Perfection

This was Dean's last week of summer day camps; he finished out with chess camp, which he attended with his best friend Max. The week had included a tournament, with finals on the last day. They wondered if it would come down to this, and indeed Dean and Max had to play each other in the last game for the championship. The air in the room was NOT charged with tension at all; all the kids were thoroughly enjoying themselves, and each pair would glance around from time to time to see how the other games were going.
Contemplating their good fortune and offering up their trophies, with Max as the first place winner and Dean as second. Dean was utterly delighted with the outcome, and acknowledged that Max deserved to win for having played the better game. We went home for a celebratory lunch of hot dogs, with ice cream for dessert, and an afternoon of:
badminton on the front lawn. I seriously do not think it gets much better than this. We've been playing badminton as a family this weekend and look forward to more matches today. Skies are blue, temperatures are ideal, low humidity, cool breezes wafting through.
I love this picture of Dean and his cousin, Hallie, skipping rocks at the beach during a break at a recent family wedding.

We've got nearly a month until school starts, and are about as content as we can be. We're getting ready to take a little trip to celebrate Ken's 50th; oh, I'll have lots of pictures to post when we return!

Some things I love

Skipping stones.
Watching soccer games.
Great pens.
Maps.
Interesting paper.
The English language.
Text as art.
Coffee.
Old-fashioned donuts.
Iced tea.
Lemonade.
Fresh air.
The sky.
Good erasers.
Ladybug's Picnic, sung by Elizabeth Mitchell
Rubber stamps.
Sharp pencils.
Peonies.
Sea glass.
Libraries.
Beautiful studio/creative spaces.
Color.
Photography.
Christmas.
Good craft magazines.
Corn on the cob.
Classic board games.
Fishing.
Keen sandals.
Going out for breakfast.
Pirates of the Caribbean/Curse of the Black Pearl
Music from an ice cream truck.

How about you?

Happy Friday

A happy Friday to you.

Happy sunny day, end of the week, ready for adventure day. Happy make some plans, finish up some projects, get it done and start something new day. Happy take a break, review the week, and think about the weekend day.

We have, ahead of us, half a weekend that we 'just have to get through,' and then half a weekend to be home and relax and enjoy. Today I have a half-day of work, and some errands and chores to do, and I plan to make some time for some fun. It feels good, this morning.

Making the journey worthwhile

What I learned about myself between last night and this morning is that if there's a hint of chill in the air in the evening, when we go out to walk the dog after dinner at about 7:30 p.m., I MUST have a jacket on. Maybe even long pants. I cannot tolerate being even slightly cold at the end of the day. But in the morning, when I take the dog out at 7 a.m., I am delighted by the crisp promise that the chill morning air offers and I can't stand to take a jacket with me. It's entirely possible that it is colder in the morning than in the evening, and there I am with shorts and short sleeves and a smile.


I know that some measure of this is physiological; I am a morning person and my energy is all bright and burning in the morning. By the end of the day I am done. I actually don't mind one bit getting into bed before it's even fully dark out because I am tired and done and ready to sleep. So my biorhythms or whatever are set on 'high' in the morning and 'low' at night. And I guess there's no way to disconnect the psychology either. It's just funny to me to have realized it and to understand that the given temperature doesn't really predict how the temperature is going to feel to me (or to anybody else?).

(I just googled biorhythms and came away with the impression that there's a lot less science (none, maybe?) to them as I thought there was, but what I meant are the particular highs and lows of your own system throughout the course of a given day.)


For me the point of these kinds of seemingly pointless realizations is to build my tolerance of these same kinds of idiosyncrasies in those I love. If I can be so apparently irrationally impacted by the weather, then trying to insist that Dean put on a jacket because it's "cold" out really is not very fair at all. Like that. That the reality each of us experiences, even on a very micro level, is entirely personal, even when it seems that it shouldn't/couldn't be. That the 'truths' we are so sure of ourselves don't necessarily carry.

