Thanksgiving: Pass It On!

Yesterday was a humbling day. An emotional day. A Thanksgiving kind of day.

The Sunday School class my husband and I are part of decided to donate money to buy boxes of food for families at one of our neighborhood elementary schools. It's the school that our kids attend, and where several of our class members are employed. It's a school that has some 70% of its students qualifying for free or reduced lunch programs. It's also the official "homeless" school for our community.

We collected money in class and quickly came up with enough money to buy 10 boxes of food from a local distribution center.

Yesterday, our family went to pick up that food and deliver it to the school, where the guidance counselor had selected 10 families to receive the boxes.

We got the food loaded up much more quickly than we had expected, and found ourselves with extra time on our hands. We decided to go to the grocery store and pick up a few items of our own. It was a typical family grocery store trip. Some bickering about who got to sit on that side of the car, some impatient snapping at each other, some negotiating for treats, some minor annoyances. We loaded back up with our own groceries (charged on plastic with nary a thought) now also in tow and drove to the school for the delivery.

**SCENE CHANGE**

Some of the families were already at the school, waiting, and the positive energy in the room was almost palpable. Everyone was smiling and helping and quietly talking. When we were done unloading, the counselor asked if we would be doing this regularly, and I said that I hoped so, but wasn't sure. He said that after talking with teachers, he had identified 16 families in need (though certainly there are more), and he would love to be able to connect more of them with some assistance.

It was with very mixed emotions that we left the building, realizing that we felt so good about this thing we had done...but that it was only a drop in the bucket. As we walked out the door, the counselor handed us some envelopes, explaining that the families had written thank you notes.

I got back in the car, working my feet in between our bags of groceries piled there on the floor. We drove away in silence, trying to process it all. And then I handed out the envelopes so we could read some of the thank you notes out loud. I wanted the kids to hear. I wanted them to know what it means to help others. I wanted them to understand this thing they were now a part of. (Or perhaps, this thing that was now a part of them.)

The thank you notes were heartfelt, gracious, kind. I had a knot in my throat reading the first one out loud, and found myself blinking back tears, just thankful for what we have, and thankful to be a part of something good, and incredibly moved by the simple fact of people helping people.

When my son started to read a card out loud, the emotions swirling through our heads reached a moment of overwhelming depths. (Or heights, depending on your view.)

Tears started to run down his cheeks, and he couldn't finish.

"He said there were sixteen families...but we only had ten boxes," he said.

****

I started this post last Sunday, but I couldn't finish it. I just didn't have the words. And now, even as I type this days later, the tears once again begin to rise up my throat and I find I still don't have the words.

But I know that when I come back and read this, I will remember.

I don't know how to record the moment, but simply to say that it was beautiful and tragic all at once. That it made me feel both immensely powerful in my ability to make a difference, and also to feel incredibly small and of no consequence at all. It made me feel incredibly good, and incredibly guilty. It was despair and hope, mingling together in one breath.

****

On the way home from the school, we stopped to pick up Junior. (He paid a visit to his grandparents while we did the grocery run.) It was time to go to his Physical Therapy appointment.

This is a new addition to his weekly therapy routine. Through word-of-mouth, we heard about an amazing therapist nearby -- the kind with magic fingers and sensitive spirit -- and she was willing to see him. Despite her full schedule. Despite our total inability to verbalize what we want her to do to him. Despite the fact that she doesn't take Medicaid, though that is all the coverage Junior has, and that we can't afford her full-price visits. She was not only willing, but excited, energetic, curious, eager! She's offering us a greatly reduced price and seeing him 5 weeks in a row for a trial run. I don't know what might happen, but I am extremely grateful for the possibilities.

I left the house with my grocery tears barely dried, then drove straight to this appointment, a fresh set of kindness-of-others tears threatening to spill over.

****

They say it's better to give than to receive, and I agree. It's certainly easier, I do know that.

But what is really amazing is to be on both ends of that equation within a short span of time.

