traveling trials

It's been a busy summer. Lots of travel, which I'm coming to realize is going to be the theme of our summers for some time now (various reasons for this). That's okay I think. But it does wear the kids out, so I'm going to have to be more strategic about the schedule.

A short recap of the summer thus far:

Clark's school finished a week before Frances', so he and I had a week to hang out with not much to do. Then immediately after Frances' school ended, the kids did 2 weeks at a summer day camp (with which I am in love). The next week my mom and aunt were here, then a 2 day break before my dad and his wife came, then 3 days before we packed up and drove to Michigan to stay with Mitch's parents.

Then, as I have mentioned before, something extraordinary happened. Mitch and I drove back to Rochester without the kids. I've been away from them a good bit, but always when I've gone away, and not for almost a whole week in my own house.

It was a very quiet week. And when I straightened things up, they stayed straight! Magic! One of the first nights we hung out with some friends at the pool, then decided (impromptu!) to go out to a nice dinner. (The restaurant was crowded so we sat at the bar and I realized the folks all around me were folks I never ever see in this town. They are at work when I'm out and about, and they go out while I do bedtime routines at home. It was like a secret glimpse into another planet.) Then we had to drop something by a friends' house and they invited us in and we stood around and talked as long as we liked! It felt so... odd.

It's a funny thing, this having young kids. Because they move so fast and need you so much, it's very hard to look around and get a lay of the land. It's like a sport, an intense physical activity. Focus focus focus. But with a sport, the game ends and you get to relax. Not here, as anyone who has done this knows. Because the focus is so honed and because there is so little relaxation, your brain becomes confused, and you sort of forget that you're doing anything unusual. You start to think this crazy pace is normal. And you certainly lose any conception that it will ever ever ever be different.

So being in Rochester without the kids was very good for me, gave me a moment to see the forest from above rather than simply dodge tree after tree. What I discovered is that I am closer to the end of the forest path than I had realized. This knowledge renewed me immeasurably.

Which was good, because that next weekend we met Mitch's folks and the kids in Ohio for a family reunion / wedding reception / memorial service (all in 2 days). We arrived home from that on a Sunday near 11pm; Monday I unpacked and did laundry and repacked, and Tuesday morning I loaded the kids back up and drove to the Adirondacks for a Quaker retreat. Without Mitch.

When I drove off for the retreat I knew I was asking a lot of the kids. I wasn't sure how it would go, but it was important to me for us to be there. They had been away from home for 2 weeks solid, had tons of activity during that time, and were away from mom and dad the latter part, which I know is stressful for them. Yet, the retreat was going to have so many activities they would love: a 1/2 day summer camp filled with other children, plus a beach, plus archery and crafts and boating etc etc. There was a good chance it would go swimmingly.

It did not.

Clark, I suspect, had reached his limit before we even got in the car. Both he and Frances had moments of fun at the retreat, but both were also tired and Clark was very difficult. He refused to go to the morning camp (crafts! playground! giant bubbles!), which meant I had to take him with me to the discussion groups (which, let me remind you, are Quaker and therefore spend at least 50% of their time in silence).

Frances, I have to say, was a gem. I LOVE this stage she is in. She is cooperative and good humored (for the most part) and helpful and charming. Unfortunately, this too will pass.

By Friday, though, I couldn't hold it together anymore. I wept pretty much through the entire morning discussion group. I tried to do it oh so quietly, but Clark, on my lap, kept turning around to look at me with slight alarm. Then he would say in his loud 4 year old voice, "why you crying, Mommy?" Afterwards I gratefully allowed one family to take Frances with them to the boathouse for singing, another to take Clark to the library to read, while I, all alone, paddled a kayak onto the bay. When I reached the middle, I lay the paddle across the boat and floated there. It was so quiet, the other boats far enough away that I couldn't hear their motors, mountains all around. It was wonderful.

I almost left a day early. I felt I was just asking too much of the kids, that they needed to be at home with familiar things and some kind of routine. I felt bad that I had put them in this position in the first place. While I wept into my plate during lunch, one of my friends commented that we don't know what our kids' limits are until they tell us. Yes, that's true. We do our best to read them and know what they can handle and what they can't, but it's not really until we give them a chance to show us that we know for sure.

I think these trials are worth it, weeping and all.

And now - now! - an german university student / au pair arrived a few days ago. More change! She's here for 2 months. Her arrival certainly warrants its own post and maybe will get one (who's to say?) but the abbreviated version is that it caused me more adjustment than I expected, and Clark lost his mind.

