Among Giants - A Camping Photo Ablum

Ah, Summer; the time of year we await with fervor, knowing that once school is out we will get to all of the projects that have been piling up.  We will pick up the old band-aids laying behind the toilet, knock down the spiderwebs that have been in the corner since Christmas, and finally take the baby clothes out of the 3 year old's drawers.  Oh, we know there will be other activities to tend to, but, we assure ourselves, when those are done, we will pass the remaining hours each day filling photo albums and finally writing in baby books.

What are you smoking?  Summer will be over in 4 minutes and

  It feels like we just got here!!!

June blasted by in a cloud of road dust and dirty laundry.  Because this blog is actually my journal for my kids (Aw, you thought it was for you? How cute. Gee, sorry 'bout that.  Also, you really need a hobby), I am going to take the time to post about each of our ventures.  It will be like one eternal slide show from the seventies.  Go get a snack and come back.  I'll wait.  Go pee while you're up.  It's good for your kidneys.

We kicked off June with a trip to Calaveras Big Trees to camp with Kathy and Bishop (who, by the way, is no longer Bishop, but now President, so I'll just call him Wayne.  It's shorter).  We forced the big boys to join us with promises of unlimited napping.  The park rangers did a great job of convincing the kids that bears would come in the night and gobble them up like human jerky if they had a stick of gum in their pocket, so yeah, bed time was super fun.  I'd like cash for each time I said, "You will NOT be eaten by a bear!"  Oddly, this is not on my regular list of bedtime assurances. It is a promise I couldn't really back up for sure, but I kinda think that if a bear started at one of my kids he would get his first dose of  Crazed-Mama-Lion.  My shrieking and arm flailing would at least make him nervous. After the kids woke up the first morning NOT in a bear's stomach, they all did a bit better the second and third nights.  All but Natalie, who puked like a fire-hose on me in her sleep (are bears attracted to puke?)

We had the campsite almost to ourselves, and though it was quiet in that respect, we were sadly so near a highway (I know!  LAME!) that it took the sparkle off of the shiny-wilderness experience.  Speaking of campsites, allow me to take a moment to mention this, the North Grove campground, in particular, since I could find nothing online that did so before we left (if you're here because you googled this, you're welcome.  Don't stay in unit 24).  The pluses of this particular campground were: great bathrooms, showers (coin-op), and very handicapped accessible, with a cool boardwalk right through the middle of the meadow.  There were no terribly pesky bugs, and there was plenty of shade.  Minuses?  As I mentioned, the highway was VERY near by, the bear boxes were a complete pain in the tookus, the creek was dry, the river was too far away to walk, and the fire-pits were so tall that while sitting you couldn't even see the fire.  Yeah, they kinda missed the whole point with that one.  Besides the threat of bears, there were very few actual critters to be seen, probably because you have to keep food locked up so tight there were no vittles laying about the ground for them to nibble.

We had a ball at the Stanislaus River, and though it was a billy-goat style workout to get down from the road to the water, once there it was almost dream-like.  By the second day I was actually able to let myself relax and stop making lists in my head.  There was a great pair of rocks that created a cradle just the right size for a pair of grown-ups or a grown-up and a kiddo.  We all took turns cuddling and talking to the kids one-on-one, and it was a sweet experience.  As couples, we took turns watching the kids so that the other pair could sit with feet propped up and enjoy a visit.  It was concluded after all the chatting that: camping with anyone under age 3 is a pain; tents are a pain; and next time we will get sitters for the kids, rent an RV and have a couples' retreat!  

For me, the things from this trip that I will tuck away in my dusty memory banks are:

The kids loving on the crafting supplies we brought.  They spent hours painting rocks and sticks, making flags and wooden dolls, and relearning how to simply unplug and play.  Their replacement for media became an obsessive compulsion to play Uno.  They may have played over 100 times.  It went on and on for hours.  I wasn't thrilled, but eventually the middle kids began to include the little kids, which was nice, and Ellie and Tessa began to prefer exploring by the second day.

The rangers had posted instructions on what to do if you were confronted by a bear.  You are to raise your arms above your head, wave your hands and yell something like, "Bad Bear!"  I guess they figured they should give you something to say rather than just screaming "mommy!".  On one afternoon, Ethan stayed behind at our site with Adam to nap while we went to the river.  Hours later after we had returned, Ethan finally woke up and stumbled out of his tent.  Everyone started yelling, "Bad bear! Bad bear!".  His response was a bearlike grumble as he shoo-ed his hand at us as at a fly.  He acted mad, but there was a sleepy hint of a smile on that grouchy muzzle.

