Did you know it was my birthday?
I’ve been more or less offline for a couple of days – but I did post a GREAT giveaway on the Style Key West blog today. And I have another on Wishing True. AND I’ll have ANOTHER tomorrow on As Good As Cake.
I’ll be back tomorrow with details – I’m off to a party!
…and first grade…and second grade…and high school…
Today, I visited the school that my five year old will be attending in the Fall when he starts Kindergarten. And as I observed the excitement of the children with their little can’t-be-still -for-more-than-five seconds bodies, their colorful art projects adorning the walls and the competent teacher running the show, I was struck by one very powerful memory. I really hated school.
Okay – hate is a strong word. And I did enjoy certain aspects of school…but the tedious work of studying, memorizing and sitting for hours on end? I was never a fan. And while I suppose Kindergarten was kind of a cake walk, looking back, I can see how it foreshadowed the pressure and responsibility of the higher grades and higher education.
To this day, my math skills are pathetic. All of those hours with the algebra tutor? Wasted! I can barely remember how to multiply fractions. And while I always loved reading and plowed through far more of the Summer reading list than was actually required, I dreaded writing the reports. Memorizing definitions for tests? Pure torture.
So while I sat there listening to a story about Frog and Toad and their garden and then watched the kids puzzle out the answers to various questions regarding plot, their bright shiny faces began to blur. While they were jumping out of their seats to scream “seeds!” “soil!” and “water!” – I was thinking “blood!” “sweat!” and “tears!“
School for me was a grind. It was a necessary evil and at best, an excellent way to meet friends and learn how to French braid hair. I got good grades in the subjects I liked and mediocre grades in the ones I didn’t, and I lived for the Summer when my time was finally my own again.
As much as I am thrilled that my kids will be starting school and beginning to learn how to navigate the world outside of our cul de sac, I’m also dreading all of that homework to be monitored. I didn’t enjoy doing my own. I seriously doubt that I’ll like doing my children’s science fair projects for them.
But then there is another part of me that thinks a Social Studies text book is just what I need. After forgetting about 80% of what I learned in school, it might be a good idea to have some refreshers on world explorers (what did Ponce de Leon do again?), North American Indian tribes, and the states’ capitals (I’m always stumped by Bismark). It might improve my cocktail party small talk – you’d be surprised how often cuneiform comes up as a topic. Seriously though – I’m often shocked by the things that I really should know, but just don’t remember. So quizzing my children on the difference between a genus and a species may not be such a bad thing.
But all of those years… I look at the Kindergartners and think, “this is just the beginning…armed felons get shorter prison sentences…” So no, I don’t have any desire to go back. I really didn’t hate school – but man, I’m SO glad it’s over.
You often hear people talk about children keeping us young. That we relive our own youth in watching theirs. And that works for me as far as the tree climbing and tea parties go – but I’ll happily skip the P.E. class indignities thank you very much.
Next up: sitting around watching little league games! Damn kids, with their contagious youth.
I haven’t been writing that much lately. And it’s largely due to the fact that I’m so fully immersed in life and plans and worries and even kind of enjoying myself right now – that when I do have a free moment at the computer, I feel like I have nothing to say.
And how is this possible? Oliver is starting Kindergarten next year and I’m looking down the barrel of a new IEP. AND I’ve done the unthinkable and taken responsibility for initiating sports activities for him. (This, from the girl who would willingly be the first one out in dodge ball just so she didn’t have to play.) Even if I didn’t think he’d spend the entire time rolling in dirt, it would be a bitter pill to swallow.
The emotional roller coaster involved in everything having to do with that little boy could give me a book’s worth of material – both funny and sad. Yet when I start to write about any of it, my head flops down in exhaustion at the idea of actually hitting keys and making this more real than it already is. I’m a realist by necessity but an escapist at heart.
So I don’t want to write about that. Nor do I have the desire to journal every funny story from my life at home with the kids. There are many – and I do sometimes share, but the truth is, I assume that it’s all been said before.
You know how when you start reading blogs, you die laughing over hilarious potty training stories and you send links to non-blogging friends beseeching them to drink the Kool Aid? Then after some time passes, you start to notice that you’re reading the same stories over and over – just from different people. Not that this makes you any less of a fan – in fact it makes you feel even more connected to people all going though the same things. But… When it comes time to write your own blog post, you start to feel rather unoriginal. Personally, don’t find that very motivating.
And I wonder if this is where people who once had so much passion for their writing start to feel a little lost. It’s a bit of a crossroads – a mid-life crisis. What next? Do I continue with my Little Engine that Could enthusiasm for stats? Or should I just write whenever I feel like it?
It’s a boring, dowdy phase, this blogging plateau. Mom jeans to the new-blogger mini skirt. Which is actually an apt metaphor for me since I went through years of preferring skirts and dresses to pants.