The reason it was hard for me is that I'm so used to doing everything on my own, to managing juggling fielding every. single. detail. every morsel the kids put in their mouths, everyone's safety-behavior-schedule-rest-cleanliness-overall mental and physical health, and I couldn't even tell her how to help me out. I couldn't stop long enough to figure out what would even be helpful. But we've gotten used to each other, and she's starting to understand how things go in the house and jump where she's needed. Plus, I had an appointment yesterday and left her alone with the kids for a couple of hours. PLUS her jet lag is waning. I kept reminding myself that, as much adjustment that her presence was causing me, she was most certainly more disoriented.

Clark - the poor guy just needs some calm and some normal. The au pair will eventually become normal of course, and then she will leave and everything will be adjustment and chaos and hollering again. So it goes.

I have some anxiety about the loneliness to come when she goes back to germany. They way I'm dealing with that is to remind myself that I could be smashed flat by a semi at any moment and there's no use being anxious about something that may never come to pass. In the meantime, I plan to be only thankful for the sudden two extra hands.

the Overview Post

I do believe this is the longest stretch between posts since I started the blog. It's been a steady stream of off-kilterness since my birthday: school started for one kid (week 1 september); school started for the other kid (week 2 september); Frances had a multi-leg birthday celebration culminating with a fairy party (photos to come) and a ceiling high stack of gifts; a crew of fellas showed up to work on the house (woodworking guys, stucco guys, painters, their stuff so packed into my garage that my car hasn't been in there for two weeks); grandparents visited; I left Mitch with the kids and spent 4 days in NYC w/ my bestfriend; and I'm sure I'm forgetting something. (Didja hear that? It's true! I left Mitch with the kids and went to NYC all alone on an airplane! Good looking famous people sat one table over at lunch in a charming Village restaurant! I slept til 8 am two days in a row! Excellent times abound!)

It's perhaps because of all the BBETRA (Back to Back Events That Require Adjustment) that Clark is the creature he currently is. Or perhaps because what he is, is a 3-year-old. It appears that I'd forgotten what 3 looks like, though it was only 2 years ago that I had the joy of visiting this stage in FrancesWorld. In case you don't know or don't remember, three is not pretty. This mama blogger says it pretty well (in her recent post "Rule of Three" which for some reason I can't link to directly), and it wasn't actually until I read this post that I realized this was perhaps a stage. STAGES ARE A PAIN IN THE ASS. He's pushing every button I've got and I just keep up the mantra: itsonlyastage itsonlyastage itsonlyastage.

Again - this pattern being pointed out to me by my friend Andrea - when one child is particularly difficult, the other turns into the sweetest lilting tune you've ever heard. They trade. It's always a little bit of a disappointment when Frances throws her fits during Clark's naps: because he's not there to witness them he doesn't know to take on the Fabulous Offspring role when he wakes.

What else? (Since I've been having a bit of trouble coming to the blog at all, I'm not going to be too ambitious with this post. As the title notes, this is an Overview Post, a summary of this corner of the world, no groundshaking observations. Hopefully it will warm me up so I can return with more heft before long.)

• I have all these wrinkled folded up pieces of paper in my purse covered with hand written blog posts. I think that's how they're going to have to stay: in that archival form of putting hand to paper. It is a nice sensory exercise. 

• Went to the top of the Empire State because I hadn't been up there in decades. I recommend it. It was night, and dark, and bright lights, and we saw a whole full size firework show over by the Statue of Liberty, the bright blooms of sparks so tiny from up where we were. 

• Clark requests a new song, Mommy every single night, so I've been going back through my music to remember songs I mostly know by heart and to learn the lyrics to ones I know less. It's turned into a part time job all its own. 

• Bought some Frye boots in NYC that bring me irrational happiness. 

That's about all, folks. Watching while the seasons change. 

vacation caboose

(So I just found this post I wrote over 2 weeks ago, before we got back to Rochester. Meant to post it before, clearly, but I thought I'd go ahead and post it now because maybe it sheds some light on the Frances-attitude-situation. Plus some parenting thoughts.)

We're in Michigan now, returned from our 2,054 hours in transit to my in-laws house where the kids are. They were (of course) SO excited to see us. But the next morning Frances was in a funk. When we brought out the gifts from India, she was excited to see, then disappointed. She pouted, wouldn't talk to us. Then outside she got in a scuffle with her grandma and not only wouldn't give the big wheel back to Clark though he very nicely asked, but she wouldn't talk to anyone. Just sat heavy on the big wheel with her chin down and her face set. Later on I found her outside by herself on the big wheel, riding in circles on the brick patio, sobbing. When I opened the door she stopped crying and wouldn't talk to me. Hey- sometimes a girl just needs a good cry.

