Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts

September!



The big transition is well underway. Just when we all got the hang of laid back summer routine, we are thrown back into a new school year with lots of activities. I am both glad (I love a busy routine and organising lots of action!) and also mournful for our late night Dr. Who fests and weekends in water.



Monkey is on the travel soccer team, which means three two hour practices per week plus Sunday games. He also has weekly guitar lessons and Boy Scouts and has already requested basketball and winter snowboarding. I am also waiting for the homework crunch to begin as third grade is a big step up in studies. Why oh why wasn't I more militant about multiplication skills over the summer? We did quite a bit of work but it was not the hard core study fest I'd planned for us. I really, really tried. Truly I did.



But when your eight year old begins negotiations by pointing out your lack of a bona fide teaching degree and the futility of focusing on how much is 12 x 6 when there are lightening bugs just waiting to visit that glass bell jar with the air holes cut through the top - well, you remember what it felt like to be eight years old and pity the dirty boy who needs to be in a shower but only wants to be outside.


So we are enjoying our early morning Saturdays on the practice field. The sun is lovely at 8:30am on the soon to be fading summer greenery. My husband is an assistant coach and I love seeing them bond so firmly over a shared love of soccer. It has also been fun to reconnect with faces we haven't seen much of over the past three months. Bonus confession that I adore school supplies. Sharpened pencils and composition notebooks make me so darn happy!


Every year since Kindergarten we take his photo with backpack on while holding a sign like the one above (the color ink was low in our printer so I tried to dress it up at the last second with a bit of marker - lame?). It is amazing how much they change over the summer!



I couldn't resist taking pictures of the last wave of Sunflowers. It seems fitting to recognise their beauty just before the cooler weather begins to arrive. All things change and we are transitioning nicely. Did I mention Fall is my favorite season?

Legoland




We waited. We crossed off days to the grand opening. We bought annual passes. We were not first in line...but tried to be.  We hit Legoland on opening day. Let me explain why this was a terrible idea.

Massive crowds of like-minded lego junkies aficionados.

Poor organisation by the Lego peeps who failed to realise how seriously Legos are taken in my neck of the woods (or how cray cray their fan base is in one of the largest metro areas in the US...)

Small area of actual Lego play with long lines of adventure hungry children standing about staring intently in a manner not creepily unlike Children of the Corn. Gollum had nothing on these kids.

Standing in line for 45 minutes to buy one of those initial family snapshots they take, only to find that your child closed his eyes and grimaced so well that no one seeing this photo would ever believe he is remotely normal.

Not enough lego parts for the Lego Racer area. Not cool trying to build a car with only two and half wheels. Maybe it could have been a motorcycle race.

What we may return for:

The 4-D movie was pretty good.
If not so crowded it would be much more fun (better planning on my part).
Legoland itself is a a great deal of fun - just not opening day!
Returning to buy Lego sets we rarely ever see in stores.
Why not? It's LEGOLAND!! Even the bathroom stall doors were nifty.


 
 
 
 
 

March Holidays

St. Patrick's Day and Easter are very close together this year and Monkey has been asking to decorate. So today we whipped out a few craft projects around shamrocks and pots of gold (anyone ever spray paint small rocks the color gold in snow before?) Desperate times call for desperate measures...


After getting a big box from storage, we now have a few spaces, including the family room, decorated to his satisfaction. Yet I want to keep it simple this year, especially in the living room. Here is a pic of what my mantle has on it right now. Only extra is a candle gifted by a friend over Christmas because I love the scent. Green for St. Paddie's Day and bunnies for Easter. Done and done!

Beginning Spellers

So I was at the market wrapping up a short shop when I spied the last item on my list.
I laughed so hard strangers began giving me a wide berth.

 
Apparently our second grader didn't want us to forget brown sugar for his oatmeal.
I imagined him climbing up with a step stool to reach where we tend to keep this.
And yes - our on the go handwriting really is this messy!

