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Posts Tagged ‘Raising Children’

hydrangea2012c

The blue hydrangeas,
They grew and grew and grew
Spilling across doorways and sidewalks paths –

They were ready
For a journey
hydrangeatransplatecAnd so we transplanted them around the corner,
Under the kitchen table
window. The blue hydrangeas sulked
In the newness
Wouldn’t show themselves for more seasons
than seemed
seemly.

We hoped in things we didn’t see
Watered with faith for roots
planted true

“Give it time,” my husband spoke
Beside me

“4 more weeks,” suggested the nursery man
Before it was time to give up

Until one day, just before reaching for the shovel
Just before giving up
a chopped chive-size
piece of green
stuck on what seemed
a dead stick

hydrangea 2013ccThe piece of green grew slow
Was joined by more pieces
Of green
Until it a few seasons later,
It stretched stalks of green
Just growing
Growing
Not ready
not ready yet to bloom
hydrangea2014c_edited-1Until just the right
season
When roots reach deep and the stalks
Multiplied
reach high
Little clusterbuds of no color
One day
Open blue
blooms

summerhydrangea14
You know, if we’d left that hydrangea bush by the garage door, it would have been limited, unable to reach its full potential. By transplanting it, giving it more room to grow and become, it will be more than it ever could have before. It’s been a tough transplant/journey for my hydrangea – but I live in faith of something I don’t see – that it will grow bigger, bloom more, have a greater impact – kind of like God’s plan for me and mine!

hydrangeac_edited-2More on blooming where you’re planted:

Ordinary Dreams of an Every Man

The Year of Living Shalom

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For those of you not familiar with the term “grasshopper” as a synonym for student, please consult the 70s television show, Kung Fu, for further explanation. 

My little guy is a product of trickle down eco-mom-ics x 4. The first son only had to listen to eco-mom-ics created for him – eco-mom-ics being a branch of knowledge concerned with the eduction, discipline and spiritual development of children.

The second son had to listen to eco-mom-ics lectures on both his and his older brother’s level. The 3rd one, his, and his two older brothers. It’s kind of like being forced to not just sit through your class, but each brother’s class, too.

The little guy has sat through 5 levels of eco-mom-ics.

And yesterday, the little grasshopper tried to leapfrog the Master eco-mom-ic-ist (LOL).

If you’ve hung around the Blue Cotton counter for awhile, maybe since the beginning, you might have read the following about my 3rd son, my joyful son, – about breaking the communication code:

Joyful has grown beyond snugglebuggles and telling me he loves me, but he communicates in code now. Let me give you an example:

“Mama? Can I have a pet anaconda (or warthog, sheep dog, otter, or any animal of the week)?”

That’s code for, “I love you, Mom.” Now that I have broken the code, I just smile, saying, “I love you, too.” Funny, he hasn’t asked for a pet anaconda for awhile.

Then there’s this question. “Mama,” he asks (mama is the word of choice when he wants something. Mom is for the really serious stuff). “Mama, can I have $15?”

After hearing this question for months (of course, I didn’t turn over the money), I broke another code. Money was code for hug. The amount he asked for determined how many hugs he really wanted.

He hasn’t asked for money in quite a few weeks, either.

He no longer brags on my food. Instead, he will say, “Great dinner, Mom. . . . Not.” I’ve learned that’s code for “YUM.” (Click here to read The Freshness After the Storm)

My little one who has endured eco-mom-ics lectures to his brothers from academic lectures and activities, to manners to people skills, to relationship-building with the opposite sex, to baking, grilling, house-keeping to morality and everything including apparently the foreign language of tween to teens.

“Mom, I want 20 hugs. That’s code for $20,” he said as he munched on the chocolate pumpkin bread as he sat at the counter after school.

The Eco-mom-ics Master from the podium that is the counter, cast an assessing gaze on this baby of the family who next week will be a decade and a year. This son who the Freshness after the Storm (also known as Joyful) christened with the Spirit name, “Love” – our Human Resource guy amidst the brotherhood – trying with mental agility to leapfrog the Master.

. . . and almost succeeding.

“20 Hugs is code for 20 kisses,” I countered. “Want them now?”

And for the moment, the eco-mom-ics master retained her place at the podium.

Additional Note: My teen and his sweet, ginger girl friend said this conversation took place between me and the teen. I will concede it might have – but that the little guy took the mantra up about 5 minutes later. To quote Hillary Clinton, “I don’t recall. . . .” My friends say  the slippery memory is not dementia – it’s menopause.

Recounting this conversation in the car, they said that after translating the 20 hugs to 20 kisses we continued wrangling with code translation – and 20 kisses was code for 20 compliments – and, just maybe, if the de-coding had continued, the 20 compliments could become 20 things to do to make home a nice place like cleaning your room, tidying the bathroom, mowing the lawn. . . . .

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