Mud Angels

What do 3 snow-lovin girls do when the snow they have waited and wished for becomes the melty variety of snow in just mere hours?

Well, thankfully, these girls are flexible...

The results of a recent snow day:

3 VERY muddy girls
1 mud angel

an amazing mud path to the patio door
1 rather large pile of dark brown clothes and boots
1 wash machine filled with leaves, rocks, and probably manure (since play time WAS in the garden after all).
1 bath tub full of clean girls and muddy water.

and best of all...A very fun memory!!

Um...yeah....we do like mud around here.  Why do you ask?  :o)

Holland's Picnik Creation

Fondue Love

I am the first to admit that my hero husband has a hard job.  I mean, really, three four girls?  I like to think that most of the time he is a very blessed man (hehe) and truly, he goes around EVERYWHERE bragging that he is the luckiest man alive.  But when Valentine's Day rolled around this year, I really felt the weight FOR him.  He not only has me to please on Valentine's Day, but now that the girls are older and "get" Valentine's Day, he now has 4 girls to please.  Good thing we're all easy to please. :o)

This year, though, he really knocked all our socks off by writing us a sweet letter detailing each of the qualities he loves best about each of us, and ending it with an invitation to dress our best and go out to a fancy feast of fondue.  We don't go to many fancy restaurants because, well--face it--most fancy restaurants would frown on a whole family riding up to their establishment in a 16-foot long bike, all sweaty and clinking bike shoes on their fancy slate floors, but we all yipped and hollered at the chance to get dressed up and actually arrive there in a <gasp> vehicle!  

When Brian came to get us at 6:00 that evening, he was amazed at our punctual-selves.  I clued him in that we had began the "getting-ready" process at a mere 2pm.  :O)  The girls had their nails done, their hair curled, the hair feathers purchased by Brian attached to their hair, along with the tough job of finding the perfect accessories.  And let's not even start with what it took me to get ready!  :o)

I made a big deal of the girls getting ready to enjoy the time with daddy.  It was such a special time for us all and the girls have wistfully reminisced about their time dipping veggies and meats and marshmallows many times.   Liv received the quote of the night when, after Holland mentioned how awesome everything was, gasped and sighed, "THIS IS DREAMLAND!"

 We all have slightly dazed faces here.  You might think it's because of the food coma we are slipping into, but I like to think it has a little something to do with a flash in a dark room.

These two hoodlums look like they are up to something!  Also, the bandaids do not indicate an occurrence of any sort of accident with a fondue flame.  Reesie has to take her Mickey band-aids everywhere she goes.  I do love quirky kids.

Thank you, Brian, for your love for us!

Popsicles Forever

It was a sprite Spring day--

The kind that begged for a popsicle

A day you never wanted to end.

A Savor-Every-Last-Drop-Sort-Of-Time.

But that is not surprising when you get to spend the day with the stickiest, silliest, loveliest girls in all the world.

The Carrot Who Lost His Hat

My 6-year-old recently created this story for her Grandma Jan's birthday.  Grandma Jan and the girls have a tradition of telling vegetable stories back and forth, inspired by their time in the garden together.  She told, I typed.  I did help her with word choices, based on her impression of the character's emotions, but all in all, this was her story and her illustrations.  I think my favorite picture she drew, was of Mr. Radish sleeping, dreaming about Mrs. Rut A. Baga with that dreamy look on his face.  So funny. PS:  here is an early look into Holland's colorful word choices at the ripe age of three.  A Mother's Day card transcribed by Brian. 

Great job, Holland!!

Good Samaritan

He said,
     "My name is Carl, and I'll take you anywhere you want to go."  


***
I turn and see her--
hands bare from forward propelling chair on wheels, she
uses her one good leg to spin around and heave backwards through the crowd,
low voice calling out to passerby's--
                    "Watch out!  Comin' Through!"


Dark skin stark against hard life,
wearing white, stained tee.
And I see her wince under the weight of Market Street:
the sound of cable cars and tourists,
as she narrowly misses the 49ers paraphernalia taking up
valuable sidewalk space.


And the crowd did all but part ways for her.
                    So still the struggle.


The hurried tourists skirt around her like they did the overturned 
     garbage can up the street.  
Some rush back to work after a quick lunch, 
     preoccupied with living.  
Others don't see--
     so much destitution becomes normal.


Still, a few just don't care.  Her business isn't their business.
Isn't my business.  
Pang in the heart.


***


Then he says it again:
                     "I'll take you anywhere you want to go." 


And the way he says it--it's like....like he means it.
I stare and see then that he does mean it.
And he hasn't asked it as a question.


They shuffle a bit with his load.  
He asks if she minds holding his beer. 
She holds his Italian leather briefcase and 
his open bottle of anchor steam 
against her stained pants, 
and bandage-wrapped leg; 
                    smiles grateful at the man who offers such mercy.


And his young voice calls out to her above the noise of 4th Street. 
She is being asked her name.
She is being asked about her day. 
Shiny patent shoes scrape against 80-grit and 
sounds like the melody of mercy and 
 she talks
                     --on and on and on.


I can still hear her voice as they sail around the corner.


***


He: young, able, income-savvy.
She: old, unable, destitute.
Both: despite race, income, age, or even the proposed daily agenda--
                    joined for a moment; exchanging names.


 And for just a time, her hardship is gone and she feels like a person worth getting to know better. 
A Good Samaritan. For another, life laid down.


Carl walked a mile.
A mile which wasn't his.
And he made it his business.


Will 
I 
make 
it 
mine?











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Snow Day 2012

It's a snow day here...finally...and it just reaffirmed some strong truths in our family:  

one certain person  in our family thinks everything was put on this earth for us to eat.  

Yes, Reesie.  I'm talkin' to you.

See?  

And Liv is forever our snow girl.  She was squealing and somersaulting and squealing and hopping and squealing and acting all sorts of crazy.  It was very difficult to get her to eat her breakfast.  Did I mention the squealing?

Holland has never loved the snow, or being cold.  But this year, there was not one sad face and that, my friends, is how we measure success in our family:

And Wieber girls are always interested and moving towards results.  Let's see how they did:

Here we have fancy, boa-wearin' Snow Lady:

Miss Snow Bunny: 

And I do believe Reesie has found a new friend.  

Eskimo kisses even! 

Now we are inside, 

finishing up with schoolwork and a cup of hot cocoa, 

and enjoying the quiet that blankets the earth after a snow fall.  

Happy day to you!