Is this my kid?

Tight curls blow and bounce around her head

and nothing makes her dizzy.

This one has curls that are looser

and bleached by the sun.

Is that my cat?

After not seeing him in weeks, we found him lazing on the sidewalk next door

with no interest in coming home and putting up with us.

Is this my neighborhood?

Until the exterior walls are all up, I can see the moon rise through my new neighbors’ windows

and they’ll see the sun set over southwest Houston.

Is this my next purchase?

At the George Ranch yesterday we learned how to throw a rope and catch a bale of hay.  C&D already practice this game with a shoelace riding on their Rody horses; how much longer ’til we have to swing out to the store and pick up a pair of kid-sized lariat ropes?

Carmen won’t stop bouncing.  She must have been on Rody four hours today, added all together.  She stops to eat, then gets right back on.  When she eats more than likely Rody sits on a chair, and when she goes to sleep she puts him in the “barn,” a against the wall.  She wants to read stories to him, feed him, and check his teeth.  And she wants to bounce, bounce, bounce.I feel silly for not finding this earlier.  I had a Radio Flyer spring-horse that I rode for hours when I was kid, when I wasn’t on my swings, and just like Carmen.  Also, doesn’t it make sense that the one who needed to be rocks and swung for hours and hours on end would grow up into a little girl who needs to bounce on a Rody and swing at the parks?  (Do I remember when she could easily spend 45 minutes in the baby swings at Judson Park, and now can swing herself at our favorite park all night?)  David likes Rody, too.  They ride around the house, hop, scoot, hop, scoot, even backward, to the windows, to the kitchen to check on breakfast, to the table when it’s time to eat.  David’s Rody also apparently likes to bite people (think the big teeth of the horses at the ranch have left an impression?) and follow him around, just like a buddy of a horse.  Good ol’ Rody.

cry.  I just might.

After a busy weekend of grandparent guests, I am sitting in the dark, my ears ringing.  We are two hours past naptime.  Carmen and David, exhausted from the weekend, the time change, and their own internal forces of chaos, are disassembling the upstairs, naked. 

The three of us swing between giddy and distraught, one end of the to the other of our spectrum of hysteria.  And it’s only Tuesday.

Be cool like me.  Join my co-op group. 

We came prepared.  I packed a hat, shade, earplugs, and earmuffs.  The crowds were dizzying, but fine if I didn’t really look too much

at the crowds

the people wearing mismatching outfits (hats, shorts, and sandals?  Is that legal?)

or the dizzy-tall buildings.

We brought tacos for a snack,

and David got egg on his face while Daddy got sunscreen on his.

We cheered until we got restless and hungry for lunch.

I learned today that crazy ants (a legacy we inherited with the house) will survive being zapped in the microwave for a minute.

I found this out when I watched a crumb from the cookie I had just heated crawl away.

For some reason using the computer is almost as hard now as it ever was, even the laptop.  Until my eyes make peace with the screen again, here’s a quick recap of Feb. 2008, more or less.

C&D at Spaghetti Warehouse eating spaghetti (of course) for their birthday, January 23rd.  We went out a day early, just to spread the birthday jollies around.

Next day we made birthday decorations

and carrot cake.

Then we sang Happy Birthday

and blew

the candles out.

The next weekend we drove to the George Ranch, where we found the wildflowers preparing for spring.

C&D have been frisky.  One morning, I found the pocket door stuck

because somebody had stuffed it with "mail."

Construction started across the street again

and giving David something to study.

Weekends we still escaped for the open spaces

although mostly any dirt will do.  I can’t find all my kitchen utensils, because David keeps taking the "shovels."

Carmen likes dressing herself and getting pictures taken, but like generations before her,

she does not smile.

We found tomatoes in our front yard (delicious)

and broccoli at the co-op.

I grieved at the realization the new houses would block not only the sunrise, but the moon, too.

Carmen increasingly likes recording events for posterity (here, the event is just that she is wearing a scarf)

and later, that she has beautiful braids

or is using a knife.