There was even a summer in my twenties when I wore nothing but short sundresses. Everyone in my beach house (Dewey Beach – holla!) seemed to have this preference as well, and a guy we knew began calling us The Sundress Brigade. And it sounds ridiculous really, but I kind of miss that. Being known for my feminine fashion choices. Being seen as someone who wears cute dresses and not practical workout clothes, you know – since I’ll be going to the Y later anyway. Someone who makes some effort with her hair in the morning – even if it’s just a low ponytail – instead of forgetting to brush it before leaving the house.
I miss not being a mom.
And that sounds terrible. Because I wouldn’t change anything about my life right now. Well – maybe some slip covers for threadbare couches that the children are slowly and systematically destroying…but nothing about being their mother.
It’s not an actual “crisis,” this thing paralleling my mid-blog life. Just nostalgia mixed with the ever present question of, “but then what?” The one many of us consider when we realize that in just a few years, they’ll be off doing their own thing, “and then who will I be?” Add one cup of sleep deprivation, a sprinkling of Target runs, and a heaping teaspoon of triple action eye cream…voila! You have a busy mom coming up for air. Breaking the surface to gasp for breath and notice a new beach looming on the horizon. Another one without any kids…but not much of anything else either. Just miles of sand where you can build any castle you want. But I’m not sure what I’d want that to be. And where’s the snack bar? Maybe I should bring a book…
So that may be part of this writing malaise. I’m rethinking who I am, who I want to be and how the hell I’m going to get there. Here is nice. But it’s temporary. And since looking forward always makes me want to climb into bed and pull the covers over my head (and Oliver’s head and Eleanor’s head and George’s head since they like nothing better than messing up my nicely made bed), I find myself looking back.
I’d like to feel that sun again. The sun of my youth that was a benevolent provider of tanned legs and the cure all for acne – not the harbinger of skin cancer and the spotlight for crows feet. I miss thinking I had a million things to worry over but easily forgetting them long enough to meet friends for cocktails.
The recent warm Spring weather inspired me to chop off my hair, which was sorely in need of a cut. I felt the need for less. And possibly for some incentive to pull out a brush every once in a while. The first time I had this style was the second summer of sundresses. I had rocked a shag and gone super long, but this flapper inspired bob was something entirely new. I pull it out now and again when I need a change and it never fails me. Just like a dress, it instantly grabs attention and makes me more aware of myself and of my identity as a girl. Not a young and cute girl now…but still that feminine, girly girl who likes to feel the swish of her skirt in the breeze.
My three year old daughter shows flashes of this to me – her future of dresses and tan legs and infinite time. She spins and laughs and reminds me of how it felt to only worry about myself. And to have minor concerns at that.
It will be at least ten years before she becomes the girl that I remember from my own youth. Right now, her preference for dresses is simply based on a love of twirling. She calls them her “ballerinas” and refuses to wear anything else. “Ballerinas don’t wear pants.“
As much as I’d love to join her in this conscientious objection to practicality, I really can’t wear a dress every day. Or even most days. My legs aren’t that great anymore. And I don’t have quite as much time for twirling.
But I will wear a ruffly top, put on some lip gloss and opt for a flirty haircut. This makes me no less of a mother, but it nods the girl that I will always be no matter what. And when I walk into Oliver’s IEP meeting, walk the aisles of Target and run in circles on the track at the Y, I’ll feel the swish of breeze in my hair and I’ll know that deep down I’m still the same girl.
I may have more responsibility and less freedom to stroll on beaches, but I can always find time to dance with my daughter. And remember.
****************************************************************************************************
ELSEWHERE:
On Wishing True…
Mothers Day giveaway from Fifi Flowers!
Tiny lovelies from Handmade by Christine
Rosie Campbell belts
On Style Key West…
DIY, refurbishing old furniture, finding possibility in junk yards… All very popular right now. And none of it is new to me. While growing up, I knew many creative people who had this kind of vision.
To hear a little more about that and then view the beautiful work of Knack Studios, come visit me today at Style Key West.
Last week, I started to write about Ivy’s take on her parents. There was a bit of a misconception that Ellen was a Real Housewives of New York type – but really, she’s just kind of girly – not so great at the sporty mom role. Maybe this (two weeks later – sigh) will make that clearer.
Want to catch up? You can do so HERE.
Well, Ellen never did fit in with the country club moms…but then Ivy wasn’t one to talk. She was terrible at sports and didn’t have much in common with the athletic country club girls. While they were all at swim meets, she was reading a book at the snack bar. And her own passion for what Ellen called “vintage” clothing made any critique of her mother’s inability to blend in a tad weak. Girls who wear bonnets shouldn’t throw stones.
