Revolving door

 

We've had a bit of a whirlwind weekend, a revolving door of comings and goings. And emotions.

G's parents arrived on Thursday for a quick visit.

Lauren arrived home at 6 Sunday morning, happy and exhausted. 

Maddy left last night to stay with a good friend for a day before camp.

Then, lots of packing and laundry and a flurry of departures this morning to airport, train station, girls' camp.

{Ready, break!}

Oh, and quietly at the center of all this revolving...G was sustained as bishop of our ward yesterday.

{Speechless}

Good thing I have long stretches of hours ahead of me to slow down, take a breath, and ponder things.

 Happy Monday!

On not taking the road less traveled by

 

Just so you know, we will not be moving to Australia.

Probably you are not either?

We have been keeping this exciting possibility (Australia relocation) under our hats since late July, when G was told that he was one of a few attorneys in his company being considered to head up legal for the Australian branch of the company.  We didn't tell the kids (why get them all excited/nervous until we know for sure?), we didn't tell family (same reason), or local friends (it's so hard to be straddling the line between being here and leaving).  I did tell a couple of people who could know from afar and give me someplace to bubble up our news when I felt like I'd overflow (thanks, gals).

But the two of us, G and I, have talked about it a lot over the last months.  Most plans began with "If we're in Australia...." or "If we're still here..."  I admit, I looked into real estate and schools and church congregations.  I knew it wasn't a certainty but I did enjoy thinking about the possibility of starting all over in a faraway country (and continent!).  Unless I was worrying about going--moving the kids to a new country and new set of friends, distance from loved ones, missing our wonderful town.

Along the way, Australia came up in the oddest places. Almost every day someone mentioned it to me: they had lived there, were from there, wanted to go there. Was it a sign?!! 

No. We found out that someone else is going. Which is fine, really. We'll buy curtains finally and stay here longer. Now we know which set of advantages + blessings we keep. Plus I'm relieved for Lauren, who would have spent her junior and senior year there (is there a more impossible time to move?).

The thing is, I kind of like adventure and the road less traveled. Now I'm still just doing what I was doing before and where's the fun in that? (I know, I really do have a good situation here and it's a happy life but compared to Australia? Meh.)  It was fun carrying around this little nugget of a secret.

So long, Australia.  I had great hopes for us.

Also in other news: I am not pregnant. But for a while there (at least in my active imagination), I was raising a little caboose baby (12 to 17 years younger than the other kids) in Australia!

Why is hard to let go of something you never had?  And be relieved at the same time?

. . .

Best of 09 day 4: Best book. Fiction:  The Book Thief, a book I have been meaning to read for at least 2 years. I had started no less than 5 times before and never gotten past the first chapter.  Finally I did it this fall and loved it. I finished it on a Saturday afternoon on my bed. G came in as I was weeping profusely at the end and kissed me on the forehead.   Non fiction: Mindset.  I love Carol Dweck and her research. This is her general nonfiction book about her work, looking into how our mindsets (fixed traits or growth) affect effort and achievement.

Like weeds

What is it about summer that acts as MiracleGro for kids? All the extra rest and sunshine and (this year) rain?

It seems like Maddy's grown inches in the last month. She loves her new glasses and being able to see the notes on her music and the leaves on the trees. Is there anything more heartbreaking that hearing your child exclaim over and over again how wonderful it is to see finally? On the other hand, one of her middle school teachers wrote me a letter about what a great girl we have. So that evened out the eyesight neglect feelings I was having.

Lauren gave a talk in church today and did a great job--so grown up and poised. Every once in a while there are moments when I have to re-construct my mental image of my children and this was one of them. She introduced herself and said "I'm almost 16" and, while I was aware of this approaching milestone, I had to do a double take. What? My daughter? {Sunrise, sunset, etc.}

She went on the youth pioneer trek re-enactment last week and had a ball. Here she is with her friend from school who came along and a good friend from the stake (he is also the son of one of my good friends).

Sam is growing faster, even, than his sisters. His new spurt (recorded with a line and date on the door frame of course) required new shirt and pants for church. And suddenly I get a fast-forward view of the man he'll be, sooner than I would like to admit:

I can't stand it! Somebody push the pause button! No one ever told me how wonderful ten year old boys are. He's easy going, funny, and great to have around. The girls are leaving for camp this week and for a few days (I join the girls on Thursday after I teach my class in Boston) Sam will be an only child, subject to the full glare of his parents' attention.

