Weekend roundup

Happy Memorial Day!
For us this has meant...

Sleeping in a bit (except Louie)
French toast made by G
Listening to WWII music throughout the day
(thanks to the 40's station on our DirectTV)
Reading outside
(is there anything better?)

Lauren making a movie with her friends
(a disaster movie about a hurricane, I believe.
They're filming a water scene in the river.
It's for school.)
Sam's first lawn mowing tutorial from his dad

Mandatory weeding time
(awww, Dad, it's a holiday!)
Dinner with friends here in our backyard
(pulled pork sandwiches and homemade ice cream. Mmmm...)
& missing taking part in leaving flowers
on loved ones' graves with family in the west

Have a great day,
both remembering
and making new memories

I enjoyed this National Anthem performance
posted this morning by Calibosmom
& thought I'd pass it along...

nine and a half

picture by Sam, today at the pond

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;

And give us not to think so far away

As the uncertain harvest; keep us here

All simply in the springing of the year.

{Robert Frost, Prayer in Spring}

I kept thinking of this poem (admittedly just bits and pieces of it) as Sam and I spent the morning, thanks to a teacher work day at the elementary school, walking around Walden Pond and, later, riding bikes around our neighborhood. Spring is at its fullest today, this very minute. All the tulips and blossoms and popping buds are at their peak color and form. Another few hours, it feels like, and it will be lesser, wilted spring. On her way to summer.

Sam feels like that to me, too, these days. I'd like to keep him here in the springing of his life, just preserve this version of him for a while longer. I can't think of anything I don't like about his nine-and-a-half-year-old self. He's curious. He's funny. He's handsome in an awkward, big tooth hatching, unselfaware way. He wears his emotions right out in front, practically pinned to his shirt. He's game for whatever comes his way (except maybe too much time in the car). And everything about life is interesting to him...everything! I'm sometimes startled by the topics that are running around his head when he suddenly gives me a view in there. Here are some random topics that came up out of the blue during our walk. We'd be walking along in a companionable silence and he would burst out with:

Where does a penguin fit in the food chain of Antarctica? In the middle?

* * *

Description of a Mythbuster episode that was looking at whether Macgyver's construction of an airplane from duct tape, a cement mixer and something else could really happen (answer=not really).

Me: "Do you know who Macgyver is? Did they tell you on the Mythbuster show?"

S: "He's kind of a famous explorer."

Well, kind of.

* * *

How did the sound shhhh come to mean "be quiet"?

* * *

Intricate outlining plots of several books he's read. (I'm ashamed to admit my mind wandered a bit during some of this.)

* * *

Mom, how many sharps or flats does B minor have?

* * *

I'm trying not to do my typical mental leaping ahead "to the uncertain harvest," which for me can be anything as soon as what will we have for dinner? to distant worries like am I giving them enough to prepare them for their lives? where will they go to college? will they find both work to do that gives them joy and someone to love? I need days like today with Sam to remind me how delicious it is to simply enjoy the springing of the year. Nothing more, no agendas, no mental leaping. Just here + now.

Universe, you've got some 'splainin to do...

~On my way out the door (Literally. Coat on, suitcase in hand, kissing kids slumbering in their beds, five minutes before leaving for the airport) on a long-anticipated weekend trip to see friends, I found that S was really hot. Feverish. I woke him to check and, yup!, he had a sore throat and raging fever. It took only a couple of moments (and S's quivering chin when he was trying to be brave) to realize this trip ain't happening, my friend. I wouldn't respect myself if I went. Sometimes being the grownup isn't all rosy privileges.

~Miss meeting fabulous friends. Miss hearing TravelinOma speak. Miss going to the Frames concert with friends (the Once musicians). Miss surprising friends/family with my appearance. Miss, also, using the Boston Ballet Swan Lake tickets that I had cancelled for trip. Drat.

~Trip to the doctor (brought L, too, who was also feeling poorly) yielded negative strep tests. Disappointment, because we were all hoping to have antibiotics to knock the sickness out. Plus we were all pretty sure they did have strep.

~Sent both kids back to school the next day, only to be called by the doctor's office notifying me that (oops!) they do indeed have strep. Go to school, apologize profusely for exposing everyone, and bring S home. L is almost done with her day by then so I let her finish out her last period (with math test). You're welcome, entire high school studentbody, for the germs!

~Find out we weren't invited to a party for some people we know. Feel kind of lonely and friendless. Realize I need to make more friends who live near me as opposed to the kind that used to live near me but have moved away. Or who I moved from.

~Find out that the children's book I have just finished writing has actually already been written in essence by someone else. Different characters, different situations, same idea and theme (that I thought were completely original). Are you kidding me?? I've never in my life heard of the book. But it exists. Darn.

~Start feeling crummy. Sore throat. Shivery. Sleep, sleep, sleep, repeat...missing two training runs in the process...

* * *

Here's the thing, universe:
I have the best guy in the world who let me sleep for basically the last two days.

Who built a fire in the fireplace last night because it was chilly
and he knows how much I love it.

Who assembled my new bicycle for me while I was...you guessed it...sleeping, just because he knew I was anxious to see it and (hopefully) to ride this week.

Who knows what to do when I'm feeling disappointed and sick and sad.

So I can't be mad for long.

I'll rework the book,
feel better tomorrow (I love ya, tomorrow!),
make new plans to see friends,
and even plan to make new friends.

In balance, I always come out blessed.
But you still have some 'splainin to do.

Never say never

I was afraid spring break around here was going to be a little bit of a downer (by the way, I would totally hire this company if I needed to move my piano--extra points for black humor) but it turned out to be a great week.
The gorgeous weather didn't hurt.
We did NYC last weekend,
went to Six Flags on Tuesday,
had a picnic and hang-out day on Wednesday,
the kids went to work with G on Thursday,
another free-form day on Friday,
and kayaking on the river on Saturday.
Bonus=I'm so glad I'm not driving back from Florida today.