As I've mentioned before, she has a hard time with transitions. And this is a big one in her world. We've been gone 7 weeks from our house; she's been here in Michigan with Clark for 2 weeks without parents; here we've come home and probably we are not the fabulous people she missed so much in her mind, but instead just ourselves. Emotions are hard to handle, especially when they loom so large in a nearly-five-year-old body. AND I forgot some of my new resolve to attend to my children differently, and rather than spending the morning with her sitting on my lap, if that's what she wanted to do, I organized my india photos on the computer while she helped Grandma with the pancakes and periodically tried to get my attention. Bad mommy! I could have done that later, and should have. But it is what it is, and now I remember said resolve, and I'm back in the game.

In fact, I've got a whole new approach to parenting up my sleeve for when we return. Much of its success will depend on my emotional state, which I'm hoping will remain positive and relaxed, and we'll see.

I will:
~ do more planning ahead for activities, as complicated as art projects and as simple as riding our trikes to the big bush down the street.
~ leave the house more. visit friends just to say hi for an hour, or go to Ellison park to roll down the big hill, or seek out a bubble gum machine at the strip mall.

(And there I quit the post, which is why I never posted it in the first place: it needed an ending. I don't have one now, however, and I'm here to offer you these thoughts anyway. Cheers!)

summer left to its own devices

When we left at the end of June the sunflowers were about 12 inches high. Here's what they looked like when we got back:

traveling

I'm at the beach! It's lovely here. And hot.

I'm well aware it's been a long sad time since I've written here last, but I have excuses! After the last post I spent a full two weeks freaking out about getting packed for our SIX WEEKS of summer travel (will get to that in a minute). I mean, how do you pack for 6 weeks? Although there was little I could do two weeks before departure, I still dashed around the house in a state of mild panic which rendered me useless for things like fixing food and blogging. (And I do mean dashed. I found myself sprinting from room to room, as if walking was going to put me so much behind. Just a little anxiety.)

Then there was the first part of the travel itself (nine hour drive to Virginia with kids age 4 and 3, two night stay with my dad, four hours in the car to see more family, then four more hours to this lovely beach house.) We will be here two weeks - can you believe it? Two weeks at the beach. Yesterday Mitch and I floated in the ocean (temp of bathwater, so you know) while grandparents and cousins watched the kids to be sure no one ate sand or drowned, and Mitch said, "This is what it's all about," and then insinuated that all his crazy hard work and unavailability and stress is worth it so we can float in the ocean.

I don't know. It's hard to say.

Nonetheless, his hard work is indeed allowing us to not only hang out sunburnt for two weeks, but afterward we will leave the kids with my mom and go to California for five days (where he will have a conference and I will have a good time). THEN we will pick the kids up and drive to Michigan where they will stay with grandparents while we go to India for two weeks. Really! India! How awesome is that? I'm still trying to decide if I should haul my big fancy camera or take my mediocre tiny one....

So more to come, just an apology now for all the time between posts. It's hard for me to post when I don't have time alone, and it's hard for me to create time alone on vacations like this one. But there will be more. Soon.

the lure of disney magic

Frances: Mommy, why can't I do magic? 


What do you mean?


I say the words but nothing happens. Abracadabra. See? 


What kind of magic do you want to do?


Turn the couch into a bouncy house. 

Well, that sounds like a fine idea to me. Too bad those words don't work, hm? So there's some interest in magical thinking. Then they saw the new Mickey Mouse Clubhouse show for the first time when we were in Michigan (oh the grandparents with cable!) and she's suddenly interested in Disney World too.

We left last Wednesday for another long trip: a couple of nights with my dad and stepmom in Virginia, a night with Mitch's brother and family in Greensboro, then to the beach for a dreamy relaxing week with my mom and aunt and cousins, five children 5 and under included. The day before we left Frances came into the bedroom first thing and said, "Mommy, we're going to Disney World!" Don't know where that came from. "Well, actually, we're going to the beach," I said. "NO! DISNEY WORLD!" An actual whining argument ensued as I tried to explain that we wouldn't be going to DW for a while because it's far away and a trip we have to plan and costs money etc etc, none of which meant much to her.

Later that afternoon she went with her sitter to her sitter's parents' house where she announced, "We're going to Disney World tomorrow!" She told them how we were getting there and how long we'd stay and about the hotel and everything. They were so excited for her and got out their old photo albums from past Disney vacations and on and on. Later, after the kids were in bed and I'd come home from my errands, my sitter said, "I didn't know you all were going to Disney World." Which we, as said previously, are not.

What a nut. Was she trying out her magical thinking? Did she think saying it would make it true? I didn't know if the next morning would be harder or easier, if she would be more convinced or would have become sated some from seeing the pictures and have people believe her.