Best

Chicago, April 2009

Today is perfect. It just is. It's a clear blue cloudless sky perfect, a 70 degrees with a light wind perfect. It's Friday perfect. It makes you feel as happy as you would feel being at Navy Pier today, eating ice cream and going on a boat ride and thinking about trying the Ferris wheel.

We all had it -- that giddy perfect Friday feeling -- this morning when I brought Dean and his friend to their last day of zoo camp. We had our traditional stop at Dunkin' Donuts for treats first, and may I just say that it's worth living in Massachusetts just to be able to walk into a place and order a 'large regular' and get in return a cup of coffee with milk and sugar? Regular here means just the way I like it, and that counts for something. A lot, actually.

Lincoln Park Zoo Conservatory, April 2009

So I've got the grocery shopping done, and the pizza dough is made for tonight, and laundry is in. We get to watch the finish of the CONFACAF Gold Cup match between the US and Honduras that we taped (don't tell me who won! US was up by 1 when we had to go to bed last night) while we have our summer pizza for dinner (sauteed onions, roasted red peppers, tons of cheese, no sauce). I've even got some crafting going on in the background here. I realize that I really should be outside, so I'm going to go make myself some lunch and eat it out on the deck.

Every day should be this good. I hope you have that marvelous summer Friday feeling going on, too.

When did I become someone else? or Which me are you looking for?

Dean is growing up. He just is. That our children grow and change should come as absolutely no surprise, given that we grew up ourselves from the children we once were. We know this happens. But to be on the other side of the telescope, to be the one watching the growing, rather than the one actively moving out of childhood, is an overpowering and unbelievable thing. Well, different sides of the same coin, I suppose, but going through it yourself really does nothing to prepare you for watching your own child grow.

I've been truly struck by the whole idea of growth lately. I'm surrounded by it. I've had a chance to check in on some blogs I haven't visited for a while and BAM -- I'm faced with photos of children I think of as babies, and there they are getting all big and grown up and I think HOW is that happening so fast? And here we are on July 9 and we've already had over THREE INCHES of rain in our area and I've never seen so much lush, tropical, intense growth before. The pot of tomatoes on the back porch is so tall it is starting to challenge gravity AND there are green tomatoes already. Astonishing.


Then I've got this whole other part of growth to think about and it's a lot harder. It's my own struggle with me, and who I am growing in to, and what I am growing out of. I've been thinking about what a very different person I seem to the people who knew me in high school from the people who knew me as a pre-parent career person from the people who know me as a parent and soccer mom. The thing about Facebook is that all those lives, all those past connections, come right up in front of me and I parade this whole mysterious complicated silly person to an audience with very different visions of me.

Bringing this all together for me was a post by Andrea (it's the June 29, 2009 'our dance' one -- I can't target one entry directly on her site) who had an opportunity to remember her past young self as a performer (that was me, too!) and who wrote, "...I remembered, that she is still me."

She is still me.

It's all still in here somewhere. Loving soccer doesn't dissolve loving art galleries, laughing at Phineas and Ferb doesn't prevent me from shedding tears over Three Cups of Tea. Disney World didn't replace Paris, it just got added to the list of favorite destinations.


Hmmm.

So then probably a good measure of my mourning Dean's past self, the childhood that he's rapidly rising out of, truly is foolish. He is still himself, still the sweet person he has always been. Just a lot taller. And ready to take on more by himself. Which should leave me ready to decide what I'd like to be doing while he's doing that. So that's the hard part, then.


I believe that an important aspect of being a parent is in being intentionally changed by that experience -- by being influenced in who you are as a person by the person your child is. Again thinking of a recent one of Andrea's posts, she wrote, "Attention is the most concrete expression of love." By paying attention to the things that are important to Dean, I've gained new knowledge and new interests; I've grown as my own person in response to him. That's a powerful antidote to the feeling of being consumed, of being made invisible by parenthood. "Where did I go?" can be a mournful question, about what seems lost, or it can be a joyful one about where you've landed -- about discovering that new place and discovering how you don't give up your true self in becoming a parent, you just grow into a new self.

