'What day is it today?' Those were the words that woke me from my slumber this morning. I opened one eye to find a small boy standing by my side of the bed, Sophie tucked under his arm, an inquisitive expression on his face. Fortunately, it was more light than dark outside. Yes, it was an OK time to be up and at 'em.
Then he remembered. 'It's Maxine day!', he yelled, punching his little fists into the air. 'Yea!!'
Indeed it is. Maxine Day.
We arrived just after the scheduled time of 9:30, the thick fog causing me to drive more slowly than I would have liked. Channing was prepared. He had a pack of Valentine Peeps in one hand, a bouquet of purple tulips in the other and his imagination in his pocket. Yes. You read correctly. He had his imagination in his pocket. I asked if he was all ready to see Maxine as we dashed in and out of Target for the aforementioned treats. His reply was, 'I have my imagination with me. I put it in my pocket.' Perfect. That's just the right thing to bring with to Maxine's house.
She has that magic cupboard full of all sorts of trinkets and treasures. Channing wasted no time, making a bee-line from the door to the source of all kinds of delight. He first pulled out a monster and a dragonfly wind-up toy. After a quick flip and dash on the kitchen floor, they were exchanged for a clock and a gaggle of glass ladybugs.
The toy that won out? A tiny plastic bowling set. We bowled no less than three dozen frames atop Maxine's coffee table before craft time called our names.
Great concentration turned into pure joy as paper squares and plastic sticks were transformed into 'spinwheels'. No, not pinwheels. I tried correcting Channing on the drive home. He corrected me right back.
You see, in order to get them to whirl, you must spin in a crazy-fast circle until you fall down, dizzy. Not just dizzy. So dizzy it takes three tries to stand back up again.
Spinwheels they are and such a lovely reminder of our morning with Auntie Maxine.
Seriously. Time can go on and slow down now. S-l-o-w down. Way down. I am a frazzled mess rushing from one thing to the next to the next to the next. It is very hard to be present in this moment when all I can think of is my to do list and the sixteen things I should be/could be doing next.
I. Need. To. Breathe.
Inhale.
Exhale.
OK then.
Since last I posted, there was a little adventure commonly referred to as Girls' Night Out. These nights happen all over the world with all sorts of girls. Let me tell you about mine. They're those girls that I've known since junior high back when it was called junior high and not middle school. The girls that make you laugh until you either a) start to pee your pants or b) snort and some sort of beverage or food comes out your nose. The girls who have dried tears and wordlessly comforted through break-ups, and world ending let-downs and unquestioningly offered up even more often without being asked. We are intricately woven together by a lifetime of experiences. This snap shot shows nothing of our 'filters off' evening. They were off though. Believe you-me, they were off. Oh, and in case any of you were wondering...Lynnea did admit Shanda was right at 7 pm last Thursday evening. Someone did actually look at their watch to confirm the time.
Skipping ahead a little, Tuesday brought the second meeting of sewing club. Six sewers. One great-grandma. Three almost pre-schoolers. Two infants. We sewed. The conversation flowed. Late and skipped naps pushed the limits of patience for the little ones and this mama in particular. In the end, each of us coaxed a flower into bloom from a short cut of cotton fabric and some scraps of wool felt.
Wednesday, Auntie Maxine came for treats and a visit. She never comes empty handed. Channing was all hands as Maxine showed him the ins and outs of weaving hot pad holders on a metal loom. She also taught him how to pretend to eat a fuzzy, plastic spider and then coughing and sputtering, spit it back up again. I was in stitches and didn't take pictures of the lesson as it unfolded. It's hilarious. Absolutely.
Our house is now filled with warmth of an oven that has been on most of the morning and smells of caramelized sugar. The birthday party baking and prep has begun in earnest. It may look like a cyclone struck inside the red house on Inglewood Ave. However, by Saturday morning, it will all come together. It will. I cannot wait.