The next morning we were packing up and getting breakfast and she said, "I can't wait for Disney World!' I said, "Frances, we're probably not going to Disney World until you're about 8." (That's the age beyond which she can imagine nothing; eight years old might as well be a millennium away to her) She said, "Yeah, because the characters are big." Which means, I'm pretty sure, that when she saw the pictures, she realized that Mickey Mouse and Winnie the Pooh and the princesses are these towering bizarre figures that will in all likelihood scare her to death. She won't even go into the WING of the mall with Santa, you know. Covers her eyes if a clown comes on tv. Right. I could have stopped that argument right away, just by pulling up Google Images.

freestyle

We're in Michigan now, staying with Mitch's parents. Mitch is going to Germany for a conference and so we scheduled for him to fly out of Detroit and the kids and I are staying here while he's gone, which means in all we'll be here almost two weeks.

And! I packed without a list. I made a list, interestingly, and then I forgot to use it. I see it as a good thing, a kind of relaxed that I'm usually not. So far the only things I've forgotten are the broadcasting end of the monitor (though I brought the receiving end...!) and tampons, neither of which were on the list in the first place. I bought both at Walmart, as that's pretty much the only store within a hundred miles. It's a quiet place in the country (on a lake!). I feel like I'm at camp. How great is that?

fueled up

I've been away, which is why the blog has been quiet, in case you were wondering. Mitch and I went to Lake Placid to ski, and sit in the hot tub, and stroll the streets of the Olympic Village, and eat until we were uncomfortable. We did all those things. It was wonderful. Usually when I go away I don't feel as refreshed coming home as I'd like. I don't feel like I've refueled, and my patience with the kids isn't any greater than when I left. But this time it's different. I have SO much more patience (how long will that last, I wonder?) and I'm relaxed with them and enjoying them. My mom stayed here while we were gone and she's still here now, so I didn't walk back into full time momming, so maybe that has a little to do with it, but I think the real reason is the skiing. We noted on one of the ski lifts how when you're skiing you can't think about anything at all except the snow and the next turn you're going to take. No room for stress about what isn't done for work, about what the kids might be doing right now, about whether or not you're hungry. I was wearing boots that were too small (don't ask) and I didn't even think about the pain (which was rather tremendous) while I was moving. As soon as I stopped my feet would scream in pain again, but while actually skiing my brain didn't have room to hear them. Fascinating.

I can't wait until we can go with the kids, until they're old enough that we can do this fun thing all together.

So we're back, and the weather is spring wonderful, and I've made some new decisions. For one, I've decided to sit on the floor a larger percentage of the day. Before we left for vacation Frances and Clark were having a hard time together, getting along fine for moments at a time, and then whacking each other over the head. Most of the time one would whack the other when I wasn't looking so it was hard to intervene and help them resolve the conflict. So I'm going to play with them more, and I'm excited about that decision. Before when I've tried this, my sitting on the floor was a distraction for them, meant they just wanted to play with me, rather than my being able to witness their own playing. It's different now.

Sitting on the floor more is going to mean less cooking, which is the other major decision I've made. I think it was the first fall that we were here that I swore off cooking, and I'm thinking I might do it again. It does free up a lot of time, and much of that time is in the cranky afternoon, which is just when they need my help. They get along so well when they get along, and now I'm thankful they are close in age, just as everyone said I would be thankful. Often when they're not getting along it's only because they don't have the skills to solve their problem, and I could help them with that.

For instance: yesterday they were wrestling (which means Clark lies on the floor and asks Frances to lie on top of him, on his belly, and then they roll around together) and then Frances asked Clark for a hug several times. He hugged her maybe the first three times she asked, then he got bored with that and went to flip himself over the swing. Frances kept asking, "Will you give me a hug, Clark? Will you give me a hug, Clark? Will you give me a hug, Clark?" and Clark kept plainly saying, "No." Finally Frances burst into tears and came to me. "Clarkie won't give me a hug," she wailed. I explained that sometimes she also doesn't feel like giving hugs and that's okay, and that we need to respect when he says no. She cried. I said, "He still loves you, Honey." "No he doesn't!" she hollered. "When someone won't hug you they don't love you."And I realized in her mind love is a thing that comes and goes, something that you might feel one moment and not the next. I suggested she ask him instead if he'd like to play with her and she did, and he paused and then joyfully said, "yes!" and she smiled, big and relieved, knowing again that he loves her.