Even the garden is saying 'enough already.' We may have a bit of a break in the rain today -- just itching to get out there and pull some weeds and get things in shape again.
Pom-pom central. It looks like a winter-time scene, doesn't it? June. Crazy.
Ah. My clean closet. Just -- let's see -- five or six others I should also clean out.

Won't be getting to it this weekend, though. Catching up on other stuff today and then tomorrow's the Confederations Cup final. US v. Brazil. It's an odd feeling -- we went in to the US/Spain game believing that the US had no hope and looking forward to seeing Spain continue on to win the whole thing. Now that the US team has done the unthinkable and beaten Spain, we wonder about Brazil (even though we lost to them in the early rounds). Well, even to take 2nd place would be an amazing accomplishment so we'll enjoy the match no matter what. Aside from the bloody vuvuzelas.

Here comes the sun? Please?

I don't live in Seattle, nor anywhere in the Pacific Northwest. This is by choice. Oh sure, there's a lot to recommend the area, and I've enjoyed visiting (my mom lives in Seattle and my sister's in a town outside the city). But the weather. Oy. I'm not cut out for all that dreary rainy misty cloudy weather.

I understand from my mom that they've been having an unusually dry, sunny spring. I think that's because all the rain is HERE. In New England. Where it is not supposed to be. Where I suspect we're having a record for spring rain. And gloom. Have we seen the sun more than 5 times in the past month? I'd be surprised.
Not that there aren't discoveries to be made, walks to be taken, activities to go forward with despite the rain. But really. I could do with a little bit more exposure to the sun.

Meanwhile, Dean and I have been doing our best to take advantage of the lack of other things to do. I (drum roll, please) cleaned out the tupperware/appliance closet yesterday, took Dean's outgrown clothes in to a resale shop, and got the car inspected (we're forced to do this every year in Massachusetts -- a very inconvenient racket). I'm going to vacuum and wash all the first floor of the house today. Really I am. After Dean's done with his computer time. I'm caught up on laundry AND ironing. Wonders, apparently, shall never cease.

I need to take pictures of the pom-pom pet Dean made for Ken for father's day; he talked me into getting him this book
and he's got plans for many more. Good stuff. Every child should, I believe, go through a pom-pom phase -- they are just so easy and rewarding to make.

With that I think I'll put on some music and do a little crafting myself. Before I do more cleaning.

What's this for?

Ah, the joy of fearlessness on a computer! The moment my back was turned, Dean decided to experiment with Photo Booth -- a sassy little application that came with my new computer. I call this his "Dudley" face.
And of course I had to get in on the fun, too. If only housework were this entertaining. We've also been cooking up Father's Day surprises for Ken, but more about those after they are presented.

Can't call them the dog days yet

Friday was the last day of school. The traditional family picnic at noon was canceled because of the rains that have been hanging here with us for the past two weeks. It felt odd not to have the sense of closure that comes from the picnic, and the opportunity to say our goodbyes for the summer, but we were pretty tired and at least a bit thankful for the early departure. Dean had a fabulous school year, was sorry to see it end, and is already looking forward to September. It was a difficult year for me for a lot of reasons -- lots of personnel changes at school that made it challenging, lots of changes overall being made -- and I'm not sorry at all to see it end.

Dean's got three weeks off until summer camp programs, and Ken and I are sort of a vacation-day/work-day tag team til then. I'll have 6 weeks off this summer (have I said this already?) to fill with some mix of productive time and hanging out time with Dean.

I'm in a weird, just-the-facts-ma'am kind of mood, which I didn't realize until I sat down to write this post. Sigh. I'd better go shake the cobwebs out.

You put your right foot in, you take your right foot out

Peony Pink Hawaiian Coral

It's just such a strange thing. I keep having dreams, very real, that are small moments when things in my life are apparently just how I want them to be. For example, I clearly had a dream that the old, brown grass clippings that are littering our front walk had been all swept up. I realized that I'd had the dream when I walked out the front door, down the walk, and saw that the grass clippings are all still there. I was so disappointed. I've had other similar experiences recently but I can't remember the details to be able to share them -- but that same feeling of realizing that I'd dreamt something was taken care of and being disappointed to find that it was not.