On the last night, as is our new tradition (because two years makes a tradition, baby!), I made Dutch oven carnitas and we enjoyed them with limes and cilantro.  After dinner we got our S'more on.  You may remember last year we swapped the graham crackers for homemade chocolate chip cookies.  Well, this year we took it up a notch with Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (in the new bar form).  Next year I may have to try making my own marshmallows.  Oh, and yes on that sugar high, in case you were wondering.

There were no major catastrophes, no burns or capsized boats (that's a camping story for another day).  We had a pretty good time, and we even sorta got to see a bear (or at least a grumpy teenager).

(Now it's time for a game.  It's like Where's Waldo, only you have to find Natalie)

When I saw this photo the first time I was shocked by all of the very big kids in it.  I still picture them as hitting me at the shoulder or elbow.  So much like the giant sequoia trees that we bent our heads heavenward to see, they are growing and growing and not stopping (why won't they stop?!).  

On the nature walk we took among the giant sequoias, the guide held up a small pine cone about the size of a chicken egg.  He said it contained even smaller seeds, and each was capable of growing into one of these mighty giants.  He said that the forestry service used to try to prevent fires in the forest in attempts to protect the trees, but have learned that the trees need the fire to thrive.  He said that each of these trees had been through about 100 fires in their lifetimes.  The fire kills disease, encourages new growth, and helps with overcrowding, and for those small pine cones to pop open and germinate.

I guess we are not the only ones who grow from adversity.

And now, Ladies and Gents, the pictures!!!! 

"Aw shucks!"

Another picture of Natalie, already, you ask?  Oh, you just wait.

 Because two of my brats refuse to be photographed.  I am just making up for it.

Kaylee and Tessaloo, standing on water.

"Seriously, mom, is there any point to this?  Don't you realize that in 10 minutes I plan to lick the cold soot off the grill and crawl under the table to suck on rocks?"

The "Booty Rock", as the kids called it. 

 I'll admit, it did cup one's tushy quite nicely.

Nap time, anywhere!

Is it just me, or are they beauties?

Carnitas!!! (the beginning stage, anyway!)

The only decent picture of Ethan I managed to get (and by decent, I mean his hand is not covering his face).

Jonah-boy was like a lizard on the rocks. A really loud lizard.

Enjoying my kidlets from the comfy booty rock.

Speaking of rocks, I like to take pictures of them.

  Hush!  You do weird stuff, too.

Top to bottom: Kaylee, Jonah (protesting the picture),Tess, Ellie, and Lauren

Adam spent a lot of time off exploring, but otherwise he could be found by the fire pit.  You know; boys, fire, sticks.  Enough said.

I wanted to remember this little moment.  Ellie had invited me to lay in her nest and visit.  We talked about important things, and I am glad she thought to include me.  I am also glad that I didn't pass up the moment to go do something "productive" and utterly unimportant by comparison.

At the foot of a giant.  The roots of a medium sized Giant Sequoia.  Living it was "only" about 200 feet high.

Look what Daddy caught...

too small to keep, too cute to throw back!

Looking at ladybugs.

Never mind that they are different ages, they play together sweetly.

Wayne with Ryan, who kept his mama and papa up a lot the night before.  

It didn't bother me, I was probably cleaning up puke.

As illusive as Ethan and Bigfoot... an Owen.

*Squeak!*  So dang cute.

If I had to title this picture, I would call it "Cooperation".  Jonah had been hiding from me every time he saw the camera.  I had a little chat and told him how much I loved his cute face and how sad I was that he wouldn't let me take a picture to remember the fun we were having.  This picture was his response.  

Forest elves.  Make a wish!

On the nature trail.

"I done.  I not coming any-moh!"  He plopped himself down and was determined to become a permanent part of the forest.

I adore this picture of Guy. And I also adore him most days. 

This little girl got in freezing cold water and played away.  

Her teeth chattered but she wanted to stay!

Wow.  Those eyes.

