Crocuses, Clouds, and Leprechauns

Springtime is here! The sky in our valley is at its best in March: rich brilliant blue hues with just enough cottony-soft clouds to give it a fascinating depth. The bulbs we planted five months ago are beginning to bloom all in a cute crooked row along the front of our house. Sixty crocuses sure seemed like a lot when we were digging holes to plant the the bulbs, but now that they're blooming, the row looks so fragile and thin. Numbers notwithstanding, the blossoms are beautiful and feel extra hopeful coming through that gray ole dirt. This was my first time planting flowers, and watching them grow has been more fun and satisfying than expected. The canals were filled this week, flooding the veins of our dry valley with life-giving water. The asparagus fields have been plowed (and maybe planted? I can't tell). The Yakima Valley is poised for growth and greenery!

Meanwhile, Amber's kindergarten teacher did an elaborate St. Patrick's Day activity where the class built leprechaun traps and read books about leprechauns. Overnight, the teacher made a little mess around the traps in the classroom to make it look like a leprechaun had been there. On St. Patrick's Day, which was an online school day, Amber told me sadly that a leprechaun did not come to our house. By the way she kept talking about leprechauns, I realized that she actually thought they were real. And why shouldn't she think they're real? She learned about them from her teacher at school! At that point, I explained that leprechauns are pretend, just like Santa Claus. Amber gave me the most betrayed, shocked look when I told her that leprechauns are pretend. 

"But it made a mess in my classroom at school!" She insisted. 

"It's fun to pretend that leprechauns are real," I explained. "It's a fun game that your teacher played with you!"

Since I had the spinach out for lunch, I scattered a handful of spinach leaves on our table and said, "look! Leprechaun tracks!" in a silly attempt to bridge the gap between expecting leprechauns to be real and having fun pretending that they are real. Amber slowly lost her disgruntled look of confused betrayal and had fun talking about our pretend leprechaun for the rest of the afternoon. 

During her kindergarten zoom meeting the next day, I overheard Amber telling her teacher "Mrs. Landrum, my mom told me something. She said that leprechauns are pretend. YOU made the mess in our classroom. My mom told me it. My mom said that." 

HAHAHA, I was laughing so hard in the background! The internet froze the zoom call right at that moment, so I don't know how Amber's accusation/revelation was received, but I sent Mrs. Landrum a message afterwards apologizing for Amber's accusatory tone, because I didn't want the teacher to think that I was mad at her for telling the kids that leprechauns are real. Her response was diplomatic and kind. However, I must admit to being smugly satisfied that my motherly authority trumps the kindergarten teacher in Amber's book. Do I detect a benefit of hybrid learning? More time learning at home must have maintained my status as the definitive authority in Amber's life. I remember feeling slightly left out and even a little miffed when Jay's kindergarten teacher became his number one authority, so this was no small victory! 

Since Amber is not an only child, here's an update on the big kids:

The second trimester ended and Jay got straight A's for the first time ever! (Last trimester he had one B+). He felt pretty happy about it. When his report card came in the mail, I asked him if he wanted to save it. "No, I have it memorized: A, A, A, A, A," he replied with a grin. This week Jay also enjoyed lots of quality friend time, meeting up with one best buddy to play on the high school lawn during cross country practice twice a week and playing Minecraft and Dungeons and Dragons over video calls and in person with a whole network of friends. Our social introvert. He actually did have an evening of introvert fatigue where he emailed his friends and told them he wasn't up for games that night.

At in-person school on Monday, Rose built a leprechaun trap with a partner as part of a science unit. This week Rose also started writing her own story. She has written eleven chapters, and she told me that she first writes a title to the chapter, then uses the title to give her ideas of what will happen in the chapter. During online school days, Rose gets frustrated when the math videos she has to watch teach skills she already knows. She rarely needs to be taught math lessons more than once before she masters them, so the review videos are especially maddening to her, and the program doesn't allow her to skip the videos. I allow her to leave her computer while the repeat videos play, so she can maintain her sanity. When she leave the videos running, however, her favorite thing to do is come tell me how annoying it is that she has to watch these math videos about things she already knows how to do. Thereby testing my sanity in the process of maintaining her own. Did I just describe motherhood in one sentence? 

*Side note: it took me an inordinate number of attempts to spell the word leprechaun correctly. 

Heavy note: a friend in our ward here was diagnosed with leukemia out of the blue this week. My heart was so heavy during the three days we waited for her official prognosis. Thankfully for her friends, piano students, and especially her house full of six kids and a husband, it is chronic rather than acute, so she will be able to manage it with oral medication rather than chemotherapy. 

I biked 32 miles and ran 25 miles this week in the sunshine underneath the deep eloquent sky, and felt extra grateful for my strong healthy body. 

Mt. Adams glowing across a freshly plowed asparagus field. 

Pretty happy hopeful crocus blooms!

Sparse pretty happy hopeful crocus blooms.

I hardly notice the endless dust that accumulates so quickly in our country cottage, until the kids draw happy faces in it. Then I notice the dust but who wants to erase happy faces? So I let them stay.

The happy bright sun shining through out east-facing bedroom windows practically begged me to clean the dirt off the windows. These two windows are our only windows that we can't reach from the ground outside, since this room is over the garage. Borrowing or buying a ladder for a mere two windows seemed pointless, so I did what I did last time I washed these windows: I rubber banded a paper towel to my mop head, popped the screens out, and leaned out the window.

It wasn't perfect (leaning out the window creates a tricky angle to apply pressure), but the windows were MUCH clearer when I was done.

Amber's latest kindergarten headgear: a paper leprechaun hat with red braids hanging down.

Springtime offering at cross country practice!

Unmasked pic of Amber in her leprechaun hat.

Building with the pattern blocks. As I write these photo captions, I'm realizing that most of my pictures center around Amber. She is so full of life!

Our spinach leprechaun footprints.

Full canal through orchards along one of my bike routes.

The girls dressed up for an elaborate game one day.

We hosted our last home cross country meet on Wednesday. The girls team captain made her teammates matching sparkly bows, which they all wore in the race.

Varsity boys toeing the line.

Rose started doing some of her schoolwork/Zoom meetings in bed.

Sunnyside USA! These tall wide-wheeled tractors are so fun to see driving through town.

Jay, Zooming it up.

Amber started doing her iPad schoolwork in my bedroom so I can keep an eye on her while I'm at my desk.

Some of these electronic worksheets are killer! Amber and I worked for a long time trying to figure out what word each picture represented so she could decide which pictures rhymed. Some of them made zero sense and we had to guess.

SKY!!!

Canal and sky!

Bike! I was on a relatively smooth patch of flat gravel so I attempted a mid-pedal selfie. Biking one-handed still makes me wobbly.

I can't remember what Amber was telling me when Jeff took this picture, but it must've been awesome.