor, flowers I only saw as weeds wrecking my perfect circle of lilies.

They aren't picky about who comes to play--everyone is welcome. . . even the salamanders--especially the salamanders.

. . . and suddenly I realize something, I actually did create something beautiful.

Maybe the lilies weren't my grand accomplishment after all.

Friday Family Fun Night. . .

As the end of the semester nears for me (2 weeks left and counting!) I am finding a plethora of ways to avoid writing finals.  (Though blogging has not been one of them--until today)

The week my Friday class ended (and anytime a class ends a whole month before the end of the semester a celebration is certainly called for) we instituted the Friday Family Fun Night.  And for a family that seems unable to maintain a darn thing these days, it lives on.  After the first week at the movies, the second week of bowling, the third week of give-the-girls-ten-bucks-and-hit-random-shops (like the backyard bird shop and World Market), and the fourth week of go-shopping-for-easter-dresses. . . we realized we were lacking creativity. It seems shopping and movies were easy fall backs.  So last week, while Rob was off in Chicago, the girls and I made homemade pizza, constructed a blanket fort in the family room, and---watched a movie.

THIS week we were determined to do something that didn't involve shopping or movies.  The only catch was, the weather was so good that we were tackling our yard and didn't want to lose productive time.  Soooo, we decided to make the most of Friday Family Fun Night and incorporate the girls fun into our yard work.

Enter the bane of our never-can-finish-a-thing existence, symbol of our lack of accomplishment---The TREEHOUSE:

The girls have been wanting to finish it since we started it. . . three years ago! It has been totally functional, just lacking some trim and paint--and cool things like pulleys and interior decor.

So we decided to add a planter box, a pulley system, and some hooks to hang their baskets while not in use. . .

Then we decided to add "Friends" into the Friday Family Fun night. . . and paint.

We let the lot of them loose inside the playhouse with a bucket of light blue paint and a handful of brushes. . .

Sure it was complete chaos and the kids were as blue as the walls when we finished, but I think it makes a statement!

So if you need something painted, I know a crew that just might be for hire--for the right price, of course.

A Tooth Tale . . .

Warning: The following story depicts a tale of a slightly graphic nature, proceed with caution.

The Snaggle Tooth Monster has been subdued, or defeated, or transformed, or something.  No matter how you look at it, there is no more Snaggle Tooth.

It was quite a battle, let me tell  you.

Signe had the first go at it. . .

She made a valiant effort.

Then Rob offered to take a wack at it. . .

But Signe was resistant to the idea.

Then she agreed to let him have a try. . .

But---"One minute, one minute, one minute."  was her oft repeated reply.

The battle raged back and forth, first Sig, then Rob, then---"ONE minute, one minute, ONE MINUTE!!" stopped him in his tracks.

Bribes where uttered, challenges accepted, attempts were made. . . and deflected.

Until finally. . . FINALLY (after much exhaustion and suggestions of calling off the troops) to the relief of all. . .

A trick move won the day!


Rob told Signe:  Just put your tooth in the tissue while I hold it. I won't pull.

She did, hesitantly.  Then last minute changed her mind and jerked her head back---popping the tooth (gripped in Rob's fingers) right out!

"OH!" She exclaimed in surprise.  "I didn't know. . . it didn't hurt. . . I didn't know. . ." giggle, giggle--big grin.  "It came out!  That wasn't so bad!"

And it only took a bribe of candy, or small toy, and 25 minutes of heavy battle and quick witted negotiations.

All so the Snaggle Tooth Monster could once again become a cute toothless little girl. . . who whistles when she talks.