They do love each other, so much. Their affection could be the thing I like most about being a mom these days.

getaway

I don't know why I haven't been writing here lately. I often think about things I want to say on the blog, but some days I'm just so tired... emotionally worn out, and all I want to do at the end of the day is slump on the couch and watch moderately funny sitcoms. Which is what I've been doing rather than writing on the blog.

Plus, I've been struggling with my headaches, which takes me out of all kinds of games and activities.

But this past weekend my best and longest kept friend came from Seattle and we went to a spa. Ah, a spa. It was amazing. She was here two days and the first day I couldn't relax, felt guilty for leaving the kids and also wanted constant updates on what they were doing. The second day I let go a bit more. I don't know how long the effects will last, however, in my dealings with the kids. Right now I just want a nap.

We're out of the sweet spot with Frances. That was quick. Now we're full in some other spot that is not sweet at all, but rather weepy and cross and full of dramatic moaning. I'm going to hold on to the hope that this is just another stage and it will also be quick. The other option is to assume she's dealing with something (but what, exactly?) and try to help her. But it's so hard to want to help when she's being such a ridiculous pill. Yesterday she fell apart because I didn't want to come upstairs and put her paci in her mouth for her. Really.

Maybe in my mind I'll just still be at the spa.

the tiring kind of vacation

Okay, so who said it was a vacation for me? It's winter break around here, all the schools closed, Mitch not even close to on a break--in Chicago a few days ago including valentines day, and it's the pits spending Valentines without your honey, it turns out. And me: I'm doing a sort of double time, mornings and bedtimes and times in between on my own since Mitch is either out of town or crazy busy.

Funny thing: I'm liking it. I have both kids with me all the time and we've managed to entertain ourselves well. Saturday we went to the mall and rode the carousel and ate ice-cream (chocolate with gummy bears--blech); Sunday we did an art project that involved bubble wrap and lace doilies and glitter glue; Monday we went to Petco since the cat was completely without food and crying pitifully at me, and looked at the snakes and turtles and fish and birds and mice and hamsters and chinchillas. We also ran around shrieking quietly, since I insist on quiet shrieks unless we're at home where there are no strangers and I can put in earplugs. We had other big plans after Petco but instead took Clark back to the doctor (an adventure in itself!) since he was complaining his ear and stomach (still!) hurt. I was afraid the ear infection had muscled its way past the most recent antibiotics but it turns out there was not the first thing wrong with him. Yay! Not sick, and the doctor's visit not an entire waste of time because of the aquarium in the lobby and of course the stickers.

And there have been more outings, plus some very impressive snow-girl building. I've been surprised how much fun we're all having. It seems Frances and I are arguing less, and perhaps that's just this moment in time, the stage that is this very week, but it could also be due to fewer transitions... she's not having to constantly transition from school back to me. Who knows.

The result of all this parenting success is that I very briefly wondered if I should keep them both home with me next year; Mitch assured me I was just confused. In any case I AM tired. And though I love the snow and have been advocating for more of the stuff (now descending in sheets), the wind that comes with it is brutal and this weather is (okay, I will admit) painful. Perhaps in the morning the snow will let up and the sun will come out, and we can go play in it. That's my hope.

mothering is what i do.

I wrote this last week after we got home from Florida but sort of forgot to post it. So here it is:

We got back from Florida last night and the flight (two) plus the 2-hour layover in Baltimore an hour past their bedtime are stories in and of themselves, but that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about mothering as a job.

Florida was great--and it was vacation in the truest sense. Grandparents to entertain and cajole and carry and periodically change a diaper, plus two girl cousins between 8 and 11 who think my two kids (and kids in general) are so cute in the puppy kind of way which is GREAT and means they help the kids get dressed, read books to them, hold their hands at the carnival, let them hang out while watching Hannah Montana in their room. A vacation. And today I'm back at work.

This vacation crystalized for me what my job is in this specific kid-stage. It all goes in stages, as any parent knows, and my job differs from stage to stage. I find that in the little baby months it doesn't feel like a job, but is my life. But now, maybe for the first time, I'm able to separate it out as a job. And today, without a doubt, I was back at work.

I wiped up spilled compost off the kitchen floor and wall, I wrestled with Clark through every single diaper change, I chased and grabbed and carried little people back so I could wrestle their socks and shoes on, and then their socks and shoes again as they pulled them off. I argued and reasoned and bribed with cookies. I used to think the phrase "A mother's work is never done" was meant theoretically, but now I know they mean it quite literally: there's always more to be done. More laundry, more cooking, more faces to wipe, more diapers to change.

Today I'm tired and it definitely feels like work, but I'm glad this is my job and not another. And I'm glad I can see it as a job and not as my life in full, though it sort of is.

in florida

Oh, we are in Florida. And oh, it is lovely and warm. Today at the beach my father-in-law caught a baby octopus who was rolling around in the surf, put it in the sand pail, and Clark carried it around for an hour saying "pus" and trying to feed it his crackers.

