In Other News

June 23, 2006 | Category: In My Life

First of all, see that picture? See that hole in my Bear's mouth? YES!!!!! You guessed it! The tooth fairy is coming to our house tonight!!! (That squealing is me, 2 parts grossed out and and 1 part loving the wicked milestone)

We are nowhere near packed for our trip, but we're heading out at dark o'clock tomorrow morning come hay or high water.

Don't know if I should be so hep to get to somewhere called the "badlands" ... but the excitement in my Bear's face is contagious.

Westward, ho!

P.S. Someone asked Bear the other day what he wanted to be when he grows up.

He responded:
"Police Officer, Doctor, Explorer, Soccer player in the Wold Cup for Iceland or America, Archeologist of Dinosaurs. Also I hope God makes me a Daddy. I just want to be everything. Except an astronaut."

"Why not an Astronaut?"

"Well.... I think going into space would freak me out. Even if I was a Superhero."

"Really?"

"I am so sure. Spiderman never went into space and he was the best superhero. So I'm not going into space, too."

The Day Off

June 21, 2006 | Category: Mother to the First Power

Bear was sweet and helpful from 8am until 5pm.

As we were driving home from washing the car, both of us sopping wet in our clothes and laughing, I glanced in the rearview mirror at his happy face and said "wow, we're having a good day - huh?"

"Yeah, I figured we needed a day off from fighting."

5 going on 15, I tell you.

Badlands

June 20, 2006 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

On Saturday morning, we leave for Omaha, Nebraska for a friend's milestone birthday party. On Monday morning, Bear and I will head off for the Badlands (CD is flying back to Chicago to work).

I've never been to the Badlands. Although I've created one or two...

Continue reading "Badlands"

Ole Ole Ole

June 19, 2006 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

What an amazing weekend.

Continue reading "Ole Ole Ole"

2 Weddings and a Memorial

June 16, 2006 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

It was around now, so many years ago it seems, that I first met CD.

Continue reading "2 Weddings and a Memorial"

Summer Days/Look for America

June 14, 2006 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

Growing up, in sandy New England. School would let out, and my mom would drag out that canvas beach bag - like the ones they sell at Land's End? Over weeks, the layer of sand in the bottom would rise, no matter how much she'd knock it out at the end of the days.

Sweaty plastic bottles of juice. Bags of chips and carrot sticks. Towels that were always a little damp. T-shirts and romance novels and beach toys and plastic sunglasses.

And there were swimming lessons and half-day camps and play dates. And hours upon hours at the pond or the beach. Sunburnt cheeks with smears of zinc, sea glass and "perfect" rocks that we'd beg to take home, and long rides in the car to and fro and the hot vinyl seats and the radio blasting and licking popsicles we got from the ice cream man.

I spent all of my 20's together/apart with my first love. There are so many reasons why love wasn't enough. The most abiding reason was our different dreams. Of my dream, of being that mom. Of that child in the backseat singing along as we played the radio loud. Of a canvas bag full of sand and treasures, swimsuits under our t-shirts, flip-flops slapping as we walked.

You'll remember me when the west wind moves / Among the fields of barley / You can tell the sun in his jealous sky / When we walked in fields of gold

And there have been have been five summers since Bear was born. Five summers that I have tried to be that mother to him while being the professional woman I also was. Five summers of me in slacks, on the other side of a fence and watching. Five summers of my telling him to be quiet as I drove with a teleconference hanging in my ear. Five summers of dropping him off, and picking him up later. Of hearing him and Elia through the window as they splashed through the sprinkler in the backyard, and blocking them out so I could concentrate.

I never made promises lightly / And there have been some that I've broken / But I swear in the days still left / We will walk in fields of gold / We'll walk in fields of gold

While I believe, with all my mind and conviction, that there is no right way to do it - Lord knows that I have never been at peace with the path my mothering was taking. I am just not that good at multi-tasking, that I ever felt like I was doing justice to all my roles.

And more than that, it is never far from my mind that I will get one childhood with this boy. A handful of summer nights standing outside the ice cream place licking the melting chocolate chips from our fists. And then it will be time for him to join his friends, his own children, his destiny.

Five summers gone, already.

This summer comes at the expense of our savings and, maybe, a little bit of our security. I lay awake some nights, listening to the fan twirl, pushing away the feeling of panic. Of what happens in September.

But yesterday, as we drove home from the swimming pool with Bear licking his bomb pop in the backseat, with freckles over the light tan on my arm, with a familiar song on the radio. We were plotting the summer. Our plan to visit all 50 states before he is 10 years old. We're up to 16, and it was serious discussion to figure out where to next. About the Grand Canyon, and hunting dinosaur bones.

... I realized that I finally had my dream.

We pulled into the driveway, in the warm afternoon sun. His lips were bright blue and red, the towels damp over the seats. CD came out and lifted him from the van while I gathered everything up into my big bag.

Inside, the shadows were long and the house was quiet. As his father dressed him in dry clothes and tucked him in for a nap, Bear chattered softly about the ordinary adventures of a mid-June day.