American Road Trip!



This post is a bit late, yet wanted to share our road trip to the Midwest to visit family over Christmas. I had our tickets booked but my husband wanted an adventure (insert cringe here*). It has been a number of years since our last road trip and I think time had wiped out the memory of his last declaration after the 1,400 mile each way journey ("We will never drive that again!"). Twelve hours a day for two days was the goal in each direction, starting off at 5am to stop by 5pm.

For weeks we looked at atlases and historic sites along the way. He made some good arguments. This is an educational experience for our son! Getting him out on the open road, breathing that American air, seeing the vastness of the land...an agenda was hatched. We would make stops at historic spots such as Lincoln's log cabin, the St. Louis Arch and the house Laura Ingalls Wilder lived in (we could see Pa's violin!). Yet it wasn't until he threw in the rented luxury SUV, four star hotel stay with indoor pool and hot tub that I agreed.  If we were going to be driving all day, at least we would be able to exercise the kinks out at night- I would just have to ignore the germophobe within for the sake of childish fun. The overall trip would be more expensive than flying but would be a memorable family experience.


My husband is a stubborn man. Really, really stubborn. Although I offered to drive many, many times, he had it in mind that if he let me take a turn, even for a few miles, then he would no longer have the right to claim that he had driven us the entire journey. I respected this in the manner that he respects my need to check the stove ten times before leaving the house. Sometimes in a long and happy marriage you just have to compromise. Plus this worked in my favor...I tried to staunch the guilt by keeping him entertained - but it turns out that singing Gangham style thirty times in a row at the top of your voice is not what he finds entertaining. Nor is beat boxing on a lap tray or distracting him with lots of geography questions.



It turns out we had a LOT of fun. It was found in unexpected places. The bathroom breaks in small towns. The rough housing breaks in truck stop parking lots. The laughter over big poppa pickles and funny bumper stickers. There was an intimate family joy in marveling at spectacular sunsets and gorgeous sunrises.


I was prepared with tons of car games, DVDs and scavenger hunt ideas yet the best times were spent in simple conversation. Yes, we did manage to locate a lot of state license plates (although mom and dad were more excited about adding license plate stickers to the state atlas than Monkey.) Trapped in a small space for ten hours a day led to organic connections. Monkey talked about his friends at school and asked truly soulful questions we hadn't realised he thought about. We enjoyed each other's jokes and stories without the distractions of "what has to be done" or the thousand and one other things that compete for our attention.



I once again appreciated the beautiful Midwestern sky under which I was raised. My family traces back nine generations born within the same 50 mile radius. Really and truly. Before (and during) that we branch off into Cherokee Indians (both sides of my family, those romantic lots), French fur trappers from Canada, English settlers, Dutch adventurers and Scottish ancestors. There is even a rumor of a bit of Irish somewhere - like many Americans. They were US Marshals and farmers. Soldiers who have fought in every single American war since 1776. Safe house operators for the Underground Railroad, cowboys, mischief makers and survivors of the Great Depression. Business owners and not so simple people who took chances and put down roots in a wild territory. Is it any wonder than tenacity is my greatest characteristic?


It made me appreciate the vast dome of sky that is missing from New York's mountainous, populated region. Although we passed through 6 states, there was a commonality to every town we passed through. We remembered that people are really nice in America. They hold open doors to pass through and wish you a good day with sincere smiles. People in New York are nice too - there is just a protective wariness about them that often prevents unsolicited kindness. New York was the first time anyone asked me where my "people" came from. It was years before I realised this was because there were so many second generations in New York, the melting pot and traditional gateway to America.

The best part of the journey, however, was reaching our destination. Seeing the folks and hanging out with the cousins. Listening to my dad whisper to my son and the utter adoration my son has for my parents. It was weird passing by my old high school and seeing how much things change while your memories stand still. I love seeing how my foreign born husband melts into the landscape. How much heartfelt joy he demonstrates for his adopted country. Although a US citizen for many years, it is still a surprise how much he enjoys our history and defends our missteps. How effortlessly he is part and parcel of our extended family and how he shares my love for them in equal measure. It was sad to leave them, holding close for one last hug before hitting the pre-dawn road.



