helping the kids

I've told you about the village school.

 How it cemented my resolve to move here (I mean, come on! A tiny little school still running? Still open? Still happily and joyfully used?) I came from a land of BIG schools, of being one of four third grades, of never really having an identity in a large class. I looked at the schoolhouse and fell in love.

Here, there is instant recognition and a continuity of place. Here, the children are taught traditions and new technology - both roots and wings - while learning everything they need to excel in whatever they decide to do. Here, there is always love.

But here there isn't always money. Our beautiful and perpetually sunny breakfast program lady- the one that gives our children healthy, fresh choices to start their days with - entered a contest run by a local insurance company. Winning this could give our school a $500.00 cushion for morning bellies - and 500 dollars buys a lot of yogurt and cheerios, scrambled eggs and fresh fruit.

It's easy to enter. All you have to do is follow this link and like the picture.

That's it.

the link is here: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=360622940657050&set=a.354415057944505.99387.214517711934241&type=1&theater

Thank you so, so much.

it's going to be a long night

Up with a suddenly-sick Roo and remembering when she was small. Heck, I even put on an Disney film (I think it's Disney - the one with the cows that save their farm?) and curled her up on the sofa, just like when she was an eence. Fed her some ibuprofen and some ice cream, small sips of lime soda (okay, I was out of ginger ale) and patted her hair until she drowsed. She looks so little when she sleeps.

Today was a great day. Browsed a local 'old nice stuff' shop, had a lovely lunch with a friend, played with the kids outside. It was a great way to finish up a year

In the morning, I turn forty-one. I can't wait.
Well, not so much the age, because that doesn't seem to matter so much now that it's not really a landmark year, but for all the great stuff that I think - no, I'm sure - is going to happen over the next year.

I'm actually pretty excited. Now, if I could just get my daughter not-sick and off the couch....

the girl in the pink shirt and the pink and yellow cap

THIS girl. Is growing up way too fast. 

I need bigger bricks.

traffic stop

I took the curve in front of the grocery too fast.

My mind was elsewhere, full of the daily hubbub, the usual go-here-go-there-are-we-getting-low-on-that that runs as background most busy days.

So I pulled out too fast. And stared, incredulously, as a telephone pole (was that there before?) was suddenly in my way, filling my vision.

I swallowed hard, feeling the echo of what-could-have-been deep in my chest, the THUD, the disjointedness of the moment, the sudden silence. Air bags? A screech of brakes? WHUMP and a disjointed did-I-do-that?-shit-I-did-that and an overwhelming desire to turn the clock back just a few minutes. The sheepishness of the crumpled car.

It seems the body does remember  - I've been in one car crash, and it was 24 (twenty-four???) years ago. This was visceral, deep and automatic.

Swallowing hard, I took my foot off the gas, and turned neatly past the pole.


I will never pull out of the grocery parking lot so quickly again.

lunch lady

Today is my day to fix lunch at the school.

 Peeling, chopping (because our kids get the freshest and the healthiest, and that involves prep) stirring. Soon I'll start laying out the plates. 23 today (I need to double check that, actually) but I'm spellbound by the view out of the kitchen windows.

 The playground is momentarily quiet, the grassy fields just beginning to hint at restless spring green, and waiting for soccer balls and chasing games through the nearby woods. The hum of lessons seeps through the corridor - a delighted cheer, a piping far away 'You got it! Now try the next one.' The secretary laughs in her office down the hall and there's someone in the bathroom taking a very long time to wash their hands.

 This school means everything to this place, and to these kids.

 How could anyone say that this place - this joyful, encouraging place - isn't worth keeping and isn't the best thing for our children? This is their home, their base, their breath.

 This is where every teacher knows every student and their parents)and can greet brothers and sisters not-yet-old-enough-to-attend by name. Where parents are welcome and volunteers smile when they see the kids.

 This school constantly tries to be different for their pupils - to make memories. There is a big fish-tank in the office fill of just-hatched salmon eggs (the kids will release them this spring into the river that flows through our village) and the kids come to stare all-agog and comment between classes. This school houses an offshoot public library, hosts pilates and other self-help groups, regularly invites in local authors to speak to the children, and was an award winning entry in the region-wide Community Christmas Decorating contest.

Later this week there will be a giant Easter Egg hunt on the grounds. Pre-schoolers are also invited, because this open-hearted school wouldn't leave out the small ones in the community. There will be sightings of the Easter Bunny and mysterious golden eggs. It will be a good time. Why would it be any other way?

This school, this cherished, lovely snug little school, is under review. Under threat of closure. And I say again, why?

Don't try and tell me this school isn't good enough for my children.  For our children.

Because it's better than good enough. For them, it's their world.

And that's better than enough.

the bunny dragon

Most of the time we call Bear's bus 'Dragon'. (Well, what would you call it? And it has an odd shaped vent on the side hood like a snarling mouth.) But for this week? It's name is Bunny.

I have no idea why. :)