High School, Marriage, too

I’m having trouble with ages lately.

My niece, Maddie, starts high school next week. It’s the same school that Robby and I went to many moons ago. But the difference is that we spent our freshman years in a junior high and didn’t move up to the big brick building until our sophmore years. Maddie, a freshman, will naviagate the stairs and additions next week. It’s hard on me. A year makes a big difference. What I felt and thought and wished and dreaded at 14 weren’t the same things at 15. I worry about her growing up any faster than she already is and wishing she could be 3 again with her bright red shoes.

She’ll be fine. It’s me I’m worried about.

And then there’s that couple on the Today Show that’s getting married with all the Martha Stewart accoutrements. She’s 22 and he’s 21. It seems too young. Maybe it’s hypocritical of me– I was only 24 and Robby 25 when we got married… but there’s a big difference between 21 and 24, isn’t there? They are an impossibly cute couple… she’s tiny and winsome and “Gosh!” so grateful. I hope they fare well.

At Family Camp Robby and I took advantage of every opportunity thrown to us (except Family Movie Night because a campfire and s’mores seemed more appealing than a cartoon that didn’t keep Jack’s attention). On Friday there was a mini-marriage-enrichment session. We signed up on Monday and held it to the fates to decide if we’d attend or not– it fell on the cusp of Jack’s naptime. The appointed day came and lo! Jack verily fell asleep literally on the way to the camp lodge and proceeded to stay asleep, on a blanket on the floor, throughout the hour. So took our sign and stayed. It was a good hour. The group was made up of a couple thinking about marriage, newlyweds (3 months and giggling), all the way up to 50+ years. As a group we ran the gamut. And all of us watched the newlyweds with a twinge of envy mingled with a shudder at their eyes-wide-shut bliss. The group leaders had us do a go around of what we needed in our marriages and the unanimous answer was “more time together.” Work, kids, and keeping a household seemed to be the top causes of stress.

Later, on the beach, someone asked what we’d thought of the session… and if we’d “learned” anything. It was good to go but no secrets to happiness or security were revealed– it was more of a check-in. Good to know that the 50+ year marriages and the 7 year marriages and all those in between are on the same twisty path. There’s not a lot of social support for marriages anymore. It’s like being thrown in a rollercoaster without the seatbelts– you hang on and hope that the rest of the car does too.

And it’s still easier than the thought of going to high school again. Keep good thoughts of our Maddie.

Back from Vacation

Our vacation was one of the best we’ve had.

We had beautiful weather– the entire week was just perfect. Lovely, warm days at the beach and cool nights in the tent. The previous week’s insidious heat and the following week’s monsoon like rains left our perfect week unmarred.

Some highlights:

1. Jack, we discovered, LOVES the beach. Every day was a sandy adventure in running in and out of the surf, building and destroying sand castles, and digging holes. Armed with my big hat and paper Oprah (the magazine) and a cornucopia of snacks and a thick, antique linen sheet, we were good to go for an afternoon of sun, sand, and surf.

2. The S’mores were perfect. It seems I’ve finally come into the Age of Marshmallow Patience. My Momma could always toast the perfect marshmallow– golden and puffy and not the least bit over or under done. As a kid I would get too antsy over the whole process and end up with a charred outside/raw inside mess. And now? I’m the Queen of a Perfect ‘Mallow. (One caveat– you have to use Kraft Jet Puffed– don’t go generic on your ‘mallows.)

3. My friend Melle’s “other daughter” Taniah grows up in inner-city Grand Rapids. For her (and Jack) it was a week of firsts– first kite flown, first night in a tent, first hobo pie, and– most unbelievable– first s’more. She was an eager learner. And quite a patient mallow toaster for an 11 year old. Seeing things through her eyes was good for all of us. Her delight in flying a kite was priceless.

4. Jack is a, as niece Keegan would say, “lonely child”– no brothers or sisters to play with… consequently we worry all the time that he plays too well by himself and not nearly enough with others. At Family Camp we got a chance to see him in action when thrown into a mix of other tots. Melle’s little son, Trey, is 2 weeks older than Jack– they were two peas in a pod. On the beach it was hard to tell them apart some days. Both were in a perpetual state of grime, cracker crumbs, and mischief. Melle and I used to image the little girls we’d have that would be friends like us… our imaginations never went to two little boys. Each day Jack and Trey would go off for a half hour of Infants and Toddler fun without a thought as to our whereabouts.