My cup runneth over. I'm filled with Thanksgiving, though it it's not the official day for that. I'm proud to be a part of the human race today. That may sound like a crazy statement to make, but in a world where the headlines sometimes make me hang my head in shame -- for all of us -- it is a profound and welcome feeling to be a small, fitted piece in this very good puzzle.

Here's my challenge: Do something good today.

It can be large or small....just something above & beyond the usual, whatever your particular brand of usual might be. If something nice has happened to you recently, pay it forward. If nothing nice has happened lately, do it anyway.

Just tip that first domino over, and trust that the momentum can flow on down the line.

Happy Thanksgiving, world.

Invisibility Theme, Part IV: Dalai Mama Has Left the Building

(Alternate title -- "Hello & Goodbye: A Long, Impassioned Ode to Catherine Newman, Blogger Extraordinaire...With a Few Ramblings and Pithy Comments Along the Way")

The Dalai Mama, one of my all-time favorite blogs, is undergoing a major change. Catherine Newman, the blogger behind it all, explains everything in It's Not Goodbye -- It's Bon Appetit! *

Have you discovered this amazing blogger yet? I've had her links on my sidebar all these months, though I've never singled her out for recognition. I certainly hope that some of you have wandered over there at some point and had a look around. It's a place so comfortable and warm, you'll probably want to go back and visit regularly. It's the kind of place you can sip a warm drink and spend an amiable afternoon without even realizing what time it's gotten to be. Where it's nice and nest-y, though you're constantly inspired to remember that you, too, can fly.

I think of Catherine as the mom I thought I would be...before I got too tired, or cynical, or just...took too many shortcuts. (Well, minus the vegetarian co-op part, and the loving-the-family-bed part,...and the husband-is-a-masseuse part, because THAT is something I didn't even think to dream of!) It's not that she's perfect, though, either. (Which makes her all the more wonderful, in my opinion.) She's not a robot or Stepford Wife, not Bree Van de Kamp or Martha Stewart. She talks about feeling overwhelmed & wondering if she's doing it right, but -- and this is key -- she remains mindful of these things. She somehow manages to maintain her focus on the big picture while simultaneously zooming in to note the microcosms along the way.**

She's a great writer, too. It's hard to pin down exactly what it is that makes her writing so wonderful. She's sincere, thoughtful, focused (mostly) -- in both her writing and her mothering, tender & funny, but it's more than that. She has that special something, that umami writing, that strikes a deep, rich chord beyond the bitter/sweet/salty components. Each post is something to savor slowly, and is uniquely satisfying.

So that blog, which I have eagerly read each Wednesday morning (although in reading her goodbye comments I discovered the new post was up on Tuesday afternoons, actually, and I could have read it 8 hours earlier!), that blog is now GONE.

Well, sort of.

She will still be there writing, only now she will be writing about recipes (mostly). I say mostly, because as she herself points out, it's not really about the pear cake.

I will be missing her old column greatly -- though of course, technically she is still there, both in archives AND in the new Dalai Mama Dishes. And of course I will keep visiting weekly, browsing through recipes and planning hypothetical feasts (much like flipping through an IKEA or Pottery Barn catalog), while reading between the lines for glimpses of Ben & Birdy and fall melancholy and pants and undies falling down.

So far, I've been surprised at how much I'm enjoying her new blog, and by how lovely her recipes sound -- they really are more than pear cake! And, because, let's face it -- I'm not the wholesome, unprocessed foods, & barrels-of-granola kind of mom that she is. (Read the otter pop post to read see why we differ...and why we mesh.) Her pot roast recipe with accompanying photos and comments actually had me giggling aloud. (How someone can take such unappetizing photos, then sprinkle the paragraph liberally with the words "placenta", "severed torso", "stool softener", and "barfing" and STILL make you want to try the delicious pot roast recipe tomorrow night -- ?? Well, that, my friends, is precisely why you should be reading her.)

