great

Ok, so the last post really just caught everyone up on the facts. And facts are important, right? I suppose so. But the real truth I need to express - and that all those facts were supposed to express - is that right now, for this sliver of time, this very moment, things are GREAT.

I read another blog post about an email the blog author had received, and the email asked, among other things, "...DO YOU HAVE ANY ADVICE FOR PEOPLE LIKE ME WITH BABIES OR PERHAPS REFLECTIONS OF HOW YOU GOT BY WHEN YOUR KIDS WERE BABIES?  HOW DID YOU NOT JUMP OFF A CLIFF?  ..." I remember those days. I remember wondering how any moms were standing upright, because I certainly felt any uprightness of mine was a trick of light. 

The blog author's response was, "STICK TOGETHER. KEEP BREATHING. ESCAPE OFTEN. TAKE PICTURES and then LOOK AT THE PICTURES AFTER THE BABY IS ASLEEP. IT’S EASIER TO LOVE PICTURES OF BABIES THAN ACTUAL, AWAKE BABIES." Excellent. 

It all reminded me of the first few months, or perhaps years I suppose. 

A friend of mine has a 5 year old and a 9 month old and always feels like she should be accomplishing more than she is. When she's at my house and our daughters are playing together, she's always offering her help while I'm fixing snacks for them, as if she isn't already trying to keep the baby from killing himself by swallowing legos. I mean - really. She has enough to do. Recently she said, "How long will I be tied down like this?" I had enough presence of mind to remind her it's until the kid turns 3. "Oh right," she said. "That's about when I started to feel out of the weeds with the first." So funny how we forget. This forgetting is necessary for survival, I'm certain. 

But Frances will be 6 next week, and Clark is 4.5. I am officially out of the weeds. I still have to tie shoes and sometimes chase and tackle a naked one who's refusing to put on jammies, but really - I'm not in danger of cliff diving any longer. 

Of course, now that I'm out of the weeds, being back in them seems awfully attractive. Thankfully I have reasons not to do it again. The main ones are my age (too old for sleep deprivation), my migraines, and the medications I'm on to control them. Good reasons. But the real reason, when I'm being honest with myself and my brain is functioning well enough for me to remember accurately, is that having a new baby is hell. Hell. Those of you who are saying, "Oh no, it wasn't that bad," are suffering from a case of Refusing To Remember. (It's also Amazing and Wonderful, and thankfully we don't forget that part.)

So here is where I am. Here, where my kids dress themselves (mostly) and feed themselves, though they do not yet fix the food and put it on plates. They can (sort of) clean up messes, and can (generally) quiet down when asked. I can leave the house (with them of course). I can shower without interruption. I can eat an entire meal sitting down. 

Great. That is how I'm feeling. I'm slightly worried that this feeling greatness is due to the help I'm receiving at home with the au pair here, and that when she leaves in 2 weeks I will be feeling a lot less than great. I tend to anticipate the worst that way. I'm trying my best to simply enjoy the weather and the wonderfulness of this place I am in for but a moment. Because it always changes so fast, doesn't it? Whatever the stage is, it will pass. Fabulousness and all. 

big changes afoot

Everyone loves school! We are a success! What a relief!

I haven't written since Karen the german girl arrived. She's here not to go to school, but on her break between semesters. It's a kind of language emersion for her, an extra family member for us.

When she first arrived I was in heaven and meant to write a post saying only that, but I never sat at the computer. She does the dishes! All the time! I fix food for the kids, turn around, and the dishes are already done! It's like magic.

The second week I had a hard time adjusting to having someone else around all the time. I kept thinking I needed to entertain her, thought of her as a guest. It was funny - we are putting her up and feeding her but since I'm not paying her for babysitting I kept feeling I couldn't ask for her to watch the kids while I went out. And she felt like we were going so out of our way to provide for her that she owed us as much help as she could be. So for a while both of us were working our asses off, neither of us taking a break.

Not long after she got here we loaded everyone up and traveled to Washington DC and that was nice, and back home Karen came along with me on some adventures with the kids, and that was wonderful. Now that school's started we've gotten into a rhythm and I'm really feeling it. It seems like she's been here forever and I honestly don't know how the adjustment is going to go for me once she is gone. I'm rather in love with her company and she's an ENORMOUS help around the house and with the kids and oh my goodness what am I going to do when I'm alone again??


