Strawberries and Raspberries

Last week I bought lots and lots of raspberries.  I made raspberry jam, old-fashioned raspberry ice cream sodas, lemon raspberry cupcakes, summer fruit crostata, and raspberry puree which we drizzled over our french-toast.

You know I love strawberries - they are naturally sweet, beautifully bright, and when the first good batches pop in around Valentine's Day so that lovers can dip them in chocolate - I feel a surge of hope that Spring is just around the corner.  And when they really come, I make jam, strawberry shortcake, and pie.  I put them in kids' lunches and top them on our pancakes and salads.

Strawberries pave the way for summer.  We eat them and know that barefoot days are coming.  Raspberries are more rich and complicated - the color is deeper, darker.  This August, as I've indulged in raspberry goodness, I have felt sentimental.  Raspberries are summer's sweet goodbye - a last kiss before we going away for awhile.

To everything there is a season - and I've sure enjoyed this one.

Will isn't quite walking yet, but he's taken a few brave steps.  We have a doll-sized red wagon that he goes in and out of.  Though he doesn't need to, he opens the door to get in, then he sits down, closes the door and says, "bye-bye."  After a moment or two, he then opens the door, gets out, and starts the whole game again. When he isn't doing that, he is begging me constantly, in the sweetest, most hopefully voice, "bike? bike? bike? bike?" really pronounced, "Bi? Bi? Bi? Bi?" And when I find that moment to take him out on his little bike with the handlebar in the back that I can push, he sits contentedly for as long as I will push him.

Ryan's prayers were answer this summer: he can jump into the deep end of the pool and swim everywhere, effortlessly.  He turns somersaults under the water and dives down to retrieve little pool darts and rings.  He just learned to do the monkeybars - and when he realized he didn't need me to hold him around the waist, he laughed out loud and hugged me and laughed some more.  His enthusiasm delights me.  And the other day when we were watching Robin Hood, and it got to the part when Robin Hood and Maid Marian are in love and walking hand in hand through the blue dusk to the tune of, "love, it seems like only yesterday . . ." - he motioned me over and said, "Mommy, this is the cute part!" What a tender boy.  And when we are alone, just the two of us, playing something, almost always, unprompted, he will announce, "Mommy, I love you."  or, "Mommy, I like your voice." "Why?" I ask. "Because it is sweet." And if I even so much as look at him and smile, he will often wrap his arms around me or kiss me.

Sophie continues to grow too fast - she is a teeny tiny long-legged stretched out little bean - but a hard-working one.  She is training to run in the Palo Alto Moonlight Run - and each time Matt or I takes her out for her run, she just keeps on keeping on.  Even if Emmy has given up, Sophie will keep going.  I asked her if she likes running and she said, "It is hard, but I want to be able to do good in the race."  Sophie has her disappointments - she wants a dog soooo bad.  I would bet that she wants a dog just as much or more than any child has ever wanted a dog.  I hope she gets one someday!

And Emmy has been reading, roller-blading, Lego-ing, and swimming this summer.  Of all of my children, she craves independence the most.  She does not like to be told what to do!  But despite her streaks of resistance, she'll still hold my hand.  She loves to snuggle in bed and read with me, and she is full of fun and good-humor.  She is learning to cook, loves experimenting with foods in the kitchen, and adores her baby brother.

Four kids are hard to keep happy - all of us all together all day means a much bigger mess and that usually at least one person is crying.  But now that school is starting, I will miss my big girls and the freedom to pile everyone in the car and head to the library, or the beach, or to get frozen yogurt.  Being a mom feels a lot like your heart is going to burst and break at the same time.