Mountain Mama

Update

Now that there are so many different avenues for expression--read: social media--out there I find myself regularly confused about what I've said where and when. Did I post it on Facebook? Or was it Flickr? Or the blog? Or did I write it in an email? If I do post something here on the blog that is related to some event of the day, I worry that those of you who follow me in one or two of the other sites will find me repetitive and boring, will eventually tire of my pithy insights into life, and leave my poor little blog floundering.

How's that for some angst?

Despite all those worries, I feel the need to update you, my blog readers, on the miscellany of my life. So here goes:

1. We are feeling better, generally. I have developed a cough and laryngitis over the last few days. It really isn't all that surprising. Colds, flu, viral infections have always had a tendency to settle into my chest like an unwanted visitor and stay there for days, sometimes weeks, weighing me down with all their baggage. Curse of the asthmatic child, I guess. I'm pretty sure it's not the flu (Mom) and my symptoms are not bad enough to warrant more than over-the-counter intervention (Mom) and I'm pretty sure the laryngitis will go away if I would just shut up for a few days (hard to do as a teacher, easier over the next four days of NOT teaching). Luckily, the kids and Paul are healthy.

2. On the blog front, I do plan to keep up my annual participation in NaBloPoMo for November and more specifically, the 30 Days of Thanks. Look for my posting something--even if it's just a short note of gratitude--every day in November.

3. I will have lots to be thankful for during the first days of November, especially as I have scheduled not one, but two (in a row even, how decadent) adult outings. Sunday night I've been invited to a concert with my dad, to see none other than the incomparable Leonard Cohen in Asheville. (On a side note--I was mentioning this to a student of mine today and another student, overhearing me, said "I've never heard of him. What kind of music does he play?") Monday night I will be going back to Asheville with my mom to see Barbara Kingsolver read from her new novel, which is to be officially released the next day. Many thanks in advance to my wonderful parents for two grown-up artsy outings.

4. I am afraid that previous posts have sounded a bit complaining about Paul's work load. While it's true that he's been working very very hard (as we fully expected for this semester), sometimes staying late at school or going in on weekends, it's also true that he is spending lots of family time with us. For the most part he is here for dinner every night. He takes Owen to school at least twice a week. During Fall Break he took the time to have lunch with Owen at her school cafeteria and spent a whole day with me and Owen's class on a field trip to the Great Smokies. Most weekends he gives dedicated time to us (like last weekend) and last night he went with us to a family Halloween event at our church. Every night--no matter how much homework he has--he reads to Owen before bed, tucks her in, and says prayers with her. Every night. I frankly don't know how he does it--working full-time, 6 credit hours of graduate school work, and staying attentive to his family, but I believe the pace of academia and of our new lives helps considerably. Working in industry and back in Raleigh he would likely be putting in overtime without the payback of flexibility in time. So I am also quite grateful for him and the way he is managing this project.

5. Speaking of projects, my dear dear longtime friend, Jeannette will be unveiling a major public art installation in downtown Charlotte on November 11. Please visit her website to find out more and if you live near Charlotte, NC please consider coming to see her beautiful mosaic mural. This is her first large-scale public piece and it is so fantastic that I am quite certain it is no way her last.

6. Living in a rural area does have its drawbacks in the trick-or-treating realm, as no one does it out where we live. Nonetheless the Dorothy outfit has gotten much wear of late--first to our friends' party last weekend, then to the church event last night, and to school today. We may or may not pull it out again Saturday to go to Main Street businesses. If you're wondering about Barrett's costume, well, I've got nothing to show you, because although I made her some quite lovely ladybug wings to wear she adamantly refused to wear them. She spent the church Halloween party dressed quite simply in all black with ruby red shoes (of course you know that she would not be without ruby red shoes if sister has them, oh no), while her mom carried her wings and antennae just so people would see that the child actually had a costume.

That's all for now, I think. Except for a request. Please let me know if there are particular subjects you'd like for me to write about during my daily posting in November. I have a few posts in mind, but if there's anything you're wanting to see/read/hear about from me, please do write me a note in the comments. Some of my ideas include: a reevaluation of what moving to the mountains and changing our lives (for me and Owen four years ago Sunday) has meant for us; a case of "the wants" I've developed lately; thoughts and plans for the upcoming holidays; I've been doing lots of cooking (and reading) this past year (although admittedly not much of either lately); maybe some photos of projects from my ceramics class. And, of course, my daily gratitudes. What else?