But, now that I think about it, perhaps you should actually read the plum cake recipe first. Because that is the kinder, gentler, crunchier version. No bodily emissions or organs there! (Although there are reminders of motorcycle boots & fierceness layered with the wholesomeness of baking & motherly love that goes into the Catherine Newman parfait, so to speak.) And once again, while I can truly say that plum cake has never even occurred to me, I was moved to want to try the recipe. Both because it looked so tasty, and, simply, as a nod to Catherine. A sort of sweet goodbye -- and hello! -- to the blog(s). Plus? Butter. Real butter and sugar and simple goodness. I will overlook my usual chocolate bent and give plums a chance.

So anyway, once you've said hello to Catherine's new blog, go back and read the old blog archives. They are gems. Diamonds sparkling from the depths of an old mine shaft. An old mine shaft that is being deserted because it's getting unsafe. Or it's no longer environmentally sound. Or it's got some new owners. Or something. Whatever the metaphor, they're down there. Those posts are treasures waiting to be discovered, but they are going to be invisible from the surface. Look for them.

Each post is a lovely stand-alone essay, but taken as a whole they speak volumes. In between the great things and gulag days, there are summer fevers and gymnastics classes and dozens of other posts, each with moments or metaphors or individual sentences that take my breath away. I think nearly every week I was moved to laugh AND blink back a tear. And while that might simply say something about how I'm typically fairing mid-week, I think it really says more about Catherine's ability to witness the events in her life, to sift through them with an uncannily sightful eye, and to create such powerful written records of the meaning she finds therein.

The pear cake metaphor has been on my mind all week. "'It's not that I want pear cake, Mama. It's that I don't want you to leave.' Indeed." Indeed! I can't tell you how many times during this last week I've whispered "pear cake" in my head, as a gentle reminder to myself.

And it's often this way -- Catherine's words stay with me. They're filling. She's the fiber in a sea of bloggy junk food. I crave both, delight in both, savor both...but know that the fiber is what will keep me going. Or...not. (heh, heh.) (Which then makes me recall the stool softener pot roast recipe.) Perhaps she's the protein. She's meaty; gives you lots to chew on. Or a complex carb? Energizes you for the long haul. Meh. Either way, we're back to the power of Catherine's words. And food!! And --Ta Da! -- I neatly brought it all back full circle!

So back to the point I was starting to make, which is how her words have staying power. For me, one of the most powerful posts in the old blog was The Invisible Woman. I remember this description well, all this time later, because it's just so accurate for me. I feel myself blanking intentionally, mentally exiting my body,...the building,...my life. And it's so shocking to have someone name it, to call me out on it, because even though it's accurate, I hadn't fully realized I was doing it. (And once I saw it, I was additionally ashamed to realize how much resentment and annoyance filled my invisible moments.) Thanks to that post, I have become more aware of my tendency to disappear. I do it less. And when I do still find myself really needing to slip away, I now try to do it more gracefully, floating off to a quiet place where I can reflect & recoup for a moment, returning ready for the next round.

I browsed through The Dalai Mama archives to find the link to the Invisible Woman post, and was surprised to find it all the way back in November 2006! And it had something to do with a copper cylinder, which I certainly didn't recall. And I was surprised to find it was much shorter than I remembered. (And, actually, much more positive than I remembered.) But the concept was there. The wanting to disappear during the mind-numbing moments of parenthood. So, I'm almost certain that's the post I'm thinking of. And, plus -- really, how many entries on INVISIBILITY can one person write? (cough, cough)

Which all just goes to show how meaningful blogs can be. (When you get deeper than fanny packs & crazy talk, that is.) How reading someone else's thoughts can open up your own. How finding the right words at the right time truly is "as if a hand has come out and taken yours," like she said (which someone else said). How a person you've never even met can inspire you to become a better you. How amazing this internet stuff really is.

But don't just take my word for it. Go. Read.*** You'll be glad you did.

