September 20, 2011

Dear JackRabbit–

When you were in kindergarten I could not fathom how you, too, would one day be a gangly little second grader. Those kids seemed huge compared to your little round-faced smallness. And now here you are– one of them.

You are so independent lately. The other night I was too tired to wake you up so that you’d go to the bathroom. Daddy usually does that when he and I come upstairs to bed… and I’ve done a good job of it while Daddy’s been in Japan– but that night I was too tired. I went into my room and laid down and dozed off– only to wake up when I heard your feet hit your floor and pad down the hall to the bathroom all by yourself! I was so proud of you and (bonus!) was very happy to have you snuggle up with me in my bed for the rest of the night.

You’re helping me take care of your school things and the dogs. You’re making great choices about your lunches and clothes. When it’s homework time you don’t complain — you just work to get it done. In the car you buckle yourself in. You’re trying new foods. And new words.

You love space. Anything space related captures you. There’s StarWars, of course– but also astronauts and planets and dwarf planets and the temperature and distance of the sun. You read these things and store them up for the car rides to school when they come out in the form of, “MOMmy! Did you know that….” or as a question (some of which requires me to do some googling…)

This past Sunday afternoon I offered to ride bikes with you. You were very excited and we walked toward the garage– only to be intercepted by your pal Colin. (“Backyard Colin, Mommy, not Colin H-.”) I saw the hesitation in your eyes and sent you off to play with Colin– he wanted to show you his friend and the deer stand his Dad had put together in their backyard. “Mom– I’ll be back in a few minutes and then we can go riding, okay?” I weeded while you walked around the corner with Colin and listened for your chatter. I don’t get you all to myself anymore– you have friends and plans. I realize how lucky I am that you are still excited about coming back to go for a bike ride with me.

It’s really neat to see you growing up. I still don’t know how we got from the hospital– just yesterday or last week– to this point– but I have loved every day of it.

This has been a great year– you had such a good time with Ms. Hughes in first grade; went to that fun rental cabin for Thanksgiving with Momma & Eric (and us, too); became a Tiger Scout; came up with being a “Capital One Viking” for Halloween; visited Disney World with AunT & Maddie & Keegan– and had a week’s worth of fun adventures there and the way to Florida and back; worked out with the big kids at soccer camp; “oh!’ed at the explosions at Science Camp; went up to The Lake for a week; went to waterparks; read all sorts of new books; discovered Phineas & Ferb and Lego StarWars; got baptized; spent a week at Family Camp… really, an awful lot of adventures for a seven year old.

Seven. It’s just so hard to believe.

I love you, sweet baby. I love being your Mommy. I love watching you discover things and figure things out. I love hearing you sound out words (“dis-entry” and “Chor-lee” came out a few weeks ago while you were playing Oregon Trail on my iPhone). I love that you are beginning to think about things in a true inquirer fashion. “MOMmy! Daddy! Is that a good learner question?” I love watching you sort out where the wiggle room is on negotiations with us (that 7:30 bedtime is still a sore spot. “Daddy! Damon goes to bed at 9 o’clock!”)

And I love that I can still convince you that baked egg cups are exactly what young jedis eat.

I wouldn’t change a single hair on your head– except to somehow make time go a little slower. Still– as you say you are “to be continued” and I’m excited to see how what happens next.

I hope tomorrow is a happy 7th birthday. It’s strange to plan this without your Daddy here to help me. I’ll do the things he would do if he were here and not on his business trip to Japan– I’ll cover your floor with balloons and give you lots of kisses at 4:01 p.m. when you are officially 7. And AunT & Keegan will be on hand to sing with your church family and buddies after choir practice. (Miss Claudia’s even making spaghetti especially for you!)

I love you so very, very much,

Mommy

Lapping up the dog days

It’s hot out. The kind of thick, humid hot that makes everyone dull and lethargic. There are all sorts of heat warnings out today and the air is heavy with unbroken storms.

Our little window air conditioner is working overtime. It keeps the living room comfortable– but the upstairs is miserably close and stuffy. Maddie and Jack escaped to the movies today– and I appreciated the cool office. Poor Robby is stuck watching a new line run in the production area — he will come home wet and spent.

We’ll eat salad tonight and grocery store chicken. It’s about all I can think to throw together– the idea of turning the stove or oven on is unbearable. I have a meeting at church (hopefully, also air conditioned) and then we’ll drive down to see Granny. Hopefully, by the time we get back it will have cooled off some.

It was hot up north this week, too. Combined with the utter lack of any pressing schedule I was slothy. Read. Ate. Slept. Jack was entertained by me and the grandparents and the dogs– we each took it in turns to kick the ball in the backyard or thrust the lightsabers or read stories. While he watched movies or played with the grandparents I read. Three books. A stack of magazines. When Robby joined us we went to the beach. I pulled the cooler over and used it as a chair so that I could sit with my feet in the waves and still read.