I would like to add today that I am immensely grateful to those of you who take time to read my little blog here, whether or not you ever comment (although I love love love when you do comment, hint hint). Just knowing you're there reading what I've written, sharing this small offering of my life, well, it warms me. So...thanks.

Weekend

Saturday began as an off day. Paul made our ritual pancakes, but the girls were grumpy, which made their mama grumpy, and little irritations seemed to accumulate throughout the morning. Soon we were off to Asheville to visit with the in-laws and attend a pumpkin-carving party at the home of some long-time friends. I had ideas of doing something autumnal and fun with our little family--corn maze, pumpkin patch, hayride, etc.--but it was clear from the morning mood that we needed something a little more low-key.

As we rode over the mountain the fall colors grew more and more vivid and spectacular. In just a matter of days the leaves have made a dramatic change which, at our elevation means everything turned brown or dull yellow and fell at once. In Asheville,  however, this was peak weekend--reds and yellows and orange and blue blue sky. Paul and I found ourselves drawing deeper breaths, feeling a peace fall upon us.

By the time we arrived in Asheville, had lunch, and set out again on our errands before the party, Paul had formulated a plan to take a brief escape drive along our beloved Blue Ridge Parkway. Tourists at every turn-out and overlook, traffic steady, but we didn't care as we gawked like flatlanders and reminisced to Owen ("Look, sweetie, down in that valley is Mommy's childhood home, the ball field and pool where Mommy and Daddy used to spend summers, our elementary school!").

We turned around after a few miles, the Parkway having worked its magic on our collective moods, and even had time to stop at my old home church (the one in which we were married) to visit, at last, a pumpkin patch before the party.

The night was difficult. The girls and Paco crammed in bed with me, sleeping fitfully, Paul stuck on the couch, Molly feeling out-of-sorts in a strange place and driving us crazy, our allergies acting up. MY mind started racing and I was unable to sleep at all until the wee hours of morning. BY dawn it was a race to get everyone out to early church, which was one of those not-fun outings (Barrett completely intolerant, Owen not very helpful). It seemed as if our Sunday would start much as our Saturday did--on edge, irritated, everyone unhappy.

So we tried to carry yesterday's magic further and decided to drive the Parkway all the way home. Alas we were thwarted (a rock slide has closed a section between Asheville and home) and had to take the highway home. Still we couldn't resist a detour on our end and wound up with a short sojourn up to Waterrock Knob.

Standing on the mountaintop looking out on this place we love, my sweetie and girls beside me, the grouchiness and minor frustrations of the weekend fell away and all was right with our world.

  That's what these mountains do to us...what they do for us.

Language

There was a time--I can barely remember it now--when I was worried about Barrett's language development. While I know a parent should not compare siblings, parents always do and I am not immune. I can't help comparing Owen and Barrett as they each develop and grow, one always ahead of the other. Owen's language development was rather precocious and her vocabulary and grammar have always been pretty amazing at every age. Barrett, however, didn't say much of anything intelligible other than family names until she was well beyond her second birthday.

Now, at 2 1/2, I am worried no more. This gal is going to be just fine. In fact, she must be trying to make up for lost time, because she talks almost constantly. Clearly, with a decent vocabulary and pretty good grammar (for her age, that is).

She is still two, though, so, of course "No" is her first answer to every question. She has an excellent memory for songs and stories she sees/hears on DVDs and CDs, often repeating them throughout the day or saying them along with the soundtrack.

She does have some quirks of language, some turns of phrase that are hers alone.

For example:

She calls flying machines "airplanecopter" to cover her bases. She calls M&Ms "mnmnmns." When she wants to watch a DVD, she ask for "TVDV."

When she wants to know what you're up to, she'll say "What you doing...here?" with a pause and then emphasis on the "here".

Several times a day she will run through her own litany of family and friends, asking "Where ___ go?" as in "Where Daddy go? Where Poppy go? Where Uncle Stephen go? Where Grandma go? Where Daisy go?" until she's been through every person (and dog) she can think of.