We flew down here rather than drove. Clark hadn't been on a plane since we moved to Rochester when he was two months old. I was a very teensy bit anxious about how he was going to do since he is now a furiously active twenty-month-old. Generally speaking he was great. During the descent of the first leg of the flight Frances said, "I don't like this, Mommy." "Like what?" I asked. "The plane. I don't like this plane." Which I thought was weird since she'd been having a fine time. Then she burped a little and I realized what was happening, and I yanked the puke bag out of the seat pocket just in time. After that she liked the plane again and talked about how brave she was not to even cry when she threw up.

We were late getting on the next plane and in a big rush. Mitch had tossed Clark's blankie and Frances' puppy on the top of the stroller and I didn't notice them there before folding it up to check plane-side. Once we were in our seats in the very last row of the plane (the only windowless row--fabulous. At least the kids got to watch out the window on the first flight), Frances asked where her puppy was. I realized that it and Clark's blankie were most likely lying abandoned just outside the plane door, or on the dirty tarmac where they fell out of the folded stroller. I made Mitch run up and ask the flight attendant if we could get it still but they'd already closed the plane door. We'd never see them again. Somehow this undid me. I had already fallen down on the snack job and left in the refridgerator at home the bag I'd packed full of sandwiches, granola bars, goldfish, banana bread I made just for the trip, and apples. It was hard for me to let that one go, but I did. Then the missing blankie. Mitch said, "Cali, it's just a THING, and it's GONE. There's nothing we can do about it," which was true, but not any less upsetting. I realize both of these things were simple accidents and mistakes most anyone make if they'd also woken at 4:30 in the morning. Still, together they made me feel incompetent, like a crappy mom, like I wasn't providing well for my children. And, in fact, Clark couldn't fall asleep on the plane though he was clearly exhausted, and between shrieks he sadly whimpered gigi, gigi, which is his name for his blankie.

When we were getting ready to leave the beach today we told Clark that the octopus needed to go back to his home, that we needed to put him in the water and say bye bye. He was not moved by that idea and rather loudly protested letting go of his bucket. Then my mother-in-law said, "Clark, the octopus needs to go see his mommy. He needs to go find his mommy." And Clark immediately turned and headed for the water with his bucket of octopus. That idea he understood. Made me happy.

vacationing

Clark is turning into a toddler. Willful. The other day the cashier at the ice cream shop asked Frances what her brother's name was and she said, "Maniac." Perhaps we should stop referring to him as that so often.

Last summer when we did this nutty 2-week all-over-the-place vacation I swore we wouldn't do it again, but here we are. It wasn't so bad this time though. Last year I had a 4 month-old and a toddler not yet 2, and this year things were much easier to handle. For those of you wondering, we were at a family reunion (Mitch's) in West Virginia for 2 nights, then my dad's in Virginia for 2 nights, then 4 nights in Winston-Salem while Mitch flew to California and back for a conference and we took day trips to Durham to see friends, then a week at the lovely beach in NC.

Then a hell drive home, which was hell mostly because the kids were done done done with traveling (Clark trying to physically bust his way out of the carseat), I was very premenstrual, and I95 was a traffic jam. A stop at Ikea in Virginia, since we were practically sitting still on the highway and we thought we'd get some meatballs and let the kids run around the showroom, turned into a 3-hour rest stop (during which we did acquire a very nice easel for F for her b-day. and the meatballs were yummy). Mitch wouldn't let me look at the textiles.

But the beach! Oh the beach is a wonderful place. It was still tiring, schleping both kids (my cousin and her husband were also there with their kids: 4,2, and newborn) to and from the beach. I kept fantasizing about how much fun the beach is going to be 3, 4, 5 years from now. Fun! We'll be able to play with them in the water rather than being on constant watch, build sand castles rather than constantly trying to keep them from eating sand (or throwing it on her brother), go to the water slides, the ice cream shop, the surf shop without having to worry about naptimes. At the beginning of the week someone would stay at the house in the morning while Clark napped, but by the end of the week we let him sleep in the stroller on the beach which was nice as we could play while he snoozed, but sleeping in his wet swim diaper gave him a yeast rash that was unbelievable. The kids all got along really well and we reserved a much bigger house for next year that's even closer to the beach. Yay!

i got nothin but pictures

I've been thinking lots about writing on the blog but can't find the emotional space. It's rather crowded here in this beach house, a thing that is good and fun but doesn't allow much time for reflection. Plus, there are so many little kids that every adult has to have their eyes on someone at nearly all times. Two years from now this trip will be much much easier, or at least less tiring.