And ultimately, Ivy really loved her mother. Ellen was so innately kind and nurturing that the room instantly warmed with her presence. She had a way of making people feel safe and cherished, and her children were no exception. Whether they acknowledged it or not, Ivy and Nicholas never questioned where they stood with their mother. And their oblivious expectation for her unconditional approval was a testament to Ellen’s effortless skill in the more important aspects of motherhood.
She may or may not have worn high heeled cowboy boots to Nicholas’ first soccer game, and her attitude could possibly be labeled by some as “unfair” when it came to pleas for popular Christmas gifts such as E-Z Bake Ovens and Barbie pools… But she would drop everything to prioritize her children, and any misstep was always made with the best of intentions. Ellen was the center of the Chapin family and her she lit up the lives of all that were in her orbit.
Will try for another installment on Friday…
****************************************************************************************************
ELSEWHERE:
On Wishing True…
The Gracie: a beautiful new BeeGee bag.
Can I just LIVE in Thornton Designs?
Lusting after Marimekko
Lovely Lost Bird Found textile
The Communicator
Eleanor: Mom – can you get me a favor? [translation: can you DO me a favor?]
Me: Sure honey – what’s that?
Eleanor: Well…a favor means…
Me: Yeah – I know what “a favor” means, Eleanor. What do you want?
We’ve been re-enacting this same conversation over and over for the past couple of weeks. Like we both have amnesia until she attempts a definition for “favor.” It’s starting to feel like Groundhog Day.
The Anthropologist
George: Only MommiesDaddies do dat!
George is so often being told that he is not allowed to do whatever it is he is doing: brandishing cleaning spray…climbing closet shelves…turning on the garden hose… And much of the time, it’s something that only grownups are allowed to do. So “only mommies and daddies” has become a bit of a mantra in his life.
As he’s puzzled out the various responsibilities and amenities of each family member’s role, it has apparently become clear to him that ANYTHING he can’t to is something that “only mommies and daddies” can do:
No climbing on furniture – only MommiesDaddies!
No eating boogers – only MommiesDaddies!
No running around outside naked – only MommiesDaddies!
Yes – Chris and I have quite the life…
The Reason that I Look About 10 Years Older Than I Actually Am
My oldest (just turned FIVE) son Oliver has many speech and communication delays/issues/what have you – so as a result, he has always been more of a man of action than words.
He does his fair share of chattering throughout the day, intelligible or not – but it’s when he goes radio silent that things get really interesting.
The other day, Eleanor came running downstairs saying, “mommy – look at Oliver’s hair – it’s CRAZY!” And since I had heard the water running for a while (yes – I ignore things like kids playing in the sink so I can get some work done without interruptions) I pretty much knew what to expect.
Sure enough, when Oliver appeared seconds later – his wet hair was swirled into an arresting version of a shiny faux hawk. I smiled and started with my ever-indulgent “OH – Oliver…” but stopped mid-OH. His hair wasn’t wet. It was slick. And after a quick reconnaissance mission to the kids’ bathroom – I found just what I had feared: an empty jar of Vaseline.
This is exactly the kind of thing that makes it impossible for me to place full blame on my husband for the kids using swear words.
Even after scrubbing Oliver’s head with real shampoo (which was a huge hit once the eye stinging set in), I still couldn’t get all of it out. And for the next several days he looked like he over did it a bit on product.
A post for another day will be about how I have to lock all the doors in our house and hide common household products in strange places so my childproof lock foiling children can’t get to them. They especially love anything that can be sprayed. This has triggered a Pavlovian response in me to become wary whenever I enter a room and notice that it smells particularly good.
****************************************************************************************************
ELSEWHERE:
On Wishing True…
Sweet giveaway at Reverie-Daydream
On As Good As Cake…
Last day to enter the Didn’t I Feed You Yesterday? giveaway!
Did you read my interview with Project Runway finalist, Laura Bennett on The Big Piece of Cake last week?
Well – don’t forget that I’m doing a giveaway for her fantastic book, Didn’t I Feed You Yesterday? on As Good As Cake, and today is the last day to enter.
I loved Laura’s attitude and style when I watched her on TV, but I had no idea she could also write! So what are you waiting for – go enter already.
I’m talking about the new issue of Lonny at Style Key West tonight. Never thought I’d put a picture of Katie Lee in ANYTHING I wrote – but it seems I’m just full of surprises (for myself) lately…
****************************************************************************************************
ELSEWHERE:
On As Good As Cake…
Didn’t I Feed You Yesterday? giveaway!
And I have only myself to blame since she convinced ME to buy this for her.
My eyes are bleeding.
****************************************************************************************************
ELSEWHERE:
On Wishing True…
On As Good As Cake…
Didn’t I Feed You Yesterday? giveaway!