I took slightly more than 5 billion pictures on this trip, so there were many more that I left out, but I think the one above of Ellie and Jonah is my favorite of all.  They made a nest of long pine needles, and they played in it for over an hour together.  It was magical.  They giggled and rolled and hugged, and stared up into the trees.  They whispered quietly to each other and then giggled some more. 

This is what childhood should be like.  I feel like I allow my children to be robbed when I succumb to their requests for "screen time".  Even if they are watching or playing educational  programs, they are still letting their imaginations sleep.  It is sad.  By contrast, the way they played at camp was amazing.  The first day they complained and said there was nothing to do.  The second day they shifted and began to explore and really play.  The third day, they ruled their universe, and on the last morning Tessa announced, crestfallen, "We're going home today?  Awwww! It feels like we just got here!" 

Too true. 

Declaring Independance

I don't run.

That's what I thought of myself.  Just the way some people say, "I don't ski", I believed of myself that I don't run (unless in the presence of zombies, though I could be compelled to run toward chocolate).

Funny how we have to re-frame our beliefs about ourselves from time to time.  

I still can't say, "I run," in the pure sense of the word.  I hobble, sure.  I do a very hoppy-walk, maybe, but you couldn't really call it running.  Its more like a frazzled housewife stumbling across hot coals.  My friends Danielle and Kathy don't seem to mind, though.  Even though in a zombie invasion they could leave me in the dust as an entree, they let me set the pace when we have been out training.

On the 4th of July I "ran" (air quotes) my first 5K.  We had been using the Couch2-5K phone app for training, but hadn't gotten to the end of the training guide before race day.  I just told myself not to worry about it, because ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING I did in this race would be better than my efforts in the past.  Still, I had only done 2 miles in one shot, and that was with some structured 90 second breaks.  Oh, well! Too late now, it was go time. 

We headed over to the park at about 20 minutes before the race was to start, but as we approached the school, a horn went off... ten minutes early!   It was anticlimactic for sure, but all was not lost.  We got close to the start and joined the crowd as it poured out into the street.                    

Now, because "I don't run", I have only ever heard about the mysterious responses the body has in these settings.  There is a supposed adrenaline rush to speed you along your way.  Ha.  Yah, for like 30 seconds.  It was no time at all before my body was protesting the running, and telling me I was supposed to still be in bed.  "Hel-lo!!! Duh, it's a holiday!" my calves informed me.

About a century into the run some wise guy thought it would be keen to put up a "MILE 1" sign, and about four miles later a "MILE 2" sign.  Not helpful.  What the first sign actually said was, "Hey loser, you aren't even half way! Nanny-nanny!" and the next said, "Caution: 90 year old pushing a stroller passing you on the left".

My left leg grew heavy and achy.  I could hear the voice of my friend Andrea who has MS, in my head saying, "It's hard, but I am good at doing hard things."  I told myself that Danielle and Kathy thought I could do it (even if I didn't think so).  I thought about laying on a radiology table as Dr. F. pushed tools through my blood clots and inflated balloons in my veins while I suppressed tears of intense pain.  "This is easy compared to that," I told myself.  I may say it too many times here, but I thought about the blessing to have been given this opportunity, and this time my tears were just pure joy.  

There were, on occasion, perfect strangers who were calling out encouragement, and I kinda' wanted to hug them, even though it certainly couldn't have been for me.  It was like they could hear the crazy lady in my head telling me to lay down in the gutter and cry. 

 "Keep going!" they said.

"You're not a runner!" insisted the crazy lady.

"You're doing it!!!" they smiled.

"Gutter!!!!" said Crazy.

"Go!" cheered my new best friends.

The last half mile of the run followed the 4th of July parade route, and was speckled with people who had surely been paid to line the way.  Even though I felt embarrassed to be seen running in the light of day (all of my running-from-zombies takes place at night), I didn't care by that point.  Besides, there were people in tutus passing me up, nobody cared about me.

Nobody, until right at the finish, where I saw my hubby running backwards with a camera, and the Littles and Middles yelling, "Yay, Mama!!!  Go, Mama!!!"

"You did it, Dear!" Guy called, and I realized I was at the finish.  Guy walked through the finish line and put his arms around me.  Anybody looking would have seen us both in tears, and probably thought, "Geez, it's just a 5K, not a marathon!"

I guess that depends on how you look at it.