Here's what's the what on school:

Both Frances and Clark are at schools new to them, whole new worlds. Clark had tough transition, missing his old school and friends, and my heart felt for him. He loved his old school, knew the rules and the expectations and the people, and he loved those people. At the new school (the Waldorf school Frances went to the last 2 years) he felt so shy. Shyness is painful, and who wouldn't want to end that feeling by running back to that other thing you already love and feel close to? Why take a risk? Thing is, he didn't even realize it was a risk, didn't realize there was possible gain on the other side. He just did it cuz mom made him. Still, I knew he was going to fall in love with it. The first day when I picked him up his shoes were completely and totally covered in mud and sand. They had been buried. I had to take off his shoes and socks and rain pants and let him walk barefoot to the car. (It's amazing how those rain pants keep everything dry underneath. Clark was amazed too. His feet were soaked through but his shorts were completely dry. "Look at that!" he said.) The Waldorf school is a place where that kind of activity is expected and even encouraged - sometimes when it's raining only lightly out they go to this hill nearby that's more dirt than anything else, and they take turns sliding down on their butt. In the mud. He's going to be in heaven. I love Waldorf because it is this joyous celebration of the earth and the natural world, a kind of love affair. You can't help but respond.

Mitch told me on the way to school yesterday Clark said he loves his school. When I asked him about it Clark said, "yes, I LOVE my school." "What do you like about it?" I asked. "The whole thing," he said. There's so much motor skill activity - grinding grain on the mill, churning butter, chopping veggies, sweeping, balancing on logs and climbing swinging ladders - all stuff that will please him at a deep physical level.

Frances is thrilled to pieces with kindergarten. She wasn't nervous to go, didn't seem apprehensive at all, and loves everything about it. The first day I walked her to school and I hope I remember that moment always. She was so happy and excited and the weather had been perfect but a storm was coming so it was cooling off. We stopped at the corner and chatted with our neighbors in their pool, then went on. After dropping her I walked home while the gray clouds gathered. It wasn't until I was on the sidewalk right in front of our house that I felt the first drop. And then the downpour. It was all very symbolic and lovely.

The interesting part is that Clark is in school in the morning (Tuesday - Friday) and Frances is in school in the afternoon. (I wrote about this here.) So far I'm in love with the setup. Of course, Karen is still here, which means I can leave Frances with her in the mornings while I take Clark to school or go to the gym or the grocery. When I'm on my own again the lack of a break may be trying, but I'm trying to enjoy the moment. Having the kids each alone is SO DIFFERENT. They are civilized people! And when Frances gets home from school at 3 they are so happy to see each other and they play so well together, since they've been apart all day.

My challenge now is to enjoy them each and not spend all our time running errands or doing dishes or laundry. Which means this school year I may not get much done. I'm trying to be okay with that. Trying to spend my time sitting on the floor playing old maid and doing puzzles. Frances will be in school full day next year, then Clark the year after that. It's all coming to a close, this time of our lives. It sounds so dramatic when I say it like that, but it's true. That full time baby-toddler-preschooler segment of my life is nearing an end.

When Clark said he loves his new school he also said he still misses the old one. I told him it's that way with a lot of things in life. Including this one for me. I'm excited to move on to the next stage - with activities and no naps and the ability of children to become hungry without turning into screaming maniacs. We can travel! And go out to dinner! And talk about issues! Frances is already there, and Clark is mostly close, and I can see the bright lights glimmer. Still, I'm aware I'm going to miss this. This time when I am their world, when they rely on me for so much, and when they give so much love. It's a sweet time, something I've looked forward to my whole life. That it is ending is why the baby urge strikes now, I believe. Still, the shine of what is to come lures me more. I don't want to stay here in baby land. (I mostly don't. Except when sometimes I do.) In any case, I'm still here now, and I plan to cherish it while it's happening.

Fairy cake

I'm starting to think about Frances's party this year, a month away. I don't think I ever posted a picture of last year's fairy cake, so I'm doing that now. Cuz it's lovely!

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.

good feelings

Yesterday Frances (age 5 1/2) wrote a book for me. She's written books before - have I talked about them here? Her first was about a princess who had everything. Then a robber came and took her things, and then she had nothing. She was sad. Then she had an idea. She would go to the robber's hideout and get her things back. But first, she had to get her equipment. She got her stuff back.

There were pictures for every page. Her equipment was her purse.

The book she made for me yesterday didn't have any pictures. She told me that's because it was for adults. While she was making it she asked me how to spell many words but not enough so I knew what she was writing. None of the lines came from me, certainly. All her words.

It's called Good Feelings, and when she gave it to me she said she thought it could help me if I didn't know what to do. Here it is:

You should spend time with your family and not just hanging around. You should play with them and talk with them tell jokes and go places with them. 
And have fun with them. 

With boys you should wrestle and tell them to push things and tell them to kick a pillow. 
With girls they just will draw a picture. 

And with grown people they will keep a eye on themselves but under the age of 16 you have to take care of them.

The people are all different.
Some are rough and some are gentle. 

Oh my goodness. Oh the joy it brings me.


The german university student arrives Monday. The kids are so excited. We skyped with her a couple of days ago and the kids love her to death already. I am hopeful it will go as well in person.

