the calm before, and after, the storm(s)

If you had to ask when I became such a worrier, I would have to tell you... I just don't know. I can't quite put my finger on it.
Maybe it was sometime during middle school. When I would hop in the passenger seat and let Emah drive me to school in silence. My head buried in some spelling list or super tricky vocab word. Poor Ems, I treated her like a chauffer. She spent her money buying me bagels in Armonk and I repayed her with veritable muteness and social awkwardness that far surpassed any sort of sisterly forgive-and-forget requirements.
Not too many years later I came down with some pandemic of back twitching spasm thrusting that has morphed, grown and recycled itself back to me over the years in many different ways. Can you even imagine how worried I was when I pictured myself jerking hither and fro while standing on the altar in my wedding gown, staring at my groom and having him wonder if I was, perhaps, having some sort of epileptic fit?  
Now I worry at the drop of a hat. It does not take all that much for me to see that the sky is falling. Pair that with being the slightest bit forgetful and you will find that the situation around me has often escalated to full blown panic before you even get out of bed in the morning.
It makes for some pretty exciting events around here. Buying a house? This has been fun! Just ask the Mr.
I've embraced being a worrier. I'd use it in the top 5 adjectives about myself. Maybe top 10 (depends who's asking).
But don't panic.
Please, stay calm.
It's the calm ones I use to spin around in my crazy circles.

Drake (one of the calm ones) lets me use him as a mobile hanger.

Down to "THEIR" lake.

"CAN WE GO TO OUR LAKE?"

asked so often I hear this question in my dreams.

I sat and took pictures like I always do....

and I thought (between clicks),

Yes - of course, it IS your lake...

Your backs are facing me. Click.

Your beautiful faces are hidden. Click.

But I can see your smiles. Click.

I can hear them too. Click.

I've always said that "cousins are built-in friends".

I'm beginning to think the same is true for neighbors.

It is their lake too.

They love it as much as you.

Do.

Love it as much as you.

Do.

Love it....

I Love This Girl.

She is super sassy.

And cute.

Maybe he should be a dancer ? !

how not to teach science

We're going on a fieldtrip to Shelburne Farms tomorrow. It's absolutely one of my favorite places in Vermont.
We're supposed to do a lesson on pond life. With the lake flooded this year, the access road is closed and our location has changed. Hopefully they will find a last minute pond for us. With the weather we're having, we might just get caught in a downpour.
I'm not worried about either of those things. The educators from Shelburne Farms but on such phenomenal field trips. Last year with a group we hauled woodchips, made and drank fresh pressed apple cider and climbed the century old stairs to the clock tower with views of mountain beyond mountains.
It's a stunning breath of fresh air (with a hint of manure and chicken stank mixed it... which might make it EXTRA fresh).
So to prepare my kids for the glory that is SF, in all my science teaching glory, I popped in a some videos. Oh, and we're reading Charlotte's Web. Get it? Farmy.
I was elated to find a video in my local public library called "Farm Stories for Families" that featured Shelburne Farms. How awesome! Teacher of the Year!! The picture on the front was of cows, the description was of a man telling farm stories FOR FAMILIES. No less.
Well, it might have well been The Logger popping up on the screen. In his underwear. I mean, it was so bad. And bad, like inappropriate. And inappropriate like, it was a comedian (of sorts) in front of a room of people (families?) in a room of a barn at Shelburne Farms telling jokey stories.
And wouldn't the first story be about a boy who wanted to pee. His name. Outside.
I touched my forehead.
There was a bead of sweat.
The stories continued.
So did the sweat.

I gave it the old college try and fast forwarded to the ANIMAL part (is that too much to ask?).
Someone was milking a cow. I think they were showing the udders being rubbed in slow motion.
They might as well have been.
It was SO bad. 

"So raise your hand if you've ever milked a cow"
I tried to salvage some semblance of farm-life.

And with that... we are off to the farm.
Here's hoping the video is long forgotten by my little cherubs.
And if not? Well, I can always pull a Chris and shove them in some cow dung.