"... My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.  Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." -Corinthians 12:9

Francine and Beach Day

My sweet Francine is 3,000 miles away taking care of her dear family's needs, and I haven't gotten to speak to her in weeks. We usually can schedule a Skype or phone chat, but the time difference is not kind, and the work she is doing is non-stop. But a while ago we got to spend a day with her, and I love looking at the pictures to feel closer to her.

Everything Francine touches she beautifies, including people.  She sees the best in you, and shows it to you in a way with such kindness that you see the good in yourself you never saw before.   A hug from Francine is perfumed with incense and lavender, every thing she owns has a lovely little story with it, and every hour spent together begs for two more.  Even the dash of her car has a lovely collection of shells and stones.  

[Look out the window (above) to see the little church and old schoolhouse (to the left) in Bodega where they filmed Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds".]

Climbing down the cliff to Salmon Creek before deciding to go to Doran Beach instead.

If you feed the local wildlife, they'll climb right up into your lap.

As a Southern California girl, it has been hard to adjust to the notion of being cold at the beach.  Poor Tessa just froze.

My hotty.

Ellie was my wing-man as I tried to fly Francine's cool kite.  I usually blame my kite crashing on the cheap kites we buy.  It turns out, I just can't fly kites.  This is as high as it got.  

These two can really get along.  

Keyword: CAN.  (Subtext: when they aren't trying to kill each other)

It's funny, but I could gobble him up just as much as when he was a baby.  And on an interesting side note: he weighs the same as he did when he was a baby.

Aw, now this is a sad picture.  

This is a picture of us packing up to go home, which means saying goodbye, which is the only sad part about visiting Francine. 

I miss you so much Francine, and am praying for you and yours daily while you are so far away.  Don't hurry home; I know what you are doing is the most important thing right now.  But as soon as you get back, don't be surprised if you find us waiting on your porch with a flat of strawberries.

The Meaning of Fruit Salad

"I making fwoot sayad foh ev-wee body. Eben Eefan, eben Adam. "

Jonah proudly chopped clumsy banana chunks to add to the bowl of apple slices. He repeated his declaration to everyone who walked through the kitchen, but I'm probably the only one that knew it's deeper meaning. 

A week or so earlier Jonah was mad. "My bwudohs mean! Dey not yet me watch dem pyay bideo dames!"  Just as well, I don't want him watching skateboarding killer robots or whatever they play on their xbox.  

 "Want a banana?" I extended an invitation in hopes of distracting him, to which he replied, "Tan I make fwoot sayad?"  

"Sure," I answered, relieved that resetting his mood-meter had been so simple. 

"I dunnah make fwoot sayad foh you, foh Daddy, foh Ellie-Tessa (when he speaks of both girls, it is in the Hollywood Beniffer, Branjalina way), foh Na-no-nie, but not foh Eefan, not foh Adam!  Dey mean!"

In his pint-sized world the only way he felt he could get back at his brothers was through fruit-deprivation.  Boy, I sure hope I don't make him mad at me; I like me my bananas. 

Weeks later he remembered the hurt, but as little ones do (always so much better than we Bigs), he had gotten past it. That second bowl of diced fruit was Forgiveness Fruit Salad. And of course, it was much sweeter. 

Math and Mercy

All year we have been looking forward to the last day of school.  Yah, 'cuz duh, it's the last day, but also, because of the ice cream.

The kids worked this year on memorizing times tables, and as incentive, the moms (Kathy and I) dangled a banana-split flavored carrot - first kid to memorize all of their times tables got to have a banana split party, hosted by the other family.  Each item in the sundae was connected to a number... 0's = Dish, 1's = spoon, 2's = banana - you get the idea.

Of course, Owen won the honor of not hosting the party by finishing first.  He knocked it out of the park, as usual.  The rest of the kids dragged along learning just the easy ones, or the ones that were coupled with their favorite items.  Tessa realized she had only earned a banana and sprinkles, and moved ahead to earn some ice cream before bothering with toppings (6-9) or a cherry (12).  Ellie puttered along, not trying too hard, and not making much progress.  She figured she had time to spare. 

