It started out with me reading stories in bed with P at 5:50. We let daddy sleep in and went outside to visit the garden and our favorite tree. After going on a walk, we headed to the Farmer’s Market. I bought SIX (!) types of basil and drank two fresh juices (carrot, apple, lemon and ginger) two plates of veggie sushi, a bite of a cinnamon roll and a chocolate, cherry jam and fresh whipped cream crepe. I am telling you, all of it seriously good. Can someone get me in touch with the young woman who is doing the sushi?

P played long and hard. I lounged on a blanket, visiting or staring at the sky. It was such a pleasure to not get caught up with who or what was going on. We came home and the three of us spent some family time. I made phone calls for help with my knitting and for babysitting. Both calls returned immediately with yeses.

Will and I had a lovely dinner and a movie. We walked to the car holding hands.

Nothing special. I felt normal. Ahh to feel normal. Ahh to feel at total ease with my “normal” day.

I love the Farmer’s Market here in town. It’s great to show up at the park and see all your neighbors and friends and eat crepes. And now someone has fresh juice and veggie sushi. The cool thing about her booth (in addition to the tasty sushi and juice) is she provides plastic cups and plates to be re-used.

Now if only that one woman would stop smoking near the play ground.

Get there early before it’s all gone.

I need to write a book on parenting. The parenting books I’ve read thumbed through held in my hand really don’t provide accurate descriptions of the real challenges of parenting nor the solutions to get you through those challenging moments/days/weeks/months.

First let me say that what I’m going to describe is not intended to convey a lack of appreciation for my child, but rather a lack of preparation on my part to know how to deal with her endless, unexhaustible “wonder”.

I stayed up late the other night and was woken up by loud singing at 5:50am the following morning. As tired I was, and as cranky as I wanted to be for being woken so early, I felt great joy in hearing my daughter sing with the passion of a broadway performance, her own made up song. I found myself, along with ever bird within a mile, in envy of the energy she summoned at that early hour.

It would be about twelve hours later, while staring at the clock on the wall, that my envy would turn to disbelief and shellshock over my daughter’s sustained level of energy through the entire day.

For those without kids, the best way to describe the day I’m referring to is this: imagine yourself at work for a day. A normal day with a handful of meetings to attend, lunch, phone calls and trips to the bathroom and water cooler and eventually home for dinner. Now take that normal day and image your very smart boss is with you the entire time and he/she’s your best friend. Now imagine that your boss is drinking ten cups of coffee an hour.

You’re almost there.

It’s critical in the above example that your boss is very smart. Because like a smart boss, you want to be able to answer your child correctly. In fact there’s a lot of pressure to do so - you don’t want to screw this job up and possibly get fired. Of course the questions your boss will ask you are nothing compared to the ones a four year old will drill you with.

What is your favorite color?
Why is yellow your favorite color?
Why is the sun yellow?
Where does the sun go at night?
But where is it?
But why is it there?
Why does it go there?
Hey look Daddy a bunny in the driveway!
What’s that bunny doing in the driveway?
How many squirrels live in that tree?
Why did you turn here?
Who’s on the phone?
Why did they call you?
What was the name of the brown flying dinosaur that was with Petrie’s Uncle?

That list of questions represents three blocks in the car on the way to school. I think I successfully and truthfully answered about two of those, possibly the first F- I ever got.

There are breaks from the questions, and those moments are filled with announcements. On the surface this sounds like a break, but in reality its like a lightning round in a game show. Because the statements come much more quickly and are really a question in that they require an answer, but unlike a question, you have to guess (quickly) what is the question behind the statement. Thankfully there are dozens of patterned responses you can memorize. It’s like an advanced game of red light green light. Get ready.

Daddy I’m bouncing! (go look)
A bird! (go look)
Wipe! (she needs her bum wiped)
I’m hungry! (cook food)
I’m downstairs! (go find her)
I’m sliding! (go look)
I’m dancing! (go look)
Daddy! (go find her)
I’m chewing with my eyes closed! (go look)
Bulldogs have big cheeks from smiling so much! (an opportunity to turn the tables - “why do they smile so much?”)

