Chris: "Where are the kids?"
Kimmy: "In the garden catching fireflies as they should be."

Moments later I walk out onto the deck and see three children in a huddle.
They are catching fireflies and putting them in a white teacup. After catching the bug, they name it and let it go.

Crux:  "I caught one. I caught one! What's his name?"
Jacob: " Prince Caspian!"
Crux: "Ane, what this one's name?" He shouts with urgency.
Ane: "Teleffi!!"
Crux: "Teleffi? Okay, bye bye Teleffi." 

They run around the yard with tinkertoy wands catching, tea cupping, naming and releasing fireflies.
Their play is urgent, serious and joy centered.

"I named one daffodil and let it go," I hear my boy say.

Little snap shots. Big living.
I don't think I could be much happier right now. 

photo: Kimmy Certa, Butterfly Fairy. 2008 

I had a few hours yesterday that were unpleasant, which isn't really a big deal in the scheme of my life. I was plum tuckered out from working with not enough sleep. I took a new job that I like heaps better and is closer to home but I just didn't get enough sleep : plain and simple.
Not a good time to engage in self reflection. Not a fun time to be a mama.

But my tired out self got cranky with the kids because all I wanted to do was nap and all they wanted was to spend time with me because they missed me. With each blink my eyelids struggled to regain the upward position.

My tired out self yelled, "Leave. Me. Alone," and slammed the bedroom door. She (that would be me) then wept into her pillow wondering what the hell she was doing with her life.  Still working in a coffeehouse. No pension. No savings. Nearly 40. No Master's degree. No "career." No "plan." No dental coverage and a tenuous budget.

Indulgent. I know.

Sleepy self continued along those lines for a bit until she remembered a woman named Goreth with no job and a heart full of love in Rwanda and the homeless person with sunburned cheeks and smiling eyes who came into the coffeehouse; bought a cappuccino and asked for 2 olives and then pushed her cart away in search of shelter. Sleepy self said, "Enough," and came back to her senses.

It is a constant discussion I have with myself. The one where I tell myself to forget all the "supposed tos" and "should haves." They are useless exercises. 

"Where am I going?"

"I am right here and glad of it!" 

*photo: Kimmy Certa, Digital Sunset. 

I'm posting this today because I know we will be too busy celebrating all day tomorrow. Tomorrow marks the day that our dear Ane turns four. She entered this world on her due date. She entered this world without pain (at least on my part) and she came in hurry. All in all, I labored less than an hour and half, which is why she was born on the bathroom floor of our wee bungalow before our midwife arrived. Chris and I experienced one of the most profound moments of our relationship on that bathroom floor. After realizing that I did not have to go #2, I called to him that he needed to come catch the baby. Seated upon the throne I grabbed his waist while a wave of contractions took over my body. I could hear Chris breathing erratically. I briefly wondered if he was OK. Then I threw myself on all fours. Chris was behind me. Suddenly her head emerged with no conscious effort on my part. I asked Chris what he saw and he managed to semi sob, "She's. Looking. At. Me." We waited. I tried to push a little and it burned. I told Chris that I wasn't going to push. Our midwife, Nancy, and I had I talked about some of the forceful pushing I did during our son's birth. So we waited. Her head was born. Chris was watching her. It seemed like a long time and then my body pushed her into the world and into Chris' arms. I rolled over, lifting my leg over Chris, baby and umbilicus and said, "Where's my baby?"

Chris heard brakes and stumbled to the front porch where our midwife stood at the front gate. She reported that when she saw Chris with  enormous pupils, a soggy sock and smeared with blood, she wasn't sure what to think. Chris told her we were in the house and turned around and walked right back in the house; leaving Nancy at the gate with all of her bags and equipment. Nancy was able to locate Ane and I by my laughter. She found us on the bathroom floor, me sucking on my new offsprings nose. A few of my neighbors also peeked in the bathroom . Nancy helped me up and I walked me down our hallway to the bedroom where birthed the placenta and got in bed with Chris and our daughter. It was purely ecstatic! Chris and I were truly high for days afterward. I felt like a goddess.

Nancy bathed me in herbs. Her energy made the whole day feel like a sacred party. The sun was bright. It was a perfect spring day. She called our baby a stargazer because she came into the world looking up toward the heavens.

Children are truly magical beings.

Anwen's birth also falls on the same day (three years later) that I was diagnosed with stage lll colon cancer but that day's meaning was forever changed by our dear magical daughter.

Happy Birthday Sweet Pea.

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Also, because I'm a big advocate of women and our choice to give birth without a cascade of interventions check out The Business of Being Born. Remember, birth is an emergence, not an emergency.  

