The Escape

 Something you don't consider when you have your first child is just how that little person is going to not only change the way you behave forever in public, but also create for you a new identity.

I'm not being clear.

Before I had kids, I don't think I ever ran in public unless it was for exercise. Now, I'm forced to do all sorts of public 'panic running' in front of strangers: when we're late to school, when I lose my child at a crowded Chicago Christmas Fair, when my toddler escapes through the front door and heads on out to chill with the neighbors. Naked.

It's with a twinge of bitterness that I let them see me lose my cool, I let them see me sweat.

I'm confronted with public temper tantrums, bathroom accidents, awkward playdates - stretching me past my comfort zone while fellow parents witness.

That's not all. My kids - through their own interests and their own evolving selves - have created an identity for our family that I never imagined I would be a part of.

Somehow, we have become the "crazy pet people."

Now, I like pets. I do! I had a dog as a kid. We had a cat. But check this craziness out:

The current count stands at: 2 guinea pigs, 1 hamster, two  one fire belly toad (one recently, mysteriously, disappeared), 2 old cats, many fish, and 6 chickens.  And the girls expect a dog by next summer.

I spent a good portion of Gill's afternoon nap chasing down 5 escaped chickens today. Prudent #6 (named Peanut) starting making such a ruckus from the coop out back that I  peeked my head out to just catch a glimpse of numbers 1-5 rounding the corner by our back deck.

As I tossed the last of the Isa Browns into the pen I recalled last Sunday afternoon at my Grandma's house. Bela declared she wanted to get a Morning Dove or a carrier Pigeon, and Chris helped her sketch out the elaborate plans for a bird house that could reside on our screened in back porch (I suspect this detail was to be the selling point for me - the bird would live outside).

In all honesty if he gets her a carrier pigeon, I'll be the one living outside. 

The coop and pen - looking from the alley to the house.

The coop, looking from house to alley. Notice the guinea pig garden in front? Lettuce and Radicchio for Mama Mia and Pumkin. Also, who's peeking through the window?

Ha ha ha! Prisoners!

PS - You haven't been introduced formally! We have 3 Isa Browns and 3 Amber Links. Meet:
Bela's Chickens: Stella and Peanut
Mae's Chickens: Lavender and Pinky
My Chicken: Ole Golly
Chris' Chicken: Ondrej (named after the 12 year old boy who lives down the street)

This moment

My Friday post. A moment from our week! Enjoy your weekend(s).

RIP

The title may be misleading. Don't worry. No one has died. All pets and people are accounted for over here.

Bela really enjoys using window crayons to decorate the sliding glass door that leads from my sewing nook to our back deck. Of late she's taken to doing it up for the upcoming holiday, leaving it there until said holiday has passed, and then erasing it and prepping it all for the next. She does it all in a very business-like way. Like it's her job.

Immediately after Easter she wiped off the spring grass and the easter eggs, and threw up a Happy Mother's Day!

Last Sunday as soon as my handmade cards and my gift from Chris were presented, she erased it all.

"What's the next holiday, Mom?

I responded: "Memorial Day."

"What's Memorial Day?"

I explained: "It's a day we honor those serving in the military who have fought and died."

She chewed on that for a bit.

The next day, one of Chris's friends and work partners was over putting last minute touches on the Theaster Gates video that's going in his MCA exhibition that opens tonight (shameless plug - you should all go check out Chris's work. He put it together for Theaster, though you won't find his name on it.)  He looked at the window.

"What is happy memory day? And why are there tombstones on your window?"

"Happy Mimoriel Day"

James (howe?) 2013 - 2024 / RIP And are those....bones?

I couldn't help but wonder... Would his name be on this tombstone if he had just written back to his biggest fan?

Dear Mr. Howe

On our recent drive to Arkansas, we loaded up on audiobooks for the kids, to try to lessen the pain of the 12 hours in the car. Chris downloaded some oldies but goodies from his past - Hatchet (1987 Gary Paulsen) and a couple Bunnicula books (1979 - James Howe).

I never read any of these books as a kid, though I remember one of my brothers had a copy of Hatchet. We got through 20 minutes of it. It was really riveting and I really didn't want to turn it off, but the girls wanted to try something new.

So Chris put on Bunnicula and the girls, especially Bela, were instantly hooked.