-----

*I made a last-minute attempt at color-coding my quotes & links here, because I am referencing SO MANY and didn't want to send you off on so many wild goose chases, impelling you to click hither and yon only to find you had already been there. So...if the color is the same, the link is the same. Just trying to provide a few "footnotes" and to simplify. (any other spots that sound suspiciously lovely were probably supposed to be color-coded, too; not intending to plagiarize, just trying to get to bed)

**I deleted the following paragraph, because it is so over-the-top. But it kind of cracks me up, and it is sort of how I see her. So I'm pasting it here:

It's as if she's determined to put together a puzzle that she is absolutely loves -- not only because of the completed image it will make, but because of all the beautiful shapes and colors of each distinctly individual, vitally important piece. Some days she can't get many pieces to fit easily, or doesn't have enough time to work on it, and
gets frustrated. But she's able to say -- "Wow, this is a challenging puzzle! That took so much concentration & patience today, but I really just love this puzzle! Tomorrow I'm going to try to put another lovely piece in place. But if I find I still can't get very far, I'll just make a pot of tea and hum a tune and spend some time fondly gazing at
the amazing pieces!"

But me? Well, I'm more likely to have a small fit. To dramatically brush all the pieces to the floor with my arm. To break up the sections I already completed and throw them, hostilely, back into the box. To curse the ridiculousness and wrongness of certain pieces. To sigh and turn on the tv. So, yeah, she's a pretty great role model.

***Don't be put off by the baby-ish avatars accompanying the comments section on her new blog. It's an odd little quirk on that site -- and though I have never added an avatar of my own anywhere, I'm highly tempted to do so over there, just so everyone understands I'm not actually 5. Although that would require me to comment, which I have possibly done ONCE (?) over the years. I prefer to stay quietly hidden over here and then write long, rambling, gushing, then rambling again posts about how much I love her. Hmm. Again, one of the differences between her & me; she would TELL people she loved them -- or at least bake them a plum cake! -- where I would just crack a joke and then go check the local weather. So, ok. I'll leave a comment! (Because did I mention she's great? And a good influence?) I will comment and cook.

Regretful? No.... Disheartened? Yes.

We got the keys to the new house tonight, so took the kids over for a little walk-through and family house-warming party.

I looked up "House Cleansing" and various and sundry other New House Blah-di-blah Traditions and made up a list of things I decided we would do the night before our big move. I had a whole little ceremony planned for our family that included bits and pieces from a variety of cultures and traditions, all Jujyfruitized appropriately.

For example, we followed the feng shui recommendation to boil water for tea and rice so we could share a meal together...by bringing Happy Meals from McDonald's to eat picnic-style on the floor of our new home. (Get it? HAPPY Meals, which add an attitudinal statement in addition to paying homage to the tradition of food and fellowship first. Plus? Easy.)

We dried sage today (in the microwave -- again with the Jujyfruitized version) and brought a stick of cedar (from my husband's siding company!) to burn and we "smudged" the house, as a nod to rituals the Native Americans have long used to cleanse and protect.

We brought a live plant to the house, to symbolize new life and growth. What's more, the plant was a pot of mint dug from my brother's yard for the kids to transplant in our new yard, so there was the added symbolism of family and connections and roots which grow and prosper and spread.

We each had tiny candles to carry from room to room as together we spread the "house-warming glow" and offered prayers and hopes and dreams to be carried up in the smoke (a Thai tradition).

I had a bottle of wine (a Jujyfruit tradition) with which to toast the future. (I came across the wine today as I was packing up the kitchen, and noticed the Turning Leaf label. Now I realize this may not be the fanciest of wines, but the label jumped out at me because we are in the process of turning over a new leaf! Auspicious, yes? So the wine became a part of the bag o' house-warming stuff, too.)

Bubbs had his special rock and lucky key along for the ceremony.

We had our positive attitudes. I told everyone that I read that all negative energy (e.g., bickering, criticizing, pessimism) should be left outside the front door, as we were entering our new home for a fresh start and wanted it to be positive.

