Oh, Mom … Were You Talking Just Then?

Posted on April 12, 2013 by Pam

We sometimes play a game around the lunch table, my girls and I. It goes like this. A child is eating a piece of cheese and takes a bite (or three) and holds up what’s left. (This is where the game part happens.) The question is put to whomever is in the room — “What’s this?” And we have to identify what shape we see in the remaining piece of cheese. This can go on, the back-and-forth, asking and guessing/asking and mis-identifying, sometimes for longer than you’d expect, quite honestly. More often than not it turns out to be something like A Mountain, or A Staircase, because, not surprisingly, it’s tough to make a more detailed replica of much else with cheese and incisors.

Well today it was just me and Kate. Which typically makes for a shorter game. And she was excited by what she had created. After I had guessed at least three things (I think I guessed Stairs, a Tidal Wave, and Wisconsin), she must have given up on mom and decided to go ask Allyson. (She was in the basement.) But she explained it to me, as she was leaving me in the dust, which, when you think about it, was quite thoughtful of her. “This looks like a person singing, going ‘Whooooooooo!’ Here’s the hat and here’s the mouth, going ‘Whooooooooooo!’ See?” I didn’t really, but I didn’t say that flat-out. “Oh … Huh! … Neat!” was all I could come up with just then. And I asked her to tell Allyson that her lunch was ready and that she needed to come upstairs. After agreeing, she went downstairs. Very shortly thereafter Katey came back upstairs. “Did you give her the message?” I asked, pretty sure there hadn’t been time for the transmission of both messages. “Yup!” was the happy response. “Just … what message are you talking about?”  — my skepticism, unassuaged. She said,”I told her “This looks like a person going, ‘Whoooooooo!’” (The sub-text here was: What other message could there be? What could compete with cheese shaped like a person going ‘whoooooo’?)

And this is why Allyson’s lunch was just a little colder than it would otherwise have been on this early spring day. This is also why I ask questions such as, “Did you actually know that there were words coming out of my mouth? And they were English, your mother-tongue!” It makes communicating that much more … communicative. Effective, even.

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What If I Don’t Wanna Retire!

Posted on April 11, 2013 by Pam

When Jeff and I were going through premarital counseling, our pastor said something that stuck with me. He said that the purpose of raising children is to enable them to be independent and go on without you; that, while we raise our kids to spread their wings and leave the nest, the purpose of marriage is to make it strong enough, with work and attention, to go on — on past the time the kids have left the house.

Back then I thought that sounded like a great idea. But then I had kids … and the thing I realized as soon as the first baby was born was this — I had a new, fantastic purpose in life. I suddenly had a job like no other. I don’t know whether I’d have felt differently if I had a profession I worked hard to cultivate, but as of that moment, all else paled in comparison to my newfound calling and the overwhelming love I had for my child.

And in recent years I’ve begun to realize that as soon as Katey is off to college (or whatnot) I’ll be forced to retire from this job I love so, so much. I know I’ll always be a mom. I hear what you’re saying. And I know what people say about being a grandparent, but that’s not what I’m talking about here.

Our daughters are 14 months apart. I love that span and the closeness it engenders. But by the time Allyson is spreading her wings, Katey will be right behind her. And I’ll be right smack in middle of that dreaded empty-nest business by the time my oldest is all of nineteen. And right now that seems downright depressing.

What if I don’t feel like retiring when I’m 55?! Well, since my only recourse is to lock them up and throw away the key, it looks like I’ll be retiring within ten years whether I like it or not. Sigh …

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Loss and Healing

Posted on April 10, 2013 by Pam

In my last post I talked about things that have kept me from blogging as I once did, with joy and enthusiasm. Teaching my girls at home is a pretty hefty contributing factor, as I mentioned. But I’ve recently begun to suspect that there’s more.