It's the heat of summer here and we have no air-conditioning. I love it. I love it as much as I love the deep snow, and both of these things are probably my favorite about living here. (no sarcasm) In the south the heat is so staggering that you can't not live in air-conditioning. And you have to carry a damn sweater with you although it's a thousand degrees outside because every restaurant / grocery store / indoor-facility-of-any-kind is kept at 50 degrees. Right now as I write this all the windows are open and the crickets are full on in the dark. I hope our German friend doesn't wilt up in the attic bedroom. But never to fear: we provide fans.

Full service, that's how we like to think of ourselves.

afternoon kindergarten

Got the letter yesterday from the public kindergarten Frances will be attending in the fall. The letter that tells us whether we've been assigned to afternoon or morning kindergarten. Around here everyone wants morning, which means that some people who request morning are not going to get it.

Kindergarten in our town is TWO HOURS LONG. I frankly don't know what that's about except maybe the economic and social breakdown of the district, and the fact that nearly all the kids have been to some kind of preschool and come in already knowing their letters at least. Whew, got those out of the way. Let's just cut a couple of hours off the kindergarten day since we don't have to teach them that! I'm told social skills are the things best imparted in kindergarten here, and I suppose two hours is plenty for that. Though, it seems to me, all they actually have time for is the teacher to take each kid to the bathroom once. Then it's time to go.

I wanted morning kindergarten because Clark (age 4) is going to be at the Waldorf school Tuesday through Friday mornings. If Frances were in school then also, I would have FOUR WHOLE MORNINGS with only me to keep track of. That alone time is something I've been waiting for. Waiting, holding out, hanging on. A time for me to find my own work in the world. (which brings us to the subject of a post soon to come: one's work in the world. My husband has his work, my kids (of course) have theirs. Mine of late has been helping the kids to do theirs best, but I've neglected my own work in the process.)

So when I got the letter - the one that said Frances had been assigned to afternoon kindergarten - I sat down and had a good cry. A really good cry. Then I went upstairs and threw myself across the bed and sobbed into the bedspread. I cried and cried, and then I plotted about who to speak with to get this changed.

In the next day or so, before I had a chance to call the school district, something interesting happened. I thought it through. I thought about literally what it would be like to have NO TIME TO MYSELF, to always have a kid with me, every day, morning and afternoon. Frances with me in the mornings, Clark with me in the afternoons. And what I saw was a door in the wall I hadn't seen before. What I saw was the experience of having an only child, which is a thing about which I have fantasized from time to time. And it's even better than that - it's two different only children! Variety! This way, I could actually do activities with Frances I've so wanted to; activities like baking bread and crafts projects. Plus being solo with a child provides opportunity for a kind of conversation and intimacy that's not possible when you're the shepherd of multiple.

And something else - my headaches creep in the afternoon. (sometimes they assault with heavy artillery rather than creep, but again, usually in the afternoon.) I'm much better in the morning. Frances is better in the morning. She and I can hang out together during the time when we are our best selves!

Suddenly the afternoon assignment sounded like a blessing. Besides, she will be home on the bus around 3 in the afternoon which means there will be plenty of afternoon left for Clark and Frances to have time to themselves. I did wonder about that - they are such close playmates; what was it going to be like for them to be apart so much? But in the end, they will have a couple of hours every afternoon to play Baby Sam and Sisters.

Sisters is the newest game. They both dress up in Frances's clothes and have tea parties and go on vacations and cook dinner and put their babies to bed. The story line does seem to come out in Frances's favor, which is interesting. They never play Brothers, or Knights, or Pirates.

But I digress.

In addition to alone time with the kids, I think the schedule is going to help me maintain a rhythm (at least in the mornings) better than I have been. We will do the same things each week. For example, Mondays we go to the gym (and they go to the kid play area), Tuesdays grocery, Wednesdays can be bread day (in order to keep to some of the waldorf schedule and activities, we will make bread), Thursdays library and errands, Fridays crafts. Or something like that. I don't know that the afternoons will be so orderly - will have to see.

I'm actually excited about it. How funny. How funny it is when we think we know what we're going to feel. It's for one year. I wonder if at the end I will wish it could go on like this?

summer fever

We are in Michigan now, staying at Mitch's folks' house. They live on a beautiful little lake with a pontoon boat and a paddle boat and a tire swing and hammock and a little beach with a dock to jump off and a whole lot of outdoor loveliness. It's pretty cool that the kids get to visit their grandparents here.

We've all been here together since Tuesday - 5 days ago - and the plan is that tomorrow Mitch and I will go home and leave the kids here.

When we made these plans I was so excited to be at home with my husband and no kids for the better part of a week. He'll be working, of course, but in the evenings we can go out to dinner if we want, at any point in the evening. We can sleep in! Nap mid afternoon! Run spontaneous errands! The plan, of course, is to get some projects done around the house.