This toad was very much really living in our mulch pile. Hello, toad.

Why haven't I been here much lately? It's been hard. Just a lot of other stuff going on, taking my time, using up my energy, making me wonder what it is I'd really like to be doing instead. I'm trying to get a clear idea of what I'd like my time off this summer to be about, so that I can make sure that it comes off that way. I think I want it to include more time to be here.

But I've also been occupied by wonderful things, such as Dean's third piano recital.


When we were out walking the dog together last night in a light, misting rain, Dean stopped to investigate droplets of water on a small leaf. "Isn't it beautiful?" he asked breathlessly. Indeed; it always is.

Balance

Yesterday.

Today.

I love being able to walk around the garden to see the changes in a day -- sometimes even hour-to-hour. We put up a hummingbird feeder yesterday, at Dean's request (we do get hummers in our garden already; my understanding is that unlike other birds you won't attract hummingbirds by putting up a feeder so if you don't already have them coming to your yard then there's no point) and it's in a spot where we can keep an eye on it for action.

Last night, when I walked the dog around 8, I was overwhelmed by the perfectness of the evening. I'm not exactly sure what the temperature was -- low 70s? -- but it was absolutely perfect. No noticeable humidity. The sky was giving off a pink glow of light; it wasn't just the clouds that became increasingly tinged with pink, it was the air, the atmosphere itself. It was an "if only it could always be like this" kind of experience.
The first putt of the first game of the new mini-golf season yesterday afternoon.
We had one of our favorite courses all to ourselves. I had two -- two! -- holes in one and was winning for the entire game, until we got to the 18th. My worst hole of the game, and it allowed Ken and Dean both to tie for first and leave me behind by one stroke. Is there in fact an overriding force in the universe that's actively engaged in ensuring the predictable outcome? I'll be in a better position to answer that question come Labor Day.

Next week we all go on Dean's class camping trip down on Cape Cod. An overnighter, with time to explore the tide pools and beach. We've got to get all our camping stuff organized this weekend. I'm hoping that the trip gives us an introduction to a camp site we'll enjoy, since our old local favorite has become totally overrun by RVs.

There are unbelievably only three weeks of school left. Miles to go before we sleep. I've been regretting how little time I've been able to spend here in blogville and have been thinking about what I'd like to get out of the summer (I do work a bit, but I'll have 6 weeks off). I've been sorry to see so many friends going offline recently, and it reminds me that there just seems to be a cyclical aspect of blogging. I think I'm poised to spend more time back here, but I'm open to other possibilities too.

Where I Stand in the Countdown

1. Got my boy back. Dean spent 3 days and 2 nights here, and came home talking about how he can't wait to go back again next year. Lots of dirty laundry, lots of evidence that he did not take a shower or brush his teeth the whole time -- despite statements to the contrary. Oh well. That's part of the whole deal, I guess. One of the many reasons I love our school is because it is about life lessons, not just academics. It's about learning through direct experience. Going away and spending 3 days doing the hard work of farming teaches you about plants, animals, food production, weather, history, and about how you manage to do things you didn't realize you could do. It teaches you where milk really comes from. It teaches you that you can survive without your mother hovering over you, constantly asking if you need eye drops or a tissue or another dose of Benadryl (it's allergy season, big time). It teaches you that you can get to know and appreciate people in new ways when you break out of your usual routine and roles. And maybe even it teaches you to appreciate home in a new way, too.

2. The new computer is in the house, but probably won't get set up until the weekend. That's cool. Nice to know it's close.

3. Still not much happening in the get-up-and-go department. Keeping the faith, though, that I'll kick back into gear. Soon.

I think that, aside from cleaning up my craft room (again -- I know, I know), I need to embark on some new project to get me going. I need to find something that's going to drive my excitement about summer, and that's going to give me something to show for the season. I need something to give me some creative challenge -- I think I'm feeling sluggish because I don't have anything other than work and home-life demands rolling around in my brain, and I guess I don't feel the fun of getting all that stuff checked off the list to make time to do what I want to be doing.

