Monday Catch-Up

My sister says she checks my blog compulsively, hoping for an update. I don't want to assume that others do that too, as if I'm some sort of famous person, but I do feel bad when I let days and days go by without filling you in. Does it make you worry and wonder?

If I leave you on a sad note, do you worry that I am down for the count, under the covers until the next blog post appears? If I leave on an "up" note-- do I ever do that?--- do you think, "Wow, Anna's doing great?"

The reality is that during the course of a day, or even an hour, I am up; I am down; I am all over the place. Each day holds its blessings, and its pain.

Last week we had the UP of Margaret doing an AMAZING job as Lucy in "The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe" at school. You've known for years that this girl had dramatic flair, and being in her first play channeled that spunkiness beautifully:

When the narrator talked about "Lucy the Valiant" at the end, I thought. "Margaret, valiant, yes." Not willingly, for sure, but valiant all the same.

She has really, really wanted to play Lucy, ever since Jack played Lucy's brother Edmund the last time the school put on the play. We would practice his lines around the kitchen table. I was the White Witch, and Margaret was Lucy.

The play program this year said, "In Loving Memory of Jack Donaldson. With Aslan."

Wow. Beautiful. I know.

So, it was sweet to see Margaret get to use her gift of acting to entertain. And it was bitter without Jack there to cheer her on, or to critique her every move. Sweet/Bitter. Bittersweet.

Same with her class's Medieval Feast on Friday. She was an archer and did a lovely job. In the back of our minds, however, was Jack, our little dictator, The Lord of the Manor .

And Mother's Day?

There was the bitter of not having this little group together:

Mother's Day 2011 photos. That is a DART in my dress. A DART. Thank you. Seriously, if anyone enjoys Photoshop and would be willing to de-nipplify/dartify these pics for me, I would be GRATEFUL!

And the sweet this year of this hug after Margaret's soccer game:

A tough day, indeed, made much more bearable by cards, love gifts, flowers, texts and emails from friends loving on us. Thank you. By the new blue ribbons festooning fences in town. Thank you. By the prayers sent up by moms gratefully holding their kids close and wishing I could hold both of mine. Thank you.

And today, the school is attending a Shakespeare Festival. One year ago Jack played MacBeth.

This year his name and his favorite Bible verse (Luke 1:37) adorn the progams and the back of the kids' t-shirts.

Ouch. Bitter/Sweet.

So today's post is really just to let you know I'm here.

I'm up.

I'm down.

And I'm glad you are with me.

In the Blink of an Eye

Happy Birthday, Sweet Boy! You changed EVERYTHING, in all the best ways.

Love, Mom

It All Makes Sense Now

When you entered our lives 11 years ago, the kingdom celebrated with banners and trumpet song. You brought a joy to us beyond what we had ever imagined or experienced before.

We served you with delight; your interests became our interests, your passions our passions, whether it was Thomas the Tank Engine, or more recently, Legos. We read what you read. We watched what you watched. We eagerly awaited your next decree: "No hamburgers!" "No soccer!" "No early mornings!"

The depth of your strong emotions seemed to come from a place more regal than just a middle class, suburban family. Were you a changeling? Did you know something we did not know?

When you had a good day, all was right with the world. When your mood turned melancholy, the entire kingdom suffered. Our schedules, our rhythms, orbited around your young, brilliant sun.

We wondered endlessly: Were you properly fed, attired, rested?

Some days it felt as if the kingdom was being ruled, albeit benevolently, by a tiny dictator.

The way you would walk away from an open car door, not bothering to shut it, and the manner in which you would call out, "Where are my shoes?" when surely you were the only one who would know such a thing, were certain signs of someone of noble birth, who need not be bothered with the minutiae of daily life.

And now that the Day of the 5th Grade Medieval Feast is upon us and you have been appointed Lord of the Manor, it all makes perfect sense.

Lord Jake, as your humble servants we ask you to continue to shine your favor upon us.

Love,

Mom, Dad, and Molly

p.s. At least I didn't have to make Chicken Pudding this year.