(Madds at Shelburne Farms circa 2009. Petting(?) a little lamby)

Felix Neck sized bug bites and a flash flood

As far as Saturdays go... so far this has been a pretty Saturday-ish one.
I love Saturday type Saturdays.
When you wake up, take the dog for a walk only to get caught in a flash flood that gives you soggy undies, do errands that involve pricing washers and dryers, go for a midday run and hang around in the afternoon sun while you contemplate how big you're going to make your hamburgers.
In anticipation of the mid-summer move the hubs and I decided to pot some flower and veggies so we'd have some sort of garden, somewhere.

That brings me to the size and quantity of my newly acquired mosquito bites.

Oh, baby. It's summertime!

Sneaky Camel Kisses.

Just stood with Dec & Nonie in the rain waiting for the bus.

I often use this time to get free kisses from the kids.

Today was no different. But I needed a strategy because they were focused on re-routing water through tiny gravel "streams".

I said to the kids that that my kisses are sneaky because they think they are getting just one, but really - I sneak about 3 or 4 in.

Who wants a sneaky kiss?

They lined up.

I demoed my kissing strategy on Nonie first.

She laughed.

Dec stood close, one kiss - then 2,3,4 and he lunged backward laughing too.

Rewind. Play. Rewind. Play. Rewind. Play.

My kisses got faster the more I "practiced".

Then Dec cried out

Let me try!

He came in with the slowest stickiest kisses right on my cheek.

There was nothing sneaky about them

but they were every bit awesome.

His hot giggling breath on my face mixed with his long, drawn out, super sticky kiss -

Is this what getting kissed by a camel feels like?

Nonie copied Dec on my other cheek.

For a few moments my cheeks were sprinkled with sweet sticky kisses from both kids

in the rain

waiting for the bus.

I bet my neighbors were jealous.

So my sneaky kissing strategy worked -

my cheeks are still sticky and

my heart is still warm.

... beneath my feet began to crumble.

Earlier today, just after Nonie was dropped at school, Dec and I made our way through my early morning "To Dos".

One of the items on the list was find our darn video camera cord so that I can be certain to capture my sweet 2.5 & 5.5 year-olds on film.

Their voices are so high, their words are so cute. And, for the life of me, I can't find the cord to charge our camera. It has been driving me bonkers. I must record their cuteness.

Dec and I removed two big drawers from the living room chest and rifled through a tangle of cords - none of them belonged to an electronic device I recall owning. He couldn't take his hands off them. This only made my work harder. But boy, do I love him.

Suddenly two words caught my eye and I quickly dropped everything that was in my hands.

A VHS tape that read "Rehearsal Dinner" had made its way to the top of our pile.

Rehearsal Dinner Wha? Who's? Ours?

My mind raced to our rehearsal dinner. I didn't recall anyone taping it at the time.

I simply had to pop the video in to see.

(And yes, as Emah constantly reminds me, I'm the only one left in the world who still owns a VHS player. See how handy it comes in Emah?)

Two images flash before my eyes immediately:

Me as a 3 year old. Then, seconds later, the Hubs as a five year old.

We're both in photos taken at the beach.

The next shot is me on a big wheel at the age of 6. Then, the Hubs on his dirt bike flying high through the air. Age 10.

The video plays on, the photos alternate between the soon to be bride, and soon to be groom.

Dec is shouting behind me, "Who IS that?" "Who is THAT?" "Really Mom, WHO is that?"

Then his questions morphed into "Is THAT Daddy?" "Is that GRANNY????" "Is that LILY?Look at Lily, she was such a cute little NUGGET!!!" (I kid you not, he said that Lils - and, you were about ten in the picture, wearing the pink Laura Ashley dress).

We watched it twice. I cried both times.

The photos were set to this tune (which I can't get out of my head, eleven hours later)...

We were so young.

The pictures of us when we were dating simply took my breath away.

We were so young.

Did I mention that I cried for the duration of both viewings?

But, I managed to pull myself together to answer Dec's pressing questions:

A picture of the Hubs circa 1995 (college years, before I entered the picture)...

"Why was daddy wearing a dress?"

I don't know sweety, you'll have to ask him when he gets home.

And, of the picture of the Hubs as a 10-year old rockin' this insane jump on his dirtbike...

