Skip to main content

Artie and Pico

The kids have been spending the late afternoons in the pool. Last summer, Stuart and I swam with them quite a bit but I guess their closeness overwhelmed us so we don’t swim so much this summer. When I watch my swimmers from the deck, they occupy every corner of the pool but as soon as I tiptoe my way into the shallow end they clump up around me like curdled milk.

For a few minutes I tolerate this kicking, splashing mob but after a while I shake them off and seek solace in the deep end. They follow me. “Back off you guys! Why do you insist on sticking to me?!”

“We have to stick to you, Mom. You’re a dead elephant and we’re the flies.” Faith giggles and gets as close as she dares.

I turn around and pretend to ignore their jabbing knees and elbows. John scooches up right behind me just shy of touching. I turn around quick to give him what for. As soon as we’re face to face, John shoots backward across the pool. Ah, blessed space. But not for long. A second later, I can feel him breathing on my neck.

“John! What are you doing?!”

“I’m pretending we’re magnets, Mom. When my face is to your back you’re the south pole and I’m the north but when you turn around we’re both north and you know north can’t get near north.”

“Fine. Keep pretending we’re the same pole then.” He does until somebody calls for a biggest splash contest and I spend the rest of swim time as the judge for our backyard Olympics.

Last week, my friend Stephanie passed the Arte y Pico award my way. I went to look it up and discovered the blog where this award originated is written entirely in Spanish except for a short little blurb that explains that Arte y Pico means something about creativity. I decided I must have received this award for the crazy shenanigans that my children pull. I am also convinced (because Spanish is not my strong suit) that somewhere in that blog, the author describes life with her own children, Artie and Pico, who no doubt make her daffy with their creative antics.

I’m passing this award along to Mama JJ at Mama’s Minutia. She’s my real life sister-in-law. She speaks Spanish so she'll actually be able to read Arte y Pico. Drop by her blog for some great recipes. She’s a whiz in the kitchen as well as the garden and I’m sure, like me, you’ll come away with a few ideas. She has some Picoes and Arties of her own, mainly Baby Nickel, my little butter boy. Pour yourself a cup of coffee and put your feet up because just reading about that boy will wear you out.

Comments

LOL! It's very annoying (I mean precious) that our children just can't get enough of us. I never seem to be able to occupy a chair alone. :) And when I read aloud - even if the book doesn't have pictures - I always end up with children draped all over me in an effort to be the one (two?) that get the "lap!"
Congrats on the award. You deserve it.
How funny our children are- they really are like magnets! Eliana is so close on my heels all day that she steps on my shoes and makes me trip! :)

You deserve the creative award for your writing as well, my friend- it is a thing of beauty. (((hugs)))
Anonymous said…
Oh my lands! I got an AWARD! I'm all in a dither!

Actually, I don't think I really deserve this award. See, I'm rather inept at crafty things. I don't knit, embroider, crochet, sew, braid rugs, make my own lampshades. Nope, none of that.

However, I do create things with my hands, most notably, food. So I will graciously say thank you and take a bow. I mean, curtsey.

You're so sweet!

Love, JJ

Popular posts from this blog

This Week

This week, I let a kindergarten kid play with my iPhone to coax him into the tutoring classroom.  I set up a plan for dealing with this ongoing issue and consulted with his mama.  She’s a tough one to get to know, his mama, but I try. This week, I promised two little boys I would pick them up on Friday and take them to my house. This week, on a crazy afternoon, a granny asked me for alcohol and I thought.  I wish!    I could use a swig .  But that's not what she meant.  She was looking for rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxide to take care of an injured kid.  A few months ago, we were awkward because we didn't know each other but now the awkwardness is gone and I can’t help but hug her every time I see her. I love that granny.  This week, I dropped off a little girl and shook hands with her father.  His hand was dry, he had a tattoo on his neck and he's just fresh from jail.  He asked how his daughte...

Artistic Expression and Faith

A few days ago, I came across a post called Of Books and Faith written by Beck at Frog and Toad are Still Friends ( The best blog name EVER to my mind.) She writes about how the Christian market is saturated with mediocre books. How few fiction authors there are who really grapple with the messiness of humanity from a Christian perspective. I agree with her whole-heartedly. The Christian life does not come with the lack of conflict and the happily-ever-after resolutions that I find in many books of this genre. It's funny that I came across that post because I had been thinking similar thoughts about another form of Christian expression. Art. Christian art is often either poorly rendered or is just too pretty. It lacks creativity. It doesn't engage the mind. Remember when I made that long trek to Hobby Lobby for stencil supplies? That was where this idea started to form. I spent a few minutes flipping through posters. Flip. Glowing Jesus in a meadow. Flip. Glowing Jesus surr...

Finding Rest: Part Two (Scroll down three posts to read this story from the beginning)

Why share such a personal story ? I share it because I have talked to enough women to know that underneath the makeup and the matching outfits and the small talk that make up our exteriors, we are a broken people. To pretend otherwise creates isolation. Thoughtful honesty creates closer relationships and greater understanding. When we share the way God works in the difficult things of life it encourages first oneself and then others. For some of us, the pieces have been patched and restored and there is wholeness where there was none before. But some of us are walking wounded, barely hanging on and wondering if there is hope. We have a choice. We can either be completely shattered by bitterness, depression and anger or we can lay the fragments before the One who can take the sharp slivers and jagged pieces and create a beautiful, productive life. Here is the conclusion to John's story. When John was ten, he was sullen and moody and difficult and so was I. But I was no longer proud....