May is for dogs.

The dog can be a stitch when she chases her tail. Round and round she goes and strangely enough, she seems pretty happy about it. I think I need to adopt this dog-like attitude. Chasing my tail is fun! I am not getting anywhere, but so what? I am moving, at least. Isn't that something? Suddenly she stops, looks up as if to say, "Wasn't that cool?" and then she rests a bit only to go at it again.

May is a rat race for many. It's the end of this and time to get geared up for that.

So in the spirit of my dog, I will not look frazzled. I will look energized, full of spunk, and stop for little rests here and there. It's worth a shot, anyway.

A dream come true.

I started dreaming about Baby Doll long before she arrived. I would have a girl! She would be full of joy and mischief, which is how I arrived at the name Lucy. It was full of spunk and kind of old-fashioned. Like no other name I could think of, Lucy seemed to encapsulate what I wanted for my little girl.

The road to Lucy was long and difficult and today, none of that matters.

Ten years ago, she came into this world with her eyes wide-open--curious about the world around her from the second she arrived.

In day-to-day parenting, it can be easy to forget the people you are raising are gifts.

"Dirty socks don't really belong on the dining room table. Could you please remove the 4 water glasses, 3 shoes, 8 books, 11 socks and 2 sketch pads from underneath your bed? Those "collections" of newspaper comics, nut crackers, pencils old and new, hair bands, and jewelry never worn make entrance to your room hard to navigate."

Daily gripes can get in the way of better things.

Spontaneous giggling, daily singing, perpetually doodling on any writing surface, the constant re-reading of the entire Harry Potter series, wand making, Sunday mornings crepes made by a girl who dreams of Paris and seems stymied by this concern: should she attend college in France or Winona? The city lights jazz her, yet she gets lost in the moment on a trail in the woods and I know she has left me to become a wizard. A budding writer herself, she established her first chapter of a mystery on the long car ride home to Iowa. It's taking shape, she says, but it's not done.

I hate that I forget that my reality is so much better than my dream.

Birthdays aren't for the kids. They are for the parents- marking the moment their dream came true and celebrating the shape it's taking. At least that is what it is for me. Let me not worry about the murky stuff in between for just a moment, I think.

Thank you, Baby Doll, for being a dream come true.

The Lizard Chronicles: Part I or Of Lizards and Boys

Imagine being a 7 year old boy going to visit his Grandpa on the farm. The tractors and the horse are fine, but their appeal is nothing when compared to this.

"Hey, Ben, guess what I saw in the horse barn this morning? A salamander. Should we try to catch it?"

This is music to the ears of a kid who has remained steadfast in his love of all things reptilian. When he realized the nonfiction area of the children's library had an entire section devoted to the reptiles of the world, it was better than anything Santa could ever bring. Fur is fine for many, but for Ben, slimy or dry scratchy skin wins any day.

"A salamander! Let's go!"

Dejected and defeated, they trudge back. It was spotted but never within reach. Each day they would check but in the end there was no luck.

It would be a long drive home. Five hours and no salamander.

"Mom, do you think there might be a pet store on the way home? Can I get a lizard?"

This might seem like a time to say no. After all, I am sure he is expecting me to say no. A lizard for nothing? No earning? No strings attached? That is crazy talk. What I am best at, according to Ben, is saying no. No, you may not have a popsicle for breakfast. No, you may not use the chain saw to build a critter catcher. No, you may not use the new shampoo for your science experiments, no you may not try the new scissors out on the dog's hair. No. No. No. So with silent communication between dad and me it is settled.

"Dad and I have to talk. You take a nap and we'll let you know."

The kid played hard on the farm. Twenty minutes into the drive he is asleep dreaming of lizards, and I am discovering how to access the internet on my phone so that I can locate an open pet store.

Four and half hours later, Ben hardly notices as we gently guide him away from the $79 bearded dragon toward the $5 green anole, a most unfortuate name for a kid's lizard.

All the way home, throughout dinner, and in his bath, he is positively glowing with excitement and joy. He simply cannot believe his luck.

"This day is so much better than I expected it would be! You wake up and there is no salamander and then suddenly there is a lizard!"

Later he tolerates a phone call to the other grandparents. Dad is talking to them about baby Ada who was born this weekend, and there is much to discuss. Finally, Ben gets the phone.

"Enough of this chitter chatter. I have a LIZARD!"

Clearly, he has a grip on the order of importance in his world.

And so do we. Despite the fact that I now have to purchase some ickly looking live crickets on a weekly basis, it seems a small price to pay for knowing that the power of yes can be just as important as the power of no.