Last year, on April 16th, I learned I was pregnant. And exactly one month later, it was over. I had lost the baby. I’d lost something else, too. Gradually, I’ve come to realize that some of life’s joy, its charm, has somehow been dimmed, tarnished. I hope it’ll be back. I’m working to deal with the feeling of loss that sometimes seems endless. … And the numbness. I know it’s a process. What I don’t know is what to do about it. I’m told that talking about it is helpful, though I really can’t imagine why. While I’m not one to avoid talking, even about this, I can’t believe that anything will really help ease the emptiness. Will conversation really make any difference in how I feel? I find that hard to believe.

And this, I think, has more to do with my absence here than anything else. What I loved to do was to write about whatever I felt like. Sometimes it was serious stuff (within reason, of course), but more often than not I was in the mood for tongue-in-cheek goofy-ness, or a happy narration about my life. That became the sticking point: I liked the tone I’d set in my blogging voice, yet I’ve felt less and less capable of sustaining it.

I want, once again, to make time to write; to enjoy the process of putting down stuff I’m thinking about, be it serious or silly. Because I miss it. I want to enjoy the creative process and feel satisfied when I click the “publish” button. I miss that outlet. So, I’m making an effort to get back into the practice of blogging. In hopes that what was a favorite pastime will be again. And perhaps it’ll be therapeutic, as well.

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Remember Me?

Posted on April 9, 2013 by Pam

I used to have a blog here. … It’s been a long time since I’ve stopped by. I feel a little sad about that, truth be told. It brought me a lot of joy in the beginning days to sit down and write about whatever was on my mind. There’s a been so much going on, though, in recent days that I’ve not had much time to dedicate to writing.

Just what has been taking up my time, you might ask? Well, to a large degree it’s this thing called cyber/charter school. This school year we have chosen to try it. Previous to this, the girls were in our local public school, which was a great experience. But I’d been wondering whether we’d benefit from, and just plain enjoy, a stab at teaching them at home. And it’s been an amazing adventure. There has been much excitement and some gnashing of teeth. The gnashing of teeth mostly surrounds math. But that’s okay. We’re getting through it. And enjoying many of the other subjects.

There’s no doubt that I relish the time spent with my girls. And the flexibility it has afforded, time-wise, has been refreshing. I’ve also learned that there’s much I’ve forgotten since my days in elementary school, many … many years ago. And there’s much I’m sure I never learned to begin with. My knowledge of world history, for instance, had sizeable gaps that I’m beginning to fill. How cool is it that I get the chance to do that at my age. For free! They’ve come up with fantastic ways to teach math. Did you know? Strategies that no one had ever told me existed are here for the taking!

But it’s time-consuming – holy cow! Our days can last till 4 or 5 in the afternoon. There have been days that school ends as early as 2. But more often than not, we’re finishing closer to dinner time. It’s a stringent curriculum. What can I say?

And this, largely, is why I’ve been somewhat absent from this, my beloved blog. But I hope to return to my blogging duties at something of a more regular rhythm. I make no guarantees, but I’m hopeful.

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The Clutter Conspiracy

Posted on November 17, 2012 by Pam

I’ve been trying to get my house in order. Not big news to you moms out there — it is our never-ending job, to be sure. Nor is it surprising to those of you who have seen my house recently — it certainly needs to have order imposed on it in a very big way.

And so, with the help of one particular, very organized friend, I’ve set out to conquer the piles of paper, mail and stuff in general that has been threatening to take over the place. Now, I have to say, I’m not bad at throwing things away when I put my mind to it. Just ask my kids who regularly complain that I’m getting rid of their “favorite” happymeal toy, for example, from six years ago that they never play with any more, but that they just might need one of these days. I can be merciless. When I get into the mode of clearing things out, I can do major damage, and happily be rid of the volume. I tend to do this, mostly, when my children and my husband are either asleep or several counties away, so as to avoid the annoying conversations that tend to crop up at times like these. But, given that my husband works from home, and the kids are homeschooled … well, you no doubt see my dilemma.

But papers and mail, and confusing things like children’s “jewelry” that gets worn from time to time, but that is constantly under foot, for instance … these things seem to overwhelm me. Because they gang up on me. One day I have a clear dining room table and I’m feeling happy and successful — all’s right with the world. The next, I’m facing a pile that is pushing us to eat dinner on the picnic blanket outside. It’s a conspiracy — I just know it. And I fold under the pressure, often as not.

