The bright days of spring

The bright days of spring, the spring I thought would never come, are here, and we are outside enjoying them.  My little ones are happy and healthy, my work is going well (my latest paper was accepted!), and the physical therapy is having an effect.  (It hurts like crazy,but it’s working.)  We’re spending days with friends and days outdoors.  We’re picnicing for lunch and floating sticks in the creek until dusk.  We’re making every minute count while the sun is still shining on our part of the world.

I am grateful.

Across this city, there’s another mom who’s not as lucky.  She found out today that she and her son will be having quite a different summer than me and my boys.  Today, she was diagnosed with cancer.  Thyroid cancer.  It’s not the kind that I had, and she has an incredible chance of recovery (90-plus percent after surgery and therapy!), but she is understandably devastated.  She doesn’t know what lies ahead.  She doesn’t even know what to ask for yet.  But she has some friends, and one of them, a reader of this blog since the day I was diagnosed, has asked us to help.  Jessica says:

the only thing she’s asked is that people consider supporting her business. Extraordinary time and she’s focused on making an honest living … if folks would think to buy their Mother’s Day gifts from Mary Ellen, it’d help another mom with cancer at a time when she could use the help.

As my cancer story slowly wraps up and becomes one of recovery and life LIVED, another mom’s story begins. Show her some love.

Little Boy Heaven

If the Council of Four Year Olds decided at its annual meeting (what? they talk! how else do you think they would all spontaneously arrive at the concepts for war games and rescuing bugs at the exact same age, <i>despite</i> being assiduously overprotected and/or warned since birth?) to define a universal definition of Little Boy Heaven, it might look something like this:

6:30 a.m. Wake up and jump on Mom’s head.

7:00 a.m. Eat waffles, with fresh blueberries and syrup to dip in, as a special treat

8:00 a.m. Take a ride in the car, past not one but TWO construction sites, and slow down to identify each and every truck, by name AND function.

8:20 a.m. Wave at the horses.

9:30 a.m. Take a break, and run around on the playground with Mom.  Bonus points if the toddler brothers go down the slide all by themselves, squealing with delight.

9:50 a.m. Races across the fresh-cut grass.

10:15 a.m. Meet friends at a neighborhood rummage sale.  Decide with colleagues (all four year old boys) to buy battleship game.  Then change minds in favor of chocolate cupcakes.

10:20 a.m. Smear chocolate icing on shirtsleeves (don’t forget to lick the sprinkles off the wristband).

10:40 a.m. Invite each other back “to check out mine car.”

11:15 a.m. After a thorough inspection of the Minivan of the Day, complete with automatic door testing, agree to part ways, briefly, and meet up for playdate after lunch.

12:00 p.m. Arrive home, discover men in trees, with ropes and chainsaws.  Sit on the driveway to watch.

2:00 p.m.  Realize that we’ve been sitting on the driveway and circling the garage with our bikes for several hours.  Demand snack and capri suns.

2:25 p.m. Dirt delivery.

2:30 p.m. Adjourn with friends to the back yard, to dig in the garden and fill it with even more dirt.

2:35 p.m. Pick up first worm.

2:40 p.m. Cordon off area of the garden where the baby worm was found, and put up a sign so no one disturbs it.

2:45 p.m. Abandon afternoon’s plans for impromptu wade in the creek.

3:15 p.m. Get stuck, and figure out how to get unstuck.

3:30 p.m. Allow mothers to fuss over us, and to change us from the waist down because all our clothes are wet, and it’s getting a bit chilly out here, don’t you think?

4:00 p.m. Submarine play in the Splashatorium.

4:30 p.m. Another snack.  Something sweet this time.

4:55 p.m. Battleship.

5:30 p.m. Pizza for dinner.

6:00 p.m. Wii with Daddy.

7:30 p.m. Snuggles and stories, and dreams of high adventure.

Friends, this was (yet another) perfect day.  My little boys and I were in Little Boy Heaven, and we’re happy to finally spend bright spring days together outside, digging, climbing, exploring, learning, and adventuring together.

It may not seem like much, but to me, it’s everything.

All those months sick in bed, taking poision through my veins, willingly burning my skin, and submitting to surgeries … today, they were worth it.  Today, my heart sang with the birds and laughed like a two-year-old.

I’ve been waiting for this day for so long. And now, I’ve had it not once, but two or even three times in one week.

I wonder what we will do tomorrow.

Mama, go space?

All week, Little Bear has been asking, “Mama, go space?”  If I ask him a follow up question, or don’t respond immediately (because, say, I’m already in the middle of a sentence), he follows up with, “Mama, Goddard?”

Cracks. me. up.

My two year old is asking to go to the Goddard Space Flight Center Visitor’s Center in Greenbelt, Maryland.  It’s a great little place, with lots to investigate for the older kids and a dress up area and space capsule for the younger kids.  We often go there with our playgroup, and have lunch in the rocket park afterwards.

Being able to go to so many museums, and get out of it what we need to for that day, is one of the wonderful things about living in D.C.  We are taking advantage of every minute of it.

Edited to add: You have GOT to go see Stimey’s post about the day.  She is freakin’ hilarious, and she recaps the day for all of us … and Commander Blue Bear.  The 6 moms and 8 kids (including Heather) had a fantabulous day, and the sky was just as blue as it appears in the pictures.  Truly, truly, these are the good days.

Jessica’s got a great line up of Earth Day activities today, if you’re local to the Washington, D.C. area … there’s also a special Sid the Science Kid on today, and lots of other things to do to celebrate the Earth.  What will we be doing?  Getting out into the garden again, preparing the soil, and planting our vegetables for the summer.  Mmmmm.  I’ve been looking forward to planting in the garden with both my children for more years than I’d like to say.  Oh, okay.  Forever.

Our Little Bear

from Widget this week:

Mama, I think Bear is here to make us happy.

You know what?  I think, in large part, he’s right.

Little Bear is such a bundle of pure, absolute joy.  His laughter echoes from wall to wall.  His joy is evident in every step.  When he moves from place to place, he pulls his little arms in by his side, balls up his fists, opens his mouth, and runs like the wind, laughing as he skids to a stop just before the far wall.  His eyes are bright and sparkley; his brain full of good ideas, expressed one word by one word as he can get the concepts across.  (He is, after all, only just two.)  When he wants to go somewhere, he grabs a grown-up’s hand and gently tugs you along to share his fun.  When he looks up at you, oh, when he looks up at you, the shear joy in his eyes is almost too intense to take.

And when he sees a friend or family member hurt, he immediately runs over, gently puts his arms around you, and says, “‘s okay, brudder,” or “‘s okay, mama,” willing you to feel better with his mighty little spirit.

Tonight big brother Widget put his toe in the bath too soon, and it was hot.  Little Bear put his arm around him, said “‘s okay, brudder,” and then when Widget started to do it again, Bear put his arm out in front and said, “No. hawt,” not letting him make the mistake again.

Now they’re all cuddled up in their beds, snuggled, snoring, and sleeping at last.  But I had to share this with the world, just as I have always shared my little boy with the world through this blog.  Because I think I agree with Widget on this.

Bear is here, in part, to make us happy.

Oh, what joy he brings.