"Why didn't daddy jump higher than that?"

I don't know sweety, you'll have to ask him when he gets home.

Thank goodness the image of me as the Montessori Christmas Elf next to the Hubs as the Montessori SANTA CLAUS, only elicited a shriek of "SANTA, MOM, LOOK SANTA!".

Phew.

While the tears flowed, beneath my feet began to crumble....just like in that song.

And I let myself enjoy the reminder of where and when that music and the magic began.

*** Due to the emotionally exhausting jaunt down memory lane, No, I did not find the darn video camera cord..... maybe tomorrow.***

Holy....

Sometimes it amazes me what come out of Xave's mouth.

A lot of the time it has to do with baseball, but the other things that he picks up on and spurts out at random times always catch me by surprise.

As we watch the news a picture will flash on the the screen and he'll either scream "Obama, mommy look, Obama" as if his best friend was on t.v., or he'll say in his low serious lispy voice, "thats a bad guy right there" as a photo montage of Bin Laden plays.

The other day he lifted up his dinner cup and started signing "holy, holy, holy- look mom I'm the priest". Apparently he does pay attention through the cheerio flinging and squirming.

And I do try hard not to swear. Especially around X.

But sometimes it either just slips out. Or something (someone) happens to get on the couch (or takes a ball point pen and draws on the couch) and a curse may accidentally come out.

So I shouldn't be all that surprised when he picks up on those words too and spews them out at random intervals, like every time he hits a baseball "oh sh.., oh sh.., oh sh..".

That's when I so cleverly swoop in from the other room and laugh, "oh shoot? what are you shooting? oh shoot oh shoot...but we don't shoot things, do we?" Oh dear, here we are jumping from one disaster to the next.

So today I was delighted as we were driving around and I pointed out the airport way over there. Not even sure if he could even see the planes, but just hearing that we were near the airport illicited a big shriek and a

HOLY GOSH

whew...

We'll see what happens when he actually sees the plane next time.

It's so nice out, I think I'll shut the windows and go to bed

I don't know if this is like that Alanis Morrisette song where she lists a bunch of "ironic" things but really they're not ironic at all, it's just a bunch of anecdotes about having really bad luck. All these spoons when all you need is a knife, rain on your wedding day. You know it, too.

Well it seems now that spring is here, all I want to do is close my eyes(, and doors, and windows,) and go to bed. I know if you click back to a post of mine from about this time last year I will have said the same thing. That's one of the great things about this seasonal amnesia. I forget how early the winter starts, how long it lasts, how quickly it gets dark and then light again and how intolerable the first few weeks of budding trees can be. When asked what my favorite season is (more often then you'd think in a first grade classroom) I default to fall. I feel like it SHOULD be my favorite season. It's so classic with it's sunny days and chilly nights. Changing leaves and freshly picked apples. I think what I really want to say is summer but how cliche is that? A teacher who loves summer. Come on. Sometimes I almost say spring. But I never can bring myself to say spring and now, through tearing itchy eyes, a completely clogged nose and sneezing fits, I think I remember why.

It looks lovely. That's for sure. But I just simply can't wait for the...
fall?

When A Mother's Laugh Rings True.

The end of a good mother's day. I was offered tea and breakfast in bed. I was even wished a happy mothers day by both children without them having a reminder whispered in their ear. For some reason, this thoughtfulness stood out today.

We brunched with family in a cool new spot - blue blazers and khakis as far as the eye could see. We took a meandering stroll in the Res with two Grandpeople. I watched Dec score a goal "for me" on the soccer field. Equally as important, I snuggled with Nonie on the sidelines.

With less than 15 minutes until dinner was served, I created a new dessert with Nonie and Dec. It had butterscotch, dulce de leche, and german chocolate cookies as the top three ingredients. Mother's Day yum. Yum.

And finally, when the sun dipped below the horizon and the hubs began clearing the plates and glassware from our al fresco dinner - I strolled to the yard with the kids.

We quietly played our own game of "everyone's it" tag. We had three sets of bases, and I soon realized that Dec is almost as fast as me.