Now, you know what they say about good intentions....

The kids were more interested in their Happy Meal toys than in my little inspirational talk about how we can change anything we want in this house -- from wallpaper and walls themselves, to who we are and who we want to become, both individually AND as a family. I encouraged them to focus on their goals and dreams and picture what they wanted to achieve while we live there.

The kids silently chewed while staring at the fast food bag, played with the beeping R2-D2 toy, and scooted around the floor while dragging a cheeseburger behind, respectively. (I'll let you guess which kid did what.)

My inspiring talk ended when chocolate milk sprayed all over my left calf.

Then, also, the sage kept dropping burning bits on the floors. The candles worked well until suddenly dripping hot wax on our fingers. Yes, the shouting, stomping pain literally went from person to person in the order we had lit them, mere seconds apart. The Meaningful Wine was greatly appreciated, but we had two vehicles to drive back to our old house, so we didn't drink much of it. Junior shattered two of the little glass candle holders on the driveway, had TWO separate stinky diapers, and someone else (who shall remain unnamed, BUT IT WASN'T ME!) had an urgent bathroom call also, in this empty house with no toilet paper!

Now, let me just take a moment to say that I tried so, so, SO hard to focus on the good things and stay really positive...because those incidents I mentioned above really aren't that abnormal. I mean, I didn't consider them omens, or anything: that's just pretty much how we roll.

But the thing that I had a really hard time with was the house itself. I was making a conscious effort to only bring my best self in, but -- gag! -- the house is dirty!!

I'm talking grime and gunk in every corner. I'm talking cobwebs you could lay an egg on. I'm talking PEE & PUBES ON THE TOILET!! Stinky, yucky, DIRTY! (Put it this way: when Junior kept setting his cheeseburger on the carpet during our Feng Shui picnic, I was worried about the cheeseburger instead of the carpet!)

I was (am) so discouraged. I didn't have the sellers pegged for the neat overachieving type, so wasn't completely surprised...but seriously, don't you at least SWEEP THE DAMN FLOOR before you leave??

Guess I'm mad, too, eh? (And apparently this glass of Meaningful Wine I brought back to the old house to guzzle helps the anger bubble to the surface ever-so-smoothly. (Until it begins to froth and boil and crash to the surface in an unstoppable tsunami of bitterness, that is!)

I really thought seeing the house WITHOUT all the sellers' stuff would make me feel even more secure in our purchase...but instead I am freaking out.

I know, I KNOW -- very few people actually live in their dream house, and it's fine if I'm not, either. (And this new home is a pretty safe bet. I mean, WORST case scenario -- we decide we don't like living there, we fix it up, sell it in a few years,... I KNOW we could make money on it. It would sell, because it has a great location and tons of potential.)

But the house really needs some TLC, and my T is all dried up for the month, and my L is directed elsewhere at the moment, and I frankly don't C tonight.

I was so excited earlier today...and now I'm just tired.

OK. I have vented. The Meaningful Wine is helping my vision of the future to reappear. (It's also helping my eyes to droop, and making me yearn for bed.)

It will be fine. Really, it will. This move is a good thing.

Not an EASY thing, but a GOOD thing.

It's just like I told the kids -- we can change anything in our new place.

Right?!?

Train Me Like Pavlov's Dog

I was out with some friends last night and they were telling me that I should "write some stuff down", and I confessed that I actually have been and told them about this blog. And they were telling me that I have "a voice" that would make what I write different, unique, ME. And then one friend (who has read it all) said that she didn't actually hear "me" -- not the one she knows -- in this blog all that much. And it got me thinking.

Here's the deal. I'm not sure the same side of me that they see will ever make it into the blog format, for a variety of reasons.

1. I am fully aware that everything I put in here is searchable by anyone at anytime for any reason; I don't want to put things in black and white that I will regret later. (Well, ok, I will likely regret much of what I write at some point...but I would like it to be because I found typos or errors or changed my opinion or some other relatively benign reason.) What I don't want is to put something in here that comes back to haunt me. (I don't want to edit myself right out, though, either.)

