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Song Snippet I Burst Out Spontaneously Singing ALL YEAR LONG: Oh no! the mistletoe! Hung where you can see! Somebody waits for you, kiss her once for me!*

The temperature hovered above freezing today, enough to make what would have been more snow be rain instead. The nubbly nap of the snow carpet is wearing away. It's sinking slowly down below the surface, filling the water table, although as I drove through the fields, it often appears as if it's the earth RISING through the patches of snow. Flat-bottomed clouds cruise the horizon. Relaxing on my sofa after work, I lie and stare at the red gabled side of the farmhouse behind us, watching the bedraggled ducks lift and shake their wet wings, trolling their beaked heads back and forth as they step in slow motion through the mud. 2 of the horses impatiently shake water from their manes, their purple horse blankets steam. A trio of male ringneck pheasants (the 3 stooges, I presume, since pheasants are so dumb) mince along the top of the ditch along the fence, their colors muted, their spiky tailfeathers sticking out stiff and ridiculous behind them. They're mighty fat, those 3 feathered gentlemen. Scoping for chicks. Hen-cruising.

A few days ago, as I turned onto the main road that runs from the highway to Flyinge, just past the Ramel estate, a cock pheasant shot into the air from the hill to my left and soared over the car. His tail feathers were stretched out, banners in the wake of his passage, his heavy belly hung below his frantically flapping wings. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't lift much higher and just missing the car, soared to a clumsy halt on the other side. That wasn't flying, I thought in my best Sheriff Woody drawl, that was falling with style.

You know what I'm going to miss? The bodies of my children. I already miss their baby toes. They smell so clean, like peaches, and their skin is so golden and rosy and plump with health, tiny golden hairs glinting in the sunlight. Karin's baby potbelly pooching out like a mini-basketball, the curve of Martin's cheek and the length of his eyelashes. The fat, flat lobes of their little ears. That one little freckle on the side of her foot, the inward jink of his pinky fingers. Soon enough, I'm sure, they'll be too old to let me so close, to hug and nestle and wrestle. They'll grow up, grow private, turn inward and away, become teenagers. For now, though, I can still hold them, a heavy weight pressing on my lap, twined arms around my neck, those tiny white leaf-teeth shining in wobbly rows inside those electric kid smiles.

*Earworm from Hell. Sorry.
mood: content
music: Verian Thomas—Stealmouth


*smiles* Lovely entry. I must say that when I first glanced at your singing chipmunk icon, I thought the little beast was QUITE excited to be singing. *ahem* Now that I've looked at it properly it was just the very pink microphone base. *blush*

Ya horndog! :D

um.... you saw that too?

I swear I didn't read your post until after I posted mine but there must be something about singing rodents in the air today. That and kids you just want to hold on to and not let go of 'cause you know too soon they will change and grow out of their cute and sweet phase.

Michele will kill me if she happens to go this deeply into my Friends' list, but she's 20 years old and I STILL play with her feet when I can get my hands on them. Can you imagine me being, like 80 and her being like 65 and me STILL playing with her toes? It could happen. Don't lose hope.

LOL! What an image that put in my head! :D The thing is baby toes are so cute and round and buttony, but big kid toes? Not so much.


oof. you making my womb ache with your gentle, beautiful descriptions. Stop that now!

Weepily, Wee xo

Hee! And I never wanted kids, can you believe it?! :P

Liz, your words always tell me that you get what life's about. You, my dear, are a wise and amazing woman.

oh, pshaw!

She's baaaaack.... ;)

Ah, those bodies.
If you are lucky as they get older they will let you rub their necks when they are stressed. They will hug and touch, and at times of grief and joy they will cling.
Sometimes I weep because mine are no longer small and bouncy on my lap, but they are such cool grown people, that I don't weep for long.

I know there will be good things about every age with my children, but they grow up so fast!! I particularly love the age they are right now :)

They're still young enough to pull onto your lap and to fix some things with a kiss. *sigh*

My mother still mourns the passing of my "squishy, kissable" baby forhead.

somehow, today, you have managed to touch something deep and precious. your words resonate and give the world a glow.

thank you.

You're welcome :) thank you!

Wonderful entry! You live in a beautiful environment and reading your description of it paints such a vivid picture that I can see clearly. I am currently proof reading a manuscript for a book that a friend of mine hopes to get published, so I happily offer my services to proof read your manuscript - I just know you are going to write a masterpiece!

Thankyou yet again for your warmth and insight - no wonder this is my "must read" journal!

(was that okay? When do I get the money?)

LOL! The check's in the mail.

That's what I was afraid of. But it was worth a shot :)

There's something irresistably snugglable about babies and little children. I'm like the Abominable Snowman who adopted Daffy Duck: I want to hug them and squeeze them and call them George.

(Er, okay, not that last bit.)

My eldest local nephew just turned 15 a couple of months ago, and I still can't used to it. He got a shaving kit for his birthday, and I felt like I'd slipped realities -- how can this slim, lanky, taller-than-me young man be the same person as that little roly-poly baby boy who used to cuddle up on my lap to be read to? When we were over there for Christmas, he shook hands with the menfolk instead of giving them hugs. Aieee! (Fortunately, he took pity on his poor freaked-out aunt and deigned to hug me.)

I mentioned this to my sister the other day, and she laughed -- she said she loved having her little children, but now that a few of them (she has six) are into their teens, she thinks "it's pretty cool" to watch them turn into their own grown selves. Of course, this opinion might have been skewed by the fact that we'd just gotten a foot of snow, her husband was away, the snowblower was broken, and the nephew in question had just cleared the entire driveway by hand... ::grin::

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I can complain because rose bushes have thorns or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.

Abraham Lincoln

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