I leaned against the wall with a smile.

They say: be careful what you wish for, you just may get it. Well, after 20 years of deaming, this one has come true.

It is a joy as fleeting as a summer. And worth every moment in gold.

Many years have passed since those summer days / Among the fields of barley/ See the children run as the sun goes down / As you lie in fields of gold

The Education of a Bear

June 12, 2006 | Category: Mother to the First Power

We chose Happy Montessori for many reasons, the most pressing being that he showed early signs of being ambidextrous. It runs in the male side of my family, and has led to all kinds of learning problems. I mentioned it to my son's first pediatrician, who informed me that it is an extremely rare condition to have at birth and Bear would eventually "show a side".

Guess what?

Yeah. Bear has never "shown a side". Dumbass expensive over-booked pediatricians. Should have dumped them right then and there.

Meanwhile, the OT testing he went through showed that his, indeed, naturally ambidextrous. And despite all the fabulous pre-writing work that Montessori Schools are known for (in terms of teaching the muscles in the hand to hold a pencil and work on the fine motor control) - Bear has switched back and forth so much that both his hands show the fine muscle control of about a child 2 years younger than his actual age. The tester told me that it's clear that he's split the work that was designed to foster one hand to being able to write across both his hands. Which sucks for Bear, he's so frustrated about his letters because he sees what his friends are able to do.

So I'm not exactly sure if we got that benefit we paid so much for. Which has been disheartening to both CD and I.

Meanwhile, Happy Montessori demanded that they see the OT testing results before they invite him back for next year.

I asked why and they couldn't give me a clear reason, other than they aren't sure if he should go back to Kindergarten (which would be age appropriate) or to the first grade (which is where many of his friends are going). CD and I said that of course he's going back to kindergarten, he needs the extra time to get the OT therapy for his fine muscle control.

We were supposed to meet with the school this week and bring the report. And I have been battling that, around and around in my gut.

The thing is - I don't know what options I have. The local public school is excreable. And I'm going to have to go back to work, because CD just hasn't found a job that can support us. Happy is the only private kindergarten that even thinks about sliding scale and scholarships - which is the only way we are going to be able to afford anything.

I don't know what to do.

As much as I have grown to mistrust Happy Montessori, logically it seems like the choice that keeps Bear in the most loving and supportive environment.

And we're down to the wire, right? I should just suck it up and release the report (which basically just says he needs fine motor therapy and eye testing) and let Happy do as they will...

Then why am I eyeing the phone, thinking of polite ways to call and say "Screw Off"?

I fire myself

June 07, 2006 | Category: In My Life

I don't know what this is, this antipathy I have for Happy Montessori.

(The rest of my whining is below the jump...)

Continue reading "I fire myself"

And then, the acid-dropped Sunday

June 04, 2006 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

Back when we were first dating, sometimes I would visit CD at his job.

It was a small shop full of geeks and nerds and strange men on strange drugs who had inflatable women in the back of their vans for those special lunches (yes, really). It would be too easy to say in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man... and untrue. Because CD was 20/20 and respected for his skills and quiet leadership.

I fell in love with that man. At a time when I thought I would never fall in love again. But I did. With him.

Funny how life happens. What "happily ever after" looks like down the line.

Last year, I realized that weekends had become these crazy pockets. The cell phone in my purse, my email on alert, and I would grab Bear and go. Birthday parties, and errands, and adventures. Trying to stuff a week's worth of physical attention into crazy days. CD along for the ride, usually driving. Sometimes sniping.

I lived on the edge of everything, popping Tylenols and Motrins. I left the cleaning and whatnot to the day-to-day Elia and occasional hired maid service. Dry cleaners for everything except underwear. And jammies. Dinner from a restaurant. Sometimes lunch, too.

This is how you make it on the corporate ladder. Outsource as much as possible, race to make all the ticks on the calendar, multi-task like a demon, and never really have a moment when you feel like all's right with the world.

But now CD and I are creating a new life for ourselves. And Bear and I have hours in each other's company without a to-do list. The money's gone, Elia's gone, and dinner is whatever I cook.

We putter and stall. Hours of housework then hours of nothing. We stutter a rhythm hasn't found its beat.

CD wants a leaf blower, but we have to save up. The tree has barfed its annual spring tonnage of little green florets all over our cars and the driveway. Last year, we swept it all a couple of times. This year, the load is greater.

He drags out the wet/dry vac and I say "If you're hauling that out, then please vacuum the cars." He nods without looking up.

Back in the house, Bear passes by me with a hamper.

It's dinner time, but we're not hungry. I made late brunch and late snacks and the sun is up and no one wants to stop and eat. Fine.

Chores are left ignored. Piles and piles of clothes cleaned and folded need putting away. The kitchen floor needs washing. The beds need changing. I head into Bear's room and he's filled up his hamper with the contents of his dresser. He mulishly doesn't make eye contact.

"I am running away from home," he tells me fiercely, tugging the hamper behind him.

"Oh," tiredly, as I follow him out of curiousity.