Obsessively hooked.

We now have 5 books of the series on audiobook, and two checked out from the library. She listens to them while she's falling asleep, she turns them on in the morning, she reads them at school.

Bela asked us the other night if she could write him a letter. We were tickled. How cute. How cool she is. A fan letter. Yes. Yes!

Because she is 8 and it is 2013, her fan letter was written on the computer. I couldn't immediately find a web page for the author, so I checked to see if he had a facebook page. I found one (obviously unused) page with his name and photo and I set it all up and she sat down with Chris to write it.

This is what she came up with:

Katie Bastion Strong

Dear Mr. Howe my name is Bela Strong I am 8 years old and this is my moms account. I am one of your biggest fan I love your Bunnicula books I have 6 books of Bunnicula. I think Howliday inn is the scariest I like listening to them at night because it gives me the creeps! The books I have are Bunnicula, a rabbit- Tale of mystery,Howliday inn,The celery stalks at midnight,Nighty-Nightmare,Bunnicula meets Edgar alan crow.
thees books are adventurous,scary,interesting and very very very funny. The funny characters are Howie,chester and Harold. you are the best! How much books did you right? Your sincerely, Bela Strong

I sent her to bed and patted myself on the back for having such a neat kid - one who appreciates good books and the authors who write them.

Not surprisingly, Mr. Howe didn't write back the next day. And then I kind of just forgot about the whole thing for another 24 hours - until Chris broke the news.

The girls had been getting into my facebook account to send message after message to this author, over the course of 20 some odd hours. Transcripts below:

• Katie Bastion Strong

  Dear Mr.Howe,I am Belas little sister I am Mae Strong and I am 5 years old I liked Bunnicula and nighty-Nightmare,Howliday inn and all the other Bunnicula books and thats all. Your sincerely,Mae Strong
  

  Wednesday 
• Hi this is Mae I was hoping you will right back to me and Bela. Good books you right I love them so can you please right back please

  
  Hi this is Bela I sended thees to you (insert a series of weird emoticons here)

  You are the best Mr Howe
  
  from Bela and Mae
  
• Katie Bastion Strong

  Good night Mr Howe, i'm going to bed now...

  I love you Mr Howe!
  from Bela
  

  Today 

  6:40am 

  Katie Bastion Strong

  Im getting one of my favorite Bunnicula books!
  
  
  

Look

The people who owned the house before us built a chicken coop. A nice one, really, with 6 nesting boxes, a roost, a cute exterior that matches the cedar siding of our blue house, and a little penned in area in the back yard.

So, we had to get chickens.

And we did. Today.

I wanted to order heritage breeds and do the research and make some unique choices. And then I took a look around me - at the mess of my house, at the papers piling up, at the three kids of my own and the many others that spend time here from the neighborhood. And I decided to drive over to Belmont Feed & Seed.

Now, they had some fancier breeds, some more unique birds, but they were unsexed - meaning, as I found out today, that they weren't sure yet if they were male or female.

I'm not an asshole. At least not all the time. I couldn't risk walking out of there with a box full of roosters. So we got the sexed ones, the hens, the proven layers. They're hybrids, bred to lay, really.

We plan to build a second chicken coop later for a second flock. The Isa Browns we got don't tend to do well with other breeds, so maybe on our second time around we'll get fancy.

Until then...

3 Isa Browns; 3 Amber Links

Oh good lord the girls are so excited.

And in case you thought we only went and bought two... Don't worry. There are six!

some sad news

Grandma Libby and our family - by Mae

Oh hello there. It's been awhile. Haven't much felt like writing. Haven't much had the time.

We've had some sad news here. Chris's grandmother passed away a couple weeks ago. She had been sick on and off for awhile, but in the last year started to suffer shockingly from confusion and general dementia. I was glad to have had the chance to spend some time with her last summer. She was such a lovely lady, so talented in so many ways: pottery, sewing, crochet, embroidery. That was how I knew her. I know that her own children and grandchildren know her in other ways as well, and that they will miss her.

This was a first for our girls, in oh so many ways. It was, for them, the first time someone they knew and had spent time with had died. She started failing dramatically a few weeks before she died; long enough for Chris to drive his mother to Arkansas to be with her in her final moments. So the girls were back with me, in Chicago, waiting for news.