2. My friends & I generally see each other socially, not in the midst of the daily grit and grime. I am relaxed, free, unencumbered! I love a one-liner and the easy laugh! But the stuff that lingers in my mind is the stuff that is hard or thought-provoking. And it's also the stuff that I haven't already said.

3. When I put my thoughts into written words, they are different. Writing it down forces me to get to the heart of the matter (eventually, anyway -- I do tend to ramble!) and it's therapeutic.

4. I am a processor. I react on the spot, often put my foot in my mouth, give a gut response -- but behind that initial reaction, underneath it all, I continue to think things through. I come to terms with situations; I develop my viewpoints; I re-write my inner dialogue; I chew it around and spit out something new.

5. I'm making a conscious effort to stay positive right now. I'm in a good place and I'm being very mindful about staying there. If that means I reconstrue a bad account into something more hopeful and positive, then I say more power to me! I may have picked up the phone and fussed and moaned and whined and cursed...but as I back up to place it in the grand scheme of things, my perspective shifts.

6. By the time I am able to get on the computer and type, hours have passed. (See Points 2-5!)

7. Perhaps most importantly, I never intended for this blog to be a Mommy Blog, and I had no desire to lay myself out on a table. I just wanted something that would be eclectic and entertaining...but what I've found is that when I sit down at the computer, the post I often want to write is just one about my day. So I guess I'll keep doing that some (but I'll keep the meatier stuff over there), and I will try to bring back the fun and games!

See guys?? We go out for dinner and drinks and laughs...and I end up chewing it over (a 5 minute conversation!) and coming up with a long, reflective, boringly meaningful (to me) blog.

(I rest my case.)

OK, so here's what would help me stay on track: if you read something you like, leave a comment. (Even if it's an old post, I'll see it.) You can train me like Pavlov's dog to post more of the good stuff!

Now THAT Is A Love Note!

I have a confession to make. You know my last post, all hopeful and prepared for the long days of summer? Well...it seems I'm going to have to renew that pledge every single morning. Yesterday was just frustrating and long and annoying. And really humid & rainy outside, which doesn't help matters any.

I kind of lost it last night.

The details are nothing new. Nothing dramatic, nothing last straw-ish. Just the same. The same same same same SAME! The sense of being stuck in a time warp is overwhelming sometimes. My Life As A Science Fiction Novel: The Day That Never Ended, That In Fact Turned Into Years and Decades and Eons of...THE SAME.

Of course I'm exaggerating. A little, anyway. Things have changed, but the changes are such baby steps that they are easy to overlook.

Anyway, back to the love note heading of this post. I went to sleep a little beaten & weary. I managed to sleep in until 8:00am this morning, which is pretty good for me. Before I even opened my eyes or made a peep or moved a muscle (for fear of waking Junior, who is still ending up in our bed every night, with our last uninterrupted sleep back in April, and before that...oh, I don't know, NOVEMBER, maybe??!), I gave myself a firm talking to, along with an encouraging peptalk. Today is a new day! I will do better!


....and when I rolled over, the bed was empty!

I was so grateful that my husband had slipped out of the room with Junior and let me sleep. That is such a rare thing. I felt pretty perky heading downstairs for morning coffee and to say good morning to them.

.....and when I reached the living room, the couch was empty!

Ditto for the kitchen and the back yard. Huh??

Then I saw it. A bright white rectangle of LOVE, I tell you, fairly glimmering with sunshine adn rainbows and peace and happiness and hope for a better world! Take a look:

I don't know how he's doing it, I haven't called to check in, I hardly even dare to peek out the front door without knocking on wood, lest my little slice of Coffee-and-Computer Paradise vanishes.

That is a love note, pure and simple. One of the sweetest ever.

Drawing the Calves

Yeah, I'm still here. Been a little negligent on the blog front, though. Sorry about that.

