Monday, September 25, 2006

And then ...

...after we got home from eating pizza on my folks' new deck (on Friday night) the older boys went out, leaving Drew and me at home. He was not pleased. Resolving myself to the fact that I'd have a grumpy son on my hands, I decided to 'do my own thing' and leave him to get over it. Which, hallelujah, he did. As I was looking through the Stamin' Up catelog, he wandered over to see what I was up to, then proceeded to express his opinion on colors, color combinations, and stamp styles. Together we wrote out an order that reflects both of our tastes. It was a pleasant way to spend autumn-eve.

When his big brothers got home, I went up to my room to blog, and left him to chill with Clint and Max. However, within half an hour he was stretched out on the end of my bed, wanting to talk. You need to understand, this is unlike the 12 year old version of Drew. Would have been normal for him at age 8 or even 10 - but 12 year old Drew is too cool to hang with his mom.

I kept yawning uncontrollably as I uploaded the photos, so he moved over so that he was sitting beside me, leaning back and sharing my pillows.
"I'll finish this for you," he offered. "What picture should I do next?"
He uploaded a few more, and then Blogger was done for the night. Wouldn't allow us to post any more.
"I think you're too tired to do any writing tonight. I'll put a note on your blog for you."
And he posted a note with all of my Friday pictures, advising readers that it was late, his mom was tired, and there would be no writing that night. Unfortunately we lost our connection before it could be published...
but the thought was lovely.
I felt loved.

Saturday morning I got up at 8. Not because I wanted to. I never want to get up before 9. Ever. But because a friend bought me a ticket to go to a ladies' breakfast at her church. Breakfast. What is with people? Are my mom and me the only ones on the planet who don't do mornings?

I did not want to get up.
I complained to God the whole time.

Thursday and Friday had been disappointing enough. And now this - a breakfast meeting on Saturday.

I did get my act together - and I did go.
But on my way down the stairs, I noticed my front hall. Which Max had cleaned. And deemed it "fine".

Oh why oh why must our standards be so different? Polar opposites we are. That room, in my opinion, is most definitely not fine.

Never-the-less, I walked past it, determined to deal with it and the rest of the house as soon as I got back.

The breakfast meeting was awesome. The buffet was incredible. Absolutely fantastic...and it turned out that the caterer who supplied us with fruit, muffins, quiche, fried potatoes and sausage, owns the diner that I eat lunch at a couple times a week. Somehow that just made me feel good about things. Go figure.

The program was simple. Three women shared how God had done something extraordinary in their very ordinary lives. Powerful. Moving. Tear-inducing. I love listening to people's "God stories".

Anyway, I came home chilled out.

The mess in the house was overlooked as I stood under the grape arbour:

I always feel like I've been transported to Italy when I stand on that patch of grass.

I woke the kids up and asked for their help in the yard. An after they uttered the obligatory complaints that are expected of all teens, they made my heart sing with their willingness to give me a hand:

I bought three chamaecyparis nootkatensis glaua pendulas (weeping cedars) (one for each son) which (as of 4 pm this afternoon) proudly guard my house. And I bought one maple to add color and beauty to the front yard.

What a difference a few trees make.

You should come by and have a look.

Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Colours.

2. Leaves.

3. Sons.

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