Knowing that her death was imminent did not in any way diminish its effect on them. When I broke the news a week ago Monday they were so sad and confused in such a little girl way that I broke down in tears.

We rented a car and set off on our 11 hour trip which, with three kids, ended up taking two whole days of driving. There was the perfect and expected amount of drama, anger, sadness, tears, and the oblivion that only small children can bring to death. We had a few lovely moments in the southern sun, though, and wandered the streets of Hot Springs after the service. Ate a lot of Mexican food. Drank some margaritas. Got back in the car and drove home to get back to work.

We approached the weekend with no specific plan regarding how we would talk to our children about death. We had no lessons in mind. We had no words memorized. We just let them fumble through it, as best we could. It doesn't seem to matter much how many times as an adult you go through the ceremonious finale that marks the end of a loved one's life. No matter the number of times you've received bad news; no matter the number of services you have planned or attended. It's always done, at least for me, in a bit of a haze. A strange slow rendering of reality, moment by moment. The sadness sinks in much later.

Oddly enough, we turned this occasion into a double funeral, as Chris's Uncle (the youngest son of his grandmother) died a couple years ago and was never given a proper goodbye. His ashes were still in the house. So after the sadness of the day, the tears, the sometimes angry words... we ended up spreading his ashes in an undisclosed location (this may be illegal, I'm protecting my family). At one point, I looked over at my girls and Bela was squeezing tight a bag of human ashes and inquiring about the bone fragments. A few minutes later and the girls and their cousin had their hands in the bag, sifting big parts from little ones, sprinkling and spreading them all in the water as we watched the beautiful swirls fill our field of vision.

It was a little unreal.

So. I've been quiet here. I'm not clear enough on my feelings surrounding this event yet to make much sense of them in this space. Was it ok for us to let them dig away in the ashes of someone's body? Will they forever remember that they kept the groundsman at the cemetery busy while he dug a fresh grave and scooped the water away that stubbornly kept filing it?

What has this experience done for their understanding of death?

Mae was feeling sad at school after her Daddy went to Arkansas to be with Libby when she passed away. Her teacher encouraged her to draw the image above and dictate this letter as well.

The roof

My girls do this thing. They let their room get dirty - disgustingly dirty. And then, in conspiratorial camaraderie they make a show of sneaking upstairs, telling me they have a surprise in store. Only two little girls aged 8 and 5 could make a show of sneaking off.

Anyway. They did this the other day. I assumed that in 20 minutes they would call me upstairs while proclaiming their room was "messier than even before" only to surprise and delight me with their newly cleaned quarters.

They didn't. I finally meandered up to see what was going on and the room was still the pits.

Mae admitted later that they got sidetracked. The weather was so lovely and the air smelled like spring, they opened the windows. They wrote secret messages on paper airplanes and threw them out their second story window.

It melted my heart. It was so darling. Two little girls, two sisters, throwing paper airplanes out the window.

And then yesterday happened.

I jogged home from work yesterday during a break in the rain. I stepped over soggy paper airplanes as I entered the front door. I took the baby from the sitter, I assumed my position in the kitchen and sauteed onions, chopped carrots, cooked up lentil soup. And the doorbell rang.

It's late now, and I've been giving oral exams in Spanish and taking care of a sick baby and reading for an hour to the girls and I don't have the brain power to turn this into narrative genius. So I'll just out with it.

The girls were on the roof. They were ON THE ROOF. They weren't cutely tossing innocent little paper airplanes out their cutely curtained white painted windows. They climbed out through the crumbling lead paint covered frame onto our newly replaced patch of roof and climbed to the little peak that looks out over our front stairs and THREW AIRPLANES TO THE FRONT YARD. FROM THE ROOF.

My neighbors saw them. They were horrified. I thanked them profusely for letting me in on the girls' secret. I didn't yell. I didn't take away Saturday ipad or Friday night movie. I figured for something this serious I should do something I never ever do under any other circumstance: I spoke to them calmly. I told them about the dangers of climbing on a roof.

I think we're in the clear now. I think they'll stay where they belong. But just in case, Chris and I have decided to put together a little homemade, hand illustrated Edward Gorey style book called: 30 ways you can die by falling off the roof.