The library had a stack of books waiting for me when I came home. And the heat will break soon– it never lasts for too long here. In the meantime we’ll keep making iced tea and eating cold suppers.

And moving slower.

To the Lake!

I’ve been packing with a little ADHD today… Stopping to fold t-shirts then iron a skirt then look for my hairpins then make Jack’s bed.

And now I’m sitting down with the computer for a minute just to get off my feet.

We’re heading up north for a stretch. It’s always good to get to the Lake and to have a few days to play on the boat/dock/Jack’s kiddie pool… I have a stack of books and some socks to finish knitting as a bonus. And to eat! Whitefish and spaghetti and chicken casserole.

We’re meeting friends up there, too– which makes this an even better trip than usual.

Friend Susan asked, “What do I pack?” And I laughed because it is late July at the Lake– pack everything. Pack for cold nights and hot days and everything in between.

I’ve thrown my wool socks in on top of my swimsuit. But, for the most part, I plan on wrapping the company of good people around me like a blanket. I can’t wait to sit in the middle of their laughter and soak it all in. Store it up for darker days.

Jack plays nice.

Last night we went to a dinner party. There were pre-dinner aperitifs and an elegantly-laid table… A decorated, coordinated Christmas tree and a multi-course meal promised. The room was full of adults conversing about adult things.

It was all a recipe for disaster with our little five-year old in tow. Robby and I surveyed the room and saw all the potentials for accidents, breakage, and other mishaps…

Jack, however, behaved beautifully. He was very tolerant and polite with all the adults asking him questions. And he was enchanted with the little knight and knight’s horse that Uncle Nat brought him from New York. We’d packed him his own supper– most five-year olds aren’t too fond of french onion soup, prime rib, bluecheese potatoes, salad, or poached pears. (Though this 39 year old is.. Yum!) When we sat down to the table Jack was seated across from me and next to his Dad. He had Aunt Dorrit on the other side so he felt safe. And he quietly munched on his strawberries, chips, and grilled cheese sandwich and drank his milk out of a miniature brandy snifter. When he finished (as we were tucking into our delicious soup) I slipped him my iPod and he sat quietly watching the Sesame Street I’d downloaded. During the main course he played with the lace-a-letter kit his grandmother had found him. And, while we lingered over our poached pears and sparkling wine, he watched Ratatouille on my laptop.

Let’s all say a little thankyou prayer for technology.

By the time we left– 3 hours past his “late” bedtime– Jack was still polite enough to say goodnight to the grown-ups and sweet enough to snuggle us both when, back at the cottage, he was pajamma-ed and put to bed.

Such a good boy. (And such a good dinner!)

(yawn.)

I’ve spent most of the day watching the first season of MadMen. I have the laptop perched on my outstretched legs while I knit. I’ve finished a hat. Now I’m working on another project. The only thing even remotely exciting I’ve done today was to make a wee little deviled egg out of a boiled quail’s egg. It was cute. I put it on a plate with lettuce for a garnish.

Jack and Robby have played outside for a big chunk of the day. The pups have alternated between sitting with me and playing outside with Robby and Jack.

The rest of the cottage has been reading (Dorrit) and raking (David) and knitting (Lady) and watching football (Padre).

Tonight there is a dinner party… we’ll eat too much. Some will drink too much. There will be warm beds to fall into at the end and the book I’m reading.

Thankstaking

I’m pretty sure that this is the best Thanksgiving yet. And it’s mostly because of Jack.

On Wednesday we kicked off the festivities 24 hours early with the Thanksgiving party at Jack’s school. The two kindergarten classes gathered in the gymnasium for a round-robin of Pilgrim/Indian themed activities. Two of the third graders from down the hall made a guest appearance as “real, live Pilgrim children.” The good Mrs. R and Mrs. S, the other kindergarten teacher, divided their two classes into several small groups and sent them to different tables manned by Mommies. At one station the kids ground corn with the “real, live Pilgrim children” (Yes… I have already noted that but it was funny then and it still strikes me as funny, now. Maybe you need the mental picture: Two third graders in ill-fitting Pilgrim costumes (all black and white, of course) with somewhat witchy looking Pilgrim hats with buckles. The costumes look like they could double if the third graders wanted to stage the Crucible, too… Which thought also fills me with glee. Because that’s funny, too.); at another table they made macaroni necklaces (I’m pretty sure that was supposed to have something to do with the Indians… but I’m not sure. Maube they were purchasing Manhatten?) The snack table was a hoot– tiny cornucopias made with Bugles and wee little gummy fruits. They also made turkey headdresses, colored pictures of Thanksgiving scenes, made “Blessing” snacks for the next day, and little hand-print turkey placemats.