During a quick break, the sound of another mother's laugh came from the yard across the street.

What's that? asked Dec.

Oh, just a mom playing with her kids, I said. On Mother's Day, I added.

We continued our game.

At another break our heavy breathing gave way to sounds of another mom in the yard two houses toward the lake shouting to her kids at the swing set. Before long, we could hear the loud squeaks of the swings and we knew she was swaying along with her kids. Her laughter relayed this message quite quickly.

Before too much longer we could hear another mom closer to the forest. She was out tidying up her garden with her wee ones. She laughed then shrieked when they sprayed the hose too close to her shoes.

***

Tonight I found myself inexplicably in the midst of the magic of mother's day.
A day I typically chalk up to being just another hallmark holiday. Mother's Day moments are magical indeed, but aren't limited to one calendar day a year.

This evening I stepped away from the confines of our house and my post-dinner responsibilities. I gravitated to our yard and bee lined for our swing set, while the hubs bellied up to a large soapy sink and gravy-filled pots. And this phenomenon was happening up and down our road.

In the fading daylight hours, our quiet street came to life with mothers outside playing with their kids.

And I was reminded that:

Nonie and Dec love it most when I run, skip, sing, laugh, slide, sway,

and PLAY beside them.

On this day they loved their mother because she was playful, fun, silly, unpredictable and FREE

When A Mother's Laugh Rings True...

this is the way Mother's Day should always be (and this year it transpired as if on cue).

You lost me.

Clipping bushes.

That is all I was doing.

She was out in the sand box scooping and dumping.

Filling her shoes with the good stuff....

It was less than a few seconds that I strayed out of her sight.

And at once I heard her sing song voice call out

Mama, you lost me!

It came again, before I had a chance to reply.

This time it was louder and more desperate,

Mama, you lost me!

With a smile on my face I took one step to my left so that she could see me.

She took a long look at me, maintained eye contact and began her performance:

Mama, you lost me....where are you?

Both of her eyes twinkled.

Oh the theatrics.

-Think of it this way

Have you ever run for you life?

Really run, with the world's tallest buildings in the world's city crashing behind you?

With people screaming and scared,

Watching people so desperate that jumping to their death is their only option.

I have and I will NEVER forget that day.

Never.

And I hope,

almost everyday

that I never have to run for my life again.

And that my daughter and my husband will never have to run for their lives.

I live in the world's city and I wear it like a badge. I earned it that day.

It is not for everyone to understand, but if you had run for your life you might be more than relieved that a mass murderer is no longer a threat and perhaps those in his following will feel that their mission is not a worthy one. It is not a day to celebrate, I personally breathed a small sigh of relief. But the sick feeling in my stomach is back, I no longer wear heels because now I work in another landmark building in another landmark neighborhood and I am scared that I may have to run for life again. Soon.

No doubt this tit-for-tat terrorism will continue and be hard to eliminate, but this week was a milestone. That horrible monster had no soul. I understand that someone might rejoice in his death. Maybe there is someone who is sad for his death, but it is not me.

Are we safe now?

I don't really follow politics. Or economics. Or fashion. Or current events at all, really.
I found out about the latest happenings, the death of a world leader,
on facebook this morning.
Who stays up late on Sundays anyway?
And I had just finished telling Mr. that the new living room arrangement is fine even though we can't directly see the tv from the kitchen anymore. And we'll survive even though the side table is only close to one of the couches.
We watch too much tv.
And we eat dinner in front of it.
It's not the configuration of the furniture that's a problem, my darling,
it's us.

But anyway,
I hear that someone has died, and many rejoice.
And I know I KNOW it is a proud day for our country.
And I know I KNOW and support all those who fight for the things I call my rights.
But I am also slightly sad to be a part of a nation that glorifies this.
Ok, so I did watch endless hours of the royal wedding. (Does that count as current events?)
And I wondered at how the British people came out to celebrate such an occasion.
And I wondered what the American people would unite to celebrate.

And today I know.
It's death.
And I know this man was harmful
And I know his motivations
his actions
(his life?)
deserved no support from me.

So do I celebrate the removal of his soul from my world?

Am I safe now?