However--word to the wise.
If you have a Nuvi navigation system, be sure you have it set to
"fastest route"
rather than "shortest route."
Otherwise, when you drive to NYC, you will be boggled
and confused about why you keep getting directed off
of the modern 21st century freeway
to travel the scenic byways of Connecticut and New York,
complete with stoplights every 100 feet or so.
Certainly check on the setting while this is happening,
rather than waiting until you arrive back home.
Just a suggestion.

Notice the oldest child cowering behind the others. Lauren has reached the age of weariness with her photographing mom. She's been heard to mutter "don't you think you should be experiencing this instead of taking pictures of it?" and "Not again!" Kids these days and their exasperating logical conclusions! What she doesn't realize is that I need proof of the great times we all had! These are my evidence exhibits in the court of we-never-went-anywhere-when-we-were-kids! Unfortunately, it will appear that I myself never went anywhere with them, since I am always behind the camera but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

Maddy's getting ready for a big violin recital next week. She continues to read books that are too sad and make her cry, although she feels that a book isn't truly great unless it does make her cry. This results in an almost daily cleansing cry and hugging fest. (Hint= if the character has a serious illness at the beginning, it's probably not going to end happily.) My favorite Maddyism this week was when we were winding through side streets in the Bronx (thanks confused Nuvi!). Noticing the brownstones and the porch stoops she said cheerfully "This reminds me of Sesame Street." [pause while drunk down-on-luck guy crosses in front of us and yells] "Except he's not so happy."

Sam is just glad he didn't have to spend more time in the car. He spent his free time this week making up impossible logic quizzes for me and G to stumble through. And grading them with big fat sorry scores. For some reason he started a balloon collection, blew them all up, and plans to sell them. I'm not sure who conducted his market research of the demand for blown-up balloons...but I'm pretty sure who's going to end up being his primary customer! Especially if it means clearing them from our house!

And, finally, in the never say never department
here's the newest addition to our household:

We finally wore down G and, after lots of conversations with breeders, etc.
we have (or will have when he can come home in a week or two) a puppy!
Four of us love him and one of us hopes he doesn't shed, bark, chew, poop, or stink.

Please help us
name this dog
If we choose your name suggestion (left in the comments),
I will send you a fabulous prize
having to do with a book shopping spree
and nothing to do with dogs.

(our naming guidelines: people names preferred...
nothing too cutesy...think manly with a hint of sensitive(?)...
uniqueness preferred...)

Triptych

Michaelangelo's Pieta

I wake up to a small sound at midnight, my Miss Clavell-like mother sensors detecting something is not right. There it is again--a soft sniffle, a low moan. Is someone crying? I shuffle into the hallway, blurry from the scant hour of sleep and still half in my dream.

Maddy is crying--a soft, forlorn sob that breaks my heart.

I scoot her over a bit to make room for myself under the covers of her twin bed. I fit my legs into the angle of hers {and note fleetingly how her legs have stretched longer in the last few months} and wrap my arms around her. She spills out her worries and disappointments that have been building under her cheerful 12-year-old exterior. Loneliness, jealousy, fear, nostalgia already for her simpler elementary school days, friend troubles, sister troubles, dashed expectations for the glorious experiences she thought would be hers at 12--these are all soured by their proximity to each other and by the late dark lonely hour.

There was a time when my midnight ministrations were easier, when, blurry eyed, I could provide milk and nearness and that was enough to satisfy her nighttime needs. Now my role isn't resolving or satisfying but simply witnessing & waiting while she resolves for herself.

***

Brueghel's Child's Games

Most of my interactions with Sam are still instrumental. Where are my church shoes? What are we having for dinner? Will you help me with this song? Will you play a game with me? Comb my hair? Check my homework? These things I can do, can check off as positive indicators for the parenting balance sheet.

Although yesterday, when he hollered up from the kitchen "Can you cut my bagel for me?" I admit I weighed the probability of a lacerated palm (if I had him try it himself) versus a few more peaceful moments of reading before I replied a delayed "okay." Even the simple things are hard some days, their grinding dailiness overpowering my ability to rise to the occasion.

***

Modigliani portrait

Lauren chose 9:30 p.m. on a Sunday night, the last day of February break, to bring us the sheet of paper.
"I'm supposed to have a conversation with you."
Distracted by Jon Stewart's Oscar banter, I register her request but fail to respond.
"Like, by tomorrow. It's due tomorrow in Health."
"Okay...let me see what it is."

The form lists five questions that students are supposed to discuss with parents about sex and birth control: How should teenagers show affection for each other? Should a couple have sex if they love each other and are going to get married? If a teen is sexually active, what kind of birth control should she use? Etcetera.

This is not the conversation I want to have, on demand, on Oscar night at 9:30. Keep in mind we have had nine unscheduled, unhurried days of vacation before this. I sigh.

"I already know the answers to most of these. We've talked about this before" she says hopefully. "Maybe we don't need to talk about it and you can just sign the sheet."
This is true, although we haven't explicitly discussed birth control. I imagine a pregnant child, blaming her parents' cluelessness: They couldn't be bothered. The Oscars were on.

So we talk, our glances not quite meeting for most of it. One commercial break, Greg screamingly silent on the other sofa.
As she heads for bed, she says "don't worry, I'm not planning on doing anything like this anytime soon."

Silence in the wake of her departure.

Greg asks, "Did she say 'not anytime soon'? Because I was hoping to hear 'not planning on anything like this ever'." I'm just thinking why didn't I turn off the t.v. and spend a little more time? What's so difficult about that?

***