My favorites are the way she calls my dad "Poppy," which was something that she began on her own (influenced, I think, by Dora, whose father is called Papi). And the way she says "Da-dee" with a very slight pause between the two syllables and a hard, emphatic second D, almost as if she's teasing him each time (their relationship is often one of silly, giggly teasing).

When she wants something, say, a cookie, she will say "I have it, the cookie?"

And lately, she's become quite polite in her requests, always adding "May I..." so that instead of demanding (as she used to) that I "Sit me, Mommy!" she now says "May I sit with you, Mommy?" Of course her body language (head butts/pushes) and repetition of the request still essentially demands, but at least her words are polite.

One day last week she made her mama so proud with her polite manners. My friend Cathie came to visit and we all went to greet her in the driveway. Barrett does not remember having met Cathie before, so when Cathie got out of the car, Barrett held her little hand out toward Owen and introduced them: "My sister, Owen," she said. Then me: "My mommy," and Paul: "My daddy."  She did it again this morning, presenting me to a grandmother I was talking with at the McDonald's play area. Of course each time she forgot to introduce herself, but I figure she just assumes everyone is here to see her anyway.

Worried about Barrett's language abilities--oh no, not this mom, not anymore.

What are you thankful for?

I've spoken here before about our dinner-time ritual of saying a simple blessing. What I didn't mention then is that sometimes Owen adds a piece to our blessing, where she goes around the table and asks each of us what we are thankful for in our day. Per her rules we cannot say something we've said before and we cannot say the same thing someone else has said. We usually include Barrett in this, asking her what she's thankful for despite her seeming lack of understanding and input.

This weekend, however, she suddenly got it.

We were at my mom's dinner table, having spoken our usual blessing, and I had asked the thankful question once around the table. We were done and all happily eating and chatting when Barrett paused and looked at us, smiling.

"What you thankful for, Da-dee?" She barely gave him time to answer when she moved on to my mom, then Owen, then me, then back again to Paul. Over and over she asked, "What you thankful for?" We would answer seriously, trying to follow Owen's ground rules to say something new each time.

At one point Paul responded with "Chocolate," an answer Barrett liked so much that the next three rounds she supplied his answer for him: "What you thankful for, Daddy? Chocolate?"

A few times we would get a word in edgewise and turn the question on her. Her first answer: "Elephants!" Her second: "Tree trunks!" Then: "Giraffes!" and then she cycled through the three again and again, sometimes adding an elephant sound and arm/trunk motion for illustration.

Not only was it charming, the whole thing made each of us think of our blessings, stretching ourselves to come up with more and more gratitudes, beyond the initial thanks for our girls, the pretty day, the food.

"Computers!" said Paul. "Books!" said I. "Toys!" said Owen. "Cameras!" "School!" "Coffee!""Diet Coke!" "Paco and Molly!" "Halloween!"

We all walked away from dinner full, not only with our meal, but with the abundance present in our lives. Thanks to our little Boo Bear.

Weekend :: Ahhhh

Just a few images from our weekend camping trip.

 

 

 

 

   



Lake. Perfect campsite. Muddy beach. Kayaks. Canoe. Fishing. A Bald Eagle. Beautiful weather. Outside all day long. Rain only at night--listening to it patter on the tent.

Getting muddy. Playing in the water. Relaxing. Reading. Napping. Walking in the woods. Paddling.

Campfire. Marshmallows. S'Mores. Hot Chocolate. Camp Coffee. Waking up to the smell of camp breakfast.

Family. Camping. Weekend.

Ahhhh.

Sit with me

A Friday afternoon with Barrett. Owen's at school. B wants me to watch a DVD with her.

"Sit me, Mommy. Sit me," she says as she crawls into my lap where I have momentarily plopped in order to put on a video in for her.

I can't seem to stop my mind from running through my list of chores to do. I try to keep her quiet, restful, then to ease myself up. She comes back to me, her hand on my arm, looks me in the eyes.

"Sit me," she says.

A Wednesday afternoon. Owen is home sick from school. I've stayed home to be with her. She wants to stay in bed, but wants to be with me and Barrett.

"Sit with me, Mom," she says. I perch on the foot of her bed, counting the minutes until I think she's asleep, worrying what trouble Barrett is getting into in the next room, wondering if I'll be able to get some laundry done today, or at least the dishes.