What I Am Without

1. I am without my boy. Temporarily. Dean is on a class trip to a farm, not so very far away (under 2 hours). He left yesterday, waving merrily from the windows of the big shiny school bus, loaded with kids and luggage and teachers and all the various medications, lotions, sprays, and other necessary tools of survival. I drive up to the farm tomorrow to pick him up. Three days, two nights away from home. Poised to return, I believe, triumphant in his success and filthy after all that farm work.

2. I am without my computer. My own, home computer. Ken surprised me with a trip to the Apple Store on Mother's Day, and they now have my hard drive there while they transfer everything to a new machine. I am getting used to the whole big idea of this, but am anxious to have a machine with all my stuff back on it. It's a very vulnerable feeling to have all your stuff somewhere else, all your digital stuff which turns out to be more than you thought it was when you don't have it anymore. Temporarily.

3. I am without my get-up-and-go. Temporarily. Sluggishness brought on by too many loose ends, too much to do in the next few weeks.

What's missing for you?

So this pig walks into a bar

In a way, it felt like the opposite of a "desert island" question. You know: If you were stranded on a desert island, what (book, movie, person) would you want to have with you? Or perhaps the "if you could take one material possession with you as you left your home in a disaster situation, what would it be?"

Only the exercise was: If this is one of your last opportunities to lay in a supply of essentials ahead of a pandemic that could disrupt food supplies and/or negate access to public places such as grocery stores, what will you buy?

Apparently toilet paper and coffee are very important to me.

My trip last Friday to the giant warehouse store was made not simply because we were almost out of toilet paper, but also because we believed it prudent to stock up a little. While we are the kind of people who take things like pandemics seriously, we are also the kind of people who understand that without the capacity to afford and store a 3-month supply of everything we might need (including water, given that our well pump requires electricity to operate) then the exercise is more about temporary peace of mind. But peace of mind can be important. Feeling that you are doing something rather than nothing, and that the 'something' isn't counter-productive in the long run, can be important too. So we've got 72 rolls of toilet paper (hey -- giant warehouse store -- remember?) and enough coffee, sugar, and evaporated milk to get me through a host of mornings. I learned that the ingredients for making chocolate chip cookies felt important to me (retaining a sense of normalcy, and ignoring the electricity question since the stove is all electric), as did soup, pasta, rice, and peanut butter.

What I also found interesting at the giant warehouse store AND at the regular grocery store on Saturday was that retailers were expecting me. Hugely overstocked supplies of bottled water were very evident at both places. What I also found interesting was that I appeared to be the only shopper thinking the worst. Clearly at the giant warehouse store I was the only person with an apocalyptic agenda.

Rather than feeling relieved or foolish, we are simply hopeful that the news continues to improve on H1N1. We understand the science, as much as lay people can, of what's coming, even if H1N1 does not turn out to be 'it.'

And we go about our lives, continuing to clean house and mow the lawn and do laundry because you can't stop living. We keep going to our soccer games, too.

Dean, in the green, continues to love the game and to play it with passion. Last week (when this picture was taken) he scored a goal and had 2 assists. This week, he had his first foul called on him. As it happens, he and the other player were both going for the ball and the other player tripped over his own feet -- we and the other spectators were closer to the action than the referee (although none of us would ever question a ref's call). But the fact that Dean 'might' have fouled someone was interesting to all of us -- Dean, me and Ken, the other spectators. It has taken Dean years of playing to get a certain degree of competitive edge about him. He is as polite and non-physical a kid as you would hope to meet, and had generally applied his rules of good behavior (take turns, give people their space, don't bump or otherwise use your body to get your way) to his soccer game play.

We would always rather have a child who is kind than a child who does whatever it takes to win. We would be mortified if he ever intentionally caused a foul by pushing, shoving, kicking, tripping (as other players in his league do). But we are happy to see him learn to appropriately stand his ground. We are relieved to see him fall and then get right back up again. And we are happiest to see him feel good about a game regardless of the score at the end.

Wishing you good health, seasonally appropriate weather, and everything you need to make chocolate chip cookies in an emergency.