Oh, and the bags of hand-me-down kids’ clothes that I receive (very gratefully), and put in a hallway, or in the family room, just till I get the chance to go through them. But then I realize I really should go through what’s in their closets first … And so it happens that because I know they’re there, and I will go through them soon … that’s where they stay, because after about a week I just don’t see them anymore. Strange phenomenon, I think, this hiding things in plain sight. That “works” only until someone comes over to the house, because then, I not only see them, I go crazy trying to deal with them because, far be it from me to let someone outside my nuclear family see how we actually live!

All this to say, I’ve been working — slowly but surely — on the Clothing Situation, the Mail-and-Random-Paper Disaster and the basics of Organizing my house. And I’ve been feeling progressively happier and happier about being in my home. (That’s really nice, as we’re homeschooling and spend a good deal of our lives there.) Now I notice another interesting phenomenon. And it is this: After I’ve successfully tackled one room, organizationally speaking, I have an overwhelming desire to take on another room that needs my intervention! Not immediately, perhaps. I might take a day (or six) off to revel in the glory that is the family room, but it does happen. The other day, I had a few moments when the kids were working on schoolwork and didn’t need me to be there. I actually began washing our windows. And — get this — no one was coming over to visit! I just picked up the windex and paper towels and cleaned those darn windows. Because I felt like it. Crazy, I know, but true. My kids have recently even stopped asking who’s coming over when they see me cleaning.

Could it be that we’re entering a new era in our household? One where clutter will not reign supreme and I will not kowtow to its dictatorial demands? We have only to wait and see. And if you’d like to know sooner than my next related post (because who knows when that could be!), please feel free to stop over and see for yourself. If I’m out of breath, and it’s taken longer than normal for me to answer the door, chances are we’ve had a relapse. But maybe I’ll be the victor for a while.

Maybe. 

 

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Bad Dreams

Posted on November 9, 2012 by Pam

Early this morning I awoke from a doozy of a dream. It was one of those dreams you wake from and have to really think for a moment to be sure it wasn’t real. I don’t often have dreams. At least as far as I remember. But I remember this one.

I was walking with my girls. We were outside somewhere — you know how things like surroundings can change from one part of a dream to another, without reason. Anyway, less than a block from where we were a very large, old tree started coming down. It seemed the moment before this the girls were with me, but now, at this moment, for some reason, they were not and I became immediately convinced of the need to get to them. There was a voice in my head telling me I didn’t need to worry, they’d be fine. (Could be that was my husband and not my brain. Hard to be sure.) Another, much louder voice was screaming that I had to find them. (There’s no doubt this one was mine. I’m that sure because I hear it relatively frequently.)

Anyhow, this tree looked to be hundreds of years old, it was that big. And the effect on the surrounding area was drastic. When it fell, buildings were reduced to rubble, sidewalks were torn up; all around me was chaos. And I still didn’t have my children. I don’t know how long it took — dreams have a funny way of warping the passage of time, not to mention the effects a fallen tree can have — but eventually, I saw a friend with Katey. They were okay, and I asked if she had seen Allyson. She told me that another friend was with her. So I began running around looking for them. But regardless of how long I searched, I couldn’t find them. Couldn’t find her.

Finally, I looked near what seemed to be ground-zero, a place that was a heap of tree-pieces and upended sidewalk. There, I found the body of a child, and I couldn’t tell if this was my child. I spent the remainder of the dream trying to find my child alive, denying the possibility that she wasn’t.

This is when I woke up. And for the next hour I was haunted by the question of whether, in my dream, it was my child that had been killed by the falling tree, or whether I’d have found her unharmed if I’d looked a little longer. Silly, I know. I kept telling myself that as I went over it again. And again.

