Phoebe and the Voodoo Lily

My kids trust me as their personal Ranger Rick, their guide to all things natural. I seldom trick them. But sometimes the temptation is too great. 

Phoebe and I rode our bikes over to tend to our neighbors' dog, Max. Max is 14 and he adores Phoebe.

She gives him the love he needs when he's staying home alone.

I used to pet-sit for all kinds of people when I was her age, too. She's good at it. Conscientious. Will set her alarm to feed him on time. Knows he needs to feel someone cares, and isn't just pouring food in a dish and walking away.

While Phoebs bustled around getting Max's food ready, I strolled through Sherm and Beth's garden. Like me, they love weird plants. I spied a voodoo lily in full bloom. Oh oh oh.

This member of the Araceae attracts flies and beetles by emitting a powerful odor of rotting flesh and cat poo. I moved over for a tentative sniff. Didn't smell anything. Took a deep breath and agggghhhh!! Sooo bad. Like sticking your nose in a litterbox. Worse. Flies buzzing all around. Eccchhh.

I swallowed my gorge and called to Phoebe. Hey Phoebs!! Come see this voodoo lily! It smells AMAZING!!

Phoebe hurried over, asked, "Does it smell good?" 

"It smells AMAZING!!" I repeated. I wasn't lying. The stench was awesome. 

She stuck her nose right down by the spathe and took a deep draught. Trusts her mama. And gave a strangled cry as she recoiled, covering her face with her hands.

She twirled away for a few yards, yelled, "I HATE YOU!!" and stood there shaking her poor little head. "It's stuck in my throat! It's burned into my nose! I hate you!!"

Ah ha ha ha ha. Little Science Chimp prank for ya there, girlie. Pay it forward.

I led her to these iris, which smelt of grape bubblegum. Almost all better.

She turns 18 tomorrow, this Child of Light. And she's gotten her biggest birthday wish, and he's been staying with us for a week.

Perhaps Phoebe's favorite skyline...PNC Park, home of the Pirates.

We kicked his visit off with a Pirates' game, against the AZ Diamondbacks. Here, they're walking across the bridge to the stadium. Liam is always included. I love that about these kids.

The game didn't go so well in the end, but we had fun.

The baseball park is a scene my family loves, but it's truly all too much for me. The organ music, the roaring crowd, the announcements, the flashing tickertape, the clapping and stomping. I get antsy and have to get out of there. I guess it's because my soundtrack of choice is crickets and birds, and my ears and senses are set to sort through all the natural music, identifying each singer. So when I get a wash of loud, random noise, I go on Tilt, like an old shaky hunting dog might.

I did enjoy watching the clouds sail like great clipper ships across that beautiful city skyline. Rough-winged swallows dipped and swooped on the infield.

We had a quintessential Pittsburgh moment--the pierogies, racing past the iconic Heinz ketchup bottle.

It's true--the moments I treasure most are when the kids and I are out in nature together. We've been doing some biking this summer, a bit of cross-training with all the running. It's astounding how many miles you can cover in a short time with a bicycle. I feel like a caveman, discovering The Wheel. Ten miles feels like nothing.

Whenever there's a hill, the kids get there first. I have to stop and take cow photos, anyway. 

We've befriended all the dogs on our routes. 

We look for pink chicory. I make them sit down with it, because I'm remembering a moment...

And I'm blasted back in time to the first pink chicory we found, and the ten-year-old who posed for me. It was in the same spot. The plants are still there.  But everything else has changed a little since July 10, 2007. What a difference seven years makes.

She's growing up now, and she's going to go soon, and we're going to have to make sure Liam's OK with that, that he gets enough love without his big sister handy by. 

I watch her starting her real life, and part of me wants to go along. A lot of me does.

 Happy birthday, beautiful bird. These hills will be waiting for you when you come home.

Pirates and Pierogies

So up we went to our seats at PNC Park to see the real live Pirates. I think Liam would have come all this way just to ride this elevator. Willya look at the gams on that girl? Phoebe was blessed with her father's legs, just like I asked the night before she was born.

Liam was on top of the world, #1. He's clutching his free T-shirt. It was T-shirt night.

Down into the deserted stands we went.

But they quickly filled up.