The day arrived for the party.  I told my girls they had to actually know the tables, not just have checked them off weeks ago, only to have forgotten them.  It was then they realized that they hadn't earned much.  Time was almost up.  There ensued a mad rush to learn and earn toppings.  But it was too late, and Ellie found herself with only a banana and two scoops of ice cream earned.  Tessa had a banana, one scoop and sprinkles, but seemed to take it in stride, knowing that this would not be the last banana split she would ever eat in her life.  But as we were dishing up the fancy treats into fancy boats, I noticed we were one child short.  Ellie had gone missing.

I wandered the house and found her under her quilt, tear streaked and tragic.  She was sad to be missing out on all of the choices, she was miffed that there had not been more time (only 4 months!), and she was embarrassed, first that her sundae would show to everyone in the room how little she had earned, and also that she had been, as she put it, "a cry baby".

I tried to comfort and encourage, but the bottom line was this: she had made her choice when there was time to choose, and now, in fairness to everyone, she must live with her choice.  But it broke my heart.  I remember missing out on a party that my 5th grade teacher offered each Friday to kids who had gotten all of their homework in.  I had cried, and the teacher wanted to just let me come to the party, but I knew I didn't belong there.  That almost felt worse.

As Kathy and I tried to coax Ellie out to enjoy what she had earned, we exchanged troubled expressions with each other.  We knew how much this hurt her on the pain-scale of an eleven year old girl.  We knew we had to be fair to the kids who had worked hard for their reward.  As Kathy and I scooped ice cream for Ellie, we found ourselves being a bit generous with the size of scoops we gave her, somehow compensating a little for what would not be there.  We wanted badly to show her Mercy.  It was so tempting to just give her a full sundae, but it wouldn't be fair to the rest.  I think "fair" was redefined for me that day in some subtle ways.

I have always told my kids, "Fair is not 'everyone gets the same'.  Fair is 'everyone gets what they need.'  It would be fair if we all got wheelchairs, but we don't all need them."  The lecture resolves with me explaining how the perceived injustice they are whining about now isn't what they need, necessarily.

I am learning that just as the reward was tailored to the effort of the individual, in the future I need to consider the requirement.  We had not required Jonah to do any of the math memorization.  He's three.  Lauren had memorized a few addition and subtraction facts, but earned her whole sundae, not for what she retained, but for how hard she tried.  But we had clumped all of the other kids together just because of their ages, neglecting to consider temperament and attention levels.  Maybe that wasn't quite fair.

I think in the future I would have a different set of expectations for each child.  One might be based on effort, another, quantity... speed, scholarship, time spent; possibly as many ways as there are children.  It would seem that in this way both Justice and Mercy may be served.

Ellie didn't eat her ice cream until the Jensen's had gone home that day.  By then she had been able to enjoy it a little.  She came to me later and asked if we could try again, feeling that next time she knows she would work harder.  I told her that sounded like a great idea.  Second chances and Mercy go hand in hand.

Landing the Big Promotion

Back in the early 1700's when I was a kid, our parents threw us out of the door in the morning after a hearty bowl of oatmeal, and let us back in if we could show them a decent report card at the end of the day.  Those were simpler times, when your teacher could snitch on you for rotten behavior and not worry that they would get sued.  When you took your lunch to school in a metal lunch box, and only graduated once, not every time you moved up a school.  Ah, the good old days.

I wasn't a terrific student.  Maybe okay, but I was no award winner.  So I am all the more impressed when one of my spring-offs makes happy ripples in the pond of his or her life.  

We got an invitation to the Middle School awards ceremony for Adam.  It didn't say what he would be getting, so the event held a little mystery for us all, even Adam.

At the ceremony he was called up early in the program to stand with the other Honor Students in recognition of a GPA over 3.0.  Not bad for a kid who jumped over from homeschool in January.  I thought it might take him a while longer to get his bearings in public school, but he seemed to have no trouble at all.  He had come home each day, done his homework without being asked (I know, cool, huh?), and generally made pretty good choices.  Honor student material for sure.

Then came the rest of the program with high honors and uber-high honors, and "I-will-be-performing-brain-surgery-in-10-years" honors. There were a few kids that were up 5, maybe even 8 times.  I became one of their fans just listening to all the things at which they excelled, and feeling glad to know that my kid was brushing shoulders with them. 

Then Adam's favorite teacher got up to read out his award winners.  He paired each with a quote, and toward the end of his list, he said, " "With great power comes great responsibility." In a really difficult 7th and 8th grade class, this guy always chose to do the right thing!"