 Let’s just say that when I first surfaced I was relieved that it was time to see that the girls were getting out of bed. Oh well … (sigh) if I must, I must! I’m pretty sure I hugged Allyson a little tighter than normal. I casually mentioned that I’d had a bad dream. Katey told me that she’d had one, too, but she didn’t want to talk about it. That, presumably, reminded her of a bad dream she had when she was 3. Seems she dreamed that I wouldn’t let her eat waffles. Ever again. In her life! I said I thought that sounded sad. Her reply was, “It was really scary. I cried.” (She was utterly serious.)

I’m not always told just what it is they dream about when one of them comes into our room in the middle of the night, wanting to be comforted after a nightmare. But I sure hope it’s more like the life-without-waffles-kind of dream than the kind I had this morning. Please, Lord.

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The Remains of the Summer

Posted on October 29, 2012 by Pam

My last post, albeit months ago, was about a day spent at the cabin. I said that I hoped later to post the thoughts I had been thinking that night watching the fire burn out.

Well, here I am an entire season later (it’s now the height of fall) and I really don’t remember much of what I was thinking about on that summer night that feels so long ago now. But, reading that post brings to mind other things that have happened in the intervening weeks and months. We went to the cabin several times this year. Three times since my last post. The last two trips were a bit out of the ordinary.

We went to close up the cabin for the year in the beginning of October. I was excited about seeing the flaming foliage that comes to that area before it descends on us at home. I couldn’t wait to take walks in the cool air — walks with my girls, with my husband. But, alas, that was not to be. Not that weekend, anyway.

I had been experiencing back pain for the week previous to our trip, and I thought I was on the upswing. Perhaps it was the 4-plus hour ride in the car, or maybe it was the 40-some degree weather up there, but it got continually worse so that by Sunday, when we were supposed to be doing the work of cleaning and closing up, I couldn’t even lie in bed without being in extreme pain. And so, Jeff and the girls did all the work and I did nothing. As it was, we had to leave the electricity on in the cabin since someone was coming that week to do some work on the roof – which meant that we’d be coming back for a day-trip soon to turn off the electricity. We, therefore, left some of the work to be done at that time. Then, on the way home, we dropped our girls off with friends for the night and took me to the doctor. After a night on better drugs, I was feeling some relief. Finally.

So, almost two weeks later we made our day-trip back up north to finish the closing up process. I have to say I greatly enjoyed our afternoon there that time. I seem to enjoy fall at the cabin more than I do the summer; the colors were exceptional and the air, though definitely fall-like, was warmer than normal for that time of year. This was a much better trip and I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was also fun because, though it was a Friday, we didn’t have to make arrangements to get the girls out of school as this year we’re homeschooling. (It’s actually a cyber, charter school.) So, we worked really hard to get all of our subjects finished by Thursday and spent a good deal of our road trip learning about rivers and creeks, grammar and math (thanks to our Schoolhouse Rock video) and at the state park office we learned about animals, animal tracks, trees and leaves, and about the recent flood that devastated the area. So saying, we counted quite a bit of our day as ”science,” ”math,” and “language arts.” We’re slowly getting the hang of this field trip-thing.

And so, the cabin is now officially closed. All the way. We didn’t get away, otherwise, this summer. It’s been a season of hanging around the house. We’ve had more exciting summers to be sure, but that’s okay. Now I’m working on gaining momentum and traction with this school-thing. Blogging again, from time to time would be nice, too. And we look forward to heading back up to the cabin next year.

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Embers: Remains of the Day

Posted on July 2, 2012 by Pam

Sitting, watching the remaining embers of the campfire with just my husband, I enjoy the quiet, and my mind wanders …

We had spent the day at the cabin; the cabin that belonged to Jeff’s grandparents. There were kids everywhere you looked today, and the five that remain for the night are abed. Or they’re supposed to be. They should be exhausted. However, they seem to be immune to the effects of the busy day.