Coming home was more relaxed and we had a new GPS to play with - which actually got us lost in Ohio. We were alone at the hotel's indoor pool and had a blast being as carefree as we liked. The weather turned rough but we thought of the pioneers who first crossed the same land years before us. How had they driven animals through this wind and ice? How did they make camp without bathrooms and kitchens or soft adjustable beds - for months on end? Drive wagons over uncertain paths instead of smooth interstates with signage? Once again, it made us value what sacrifices the people before us made in order to map out and build our country and how meaningless the little conveniences truly are. How important human connections are. 


It turns out that the road trip was one of my husband's best ideas. Even the challenges turned out to be fond stories (ex; pulled over for a missing light by a state trooper in Illinois who turned out to be a really helpful person.) We enjoyed the entire trip so much and it turned out to be a great learning experience for Monkey. That is not to say we did not all dive individually for laptops and iPads upon our return home. A little bit of space is valuable in so many ways.

Charles Dickens



Between sports, play dates and other extracurricular activities, January is pretty full. We are still squeezing in time for a trip to the New York Public Library next weekend to view the Charles Dickens exhibition called The Key To Character. Mainly to view the illustrations yet also to demonstrate appreciation that the library is continuing its efforts to  explore the man and works of C.D. - one of my favorite literary historians. His fiction is such a rich reflection of the Victorian age and London/Paris map in those early days.



We watched most of Oliver Twist with Monkey in November. I say most because he is still too young to be exposed to the worst of Fagin and the fate of Nancy so there were quite a few fast forward moments. He truly enjoyed it and was thoughtful over it for weeks. I can't wait until he is old enough to appreciate his other novels. My favorite is A Tale of Two Cities. So exquisitely sad and hopeful all at once.

Zombies...or how not to survive cold season



After a lovely holiday season,including a trip to the Midwest to visit family, we seem to be falling apart a bit.  This seems to be common this time of year. We run ourselves down with getting a million things done and then the moment we slow down, our immune systems stutter into epic failure. 

In an extremely unusual move, my husband got sick first. Then I had cold/ flu symptoms but held the beast at bay with lots of D3, zinc and Emergency C. Then Monkey came down with strep and as of today I have transitioned into goodness knows what. I made homemade Chicken soup last week and stocked up on fresh soup at Mrs. Green's on Friday evening. Thankfully, as cooking was not an area of interest as I dragged myself through caring for my zombie comrades this weekend. On my gratitude list today: TV, Wii, microwaves, amoxicillin, Kleenex, NyQuil, Yogi cold season tea and soft pillows.

the wonder that's keeping the stars apart


i carry your heart with me
by e. e. cummings

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)

    i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Mamma Bird


The sweet little birdhouse built by Monkey and Daddy in cubscouts is now home
to several little eggs. When they lifted the hinge to peer inside (they promise not to
going forward), little mamma didn't so much as flutter a feather.
She fixed them with a very stern "go away" glare until they dutifully closed her ceiling.
Mammas do love their babies...

Backscratching Master

After reading Sea of Monsters, brushing teeth and settling into a comfy chair for last chance whispers, Monkey asked me to scratch his back (actually a nightly ritual.) Daddy may win in the wrestling department but my nails are a bit longer and I am nothing if not detail oriented.

His drowsy voice shared the following:

"Mommy, if there was a contest for mommies to scratch their children's backs, and it was like that dance contest you like on TV and children had to hold cards with numbers, guess who would win the contest if all the moms of the world were in it?"

Me: Who? (holding my breath as if scratching a lottery ticket with the first two matching numbers revealed)

Him: You would, Mommy (patting my cheek).

WOW. I am undone right now. If I had a cape I think I could fly.