We spent our Sunday talking about fertility symbols, what Easter is all about for Christians, eating chocolate eggs, and painting the front porch. I turned over a bed for my cilantro and and peas and sowed alyssum and snapdragon seeds. I gathered the hair from our brushes and put it out for the birds, rehung the purple birdhouse our son made and yelped quite loudly when I dug up a sleeping baby brown snake. The small people spent the day giggling and playing in that harmonious state of imaginary play that makes mamas and papas smile at each other with deep satisfaction. It was a great day.

Yep, life is clipping along and it feels good. We haven't spotted Percy the groundhog yet but I continue to fret over what to do about the voracious  rodent and her offspring. Last year, most of gardening endeavors were digested by Percy and the bunnies. The wild turkeys haven't appeared yet. I forgot to write down when we first saw mama turkey and babies last year. I won't forget this year!

This year, I am trying to be more tolerant of the wild black berries that took up residence in the middle of my herb garden. That area will hence forward be known as THE blackberry patch. Actually, we have two. One on either side of the house. They have also decided to intermingle with the grapevines that adorn  great lengths of our chain link fence.  I will tolerate the prickly canes for the sake of purple stained fingers and because the turkeys love them so.

Last week my son asked me why spring is the shortest season. I explained to him that all of the seasons are of equal length but he didn't believe me and neither did I. 

Perhaps it is because spring is fraught with anticipation, smells, hopes, dreams, life, color, dirty hands and warm shoulders and it is all just too intense to last any longer than it does.

I'm on day three of my moonblood cycle. And yes, I actually talk like that in real life. Ask anyone  who knows me:) This is always the day when I feel utterly drained. My feet are cold. I'm still in my pajamas and I've sent the kids to watch Peter Pan in our bedroom so I can crank up the music and mess with photos and blog. A little Radiohead, a dab of Low, some Ralph Stanley & Gillian Welch, Benevento and Russo Duo (who we will be seeing March 5th in Richmond) creates an interesting mood on this cold and wet day.

Ya know,when I write, I don't always know what is going to come out. Sometimes I go back and read what I've written and it doesn't even sound like me. Of course, its hard to know what you sound like.

I've started two entries to day. One I deleted and the other I'll save for another time. THIS one though , I decided, should be positive. 

POSITIVITY is my new challenge. I've conquered the tobacco, I'm succeeding in taking care of my body and now I need to care for my soul. 

"Can you please ask your brother (or sister) that in a more positive way?"

"Um, Kimmy, can you try and approach this upcoming event with love and high expectations?"

"Boychild, can you rephrase that in a more caring tone?"

The answer is "Yes, yes we can."

Can we start making it our habit?  

"We will give it our all. "

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So this month has been filled with moments of bliss. We spent time with friends who moved to Flagstaff 2 years ago. There was a magical time when our lives were all intermingled. Our lives were changed when they left but it is comforting to know that they are very happy out there in the West. We tried to spend every moment we could with them. Crux was best friends with their son and it was heartwarming to see that they still enjoyed each other's company.

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Another highlight of our lives lately has been the wee potluck circle that has developed between us and 2 other families. Not only has my food rut disappeared thanks to the amazing food Debbie and Nancy delight me with but it has also inspired me to explore the amazing healing properties of communal eating. Food sustains us and , I believe, has the ability to heal our bodies and our communities. I wonder if our Neighborhood Resource Center would host a monthly neighborhood potluck?....

With Debbie's permission, I will post her recipe for the delectable and incomparable AMBROSIA !!

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Bliss. You know what bliss is? Moon Journaling is bliss. I bought a wonderful book about 2 years ago called: Moon Journaling: Writing, Art and Inquiry through Focused Nature Study by Chancer & Rester-Zodrow. I've been waiting for an opportunity to do it with my kids and thought February would be a good time. I then volunteered to do it with one of our co-ops and I've been leading this project (along with the fantastic Debbie) for a few weeks now. We have 12 children ranging from 5 to 8. Debbie and I are also journaling along with the children. We plan on continuing through March and I feel we could do this for at least two more months!! I highly recommend the book. The opportunities to explore art, math, science, astronomy, poetry, seems endless.

To top it all off, we were able to view a full lunar eclipse. I roused our boychild from sleep, dressed him, wrapped him in a blanket and dragged him outside to catch sight of the moon being eclipsed by the earth's shadow. I eagerly tracked an arctic front all day and predicted it would clear in time for the viewing. Indeed, the clouds lifted in the nick of time. Occasionally, a few would race by obscuring our view but they were fast moving and we were not disappointed. At the peak of the eclipse the moon appeared to be a light brownish orange color. I called it the Hazel Moon.

I have two pictures from the night before my camera battery called it quits. 

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Bliss moment:

I spent two night and three days with Five women from one of our homeschool learning co-ops. We dearly missed the other half of our contingent but made the best of it with wine, pedicures, dining out, a hike, a trip to Trader Joe's and endless storytelling, processing and sharing!

It was an unforgettable and much needed respite from everyday life.

Thank you to all of the people in my life who are there to share the bliss along with the trials.