Gma

When one is small, one has many "grandmas" and "great-grandmas" in their life. Some of them are not even really relatives. Such was the case for my children, having all but one great grandfather, all four great grandmothers and both sets of grandparents, not to mention a Nana.
So, most of  our grandparents have their own special names. My mom's parents went with Gma (pronounced "jee-ma") and Gpa.
Gma is our only "great" left on my side of the family and when her birthday rolled around, we wanted to celebrate her in a pretty big way. My mom's family is pretty big on Mexican food. It's kind of an obsession, really. So, naturally, we had a big lunch out at one of our favorite Mexican eateries.

Isn't she cute?

Way Back When

You know that whole time when I wasn't talking to you, Blog? Like, from January until now?
Well, my family did some fun stuff in there. Here's proof: We went to the Strawberry Festival & Drew marched in the parade.

 







We went to Legoland and my nephew, who loves anything to do with vehicles, got to drive some stuff.

 




My kids got to meet their heroes.





 Just kidding. But I love the difference in Emma's face between Darth Vader and R2D2.

Rain + Ocean

Girls' Night

Emma and I had the splendid opportunity last week to join my mom at the beach for a girls' night. She was attending a conference and had a room that was big enough to share, so we decided the kindest thing to do was to help her fill up that room. We arrived and put up our things and immediately trekked to the water in order to take in every moment of the setting sun we possibly could.

Sunset and boats:

It was a much-needed, restorative getaway. I haven't taken pictures in a while and just holding my camera in my hands and working my trigger finger did my soul some serious good. We watched a movie and got stuck inside the next day because it rained and rained. That was actually a different kind of nice, even though I was a little disappointed that I didn't get to go back to the beach. 

Reckoning

I'm in a temporary season now - a reckoning of sorts.

Not the Southern kind, where you reckon it might rain.

Though you could replace "reckon" with "figure" and figures make you think of numbers and numbers make you think of accounting and you could say that I'm taking into account my gains and my losses that I have incurred as of late.
The things I've gained in the process of my education need to outweigh the losses and stresses my family has experienced. If they don't, this journey is simply not worth continuing.
I've come out of the first phase (my AA) with more wrinkles and more gray hair to be sure, but I've learned so much and have so many new doors open in front of me. My children (and my patient, sainted hubby) need some face time and my house home is a disaster. Will a summer recovery be enough? Can I manage another school year of my own while I continue to teach and have two children in two separate schools and bands?
Big Girl College has its own set of challenges for me and I'm not entirely sure I'm able to meet them.
Of course, the answer is that only time will tell. I can't know what the next school year will be like until it actually happens. I can't know how much I can handle until I actually fall flat on my face and fail. But I came close this year - close to that dangerous precipice over which you lose track of the important things in life.
I'm trying to sleep, trying to recover, trying to
feel
again.
And I know that sounds terrible, but it's true and it's real.
I've found that I don't want to make things right now. I don't want to create. I just want to exist and breathe and do nothing and so that's what I've done (and not done). The pictures I'm taking these days are pretty terrible.
But I started a new knitting project this week.
I think that's a good sign.
I'll be up and running again soon, and I don't mean to sound all gloomy and tired.
It hasn't all sorted out, but an idea has been shuffling around in the dusty corners of my mind, and it's been whispering to my fingers, telling them to start typing and that maybe, once the words start coming out, they will be easier to sort through.

All State

For the second year in a row, Andrew was nominated for the All State Honors Band. It's such a privilege - such an inspiring experience for kids to play with other high musical achievers. It means a weekend in Tampa for us, at a hotel, amid the annual conference of our state's music educators. There are instruments to try and clinics for educators and concerts. So many great concerts. Music. Everywhere. Here's a look at how our weekend went:

Grandma and Grampy came to hear the music.

Emma really enjoyed checking out the exhibits and all the cool instruments at the convention.

Of course, Andrew had a concert and that was the whole point of the weekend. He played so well and we are so proud of him.

Cocky

A short while before Christmas, we had a visitor show up in our yard. Now, for those of you who don't know, I should clarify that my house is in the middle of our city's historic district. Downtown. One of my neighbors keeps bees, though, and raises pineapples, and the other keeps chickens. The lady down the street keeps cats, but that's a story for a different post. And so, it is not entirely unsurprising to find elements of country life in our little urban-ish neighborhood. Our Christmas vacation schedule had us staying up very late and sleeping in rather long. But one morning, our morning rest was cut short by a foreign sound. My mind was having trouble placing it. But it repeated, endlessly, until my sleepy brain fog dissipated enough to recognize the crowing of a rooster. This was new. My neighbor has heretofore only kept hens and not a one of them can muster that sort of noise. So, I shook Chris out of his slumber and jumped out of bed, dashing to the window to confirm my suspicion and I really did find a rooster, crowing away in our back yard! This proud bachelor was checking out the fine lady chickens in the coop next door. Of course, I sent Chris inside to grab my camera while I sweet-talked my new friend into hanging out a little longer. We woke up the kids who were just as amused as I was - which is to say that we were all slightly more amused than Chris, who had been sleeping through the commotion just fine until I felt compelled to share the experience with him. This handsome gent, with glossy, richly-colored feathers, has been strolling through the neighborhood every morning since then, crowing away at street lights and full moons and sunrises. He has recently been joined by a lovely hen of equally-unknown provenance. She has black and white speckles and remains very quiet so far. They are truly free-range chickens, pecking about the urban jungle, scratching a living out of whatever they find, making their way down the street every morning, moving from one yard to the next in a now-predictable succession, presumably enjoying the unique delicacies each one has to offer for breakfast. In my particular yard, they are partial to my ferns. I know for a fact that my chicken-keeping neighbor has put out some feed for them (I may or may not have begged him to do so). There is one neighbor whose citrus trees are dropping unwanted fruit all over the yard (what a shame!) and I can only guess at what other treats they have found. And he struts, showing his new lady friend how important he is to the neighborhood, telling everybody what's what and that it's time to wake up.