"Yes, I am going to live in the van. For real," he drags the clothes down the front steps and I see he has set up a bed for himself in the front seat of the minivan.

I also notice that my husband is intently vacuuming the green shit off the driveway. He is halfway done.

Bear pulls his hamper into the van and then closes himself in, locking the doors and giving me a look that dares me to challenge his kingdom.

It's almost 6PM and I close my eyes. Easy math says this family is farther behind today than we were last night.

I sit down on the front steps in the breeze of a long shadow. Breathe deep, heart hurting. I tell you, I can not stop the voice inside of me that says this doesn't feel right. And I argue back to myself that the feeling of right comes and goes, and more often the former over the latter.

The chicken is marinating. The sky is blue. A long time ago, I fell in love with a man who is currently vacuuming a driveway. And we made the child who just marched past me with a suitcase and a plastic blue light saber, off to his new home in our minivan.

This is now.

Truce! And a cake! And a parade!

June 01, 2006 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

I want to thank the many who commiserated over Darth Vader's CD's housework lament. (I mean, commiserated with me. ME!) And the great advice - all of which we read, and digested, and discussed.

I am happy to report: Truce has befallen. (Um, can a truce befall? Is there a better verb for this? Yes? No? OK, then, moving along.)

In the end, CD decided after many teeth-crunching days & nights that perhaps not so much with telling me I need to be a better housewife. In fact, maybe a little more with him folding the laundry and loading the dishwasher and hoovering every rug in sight.

To sum up: we worked a compromise. The cornerstone being - trust. That each of us will do as we can, with both being ultimately responsible for all.

That tingling you're feeling right now? Yeah, that's mine. Peace and relief from every pore. Have at it.

I thought we were going to end up in some prehistoric battle (cue the "King Kong" sound effects) but the light, she's been seen.

Ahhhhhh.

I don't care if he looked into the deep abyss that was my outrage and scampered back to the land of reasonable out of sheer terror, or actually had one of those Dr. Phil "light bulb" moments. Either way, I've got a spring in my heart and a song in my step.

Of course, it's hard to find much wrong with the world now that the frigging heat wave has broken and it's finally less than 90F outside and the flowers are blooming and the world is beautiful.

I might be moved to muse angrily on the fact that it was the ex-Catholic Priest Pedophile across the street that gave us our lovely peony bushes (back when we just thought they were "the nice guys").

But who can be angry at such beauty?

So, Monday was Memorial Day. We remembered this year that it is Elmhurst that puts on the best parade around and high-tailed it over there just in time. In between countless somber reminders of those we were there to honor - as Lincoln said, "gave the last full measure of devotion" ... they throw candy for the kids.

Bizarre. But true.

Apparently the crack-smoking monkeys at parade central figured Memorial Day needed some kind of 'hook' and thus the tradition was born of politicians pelting small children with tootsie rolls that melt in their pockets and, forgotten there, then destroy entire loads of laundry.

Bear, of course, got a front-row seat on the curb. Scored a baseball-hat full. His father was so proud.

Being a long, hot weekend (and us without central air), we hit the beach. (Well, not so much me. CD built me a cave out of an umbrella and towels. From whence I cheered and watched and took lots of pictures of the muchly hatted and sunscreened family.)

And finally, our good moods like ginger ale stayed fizzy long enough that when Bear announced to me on Wednesday that "tomorrow is Flipsy's birthday!", I nodded and said "okay, let's have a party!"

And so it was that the ladies in the bakery department inscribed a cake for a stuffed animal....

...that was enjoyed by the boy.

You'll notice that poor Flipsy (the blue wooly mammoth) and his other best buddy EliaBear were unable to taste the delightful cake (mostly due to both their mouths being sewn shut. Also? they're inanimate. Not like you didn't know, but in case you wondered...)

Flipsy was also unable to enjoy his birthday gift - a Matchbox car that Bear picked out for him and paid for with his own money. Luckily, Bear was able to have fun with it on behalf of his furry friend.

It was a nice way to end a week that also included Yoga class and family dinners and many tickle fights.

If it sounds like I am saying that life, right now, seems sweet? It is because it is.

The shock of it, like the chocolate and buttercream frosting of a little birthday cake, surprises me too.

What happened to the goth Corporate Mommy?

The black silk pants and over-scribed dayplanner?

Have I taken a nutty?

I dunno.

It's not like I've gone utter daft. I mean, I know what day it is and where I live and who the President should be. (*cough*)

I am clear-eyed about the impending doom of dwindling savings and the void of an unplanned future.

And I know that this doesn't sound or even feel like me. At all. Not the usual and depended-upon Elizabeth Blair York, über Project Manager. But you know what?...

After this week, when the steadily dwindling darkness finally gave way fully to day...

I have come to this new philosophy honestly. Really.

I don't know what comes next in life. I tried searching, but have now realized that the path to the next dot on my life's map will probably not be forced. It will be discovered, with an open heart, in its own time. Let the tides of life ebb and flow. I give myself to parades and giggles and a mountain of laundry (that he will fold).

I walked away from success and security.

And found faith that something better is ahead.

Hell.

Something better is now.