I will say that being here with a 4-week-old (my cousin's 3rd baby) has reminded me how very sweet tiny babies are. It's also turned out to be great birth control--a reminder of why two is a good number for us. I don't have the patience plus I need intellectual stimulation that just doesn't come with parenting little kids. (I note that as F gets older it's becoming more and more interesting to me...) I told M that he should go ahead and get a vasectomy--quick!--before I change my mind.

Anyway, we leave here day after tomorrow and then I think it's going to be a 2-day drive home. It will probably be next week before I'm able to post in full. For now, enjoy the pictures!

traveling

I know I just fell off the virtual earth without any heads up... I plain forgot that my mom's house not only is without wireless, but without a computer all together. We did 1500 miles in 5 days and stayed in 3 different abodes and the bugs alone are reason enough not to come back to the southland, welts the size of a half dollar on both my kids' legs. In any case, having fun, seeing friends, lots to tell, off to the beach on Saturday for a week where there will be 1) wireless, 2) sun and water and sand 3) six adults and 5 kids age 4,3,2,1, and 4 weeks (!), but two of those adults will be 4) grandparents to help jolly the kids out of tantrums. I'm hoping to find space to type out some of my recent parenting thoughts, of which there are many.

Cheers until then!

a trip alone

The trip. A quick overview: we drove Wednesday from NY to Michigan, eight and a half hours in the car with a dog and 2 kids under 3; one stop to halt the screaming, one for dinner and running around, one for Frances to sit in the back of the open van on her potty. Clark refused to sleep in the car though it was hours past his bedtime, finally dropping off about 10 minutes before we arrived at Mitch's parents', and woke as soon as the car stopped. Thursday we left the kids with their grandparents and Mitch and I drove to Detroit where I got on an airplane for Boise and he drove to Ann Arbor for a conference. Boise was amazing, as wonderful and lovely and close to my heart as I remembered.

It was a true break for me, a time that was only mine, and kind of surreal because of that. I'd gotten rather used to having my life be someone else's. I cried often while I was there, sometimes out of nostalgia but sometimes for no reason at all. My friend Sylvia suggested it was the relaxing--it was probably the first time I'd truly relaxed in almost three years.

Being away from my kids--it was like I reverted to some former self, felt like a person I used to be and that I'd forgotten. My friend Tamara compared having little babies to war, and I don't mean to make light of war or say parenting is anything as tragic or life threatening, but it probably feels something akin to being in the trenches: constant anxiety, on constant alert for any sound, any movement; ready to jump and fight, snatch someone from danger, perform CPR or rush to the emergency room. Maybe it was the absence of all this tension that made me feel like someone I was before. I don't know how to parent without this tension. I just don't know how.

In the airport I felt contained--I didn't have to worry about anyone outside of myself. I didn't have to watch, to reach out and collect some little person; to cajole or entertain or chase; to worry about anyone's hunger or grumpiness or tiredness. (I also didn't have to respond to other folks when they commented on cuteness or asked how old...) I was relaxed. And something strange: I saw parents with babies, toddlers, and I no longer saw their tension. At home when I see these fellow parents I imagine what's happening internally, and it's the same thing that's happening to me. (Chatty conversation usually proves me right.) But while I was away and alone, these parents seemed calm. It makes me remember what I, at age 20 or 25 or maybe even 30, thought having kids would be like. I don't know if I can explain--but I thought I'd just be myself, with some extra company. I didn't realize I'd lose myself for a time, give myself over, become someone new for the sake of my children. I thought of taking care of babies as something I'd do rather than something I'd be.

I have a childless friend who has said to me over and over, ever since Frances was born, "You're an amazing mother--you're so relaxed!" She says she doesn't think she will be as relaxed with babies and I keep trying to tell her--even if I don't show it externally (and do I really not??) there is rumbling, there is constant anxiety.

I wondered how long I would be away from my kids before I longed for them, and I don't really want to admit it, but I didn't get there. All I felt was relief. Relief relief relief to be alone with myself, to relax, to not have to worry or do or be. It made me a little ashamed, as if there might not be a limit... as if maybe I wouldn't ever miss them. But that's probably not true. I was only away 4 days; maybe a full week would make me ache. I did respond differently to the crying babies I witnessed. I used to be one of the people who was particularly annoyed by a crying baby on a plane, but this time I only felt sympathy--mostly for the baby, but also for the parents doing the best they could. It seemed odd to me that anyone would feel annoyance about the crying.