The hardest part isn’t making it through that day but realizing after counting the last 2 hours until bedtime that I forgot most of the funny and interesting things she said and I can never go back in time. And so that night I fell asleep, late again, anxious and making futile preparations for the next day of ten thousand questions and announcements.

Actually, yes, I’ll say it.  McCain is worse than Bush.  Oh my the Republican party is in some hard times.

My grandmother saves everything. She’s got a drawer full of zip lock bags that have been used for one thing or another, then washed and dried and put back to be used again. As environmentally friendly as I like to think I am, I want my crackers or sandwich in a new unstained baggy (without water spots). She lived through the depression so I appreciate and admire her for being a recycler before it was trendy.

Dawn doesn’t like to throw out anything either. I estimate that we paid about $400 to move several boxes of crap (i.e., items that no one will ever want including us) about 2000 miles to litter our basement and garage. In order to get rid of this stuff I have to do it covertly: slowly over time shoving one in the trash can or tossing it to Goodwill if appropriate. I get caught now and then and have to close down my crap fighting operations for awhile to prevent suspicion.

This morning I was caught not in the act of throwing something away, but thinking about throwing something away. We have a pile of t-shirts down in the basement that are neither in the “to be used as cleaning rags” bin or the “to be used out in the garden or painting” bin. While Dawn and I were down sorting laundry I glanced at those t-shirts and Dawn moves closer and says to me: “those are never to be worn, never to be thrown out.”

After waiting nearly month for the ground to dry up to be tilled, we got our load of manure this weekend. We got a truck load of year old, grass fed cow manure for $50 and spent all weekend spreading it around. Dawn got out for a bit before retiring to the shade to cheer me on. Good thing too - we found out that working with manure and chemotherapy are not a good combination.

We’re starting with a 600 square foot area in our back yard and the plan is to focus on potatoes, tomatoes, peppers and melons in order to take up all that space quickly and focus on soil growth this year.

We’ve got 5 tomato plants in the ground so far (all from the farmer’s market) and a friend has given us about 8 more.

So good that I didn’t think to take my anti-nausea medicine this morning. Nor did I take a pro-biotic, which really seems to help my digestion.

When I started to feel a little queasy I did my favorite thing. I took a bath. I quickly realized that hot water and nausea are the best of friends. But I couldn’t get myself to climb out of the tub! Instead I called to Will to bring me my medication. Then I called to him to bring me water. Then I called for him to bring me 7-UP. Then I looked in the bathtub and it was filled with my hair! As I still couldn’t get out of the bathtub I began collecting and flicking hair to the edge of the tub for easier clean up. This passed the time and my nausea dissipated. It also gave me an added bonus: it cured me of wanting to keep my hair!

I am so done with this hair that I can’t wait for it to be gone! As soon as I got out of the tub I called a hairdresser.

Our friend Reni gave me a tip on this bee swarm happening in her front yard so I rode my bike over there to take some photos. She wasn’t kidding.

In her front yard, in small tree is was a 12-16″ long mad pile of up honey bees. I was a little nervous taking photos with all of them buzzing around me and never could get up the courage to get too close and steady for some great macros but I managed to snap a few with one arm extended.

I’ve never seen anything like this.

UPDATE: Reni reports that sometime between 1-2 pm today they all left.

After sleeping in while smelling pancakes, I woke to greet my last day of feeling good for a little awhile. I went to the bathroom and shook the hair off my sleeping cap. Even with handfuls going today, it’s hanging in there. I’d say a couple more days before I turn to the scarfs.

I am having a nice mother’s day and at the same time I feel tense about tomorrow. I got an email from a survivor and it was just what I needed to feel more confident. There is something so comforting in saying how you feel to someone who’s been through it.

And it looks great too! Because it has started falling out it looks like it has been beautifully textured. I’ll have Will take a picture before it all goes.

Tonight P and I had a special ladies night out dinner. I was excited that I had a night of good looking hair. When P and I returned to the car she said, “mommy, what is that hairy stuff on the seat?” I thought, “Oh my god! Driving over here I lost a huge patch of hair! I have a bald patch in the back of my head! It’s on the car seat!!” I ran around to the front seat to see my scarf sitting there with only the fringe visible to P in the back.

I am still laughing.