The main reason for my absence boils down to this: summer vacation. No, I haven't gone on one -- I've just been filling my tanks and drawing the calves in preparation.

"Drawing calves" is my mom's saying. She was the daughter of a dairy farmer, and she recalls that before going on any family trips, her dad would have to go out and draw the calves (literally). He had registered Holsteins, which meant there were certain standards regarding coloration and markings that had to be met. Each calf had to be drawn from all four sides on special graph paper so that the percentage of coloration could be properly determined and recorded. It was one of those jobs that could really have been done at any time...but somehow was left until the last minute when it became essential. So while the family waited to leave, grandpa would be out drawing calves.

Similarly, as the school calendar days ticked off (unbelievably quickly, I might add!), I started remembering all the things I meant to get done. So I've been cleaning and going through closets and working in the yard and running errands and making phone calls and going shopping and reading and enjoying my freedom. Then there was also a camping trip in there, a 4-night/5-day stretch when my husband was out of town, various school events to attend, and a short bout of flu (yuck).

Basically, life happened. And instead of stepping out of my life to blog about it, I just lived it. (Plus, I was just too distracted by the ever-present tick-tock-ticking in my head to post.)

Anyway, school ended last week, and now I'm all ready for summer. Sort of. I mean, the calves are drawn and all...but I'm still not feeling fully prepared.

Summer has been hard for me the last several years. Long days stretch out before me, but I don't know how to fill them. The older two kids want to have friends over, go swimming, plan adventures, just do typical summer kid stuff. But Junior isn't on the same page; his behavior is such a challenge in unfamiliar or stimulating situations. He needs the routine and predictability that the school year provides. I end up feeling pulled in very different directions (while dreaming longingly of my own!) and disappointment and frustration abounds. Summers? They're just hard.

I've done what I can to prepare for the summer, both physically and mentally. I'm being proactive! I'm remaining optimistic! I've organized and cleaned and planned!

The drawings are complete. The itinerary is filled. It's time to head on out, folks. Wish me well.

Chaperoning 101

I spent the last 36 hours acting as a chaperone for a portion of my daughter's 5th-grade camp trip. It was actually quite fun, though rather exhausting. (Sleeping in a small cabin with 7 girls and 1 other mom in connected, CREAKY bunks while trying not to cough & sneeze all night is just not restful.) But other than the poor night's sleep, and a handful of kids out of the entire group that were just a little harder to appreciate, I really enjoyed my time there. Plus, I learned some important stuff.

For example, I learned marsh water may look really dirty and icky....

...but it's actually full of sphagnum moss and microorganisms that filter it quite efficiently, resulting in sparkling clear water you can drink. The process it goes through takes some time, but the results are impressive.

And I learned that Tootsie is not afraid of snakes, and can swing on a rope without falling, and has nimble fingers for macrame, and can paddle a canoe, and catch a fish, and is a well-mannered, smart, polite, independent kid that is easy to be around. Well, some of that I already knew, but it's always good to have my opinions supported. (and there has been a slight air of doubt surrounding one or two of those lately...)

I learned that my daughter has some really neat friends. Friends that I hope will carry over into next year when they enter the giant, overwhelming territory of Middle School together.

I learned there is an enormous range of shapes and sizes and maturity levels in her age group...and I realized that she is growing up. Fast.

It all got me thinking. We have marshy territory (so to speak) looming in our immediate future, and even though I know it can be a magical filtering time, I'm still having a hard time seeing past the potential ickiness of those teenage years to come. Murky waters of unknown depths with unfamiliar life-forms operating in an entirely different microcosm. Middle School! High School!!

I know that millions of people before us have gone down the very same path... but I'm just a bit anxious about where it might lead. What is up ahead?

I find myself wishing for a map. One of those really helpful camp maps that's labelled with distances, and difficulty levels, and time estimates, and dead ends, and short-cuts! One that has a list of what to pack, and expected weather conditions, and what to do in case of an emergency. After all, I've been through those parts before, but I'm not entirely convinced I know my way around well enough to safely lead someone else.