Maybe my nostalgia for Boise is nostalgia for myself--it's hard to say. While I was there I kept trying to imagine having Frances and Clark in the back of the car, but it was hard to envision. And though being in Boise made me ache and want to stay there forever, I also missed Rochester--a surprise. I'm not sure I'll ever fall in love with Rochester the way I was and still am with Boise, but it's my home these days.

coming soon....

I've been AWAY all weekend, in Boise for a wedding ALL BY MYSELF. I have all kinds of new thoughts about parenting that the separation provided me and I want to write about them. But right now we're in Michigan, driving back to Rochester tomorrow. I'll post soon!

a night away

We spent a night at a hotel and spa, Mitch and I. Just us, no kids. Oh my goodness was it fabulous. WAY better than I could have imagined, way overdue, so wonderful and relaxing and why haven't we done this before? It was on one of the fingerlakes, a quaint little town with park benches and coffee shops and boutiques and stately old buildings. And the spa! It's hard to justify the price of a massage somehow, but we did sit in the hot tub outside, which is really a winding pool built of rock with a waterfall, and we did soak our feet in the foot pool while sitting in our luxurious soft robes in the low lighting, zen music tinkling in the background. We sat in the euciliptis steam room and we lounged in our cottage in front of the fire. And we ate dinner. What a dinner! That was our big splurge, rather than the spa treatments (I really wanted a body scrub, I have to say). Five courses with "gifts from the chef" between courses, which turned out to be courses themselves, so nine courses in all, and then we had to go walk in the wind by the lake in order to digest a little.

this is my life

Sometimes I wonder if I can keep doing this, being a full-time mom. It can be so tiring, emotionally draining, without much space to reenergize. Sometimes I wonder if this is how I want to spend my life, wonder what kind of life I would want to have instead. But then I remember that this isn't my whole life--just this stretch of time. My role as a mom is going to change as the kids grow; the amount of time I have to myself is going to increase, as well as my personal space. Eventually.

Today I got both kids down for naps and my aunt said she'd stay in the house with them while they slept. So I put on my bathing suit and rode my bike to the beach and swam with M, no kids to watch. It was heavenly. Riding a bike feels like ultimate freedom right now because there's no space on it for anyone but myself. I went again later, initially to tell my cousins when dinner is, but then I rode on by myself for awhile.

On the beach folks sit in circles, their chairs all facing in, telling stories. The sun is dim, thin clouds a gauzy screen as I ride on the packed sand by the shore. A dad picks up a toddler and swings him overhead. I can't hear anything but ocean and wind; it's like watching those old home movies, everything more picturesque without the minutiae of sound. I think that this man's life will change too--his kids will get older at the same pace as mine. We will have adolescents, teenagers. I believe people when they tell me it happens all too quickly. But today there are four children under four in our beach house. Next year there may be five; the year after, six. It's loud, it's busy. It's tiring and charming and tonight my cousin Danny recorded a video of Frances and Henry playing ring around the rosy together, Frances holding Henry's hands and gazing with awe up into his 3-year-old face as he chanted the rhyme. They were pure loveliness.

beach week

I'm at the beach which is wonderful in its beachy way, but also not so relaxing with little kids, it turns out. Of course, there are grandparents and cousins and aunts here which makes things much much much easier, but I still can't lie back in a chair on the beach, close my eyes, and listen to the waves. M said he feels very relaxed and like he's having a break, that he loves the time to play w/ F in the sand. But I play with her all the time. Playing with her is not a break from anything for me. I think the problem, however, is that I feel like I still should be primarily responsible for the kids. But perhaps I should just let go of that and realize that the other folks here who are helping with the kids (dad, grandma, aunt J,) want to be doing this, and I should just let them. I should indeed close my eyes on the beach once in a while and trust that (1) other folks will make sure the kids are safe, and (2) I'm not burdening others by letting go.

This is the essential problem with the "family vacation." My fantasies about a caribbean vacation with just M have amped up.

I still can't find my camera. Maybe the movers stole it. (I don't really believe that...) But I might have to buy an inexpensive one until mine turns up. I'm missing documenting the early months of Clark's life! He's already going to want to know why his baby book is much less attended to than F's.--and then to have no pictures! I now fully understand why there are many fewer mementos of the 2nd and 3rd kid, and it's not due to a lost camera.

When we were having so much trouble getting pregnant I would look at the toddlers on the beach and I would feel this ache, thinking how wonderful and sweet it would be to be at the beach with my husband and child. And it is, of course, but not in that warm glow of love kind of way that I imagined. Reality always has sharper edges than you expect, comes laden with the struggle and tantrums and leaky diapers as well as the joy. It's important to remember that it's the combination of the two that makes it so worthwhile.