I knew what name he would read next.

Adam.

My eyes were already filled with tears because I knew this about Adam.  His teacher had sent an email early in the semester saying the same thing; that no matter what the rest of the class was doing, Adam could be counted on to be doing the right thing.  Always.  Of course, I hadn't needed to be told.  We know this about Adam.  I mean, sure, he's not perfect, in fact, about two months ago he may have rolled his eyes at me, and his room has the funk of death, but his moral compass is always pointed in the right direction.  I have actually seen Adam abruptly walk away from a situation that seemed to be heading for trouble.  He's a good kid.

Later in the week there was a promotion ceremony.  I'm not sure why.  They are all heading off for High School whether they like it or not.  500 people crammed a quad in 90+ degree heat with camping chairs and strained to hear their special kid's name called on the crackly and muffled loud speakers.  

But though all of the hoopla seemed unnecessary, I still got excited when Adam's name was called.  I got on tip toes to see over the heads of the crowd that now crammed the quad shoulder to shoulder, and yelled a little "Yay!" in the .04 second pause between his name and the next.  It's easy for my mind to rush ahead to the real graduation we will attend in four short years.  I suppose it was good to have this dry run as a reminder to enjoy these last few years with him in our nest.

*****

I am very proud of you Adam.  I imagine you may not read my blog posts until you are a grown up, but I know you will have always known how proud we are of you.  You are sensitive and kind hearted.  You will be a great man, and I know, because you are a great young man.  You are a hard worker, an honest person, and a youth with integrity.  I love you.

Adam and Jessica went to kindergarten together
and remain supportive friends

Quite the little crowd.  Jonah refused to be in the picture.

Sugar and Spice - A Birthday in Pictures

My baby girl 

has traveled the universe 

on this spinning planet 

for one full trip around the sun.  

What a blessing to have her.

What a gift she is.

Happy First Birthday, Natalie!

We had a quiet little evening yesterday with just the family, and then today friends joined us for a celebration.  What a fun weekend!

(Custom made cake by mama, with spot-application assistant, Jonah.  When I had my back turned, he rolled out blue fondant and cut out a dozen little circles!  We used them, of course.  He was so proud!  Look out, Cake Boss!)

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Sisters (the Before)

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"Cupcake, you have met your match!"

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"You will be putty in my hands."

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The After.

Move over Lady GaGa, this kid invented wearing food.

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Saturday Party Time!!!

Such lovely young ladies; Kaylie, Ellie and Hope.

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Sweet Ruth and my Natty girl.  Oh, and mama.

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William, Joanna, Guy and Wayne.

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My Running partner, Dani and her little Morgan

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My biggest girl and my littlest.

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A whole bunch o' rug rats.

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Our Sweet Ruth, Steve and clan.

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Revelers!

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The Muffin Man and the Ethan Man.  In a battle of brawn,

 it is entirely possible that Ethan would be out-muscled.  

(At 6 months, Gabe weighs 18 pounds... two pounds more than Natalie!)

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Natalie and Ryan.  Their marriage has already been arranged.  

She will be wearing a top for the wedding, however.  

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Muffin and Muffin Senior.

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What a darling.

Oh, how I love her.  I am overwhelmed by how she lights up

 the darkest corners of my heart, and quiets the chatter in my head.  It has been said by many that she has been sent with a special mission in this life.  I don't know what that will be, but she has already worked a miracle in my life.

*****

It was the sweetest day, but I spent several quiet moments in tears.  It is crazy the way the mind can flash on events from the past.  The pregnancy riddled with health crises, Natalie's birth, having to be knocked out for it, was so scary.  And that whole day away from her, and all the chaos around her.  I know there are moms that have been separated from their babies for weeks, months even, and I didn't have to go through anything like that.  And she was so unexpectedly healthy.  So many moms have sat by the beds of their critically ill babies.  I have gotten to spend every day after that first one with her.  364 out of 365.  Still, we all have our trials, and the memories of those days and those trials are pretty fresh.  I'll work on that, but I've decided not to judge myself about the time frames. 

At one moment, I told Guy how I was struggling to stay present.  Like waking someone from a nightmare, he simply said, "It's over.  That's all over."  And it is.  Sometimes it takes a long time to process difficult things.  Days like today make that a lot easier.