The Last Derby

^making last minute adjustments & weight addition

{G flew in from a work trip to Arizona just for this...

driving straight from the airport to the derby.}

^don't you love the one with the skier?

It didn't fare so well in the race but I think

it deserves a quirkiness award

^The first of many heats (Sam's is far left)

I'm a little sad that this phase of our life is over!

Like every other year,

Greg and Sam have spent many nights over the last few months

designing, cutting, sanding, measuring, painting, adjusting.

There's a lot wrapped up in that little car.

Go ahead, take it

As kids we used to think it was so funny to hear my grandma answer the phone.  She would be chatting away in a normal voice, which for her (and her 8 sisters) was rapid fire and kind of loud.  The phone would ring, she would cross the kitchen, pick up the receiver and say  "hellO-o?", her voice suddenly sweet and soft and singsong, managing to draw it out into three syllables.  The stark contrast cracked us up every time...somehow the trek across the kitchen transformed her from the Grandma we knew to a caricature of over-the-top sunniness. Even better if the phone rang when she was upset or scolding us. ("You kids stop running through here!  We have enough people in the kitchen already.  Everyone out! " {phone ring, delicate clearing of throat}  "HellO-o?")

I've worried lately that sometimes this blog feels like that cheery, sing-song hello--definitely one side of my life/personality/experience but not always exactly the full picture.   When I decided to call this spot on the internet "basic joy" it wasn't because I think my life is any more joyful than anyone else's.  It was to remind myself to find the basic everyday joy, a nudge challenging my sometimes Eeyore moods. Life is complicated and mine is messy and imperfect.  Challenges, life's pace, loneliness, expectations, hormones, did I say expectations?, and too little sleep conspire to hide the joy.  

I know from talking to friends, the young women I work with, and a few of you that I'm not alone in this.  I've got a classic case of the Novembers, I think.  I cry at victory speeches, concession speeches,  birthdays, commercials, stories on the radio, watching my kids rise to the occasion and despairing at their struggles--good cries and sad cries, happiness and loneliness.  All of this coexisting with the necessity of my cheery hellO-o voice when it's required.

Then I remember what I always learn in these dreary spans: I can choose joy even in the middle of all that. So I lean heavily on these thoughts:

I salute you. I am your friend and my love for you goes deep. There is nothing I can give you which you have not got. But there is much, very much, that while I cannot give it, you can take. No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today. Take heaven! No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instance. Take peace! The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. Take joy! Life is so full of meaning and purpose, so full of beauty . . . that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven. Courage then to claim it, that is all . . . And so I greet you, with profound esteem and with the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks and the shadows flee away. ~Fra Giovanni, "Letter to a friend"

Love that.  Take heaven, take peace, take joy. Go ahead, after you...

* * *

Inspired by:

~this post at Segullah about blogging

~a similar discussion about finding joy on my friend Jenny's private blog (so no link)

~this blog about mothers and creativity and blogging

~conversations with friends, family

Taking a day

Maddy is home from school sick today with a sore throat and cough.  I have to admit (a little guilty confession) that I really enjoy it when my kids are home sick (as long as it's not something worrisome, of course).  A sliver of old fashioned Florence Nightingale-ness activates in me.  I like to check their foreheads and set up a little stool with good drinks and crackers next to the couch.  I give them a little extra attention and the pace of the day turns into something slow and cozy. 

Even now that they're older, I still want to hover. We read or watch a movie together. Maybe I'll take a little nap along with the patient, in sickness solidarity, eager to toss the to-do list for the day.  I happily cancel whatever's going on that day and settle in for some nurturing.  

That's the first day.

On the second day, I'm perfectly willing to turn over the t.v. remote to the little patient and get some things done.  The weak voice calling "Mom...can I have some more sprite?" from the other room may or may not be catered to.  My Florence nurses' cap slips a little. Or a lot.  There's a law of diminishing care that kicks in...it discourages faking sickness longer and sets everyone up for a seamless return to normal life.

Heaven help the child who stays home on the third day and beyond (because I'm much less likely to at that point).  I become more drill sargeant than Florence and start to say things like "turn that t.v. off and find out your homework that you've missed" or "pick up those socks off of the floor please" or "get on your clothes...you're coming with me to the grocery store.  We need food!"  I start to resent the germy mess we're in and long for the freedom of errands and schedules.  (And inevitably, the NEXT child will come home sick that day and never see Florence Nightingale mom for the whole sick cycle.)

Today we're on day two.  I'm enthusiastically encouraging a return to school tomorrow and so far no one else is complaining of a sore throat.  Everyone knock on wood for me. 

~picture above of a Sam sick day, 2006

Another Bit of Silliness...

The Muppet Show was big at our house. Big. Every Saturday night, with the smells of supper coming from the next room, the oompa theme song would start and we would all come running. I remember lying on our red-shag-carpet-covered floor in front of the TV with my feet tucked under the tv stand, my brothers and sister next to me.    Matt in particular adored the Muppet Show and for years he was given Kermits for his collection, which is what we do in our family: find out what someone likes and then give them so many that it becomes a collection. And then he said "I'm 32 years old. Please stop giving me Kermits."  So we did.  

I liked Kermit, tolerated Miss Piggy (what did he see in her? I always wondered), thought Fozzy Bear was pretty funny. But I REALLY loved Beeker. And the Swedish Chef. {For some reason the Swedish Chef's line "the flem is okey-dokey" made it into our sibling repertoire of funnies for years.}  So when I came across a few clips, I decided it must be Beeker (and Swedish Chef) Appreciation Day.  At least in my little universe.

First, a little tutorial on making doughnuts. Ever wonder how they got the holes?:

And a rare trio--S. Chef, Monster, and Beeker, each with their own special interpretation:

What's better than Beeker? Six of him, singing Ode to Joy:

Finally, he speaks!  And apparently the important message he has for us is...

they were all yellow (someone edited this clip to fit the Coldplay song)

It's a lot of Beeker in one dose, I know.  But there's nothing like a bit of silliness to get the weekend rolling. Happy Friday!

The good and the not-so-good

Last Week.

Good: We went on a Great Outing with Louie

Not-so-good: It ended with the need for a makeshift, plastic-bag doggie diaper

Still: We had a good hike through beautiful grounds
and have a funny story to tell.

Good: G and I went to the North End (Italian section) of Boston for an evening

Even better: We ran into a charming street festival 

(St. Anthony's festival. It seems like there's a festival 

every weekend there) 

with food, music, crowds, and this cute band (I want that backdrop!):

Not-so-good: The kids called and were spooked by a strange sound
so we came home early. 

{We found later that the sound was a bicycle helmet falling off a hook.}

Still: we enjoyed the time we had 

and strolled arm-in-arm in the perfect weather.

And our kids are old enough to leave on their own. Usually.

Good: We went to the White Sox/Red Sox game Saturday night.

Not so good: This (below) is the best shot I got of the night.

I think G enjoyed it a bit more than he's showing.

Still: The Red Sox won, we did the wave, Take Me Out to the Ballgame,

& Sweet Caroline & caught every green light on the way home.

Other not-so-goods: Lauren had several days of mysterious hives so we spent some time in the ER and doctor's office this week, I spilled an entire bottle of Febreze on myself at Target (and embarrassed Maddy in the process), and our beloved pond closed for the season.

Great: We *love* all our neighbors 

& got to know them better at a Labor Day cookout

{who knew that the guy down the street manages rock bands? 

or that the new couple on the corner both teach high school? 

or several neighbors had such great doggy advice?}

Good AND not-so-good: Tomorrow's the last day before school starts for the kids!

{And it's the first day of school for me.}