But tonight I feel funny about it. I've been away from the kids before - many times - but always when I've gone away for a trip or something. I've never been away from them for any length of time when I was at home. I'm going to miss them.

And Frances is sick. Friday morning we went to see a play, and in the theater she was so cold she was shivering. (Luckily, as a holdover from my living in the south where summer means 50 degrees inside any building, I had a sweater in my bag.) That afternoon she slept and slept and when she woke her temperature was 102.

That was Friday. Today is Sunday, and her temp is still 102. She's a trooper about it, I have to say. We took her to urgent care yesterday to get a strep test, but it seems to be nothing more than a virus, so we're waiting for the fever to pass.

[If I may take a soap box moment here: I've stopped treating fevers. The fever is, after all, the body's way of killing the virus, so letting it run is best, the literature says. Unless it's crazy high, of course. In addition to that, bringing a fever down means the kid feels again like having pillow fights with her brother, so in addition to helping the kid heal, leaving the fever alone helps her get rest. Yet somehow the pharmaceutical companies and the doctors have most folks convinced that a fever gets tylenol immediately. Ridiculous what a hold they have on us.]

I've never before missed them. This has in the past disconcerted me a small bit. Funny - I've had the baby yearning so badly lately, but when they were babies I felt only relief about being away. Now, now that they are big and don't need me so much, now I will miss having them with me.

Perhaps it's all about my not having my own thing, which I definitely need to find. Who will I be if they're not with me?

Will be interesting to see how it goes, how I feel about it once we get back to NY. 

how to get along with your brother

I taught Frances to say to Clark, "Let's not fight." She likes to be in charge of things, you know, so she likes to be the one to make sweeping statements that get results. She's tried it several times now, and generally when she says it Clark turns, leaves the room, and slams the door behind him. But it does end the argument. Once last week when she said it Clark just said, "Ok," and that was that. I wonder when Clark's going to start saying it to her?

world waldorf

As an addendum to the last Waldorf post I must add this photo of my daughter. It was taken the last week of school when someone brought a BABY FREAKING LAMB to school for the children to pet and eventually pose with for photos. I love how Waldorf this photo is - the colors, Frances's bonnet, the adorableness of that animal on her lap. Sheesh. 

reading the kid

This is a post I wrote in the beginning of June, right as school was ending. I don't know why it didn't get posted, as it was supposed to appear before the last one. Well, here it is.

June 9, 2012

The thing we worry most about with Frances is that she's pretty controlling. When she plays with Clark or has friends over she announces what the play is going to be and assigns the roles. She's pretty good at it, and the kids mostly go along with it - interestingly. The problem is that when other folks don't want to play the same thing, she gets manipulative. Her teacher talked with us about this at the mid-year conference and we tried to figure out what was going on underneath that made her feel the need to control, but it was beyond me. 

Then, yesterday, after her not being nice to Clark all week, I had a little breakthrough.

The end of school is an emotional time for everyone. Clark's last day was last Friday, and I cried when I gave the director her little sea salt chocolates present, as we've been there three years now (one for Frances and two for Clark) and we're moving on. Clark has been sad, telling me outright that he wants to stay at his current school rather than move to the Waldorf school where Frances has gone for the last two years. There's a post about that to come.

Yesterday was Frances' last day of school. She has been a little off all week, mostly being unkind to Clark. Also, Mitch is out of town at a conference, which was unfortunate timing. Yesterday morning when we hung up from a phone call with him, Frances clawed at Clark because he was the one who got to push the button to turn the tv off. I sat down beside her and said, "I'm thinking you might be feeling a little anxious because school is ending." She immediately teared up. I talked on for a while about how it's okay to be both excited about her school next year (which she is) and also sad to leave this one, and how it's confusing to have different feelings at the same time, etc, etc, and she just sat there listening to me, tears running down her face. Then I said something about how the reason we feel sad when something ends is because we love it and don't want to let it go, and she really started crying then. Poor girl. Afterwards she seemed much calmer and the trek to school was fine. 

I talked with her teacher that afternoon at the school picnic. Her teacher told me that for the past week or two Frances has been playing school during free play time, being the teacher and taking care of the students. She has been (of course) organizing the play, but it's been good, not at all manipulative. But then today during free play time, Frances wanted to be the baby, wanted to have the other girls take care of her. 

So it occurs to me that all this controlling is really her trying to control her own emotions. It's a transfer for some emotion she's trying to suppress. And it shouldn't surprise me - one of my biggest limitations is knowing what I'm feeling when I'm feeling it. She's an awful lot like me, and suppression could be her most logical approach. I hope I can find a way to help her with this. I forget to scan the playing field, forget that it's helpful if I have my eyes open for the trauma coming. I just forget. I'll forget again, but perhaps I can recognize it as it appears. And each time, I suppose, I'll get better at heading it off, at teaching her how to head it off for herself. Onward we go.