I have to be honest, I don’t love science.
I have fond memories of drawing pretty pictures of bacteria slides and plant cuttings in my 5th grade science notebook. But quizzes on genus, species, blobbedy, goobeldy gook, etc. etc. etc.? Not so much. Dissecting a fetal pig? Not number one on my list of most awesome activities ever.
BUT – I really wanted to participate in the Team Why Mommy Virtual Science Fair.
Maybe it’s because my own mother had/has cancer, but I feel an affinity for any mother who hears terrifying news, undergoes treatments ranging from uncomfortable to unbearable, and still finds it in herself to look her children in the eye and say, “don’t worry, don’t be scared – I’ll be fine.”
I don’t know Susan from Toddler Planet personally, but we both write for DC Metro Moms, and we both shared a treasured friend in Jean from Stimeyland.
So when Stimey (Jean) sent out the e-mail about supporting Why Mommy (Susan) on the day of her surgery with posts about two of the most important things in her life, children and science, I thought I could come up with something that would be fun for my kids and not too painful for me.
Previously, this is about as close to science as we had ever been:
In light of this, I wasn’t going to jump right into anything involving beakers and chemistry. I figured Earth Science was a better bet.
So this morning we set out on a bug finding mission.
I live in Reston, VA which is literally “the sticks.” It’s 20 minutes outside of DC (without traffic) and I’m not kidding when I say that the woods are right outside our door. We are surrounded by forest. So of course, we are surrounded by bugs.
I grew up in downtown DC, I went to college in the Bronx and I never planned on living anywhere but a city. So of course I now live in the woods. It’s Murphy’s Law. Or something like that… Either way, I’m not exactly a nature person, but I do appreciate the walking paths in my own backyard and the lovely little piece of nature that would have once made me wrinkle my nose in distaste. Dirt is so…dirty…
Anyway – it’s been unseasonably hot and I couldn’t face an hour walk through the woods, so I figured we’d just hit the closest playground and crawl around looking at yucky insects.
Here are some pictures of what we did:
No – you didn’t miss anything. There was very little bug seeking when swings and good climbing trees were right in front of us.
BUT there was a spider web in one of the trees:
What – you can’t see that? You are blind. Whatever – that was totally Earth Science right there. Spider webs are an example of the perfection to be found in nature.
And my sensory boy Oliver got very hands on with the clumps of pollen covering his beloved mulch.
But I didn’t want to fail our mission. So I got serious. I told the kids that on the way home, we were looking for bugs – no ifs, ands or buts. And everyone got on board.
We left no stone unturned:
But after three years of battling armies of ants in my house, watching screaming children run from the bees buzzing around my front door, and bathing my family in insect repellent every time we leave our home from April to October, I can honestly say that we didn’t find ONE FUCKING BUG.
Please excuse the expletive – but that’s how I feel about the Reston bugs right now. Fair weather friends indeed! When it’s all about scavenging fallen grains of rice and scaring children and sucking human blood, they’re EVERYWHERE. But the minute I want to snap some photos they turn all shy celebrity, hiding from the paparazzi.
Not cool, bugs…not cool at all.
But we did FINALLY have one brief moment of success on our way home:
That’s a worm!
Worms are gross. And totally Earth Science, thank you very much.
All in all – it was fun in spite of the general failure. And I took a few pictures of my kind of nature:
Now THAT’S more like it.
This was a lighthearted post about children delighting in the world around them and – well, yes – the science of it. But the reason for this post is far from light. I could never do it justice with my own words, so I’ll conclude with the end of Susan’s last post before her surgery. About how she will make her contribution to the future lives of women…people…all over the world:
We need the research.
I will do my part. Tomorrow, as the six tumors are removed from my body, they will be flash frozen in vials designed to keep them usable by scientists and medical researchers. The doctors will use what they need for me, and then the rest will be sent to the IBC Biobank for future research or out for the Target Now Complete testing, one of the first to look at molecular markers that may indicate additional options for my treatment. I’m trying to make the latter work out, but if not, I’ll send it to the Biobank in hopes that it will help someone else.
I’ve checked ClinicalTrials.gov for inflammatory breast cancer trials, and signed up for Avon’s Army of Women to be notified when a researcher is looking for people to participate in studies of new treatments, complementary medicine, or information dissemination, online or in my area. It’s important, this research, and the Army of Women is gathering 1 million women together who are willing to participate, locally in person or online, with and without cancer, so that the scientists can study what causes, and what cures, cancer. If you can, please join the Army with me — and say yes to just one study this year if the opportunity arrives in your in-box.
We need the research. And we need it now.
****************************************************************************************************
ELSEWHERE:
On Wishing True…
ArtLab ruffles
On As Good As Cake…
Didn’t I Feed You Yesterday? giveaway!
