Wildwood love

A heartfelt (sometimes blurry) love letter
to a place I love
(& one of the capital cities on the map of my childhood):

My soul spends summers in Wildwood

even when the rest of me can't.

Thanks, Grandpa and Grandma Pax,
for creating and hosting
such a place.
Pure magic.
And love.

Feels like Monday

Louie: Keeping watch over the fields by day.
It's Hard Work, as George Dubya would say.

I have to keep reminding myself that it's actually Tuesday. Which is especially important since our elementary school gets out early on Tuesdays. Years ago I once forgot about an early release day and poor young Lauren came home to an empty house. Actually it didn't matter that it was empty because she couldn't even get inside--it was locked. When I finally made it home from my unimportant errands, she proudly told me "I didn't want anyone to see me {kidnappers?} so I hid in the backyard in the snow. But I really had to go potty so I went outside. Sorry, Mom." Yeah, that was a Bad Mommy, hand-wringing, apologizing day. We both cried + went out for McDonald's AND ice cream as proof of my sorryitude. Lesson learned.

Speaking of lessons learned, click on over to Letters to a Parent this week, where wonderful Jenny has articulated some of the lessons she's learned during her journey as a mother raising 5 children. You will be glad you did. {Sidenote: Jenny and I share a great-grandmother but didn't really know each other until we started e-mailing last summer. She's fabulous and funny and insightful. Just the kind of person you'd want to have as a friend or first cousin once-removed. Or mother--those lucky kids. Thanks, internet!}

Now I'm off to do my Mondayish to-do list. Good luck with yours.

Happy dances

When I was in my teens I acquired a distinctive happy dance. It was a hoppy bit of glee that signalled my excitement. College acceptance letters, invitations to a big dance, good scores on a test all warranted the probably-awkward-but-definitely-sincere choreography. I don't pull it out very often anymore, not because I don't feel gleeful but because I've learned to contain it a bit. Still, my family knows I might break out into happy dance without notice if something takes me by surprise. Much to their chagrin, I'm sure.

In that spirit, here are some happy dance videos. Feel free to break out into your own version.

1. This one's kind of old school + I think I posted about it a year or two ago. But you've got to include Matt in any discussion of happy dance. The guy's turned his herky jerky one into a money maker as he traveled the world and taped his happy dance.

2. I saw this one in the last couple of days {via Very Short List ...if you don't subscribe to their daily posts, you're missing out!}. I get tired just watching this guy jump two-footed around what looks to be London. Literally light in the loafers. A good workout. How'd they do that?? Here's Goldfrapp's video of Happiness:

3. This one's my new favorite. A girl (24ish?) dances right along to the footage of her 1987 self dancing with abandon. So sweet + it made me want to connect with the 4-year-old me somehow too. Girl's got moves! {Found via Mighty Girl}

The sun came out

Well, what do you know? Things really do look better in the morning. I'm tempted to delete yesterday's gripefest but--oh well--I'll leave it up for posterity. I'm back to the 'joy' thing again. Whew. No one wants to read Basic Gripeyness (or do they??).

So, a couple of housekeeping items:

Puppy names. We are still debating dog names {right now several of your submissions are definitely in the running} so you're welcome to continue to throw out ideas. I expect we'll finally have to decide when we bring the little guy home in the next week or two. The breeder's not anxious to have all the litter leave at one time so we have some flexibility. (This photo gives you a good idea what he will look like as grown pup.)

Letters site. I have forgotten to mention the last couple of weeks' worth of posts on the Letters to a Parent (LTAP?) site. Last week we had a great letter about embracing normal--the ups and downs of normal--and remembering to slow down, breathe, and get enough oxygen. This week I received a lovely heartfelt letter about the things we keep forgetting and re-remembering in the cycle of parenting. I continue to be buoyed and delighted by the letters that come in. Keep 'em coming!

Oh, the angsty angst. I've been reading some of my journals from my teen years. Let's just say it gives me so much compassion for my girls (and my Mom, in retrospect). I HAD FORGOTTEN THE ANGST! Oh, how could I forget the angst? About a betrayal and a boy:

"I feel like I can't live but know I will. My heart feels like it's shredded and all over my stomach and throat...how can I survive?...my mom seems to shrug it off lightly, she just doesn't understand that this is SO important to me and I am just crushed. Well, more later."

And then the next entry is a lighthearted and very detailed description of another boy I like. (I should say that my mom was actually a fantastic & listening mom. But this did give me a little reminder window into the emotional life of the teenage girl. And a nudge to be better at understanding it.)

Happy Monday! This made me laugh & reminds me of the story of Louisa May Alcott. The family had a pillow on the sofa that would indicate Louisa's mood so that family members knew whether to steer clear or not.

A girl can dream (can't she?)

I grew up going to my grandparents' cabin in the canyon. We had the blue one halfway up the road, the one with the monkey bridge over the creek, the rope swings, the hammock, the tree house, the profusion of geraniums, the loft with nine beds, the woodcarved phrase over the mantle Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott (A Mighty Fortress is our God). My grandpa knew how to create a magical spot, that's for sure. In the summer all the cousins (and many second cousins in nearby cabins) would gather and play endless games of War and Kick the Can and go barefoot and tube in the creek and do what kids do when they have time and wide open space.

Every once in a while I indulge in dreams of establishing our own family getaway, somewhere where our kids can bring their kids and the magic can continue for a few more generations. I admit I teeter on the line between wishing and...oh, coveting. Envying.

For a couple of years I've been watching a farmhouse for sale in a favorite corner of Vermont. It's not a cabin but it's got space and poTENtial, my friends! Yes, there is the reality about probably not being able to afford a whole other mortgage. Pshaw. Details. And the fact that it's in pretty bad shape and would need tons of work. Perfect, I say!

So here it is:

an 1830s farmhouse with a creek on the property

5 bedrooms
many fireplaces
views of the Green Mountains
and a barn (the better to hold parties with, my dear)

the price tag (a low-for-here $245,000) tells me there's much work to do

but think of the before-and-after photos!

and can't you just see the kids tubing down the creek?

My heart sank today when I did my weekly check of the property and saw someone has made a deposit. Shoot. I hate it when my imaginary future is taken away from me. Keep your fingers crossed for somebody's cold feet...