The creek out in front of the cabin has been quite dramatically rerouted since our last visit, and we spent hours getting to know the new lay of the land. And water. The creek is now wider and more easily wandered. And we wandered, alright. We ranged from the point where we stepped into the creek, on up past the place where Allyson lost her flip-flop. (It had been sucked in by the mud, much to her dismay and frustration. And it had been found by Daddy, much to the surprise of us all.) We went further upstream, finding paths along the rocky shore, and avoiding what the boys had termed Quicksand, which made us all fear for our shoes. We saw minnows, a crayfish, and were introduced to something called jewel weed that, we’re told, will “cure poison ivy.” What I do know is that when you submerge the leaves of this creek-side plant they look to become strikingly beautiful silver. I spent time taking pictures of the kids and the creek, and experimenting with various settings on my camera. We made our way further up and Jeff found a rock that served as a gathering place for a bevy of butterflies. And Kate — my girl who absolutely loves drawing hearts — found a two pound river rock shaped almost precisely like a heart, which we decided to keep (it actually was a mutual decision), and I volunteered to carry it all the way back to the cabin. (‘Cause that’s just the kind of mom I am.)

My heart-loving daughter also loves to pick flowers which she gives to me with much love and pride. But for some reason that I cannot for the life of me fathom, she always gives them to me without stems. I’ve tried to explain to her how very much easier it would be for me to carry these fabulous bouquets if I had six inches of stem by which to grip them. Heck, I’d settle for two inches! But it seems to be my lot in life (granted, this is not a terrible “lot,” indeed) but it is always my challenge to try to grasp just the very head of the flower, withOUT, mind you, smushing the flower. And she watches. She knows!

Anyway, returning to my narrative … I was also trying to not smush several lovely wildflowers, as well as the heart-rock, and the camera. In the end, only the rock and the camera made it back unscathed. Oh, and all eight children, too. We had successfully maneuvered and investigated the new creek bed, and had happened upon several new treasures. It was a good day.

After dinner we put the kids to work collecting sticks and larger pieces of wood to begin the campfire. We roasted marshmallows and made some delicious s’mores, went over fire-safety rules and sent the kids off to bed. Now, since four of the five of them were sleeping in one room, sent the kids off to bed makes it sound way easier than it actually was. I spent thirty minutes trying to keep them somewhat quiet and in the horizontal position that most lends itself to sleep, before giving up and turning the job over to Grandmom. I was beginning to feel like I was playing whack-a-mole, and that I should give the moles a bit of a break. It was The Cabin, after all, and the cousins were having fun being together. I’d let Grandmom whack as she saw fit.

I was outa there. I walked outside and sat down next to my husband who remained with the half-spent fire. And I breathed. Who doesn’t love watching a campfire, poking at the embers and burning the tips of out-of-work marshmallow sticks?

… So we sit and rearrange the wood and blow on the red, glowing ashes, trying to bring back the waning flames. And we talk. Okay, to be truthful, it’s mostly I who talk. But he usually answers. When it’s called for.

And here I come to the part that was the initial purpose of this post — my thoughts beside the fire tonight. But I see that I had other things to say. Perhaps I’ll save it for the next post.

 

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Homesick, After A Fashion

Posted on June 10, 2012 by Pam

It’s five thirty on a Saturday afternoon. And I’m completely alone in my house. This may not sound utterly amazing to you. Or it may, depending on just which stage of life you currently enjoy. But for me, this is unusual. And I’m not just alone, but I’ll be alone for at least the next twenty-four hours. Except for the part when I leave the house and am at church tomorrow morning.

Now, this has happened to me before — even within my mothering days. Just not very often. For those of you wondering how I’m fortunate enough to have achieved this idyllic state, here’s the story. Jeff has taken the girls back to visit his parents in the Philadelphia area and they’re staying overnight. Since I have to teach Sunday school in the morning, I had to remain behind.

During the first moments after the van pulled out of our driveway, my mind — which has been busy up till now trying to organize all the stuff they needed to take — suddenly atrophies at the staggering number of possibilities that lay before me. Just what am I going to do first? And, as is typical when presented with endless options, I can’t think of even one. Suddenly, my brain freezes and I switch to automatic pilot. Yup, I decided I to sweep my kitchen floor. Let me just tell you, had I sat down earlier in the day and drawn up a list of possible ways to spend my free time, sweeping the floor would not even have been a distant runner-up on that list.