The game was darn good. The Pirates even led for awhile. It was awesome, until they didn't. I am trying so hard to remember who they played. The Astros? Uhmmm. I can't remember. Oh. Oh. The Arizona Diamondbacks. That's right. There were two Diamondback fans right in front of us and they were sort of wanly yelling, "Go D-Backs!" which sounded to me a lot like "Go D-bags!" which is an unfortunate choice of nicknames, if you ask me.

My remembering sports team names is like some people trying to remember the name of a flower. I have a lot of empathy for them, so I hope sports fans have empathy for me. But I watched the whole thing, and I tried like h.e.doubletoothpicks to understand what was going on and why this or that player was being a jerk or a wussy. Or why we should roar at any given moment and express our disgust and shame at another. And after the first pitch I did not even crack the book I had surreptitiously brought to read during the game. It wouldn't have been the right thing to do.

The game went into extra innings. I looked at my watch in the 11th inning and felt my heart go into my left heel. It was 11:30 pm, we had our kids with us, and we were three hours from home. I told myself that Chet was at least probably using his doggie door, and felt better for a moment. We left, in time to avoid seeing the Pirates fall by six points. Got home, having been gone almost 13 hours. Going to a baseball game in Pittsburgh is something probably best not contemplated, it's best done spur of the moment. 11:30 turned out to be a good time to leave. The D-bags squished the Pirates something like 11-6.

It was a long drive home, but we had brought bunny nest materials for the kids, who fell asleep instantly. When we got home, we wished the kids were still little enough to carry into their beds.

I have to confess that, after the giant foam finger, the thing that made my night was the pierogie race.

Overall, I was unprepared for the zany music, the different theme song blasted out for every player, the little movie clips on the Jumbotron. The whole event was pitched exactly at my level. But the pierogie race was the BEST. Bill had been telling me for years either that I run like a giant pierogie or the Oscar Meyer Wiener and at last I know what he means. Well, you try popping out two kids and see how well you run afterward.

Liam and the Big Foam Finger

Not long ago, Bill of the Birds got a wild hair, and he called me in the afternoon and asked me if I wanted to take the kids to PNC Park in Pittsburgh (a mere three hours away) for a Pirates game. That same night. Well, uh, sure! Sure, we can do that. I could hear in his voice how much he wanted to go. I examined my inner soul and realized that, to my surprise, I did, too. (I am not your biggest sports fan. I know that will come as a shock.) However...As summer wanes away and school grinds into gear, Bill and I jump at the chance to do special things with Phoebe and Liam. Nothing makes them happier than when all four of us are together, even if it's just on the couch with popcorn or sitting outside for dinner in the slanting light of evening. That's when their world is right.

When I told Liam what Daddy had suggested, he did one of his trademark boneless swoons, collapsing to the floor like a happy limberjack. Phoebe did her bouncy eep dance. I raced around like a shrew, madly getting outfits and snacks and drinks and coats and hats and sunscreen and throwing everything into tote bags. I apologized to Chet Baker and left a sliding glass door just a little bit open and taught him how to squeeze through it and when I was sure he had it down I told him that he'd need to use it when he needed to go pee and he said, "Mether, thank you. I can go without for 12 hours, but I would prefer not to." That dog understands. And sure enough when we got home he pranced and bounced around us and took just the tiniest of wees, because he had availed himself of his makeshift doggeh door. And we were all happy, and he was very proud of himself.

It was so exciting, approaching the ballpark. It really is just the best ballpark you could ever imagine, spotlessly clean and graphically appealing and full of pretty good if hugely overpriced food. Plus, the Pirates are there, and they are Bill's favorite ever team, even though they break his heart pretty much every day, they win just enough to keep him hooked.

We got there really really early, a half hour before they even start letting people in, because Bill wanted to watch warmups. It was so cute the way he wore his Pirates jersey and hung over the wall watching.

Speaking of cute, Liam saw some big foam fingers for sale and said in this dreamy voice, "I have always wanted a big foam finger. May I go look at them?"

At this point I got my 300 mm. telephoto going, because I didn't want him to feel self-conscious. He approached the foam finger girl.

and asked to see the foam finger.

Look! It's a giant foam finger!

At this point, Bill and I were ready to pay anything for the foam finger. I think it was the slightly knock knees. The slightest thing about my kids can make me weep.

But being Liam and being a sweet boy, he gave it back to her and came back to us, ready not to have it for his own. I love her body language here.

And Daddy sent him right back to buy it.

He is his father's son.