5. Which brings me to our whereabouts– our half hour with adults every day. Each day was a little different but our favorite was the labyrinth walk… Our group walked it in turns, spiralling in and then out of it again. All the way in I said “thank you!” for sand and wind and campfires and family and friends and songs and chicken casserole… and all the way out again I asked “for help” to keep this week’s rhythms and habits. We really relished the chance to go off without Jack together… knowing that he was having as good of a time as we would… (It helped tremendously to have Melle there with him. It was hard for this Mommy to send him off to “class” when we spend our days intertwined…)

6. Good Christian people. I haven’t been to Family Camp for nearly 20 years. And in that time some of the old families have moved on… but most were still there. And the new families were just as warm and kind and welcoming. There’s no agenda or pretense or formalities– just other families that extend into one large family for the week. Our children ran in and out of each other’s spaces on the beach and campsites while we swapped hobo pie recipes and marvelled at the new bathrooms recently added to the camp.

7. Each day ended, for us, with a small fire in our firepit and a cuddley little boy fresh from the showers. One night I sat by the fire in one of our camp chairs that have a foot rest. Jack snuggled under my chin and fell asleep there. Overhead were stars, over the dune came the sound of waves coming in, and around us were the snippets of conversations, songs, and bursts of laughter from other fires. The darkness melted down between the campsites so that the fires and silly strings of lights were visible but not much else… In that little coccoon was my husband, my small son, and me. Perfection.

We’re gonna V-a-c-a-t-i-o-n!

Well. We’re packed. Tomorrow we head out for a week at the beach at Family Camp. We’ll meet my oldest friend, Melle, there with her three kids and my second family, her mother and little brother. And a friend of Melle’s daughter.

I’m excited. I used to go to Family Camp with Melle’s family when we were still under our parents’ roofs. It’s a great place to strip back the bark and just be. Robby’s goofy with his glee at getting to camp out all week. We’re using one of the camp’s platform tents so it’s got an air of civility but it will still be a week away from Work.

We’ve had a rough week– my Dad’s birthday and a spattering of bad news that included the massive heart attack of a pal and the sad, sad news that friends of ours have separated. We’re a little strung out and in need of the repair that will come with beach and sand and campfires and Hobo Pies and old camp songs.

The only downside is that the entire family can’t go– poor Philbin pup is caninus non gratas at the camp so he’ll bunk out at home. His AunT will tend to him and leave hidden treats all over the place for him to hunt and find while she’s away.

Jealous? Eat a S’more. And throw some sand in the bottom of your bed.

The Very UnBirthday

Today is my Dad’s birthday. It’s not that I miss him more than usual for 24 hours– but that I am aware of what what we would be doing if he were still alive. There would be cake and the scheming plotting of my sister and mother and I to surprise him in some way. With it being a Friday there might have been a weekend trip somewhere together.

As is, though, it’s been a decent day in spite of it all. Jack and I celebrated with “pa-cakes!” at McDonald’s. We took great glee in our plastic forks and that the hotcakes styrofoam box has four little craters that you can push in and out and in again. It kept us busy for quite some time.

Later in the day we watched Keegan dance. Jack defied all Recital Etiquette and yelled, “Hi Keegy!” over and over until she furtively waved back at him… then he flattened himself out on his stomach to watch their feet fly across the floor. Uncle Andy and Keegan took him into the gym afterwards to “BOUNCE!” on the mats and wedges and trampoline. A red letter day for a nearly three year old.

My sister observed the day with her morning viewing of “Coach” and marveled that today, of all days, was a reairing of the very last episode. Dad loved “Coach.”

Tonight Robby picked tomatoes from our garden and we ate them, sliced, with chicken and potatoes while Jack dug into a jelly sandwich. Later we’ll have cake or ice-cream before tucking him off to bed.

Tomorrow and the next day I won’t miss Dad any less but it won’t seem quite as unfair as days like today seem.

CRACK!

We’ve started to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows. We cracked open the book the other night intending to read only one chapter but (and this isn’t a spoiler) Nagini-the-giant-snake was rather prominent in it and I didn’t want that to be the last thought in my sleepy head. Robby agreed we could go ahead one more chapter.

Now we’ve read four. We’ve been shocked fully once. [Spoiler for the slow readers: Hedwig's end]. We’ve laughed out loud twice [Thank Heavens for the Weasley twins]. And we’re fully aware of the roller coaster ride to come.

Yikes.