Photosynthesis and Bike Rides


The swans and ducks are bobbing in our nearby lake and the forsythia is bursting forth in sunny abundance! We just spent a perfect afternoon on a nearby bike path and enjoyed the unfurling of Spring.


Monkey is a pro now on his bike. He's had training wheels off for quite a while yet something in the fresh air had him deliberately crashing his bike into soft piles of leaves every fifteen minutes or so. He always came up laughing so we guessed he was practicing wiping out  - is this a boy thing?


The section of bike path we like best crosses through the New York State water reservoir and it is just so peaceful surrounded by nature. So many trees were damaged in the October ice storm yet you can see saplings sprouting in the sudden sunlight.


 I've seen fields full of jonquils and early tulips everywhere lately - yet there is something about the small things growing in the midst of winter remnants that just tugs at my heart.


One feels fortunate to witness their small victories - lovely wonders of photosynthesis. Nature's way of reminding us that seasons will change and the small things will grow as they should. A bit like watching our children, laughing faces raised to the sun. I am trying not to look forward to Summer, as much as I love it. I'll miss these cool days filled with sunshine. Spring has arrived and it is full of crazy fun bike rides and magical anticipation.

Childhood's Journey

Every moment of childhood is special. At times you see him putting things together
and working out the puzzles of the universe and it's humbling to witness and share these early days of another person's journey.


Every perspective is built upon fresh experiences and his own unique compass. I often wonder what he is thinking and am so grateful that he is still of an age to tell me. That he wakes up eager to share his dreams. I hope it will always be like this. Someday he will be a teenager, more guarded in his independence. There are no absolutes and motherhood means letting go as much as it does holding on. Easy to say when I have not had to experience that sting in any significant way yet.
So I'll remind myself that it is not about me. It's about him. Childhood's journey is a joyful, lonely, happy, frustrating and wondrous time. My best wish for him is that he loves the journey as much as the destination.

The Original Supermoms


My sincerest gratitude to all the mothers in history who cared for their families without electricity and modern conveniences. That are still doing so in parts of the world today. Although our experience during Hurricane Irene lasted only 2 ½ days (felt like two years), it made me appreciate what I take for granted. Perhaps even how spoiled I am. My great, great grandmother and the lovely ladies before her had to do without vacuums, hot running water, crisp lighting, refrigerators, cooking appliances, mixers, telephones, computer and internet. Without television, Wii or I-anything.

It also helped me understand why children behaved less entitled in the “old days”.

What sane child would complain about bath time when he had to carry five buckets of water up a hill and watch his mother boil it over a fire? Bedtimes must have been a bit easier as well when nighttime meant no natural (or artificial) light to keep you active and interested in television or a computer. We read through four of the Little House on the Prairie books last winter and our recent experiences caused us to reflect on Ms. Wilder’s memories of laying in the prairie grass, helping Pa build a fireplace chimney or washing the dishes for Ma.

During one of these discussions, Monkey asked aloud one night why anyone would want to “live like that” (he was a bit grumpy at being forced to brush his teeth from a paper cup). It made me sad that he would automatically see a lack of running water and electric lights as a tragedy.

I now have more insight into why children were thrust outdoors more. Not only to help with chores during precious daylight hours, but to give their mothers some peace and quiet to do their own labors. My mother used to literally lock us out of the hours in the summer months, placing a pitcher of iced Kool-Aid or lemonade on the front porch with cups while she cleaned without us underfoot. It was a learned tactic handed down from mother to mother when children could not be enticed to sit like zombies watching Scooby Doo or the Backyardigans.

My own grandmother was a world class genius at keeping us entertained. Her mother, my granny, was as well. We would pick wild berries and make a paste from them to paint rocks with sticks. We tied thread to the leg of a June Bug and flew it as a kite, taking care to set it free without removing its limb. We made mud pies and washed our feet beneath an old fashioned water pump that splashed us in the summer heat. We learned to sew stitches, pick strawberries for jam and snap green beans. We cranked the handle on an ancient ice cream maker and picked warm eggs from beneath cranky hens. It was magic and her patience was infinite. It is funny how I do not recall the thousands of hours I have spent in my lifetime watching television yet I can recall these memories with magnified clarity.