But, of course, there is no map like that. So I'll settle for the hope that we will be able to explore that marsh together, too, and that she will continue to let me chaperone -- quietly, watchfully, steadily in the background, ready to step in as needed.

A Rude Awakening

This morning as I was waking up, I sensed that the bed seemed really quiet...or empty...or something. I listened with my eyes closed, not daring to move, then carefully turned my head and peeked. With one eye. While holding my breath. (you know what I'm talking about here if you've had kids with sleep issues, right?) Sure enough. Junior's usual spot was empty. (He has chronic sleep difficulties, and for the past 6 months or so he's stumbled into our room and climbed into bed with us every single night.)

I did a tiny celebratory dance, and then suddenly my grin vanished. Is he really in his bed? Did he make it outside somehow? Is he missing? Is he sick? Was his door stuck, and he couldn't get out of his room, and he screamed and cried for us for hours and hours and we didn't hear him and then he passed out from sheer exhaustion?? Well, ok, that's ridiculous. Even as I'm thinking these things, I know they're ridiculous. But seriously -- is he ok? Just as I'm laying there, talking myself out of going to check on him, he stumbles in the room with his scruffy bedhead, and pillow creases on his cheeks, and a sleepy little grin on his face. (Exhale...)

Now, let me back up just a bit and tell you that last week I was awakened at 5:38a.m. by an unusual rocking & shaking sensation. My daughter ran downstairs from her 3rd-story bedroom, just totally freaking out. My husband was already at work, so I quietly comforted her and had her crawl into the bed with me (and Junior, of course). She asked what was happening, and I told her I didn't know. It felt like an earthquake, but we don't get those here in the midwest, and I was too groggy to consider the matter more. We all promptly went back to sleep, and were amazed to hear later on the morning news that a rare earthquake had, indeed, rocked the midwest earlier that morning.

So here's the weird thing. When I woke up & realized Junior wasn't in the bed this morning, my heart nearly skipped a beat. Seriously -- I could feel the butterflies in my stomach and my adrenalin kicking in. But when there was a RARE EARTHQUAKE rousing me, I simply patted my daughter's hand and went right back to sleep.

Perhaps it's time for Sleep Intervention, Round Gazillionty-Two?

Here Goes Nothin'!

I've been thinking about starting a blog for some time now, but always thought it involved way too much techie stuff for me. Well, turns out I was wrong! I went to our small-town public library recently, and found these two books that explained the start-up process very neatly. Seriously, who knew?! I guess everybody really is doing it!

So I've been puttering around here, creating and saving drafts....but I am nervous about pushing the "publish" button. I need to work on the layout & appearance, search some more great tutorials to find answers to some of my burning questions, and figure out creative ways to turn the ideas in my head into actual content. (And then hope I don't run out!)

Plus, I thought I should put some kind of meaningful Mission Statement, or helpful Content Description, or at least a little blurb about what I plan to put in here. But the pressure seems to have paralyzed me a tad. I woke up today and realized the pressure was all in my mind. (I'm really good at doing that, unfortunately.) (The all in my mind part, that is. The realizing part I'm not so good at.)

So here's the deal. Today is the day I hit the Publish button. I'm gonna have a blog! I'll figure out the rest as I go along. The appearance will change, and the content will be tweaked....just all the more reason for you to come back again, right?

Just up and at 'em. No reason to chicken out. Been a long time comin'. The grass isn't getting any greener, ya know! uhm...let's see, what other cliche would work here? Right. Ok. Now where's that code I need? Gonna do it in a second, folks. One more thing yet. What -- stalling?? No way! Ok, Bye!





Ha - gotcha! I'm still here! No, really YOU go first & I'll just wait right here. Ok, we'll do it together. For realsies this time. Ready? I mean it. I'm gonna do it -- you have to do it, too! Let's countdown. OK. 1........2........3....... PUBLISH!