The danger here is that I will let the busyness take over. Especially now that I'm spending more time away from the children during the week. In some ways I'm happier--having grown-up things to do I feel better about myself somehow. I feel more productive. As if now, now I am contributing something to the world.

But the danger is that in the process I will make the busyness my god, let it rule my days, let it carry me not just physically away from the children but emotionally, spiritually, as well.

I need to remember in this time to heed to call of my children to "Sit with me, Mommy." To put down the busy work and be with them, fully present, mindful of the beauty in the moments between the moments, finding pleasure in the ordinariness of life at home. The joy of just being their mom.

 

Update

This is going to require a numbered list (Warning! This is long) :

1. First of all, my photography class didn't make. The University canceled my section of it due to state-wide budget cuts. The other two sections were full and anyway were being offered at times that did not fit with my schedule. So no art photography for me. I was pretty crushed.

2. When I recovered, I took some time to figure out what I wanted to do instead. You see, we have committed a certain number of hours to the babysitter and I feared that if I reduced that significantly, it would no longer be worth her while to take the job (more about her in a minute). So what to do with my time on Mondays and Wednesdays? I didn't want to do nothing (I don't handle totally unstructured free time well). I don't have that much work to do for my classes (and I don't get paid for time outside the classroom, so I don't want to overdo that). So...I decided to take ceramics. As in pottery. Something that has long been an interest of mine. Even so the class, being a beginner's class, is only two hours once a week. Which leaves me the rest of that day and a whole 'nother day to fill. So I've decided to use that time for writing practice. Dedicated writing time.

You see, I love to write. Really. I do. Only my usual method for writing is to wait until inspiration strikes me (or, as I usually put it, "the words come to me") and I dump it all out onto a page as quickly as possible, editing as I go along. I don't usually go back to what I write. I don't do much revising. And for many years, this has worked for me. I am inspired, the words fill my head and get louder and louder until I get them out and then I move on. But the problem with this is method that it doesn't work well for a person with little kids in the house, a person whose life means constant interruptions of her creative process, a person who wants to someday move beyond her blog and its 60.81 hits per day (thank you thank you for those) to perhaps sell some of her writing, a person who ever hopes to enter the world of deadlines or, gasp, maybe even write a book. No. That person needs to learn to write even when she doesn't feel like it. She needs a regular writing practice.

So (for this semester at least) I now have two designated days in which I will write. At least a couple of hours each day. Who knows, maybe something grand will come of it.

3. Ceramics class. We had our first real class today. The first class in which we actually got our hands in the clay, got to play in the mud. It. was. wonderful. Here is the chance for me to do something creative, something physical, something outside of my normal day-to-day, with no fear of failure. (I mean, I do get a grade--it is a University class after all--but except for my internal goody-two-shoes, who cares what grade I get? I already have a Master's degree. This class holds no weight for me.) I am completely free to play. How great is that?

4. Our babysitter situation. I cannot praise Samantha enough. I cannot even begin to accurately tell you how wonderful she is and what a blessing it is that she is so wonderful. During the first week of school, she cared for both of my girls and every single day, she came with something new and fun for them to work on together. They watched maybe 2 hours of DVDs the entire week (and some of that was with me). They read, did crafts, put on puppet shows, played, dressed up, went outside, bascially had a blast. She made cookies with them the day before Owen started school and generally made a fuss over her (which I appreciated). She has since been completely attentive to Barrett and it's obvious B adores her--she is happy and playful and engaged with Samantha, looks forward to seeing her, mentions her name when she's not here. Samantha has even been kind enough to agree to meet Owen's bus the two days a week that I work later, so that I don't have to pay for afterschool care (at a full time rate, despite only needing it for one hour twice a week). She is all we could hope for in a babysitter. Once Daisy (my friend's baby) joins us at the end of the month (when her mom goes back to work from maternity leave), I think my friends will be equally happy with Samantha, and, we hope, the shared situation.

[Oh, and before you beat me up for neglecting my young daughter while I'm out fulfilling myself, I do cut the babysitter's hours short on those days so I can spend one-on-one time with Barrett and I spend all of Fridays with her and I am home to meet Owen's bus after school three days a week and I am home no later than 4 the other two days.]