Flash forward to this past weekend. For two days we played every board game in our house, even resorting to using scrabble tiles as dominos (to see them knock one another over in fantastic structures) one evening by candlelight. As the house grew dark we were always together. Never separated by rooms and different activities. Boiling water on the grill for tea was a special ritual.

As glad as I am to see the return of electricity, I see it differently now. More as a want than a necessity (with the exception of indoor plumbing, which I still see as non-negotiable). Even in the days following our adventure, we are finding ourselves gravitating to the same room in the evening, content in reading Harry Potter aloud, playing a round of Skipbo or preparing for bedtime all together. I can see all sides of the affect that modern conveniences has had on modern families. It makes me admire the women before me even more than I did before. It took so much effort to keep your home and family clean, fed, entertained and on track without electric outlets and washing machines. It inspires me to continue to share my beloved Grandmother’s lessons with my own child and future grandchildren. As much as we talk about “supermoms” today, they were nothing compared to the super moms back then. I am humbled and I thank them all.




Friendships at Starbucks

This week marks the sad and tragic end of two valued relationships. Not to the hereafter – my favorite baristas just decided to quit their jobs with Starbucks.
Teresa and Carol (not their real names) both started working for my local Starbucks six years ago. We first met when I came in with my newborn, looking for a quiet place I could be out of the house without committing to crowds or to conversations I was too exhausted to hold up. They admired him in hushed whispers and gave me space and light conversation with a decaf latte - exactly what I needed in that moment.

Fast forward to the first day of Kindergarten. I had left Monkey happily exploring the world without the slightest concern that I was not part of it. Very little clinging or gratifying declarations that he could never leave my side. The turncoat sauntered in eagerly and even encouraged me to “just go Mommy” when I took too long to take my leave. I was perfectly calm as I drove to Starbucks to wait to pick him up. I was perfectly calm as I stood in line for my turn at the counter. Then Teresa recognized me and asked how Monkey’s first day of Kindergarten had gone. I burst into tears.


Not that ladylike welling of tears that trickle gracefully down one’s cheeks in the movies. No. In front of about 20 people, I burst into the sobs of a mad woman, replete with runny nose and ugly facial expressions. Horrified and unable to control my reaction, I covered my face with both hands and wondered how to navigate the displays of Tazo tea and coffee cups in a lunatic dash to the front door.

Instead, I was smothered in hugs from Teresa, Carol and even a couple of strangers. It was shocking and yet I accepted the comfort in a way that my more formal personality would not usually have found comfortable. They got me water and told me stories about their own children’s first day of Kindergarten. They had strangers sharing the same. They made me a cinnamon dolce latte with skim milk and made me less embarrassed at my social gaffe. They were warm and supportive and exactly what I needed in that moment.


There have been hundreds of other moments. The mornings when the lack of caffeine prevents me from making a coherent order. Those are the mornings when all I have to do is nod at a recommendation and nothing else is required of me accept payment. For all the world, they made my local Starbucks into a version of Sam’s bar in the TV show, Cheers. They knew everyone by first name and, though we didn’t always know each other, we all knew a lot about Teresa and Carol from stories they would share about their own families and lives. Our favorite baristas connected us as a community in a way that brick and mortar cannot –they were the friends of a friend that magically create a network of friendly acquaintances.


I’ve come to realize that I have enjoyed a wonderful, low maintenance (no compromising on how we spend our time together or expectations of how long), high yielding (I always get great coffee!) friendships with these women. My two favorite baristas will be missed. All I can hope for is that we will run into each other from time to time. I know that when it happens I’ll be sure to invite them for a cup of coffee. My treat.