Poor boy.

p.s. Sam always reminds me of a nice combination of my dad and G. Speaking of my dad, today's his birthday. Sure do love you, Dad.

Staring up at the mountain

I got some unexpected news over the weekend.  I was selected for a fellowship from Zero to Three, the nonprofit that coordinates training and research about and lobbying for children from birth to age three. I applied back in November but it had been so long that I had pretty much counted myself out and forgotten.

It's a two-year fellowship and I will meet periodically with the other fellows to support each other in our individual projects and present and publish our results. My project will be to expand the guide and assessment I worked on in Guatemala to be used in different settings & other places in the world to train volunteers and temporary caregivers of infants and young children.

I really am excited. Do I sound like it?  Cause I am. I did about 26.9 minutes of celebrating, took a big breath and started feeling a bit overwhelmed.  I will have benchmarks and deadlines and expectations to meet. Yay! And: Oy.

* * *

The lesson yesterday in the young women's church class I taught was about courage.  We talked about the story of Esther.  And about trying difficult things and getting help when we need it. About not letting fear get in the way of good things. I read this poem to them at the closing and suddenly it felt like just what I needed to hear:

how to climb a mountain

by maya stein

Make no mistake. This will be an exercise in staying vertical

Yes, there will be a view, later, a wide swath of open sky,

but in the meantime: tree and stone. If you're lucky, a hawk will

coast overhead, scanning the forest floor. If you're lucky,

a set of wildflowers will keep you cheerful.  Mostly, though,

a steady sweat, your heart fluttering indelicately, a solid ache

perforating your calves.  This is called work, what you will come to know,

eventually and simply, as movement, as all the evidence you need to make

your way. Forget where you were.  That story is no longer true.

Level your gaze to the trail you're on, and even the dark won't stop you.

* * *

This was funny timing, though.  I had been feeling at a bit of a standstill in my PhD program, trying to decide whether to keep going. This felt like a nudge to keep going. Also, as if in ironic response to my desire for a 40th birthday trip, the first fellows meeting is over my birthday in October.  Somebody out there has a sense of humor.

Greetings from the bottom of the well...

Who knew that a small change like adding a 9-pound puppy to the household would throw off my life so much? It's official: I'm a wimp. Causing me to ask: Is there such a syndrome as post-puppy-partum depression? I think I might have had a touch of it.

But we've all gotten acquainted and I'm realizing I really can put him in the crate and leave the house or shower or work (SO not like a baby!) so I'm slowly getting back to all my other details.

By the way, I promise this will not turn into a dog blog but here are the final few pending bits of info:

His name is Louis (we say it Louie)--a shout out to Louis Armstrong not the French kings (not that there's anything wrong with French kings or anything). It took us an embarrassingly long time to decide. (Or, rather, we had each decided on something different and WOULD NOT BE BUDGED). Apparently consensus builders we are not. After complex negotiations (and my take-charge moment at the vet) it's Louie. Unless something better comes along. Just kidding. Kind of.

Someone asked what breed he is. He's a Tibetan terrier (hopefully not Tibetan terror, which is what I first typed). They're supposed to be great companion dogs, very sensitive to their family, calm when inside and playful outside, and love to go in the car on adventures. As I said before, my marriage is riding on the hope that this is true. {Not really. G has been pretty great about Louie*. He even took him to soccer practice tonight.} A lot of the write-ups I found said that Tibetans have a great sense of humor. What does that mean in a dog? Does he pop up suddenly with a fake nose? Do impressions of cats? Tell knock-knock jokes?

So that's it for the dog lore. I promise to move on to talking about laundry (very plentiful here) or lilacs (they're gorgeous in our yard right now) or knuckle-cracking or something else equally fascinating.

*especially considering that he sleeps in his crate next to our bed. In order to minimize the night-time whining and crying. Greg didn't even want our BABIES, our very own posterity, to sleep in our room. But we tried it the other way, with the pup in the crate downstairs and he cried for hours. He doesn't say a peep in the crate when it's in our room. Louie 1, humans 0.