5. I've been so busy managing our life changes that I neglected to tell you about some book reviews I've done over at Simple Kids--one as part of the new book review team, and one on my own. Check them out here and here.

6. Also, I want to put a plug in here for a lovely article my dad wrote about fishing with Owen. Please read it. My dad is a great writer and he's writing about my special girl, so that makes it all the more meaningful to me.

7.  Owen still loves school. Today she said her favorite part is riding the bus. She loves it so much we've decided to let her ride the bus every day (except Fridays, when I will pick her up and take her to Sonic for slushies just because, well, it's Friday and besides they have that happy hour 1/2 price thing). As I mentioned above, two days a week Samantha meets her bus, and the other days I will. It's become a nice part of the day for Barrett and me, walking down to the end of the road and the three of us walking back.

8. Owen is very tired when she gets home, and we've had some issues with meltdowns over homework or art projects. [Did you know Kindergartners have homework? I didn't. It's not much and they get a week's worth of assignments at once with the whole week to do it, but still, I just didn't imagine they'd have it at all.] I initially thought I would make her do her homework as soon as she gets home, but after the too-tired, nothing's-working-out-I-can't-do-it-right meltdowns, I've decided on a new plan. I'm going to let her relax for a while as soon as she gets home, watch a DVD or something on the computer, eat a snack, and then do homework in the time I'm fixing supper. Maybe that will help. We'll see.

9. We have decided to allow Owen to quit soccer. I know: she just started. In fact she only had two practices before she started talking about not wanting to do it. But I did tell her in the very beginning that if she didn't like it, I would not make her play. And she is the child of two rather nonathletic, sort-of intellectuals. And it's not as if she gets no exercise. And, most importantly, she's only five. We can try again. I don't really think she'd doomed to a life of never participating in any team sports just because she doesn't start soccer at age five. And even if she were doomed to a life of never participating in team sports, would that be so bad?

Plus, that's one less thing on our already packed weekly schedule.

10. Our September is looking as busy as the end of summer. On the docket: a family weekend at the lake for Labor Day, the much beloved Mountain State Fair, a birthday party for a friend, Fall Festival at Owen's school, a visit from my aunt and uncle, Mountain Heritage Day (a local arts and crafts festival we enjoy), apple picking, and a three- or four-day conference trip for Paul. All (or mostly) fun stuff, but busy nonetheless.

That's all for my brain dump. Bless you if you stayed with me through all of that. I do have a more interesting post for the weekend, so stay tuned.

What she wants to be when she grows up

"Do they have art classes for grown-ups?"

"Yes, they have classes for grown-ups. Mommy and Daddy both teach grown-ups."

"But do they have art classes for grown-ups?"

"Yes."

"Because I want to teach people how to paint. Can I do that when I grow up? Be an artist and an art teacher?"

"Yes. I think that would be very nice. Mommy and Daddy both enjoy teaching."

"And a farmer. Can I be a farmer, too?"

"Sure."

"I want to have chickens...and horses," (pauses to look out the window) "You can have some eggs from my chickens. Do you want some eggs from my chickens?"

"I would like that. Can I have some vegetables, too, from your farm?"

"Yeah, and you can feed my horses and pet them."

"Can I ride them?"

"Yes, but only you and me can ride them. I'll let you ride the nicest one."

"Thanks, baby."

First Day

I decided to forgo my Wordless Wednesday post today in honor of Owen's first day of school. And oh my, what a day it was.

My girl has been counting down to this day for, oh, all summer long. For the last two weeks she's been crossing off days on her calendar. Yesterday, our sweet babysitter Samantha celebrated by bringing balloons and making cookies with both girls. We went out for pizza (Owen's favorite food). Before bed, we packed her backpack, picked out her outfit, set everything by the door. She happily took her bath early and was asleep in a wink.

This morning I was up early, making coffee and breakfast, doing the dishes. I saw the light come on in her room and glanced at the doorway to see her getting herself dressed. She even made her bed before coming into the kitchen.

"I can't believe this day has finally come," she said.

I had made her some chocolate chip muffins, but she was too excited to eat. She pushed me toward my room to get dressed. We were ready much too early.

Paul had an 8am class, and Samantha was not due until 8 either, so my plan was to take Barrett with me to drop Owen off, then bring Boo back in time to meet Samantha before heading out to my class (which wasn't until 9).