It was a fun day. Jack had a blast with his schoolmates. I had fun with the other Mommies. They ended their day with “Thanksgiving Songs” which had lots to do with fat turkeys running from farmers.

What really got to me though was the Thanksgiving booklet that Jack brought home. It was a series of pages stapled together with simple sentences on each page about Thanksgiving and little works of art. It was also proof as to what Jack has learned, at school, about Thanksgiving and pilgrims and Indians and corn. He chattered all about his new-found knowledge to his Daddy and I. There’s plenty of time to correct his assumptions about dour Pilgrims and early harvest celebration traditions. Right now his grasp of the first Americans working with the Pilgrims is nice.

The next bright spot came with our annual phone call from our Friend Chris who calls us as a turkey. “Eat me!” ChrisTurkey exclaims and it sends us laughing every year.

The rest of the holiday has been, well, gravy. We drove up north (reading, on the way, Tony Horwitz’s  A Voyage Long and Strange) for our annual weekend with our Friends Dorrit and David and Robby’s parents. This year there are 6 adults, one Jack, and three little dogs. It makes for a merry cottage. Outside it has been overcast and gray and rainy. Inside there is a crackling fire, the clicks of knitting needles and the occasional skirmish between the pups over Robby’s lap. On the table there was an indescribably moist turkey with two different dressings (but only one that matters– the kind that I love with chestnuts), riced potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauces, peas, and David’s good red wine.

And today, the Day After the Turkey there was leftovers and tea. An afternoon of watching MadMen on my computer while I knit a hat. Breaks with Hello magazines. A crisp walk with all three dogs through the path that, in summer, is closed off with mosquitoes and garden snakes (shudder).

We feasted tonight on cheeses and sausison, baguettes and olives washed down with David’s good red wine. And a Dutch Oven torte. Oy. We’ll roll off to bed fat and happy.

I wasn’t looking forward to Thanksgiving this year. I didn’t feel as thankful as I should. For all my thousands of blessings I am still aching for the baby lost in August and, now, the death of our friend’s father this week. But last night, when the windows were fogged up with all the good cooking and the cottage was full with overlapping conversations, and my small son went tearing through the room with a super-hero red cape yelling, “IT’s THANKSGIVING TIME!” how could I not be content?

 

What’s up Dock?

This is the dock. But it's misleading because this is only half of the dock. Still, you'll get the idea.

We spent the weekend Up North for a last hurrah! at the cottage. In a few weeks Robby’s folks will close it up and declare the 2009 season over… Poor un-winterized little cottage must be shut up for the winter months.

This weekend we enjoyed the cool nights with fires in the fireplace and Lady’s delicious spaghetti sauce. The weekend was gorgeous– lovely September blue skies instead of the rain that the weathermen had warned.

The weather was a slight balm to the wretched task of pulling out the dock for the year. We have a great dock– it’s wooden and long. It ends in a nice platform. The neighbors have a fancy aluminum dock that is so long we once staged a “Dock Walk” that mimicked the Mackinac Bridge Walk. We had t-shirts printed up and we pretended to take a rest at the halfway point. When we reached their platform we celebrated while they sat, bewildered, in their boat. Their dock has lights strung along the length so that, at night, it gleams like the cliched necklace of jewels on the water.

Our dock is more simple. More homey. It is sturdy and straight and practical. The wood planks sometimes bow and bounce unexpectedly. The sections are, for the most part, worn smooth with an odd splinter here and there to keep the danger alive.

This weekend we pulled the dock out. We envy the floating docks we’ve seen in the south where the water does not freeze. Our little lake will be frozen by Thanksgiving and any docks left lazily in will become spinters pushed up against one of the shore banks.

Robby did the bulk of the heavy lifting. The rest of us– Lady, Padre, and me– pitched in to pull out the sections and lug them up the ever-shorter remaining dock to the shore where they are neatly stacked for the winter. The sections requred two of us at a time. One person can handle the standards. The trick is in the timing and trying not to end up crossing on the dock when someone is hauling in a piece.  Trying to keep Jack off the dock was also a challenge. He’d tied two of his little plastic boats together with a long string and was floating them in the inch deep water left near shore. The lake is so low at this late date that Robby had to walk the standards out to deep enough water to rinse off the muck and mussels from the flat bases. (Meanwhile I calculated whether we could get the neighbors to cheat their fancy aluminum dock towards our cottage splitting the difference between their lot and our’s on the neighbor in-between so that we could avoid this unpleasantness next year.)

It didn’t take us long but we were all sore and achey afterward. None of us are used to heavy lifting and so our shoulders especially took a hit. Lady made us her ridiculously good BLTs and spaghetti to assuage our moaning.

The lake can freeze now. We’re done with it.