Yesterday, we drove to school through a rainstorm. I went a convoluted route because I had to drop off kids at two schools instead of just one, which meant I approached the K-8 school from the east. To the west, just past the lake, was a rainbow. I had Ryley snap a few photos with my phone, which he hated. I ruined his enjoyment of the rainbow by making him into my Instagram-moment monkey. Mental note: Teenage boys who want their hands on your smartphone 99.99999999% of the time prefer sunlight refracted by water droplets in the shape of an arc.
The arrow points helpfully
Everyone else admired the rainbow sufficiently. After dropping off the kids, the little guys and I drove toward home. The rainbow lasted for a really long time, bright and thick, with brilliant delineated colors. Archie said it was following us. I agreed.
This morning was sunny and clear. The Color Kittens would say it was ‘wild with sunshine.’ Teddy chirped from his seat, “I see a rainbow!”
I looked around and asked him where he saw the rainbow.
“In the sky!” he shouted.
He must think I’m really dense, not aware rainbows are commonly found in the sky. But we also see them when light refracts through etched and beveled glass on our front door. It’s a giant prism. This happens every late afternoon late spring through early fall, dependent on the sun’s position in the sky. I’ll glance down and see a rainbow on the back of my hand or my foot. The little kids try to rake rainbows out of the carpet. They let the rainbows paint their faces. Every color exists in those patches and splotches.
When the sun sinks low and away, they’re gone.
“I see a rainbow!” I should shout from my seat. Puzzled, others might look around and ask where. On the floor, in my hair, on the wall where Archie scribbled, on my mashed potatoes, undulating over a balled-up sock, on the front of the third step in the staircase. Don’t you see it? I do, those flashes of beauty briefly intruding. I rake them up with my eyes and fold them inside.
In kindergarten, I learned this song.
The air is warm and the sky is blue,
The leaves are green-yellow because they are new!
Your feet go skipping and birds all sing,
The whole world is happy because it is Spring.
Haven’t they proven you never forget what you learned in kindergarten? This year, Spring was late. It’s now mid-May and trees are just getting buds. These pictures were all taken yesterday. Aspens and willows leaf-out first. Blossoms are just now peaking. Our plum tree that gets a lot of sun had a few blossoms several weeks ago, but now our more-shaded tree is having her turn to shine.
Treed by our dogs, who wouldn't know what to do with a squirrel even if they caught it.
More plum blossoms
The school year is winding down. When I count the days left on the calendar, I can do it on two hands with a few fingers folded down. It seems undaunting to get to the last day, until I start the math.
There are 42 juice boxes until freedom, with 41 straws because there’s always one missing, am I right? 84 slices of bread separate the school kids from sleeping in. Of course, we’ll go through more than 84 slices of bread because of toast, little guy sammiches, big mommy sammiches, and needing a place for drizzled honey to land. Between now and June 1st, just the school kids will consume close to 100 pieces of fruit. The last day will come and a new season will start.
How will I mark the days of summer break, when I have nine children with me all day, every day?
The number of:
Rolls of toilet paper
Miles put on the van
Hours of Aqua Bats Super Show watched
Ice cream scoops
Bottles of sunscreen
Blades of grass cut
Oohs and ahs over fireworks
Grilled hot dogs consumed
Slides slid down
Summer is the season when it’s easiest to count to infinity.
Number of lobelia blossoms
Taken on Mother’s Day. I love their bond.
Aidan and Beatrix
In the past week, I’ve seen three films. This is highly unusual. Usually, I see three in a year, so I guess I’ve hit my quota in one glorious swoop, fueled by popcorn gas.
The Great Gatsby (3D is a must in this case)
Star Trek Into Darkness
I recommend all of them. They’re different on the lightly scratched surface, but they share common themes and storytelling devices. Loud, brash, over-the-top heroes are forced to confront humility through sacrifice. Boldness! They are at their most bold and admirable at their weakest. The villains in the films are twisted into their forms because of pain. They destroy out of anger, heartbreak, and confusion, often used by forces beyond their understanding. Each film features characters who aren’t as they seem.
I have to say The Great Gatsby wins the Best Costume award. Best Sets, too. Maybe Best Soundtrack. Eye candy, ear candy, fast and plush and reeling—just wow. See it in 3D because 3D is actually a character in this film. The special effects are unspoken narrators, a start contrast to wooden Nick. There’s one moment in the film that is so cheesy, my brain nearly curdled. I couldn’t even look at the screen until it was over. I’m curious if friends who have seen it share the same thought. Guess what it was and I’ll raise a toast to you as fireworks launch behind me. Ahem.
This has been a busy week. I have posts up at two of my other writing gigs.
How a Mom Can Tell It’s May at Mile High Mamas. It’s about how May is the true month of Madness. The end of school signals the end of a normal looking calendar. Every square is spoken for.
Love is a Choice at A Deeper Family. I wrote about advice my husband and I got during pre-marital counseling. Our romance was rather whirlwind, or maybe our whirlwind was romance. We have a good marriage and I’m blessed, but we’ve had rough times. We will again. This is where the choice to love becomes critically important. At our most unloveable we can be most-loved.