Enough of that … The second thing that happened after they left was that I began to miss them. A strange melancholy feeling was growing in the pit of my stomach. This could have been exacerbated by the fact that for the half hour before they left Katey was crying and standing so close to me that I stepped on her several times. Both girls were totally excited when Jeff told them what was going to happen (a mere hour before they took off). But then when it was mentioned that I would be staying here, Katey got quiet and started to look like a basset hound. Make no mistake, she certainly wanted to go and knew she was going to have a fantastic time with her grandparents and cousins, she was just anticipating the coming separation anxiety.

That’s totally not fair! I was all set to revel in my freedom and independence, and all I can see is my six-year old’s sad face. I know that within minutes of leaving our neighborhood she did a complete turn-around and was happy and looking forward to her adventure. But the image I’m left with is her sad little face and those watery eyes, darn it.

Well, hopefully I’ve gotten it out of my system and will be free to enjoy my space and autonomy. The only thing is … I still can’t think of what to do!

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A Parent’s Ponderings

Posted on June 8, 2012 by Pam

Waking up in the morning because my youngest walks to my bedside — as long as it’s after seven o’clock — is one of the nicer ways for me to be brought out of sleep. She often wants to hop into bed with us and maybe watch some PBS Kids. Occasionally she comes just to say hi and check in and then goes somewhere else. This would be Katey. She’s our early riser. And by early, I mean she’d come in at six o’clock in the morning on a regular basis if we didn’t consistently send her back to her bed whenever she tried it. And make no mistake, she does try.

This is one of the more curious parts of parenting, in my experience — the continuing cycle of testing the boundaries. I’m usually surprised when I wake up one morning to find that one or both of my girls has suddenly, seemingly, forgotten a particular rule of the house. And we rarely make up brand new rules. Therefore, I’m puzzled by their confused state when I tell them that, no, in fact you may not jump on your bed. Still. 

It’s just one night, and poof! their memories are suddenly wiped clean when it comes to that subject. Really?! Are you sure, Mom, that you’ve told us this before? Yup. Dead sure. Check with Dad. Unless the same phenomenon has erased his brain cells, too. Let’s check, shall we?

Our most recent challenge (this week) has been that whining has reared its annoying head once again. Only with one of the kids though, which makes it only half as annoying, I suppose. But, boy does she give it her all. And I’m hoping that by this time next week, she’ll have given up.

I do actually know that there’s a reason for this strange occurrence. I understand that they’re testing the boundaries to be sure they haven’t changed. I get it. It doesn’t keep me from being caught unawares every time, though.

This week we were visiting with friends. Their kids are younger than our girls, and I had the sudden realization as I watched all the kids playing together that Allyson, our oldest, suddenly is that older girl. Tall and mature, looking out for the littlest ones. This was, as I just said … rather sudden. Wasn’t it just recently that Allyson and Katey were the babies, the little ones? And now to see them in this new light is exciting and odd, at the same time.

Where did the time go? Parents have been wondering this for generations, I’m sure. Why then is it such a surprise that the children are grown before we realize it’s happened? Here’s what I think: It’s because from the time we have our kids the days can drag, and all the while the months and years are gaining momentum. I, for one, was fooled because the hours and days could be enormously long. Tediously so. You know how it is when someone’s sick or not napping like we’d like them to, or they’re arguing with siblings … and on and on. I therefore never expected to turn around and so quickly see my little girl towering over younger kids, speaking to them like I spoke to her not so long ago — like a little child.

My friend said she could see my daughter being a good babysitter in years to come. And suddenly, I could see it, too. How very odd. Kind of reminds me of Paul Simon’s song, Old Friends. He talks about himself and his friend becoming old men. I’m reminded of these several lines:

Can you imagine us years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy.

How strange, indeed, to watch the years go by so quickly that I barely realize they’ve gone.

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