But first we had to have photos. I remember when I was growing up that we always seemed to take special occasion photos in the same spot. I like that, so I decided to do that for the girls--take their first-day-of-school (and maybe even the last-day-of-school) photos in one spot every year. The most likely place? Why Owen's tree, of course. We planted it three years ago when we moved into this house (one for Owen and one for me), then planted another two years ago in honor of Barrett's birth. By taking Owen's first day photo there, we can see how kid and tree will grow together.

Let me just add here that the goofy-looking haircut is Paul's doing. With my help. We were trying to get her bangs out of her eyes and we ended up cutting them a wee too short--two days before school. Oops. Luckily she's not concerned with looks at this age. But...to Future Owen, the one who will be looking at these photos as an angst ridden teen or young adult, I say: "So sorry baby. Your Daddy did it!"

On with the story...

After the photos, she was ready to get into the car, so we loaded up (despite still being too early). Paul came out for hugs and goodbyes. Owen gave him a solemn "Bye Paul." I thought he was going to lose it right then and there. And when I went back in the house for my keys, he was wiping his eyes.

On the drive she talked some, but not as much as usual. Then she said: "Sometimes you're just so happy you can't even speak. That's why I'm quiet." I looked in the rearview and her face was cracked wide open, her hands trying unsuccessfully to hide her giant grin. That's when I started crying.

By the time we got to school, I was okay. I parked. Got Barrett out and into the stroller, helped Owen gather her things (backpack, rest mat), and walked her inside, stopping for more photos.

Once inside, I saw the first and only glimmer of fear. All of the kids were pouring into the cafeteria and she was momentarily overwhelmed, but I walked her in and right up to the Assistant Teacher for her class. Her confidence back, she barely tossed me a goodbye as I walked out. (And I was fine by then, seriously.)

All day long I thought about her, wondered what she was doing. Posted the morning photos on Facebook, called my mom (Poor Mom cried all day, I think).

Our afternoon plan has her riding the bus, being met two days a week by Samantha and Barrett and the rest of the time by me and Barrett. I was nervous about this plan. Would she get on the right bus? Would she be scared? Would she have someone to sit with? Would the bus driver know where to stop? Would Owen know where to get off? Our neighbor boys sometimes ride that bus, but not every day. What if they weren't riding at all this year? So much potential for something to go awry. I even called the school to make sure they got the message to the bus driver to stop for her (I know. I'm trying very hard not to be a helicopter parent--she's just so little and vulnerable.)

I needn't have worried. The bus ride went fine. Her teacher walked her to the bus. One of her new friends from class sat with her. The neighbor boys were there and told her that she should get off the bus with them (sweet boys). The only glitches in the whole thing occurred on my end--Barrett and I walked down too early; it was hot hot hot; Barrett was restless and kept running toward the street, then decided she wanted to walk back up to the house, then sat down in the grass. When the bus finally came, she was excited at first, saying "Owen! Owen!" But when that great big yellow monster rolled to a stop and opened its doors, Barrett was terrified. She ran back, started crying in fear, saying "No! No!"

But then Owen came bounding down the steps and all was well.

"It wasn't bumpy at all!" Owen said excitedly, meaning the bus ride (we had told her it would bump her along) "I loved it!"

I took her backpack and overshirt. Barrett gave her the flowers we had picked for her on our way to the bus stop. They hugged, sweetly, and held hands all the way back to the house, Owen chattering the whole way.

Even Molly missed her!

Tonight, as I was tucking Owen into bed, she said, "I can't wait for my second day of school!"

I told her, "I don't think God could have blessed me with a more wonderful, amazing, beautiful girl than you."

"Yeah...," she said, "I love you, too."

Question for you: What are your first-day-of-school rituals?

So, my friends, since Owen starts kindergarten on Wednesday, I'm thinking of some things we can do to mark this special event. Our babysitter plans to make and decorate cookies with the girls tomorrow and we're planning a special middle-of-the-week pizza night (since that's her favorite food).

But I was wondering. What are your special first-day-of-school rituals? Do you have a special dinner, or breakfast? Do you take a picture in the same spot every year? Where? Does your kids hold a sign in the photo? Wear a new outfit?

Tell me about your rituals. If this is your first year with a kid in school (like me) what do you plan to do?