Ruminations

What's more surprising: that I'm watching A Few Good Men for the umptiumpth time, or that I am shocked that 1992 was almost twenty years ago?

Notes on 5

Sometimes I find myself thinking J is older than she is. I will chastise her for throwing toys into the middle of the room in the basement rather than putting them in their proper drawers, or for leaving blobs of dried spit mixed with toothpaste in her sink. These are things we have talked about numerous times, but before I assess a proper punishment, I have to remind myself. She is five.

There are delightful things about five as well - she still loves to run around outside after dinner sans shoes. And now, like last night, she also likes to direct the play.

"Daddy, you chase me and Mommy! Mommy! Daddy's car is base! No, now this tree is base! You chase me and Daddy!" (Yes, everything is said in exclamation-point voice.)

She may try to look cool for her friends at school, choosing just the right headband or belt to go with her uniform and ignoring me when I suggest she might want to brush her hair. But she still realizes she has to use the bathroom at the last minute, hopping out of her stool at the kitchen island and streaking down the hall to the powder room, one hand firmly clutching her...uh...peepee area, hair billowing wildly.

She still denies being the least bit tired mere moments before she falls sound asleep at 7:30pm. She still wakes up electrified with energy, bounding out of bed and chattering with excitement about the day to come.

She may try to mimic the older-kid speech, using the word 'like' entirely too often when describing something she and her friends did on the bus. But she still wears a lot of the food she most enjoys like makeup drunkenly applied around her mouth, most notably cream cheese, peanut butter, and any type of batter licked off of beaters.

Books, shows and movies with suspense and/or monsters still frighten her terribly. She won't even let me read a permutation of the three little pigs in one of her favorite books of shorts stories.

She still speaks for her Bunny with a funny voice out of the side of her mouth, "Good morning Mr. Jon. Good morning, Miss Lisa."

Best of all, she still LOVES her Momma, and will take any opportunity to climb, crawl and lay on me whenever we're together. Ah, 5, where is your 'pause button'?

Sunshine

Busy weekend. Lots of parties and rushing around. Amidst it all, this morning, a brief pause. Sitting over coffee and reading the news, singing to myself as I cruise from one site to another. J pipes up.

"Mommy, you are a good singer!"

I don't know how much that's worth, coming from a 5-year-old, but I'll take it. She's like sunshine on a rainy day....

Variations on a theme

I don't know which word I like better.

Coalesce
Congeal
Coagulate

Trifecta

Should I be worried? I was driving down 70 yesterday, riding behind a flat-bed truck for some time. It was carrying large cement containers, and I stared at them idly as I listened to the radio. When I had the opportunity to pass the truck, it occurred to me that the containers were burial vaults. OMG. This may not be inherently creepy, but I don't know. It's just not something you see every day.

After I gathered myself mentally, and switched back into the middle lane, I got behind another truck (it is a big interstate highway, after all). This time it was an innocuous tanker - no hazmat warnings or signs of petroleum products. For all I know, the tank was filled with milk. I popped on my iPod and sang along with the Jayhawks or some other group I have played incessantly for the past 10 years. Then I focused on the words on the tanker's mud flaps. The left flap read, "Leftside" and the right flap read, "Suicide." What?! Yikes.

And then what should come up on my song list? Why yes, Conor Oberst's "I Don't Want to Die in the Hospital." (Help me get my boots on!)

Weird.

Shhh....

Lots of work I could do this morning, but I think I need to make my hands busy to quiet my mind.

Quiet

Summer is shutting down and pulling up stakes. I am sitting at the kitchen island, typing away with the windows open. It is still green and lush outside, but it is foggy and cool this morning. There are no sounds of air conditioning units churning, or lawn mowers buzzing. Just the crickets and an occasional bird.

Rather than the incessant chatter of robins, I now hear the cry of a lone cat bird, the tambourine-like chirp of a cardinal off in the trees, the call of a band of crows (yes, I know it's a 'murder', but to me they always seem like a group of unruly 15-year-old boys, prowling the neighborhood to pick through trash or sit on my roof and peck at each other).

It is quiet, like all the animals are holding their breath and waiting for the season to change. Can they feel us flying through space, tied to the center of the solar system by the invisible string of gravity? Can they feel us, sitting on the top half of the Earth, tilting farther away from the sun?

Space and time

I don't really know what made this pop into my head just now. We have all thought that, if we knew what we know now when we were 17, 24, or even 30, we might have made different (better) decisions. Maybe we think we would have tried harder, or alternately, we may have been more relaxed.

Have you ever thought back to what you expected you would be like at this age when you were 17? I always assumed I would be settled inside, and that I would have all the hallmarks of a true grown-up. Family. Job. Home. But I was also a bit unsure - what if I got things wrong? What if I didn't take care of myself physically? What if I never succeeded, or even found a decent career?

If the 17-year-old 'you' could see you now, would she be proud of what you have done so far? For me, I think the answer would be a hesitant yes. I have had many a cringe-worthy moment in the past, but I am currently sitting in what anyone would deem a comfortable, albeit marginally successful spot. That unsettled inside feeling is still there, but I am fairly confident that this is normal, and perhaps better defined as ambition. It is the feeling of not really being able to be still, isn't it? To keep moving forward.

And what would the 60-year-old me yet-to-come say? Having gone through everything to date, do I know enough about myself to say she will be proud of the (almost) 40-year-old me? Would she say I should relax more, or try harder?

What will your 60-year-old you say about you now?

WHAT?

So now Joe Wilson is a racist? Thanks Maureen Dowd and Jimmy Carter. Until you brought it up, I almost forgot what color my president is (partly). MUST....STOP....FOLLOWING....MSM.....

My need to lighten up continues

I just got off the treadmill, where I had been watching an Ace of Cakes episode on the DVR. This particular episode featured, among other things, a cake for a 6-year-old boy. It was a big deal for the members of the AOC crew, since they had made a cake for all of the boy's previous birthdays.

Now I could have let a sentimental smile wash over me, and think how lucky these people are to watch this little boy grow up in a way. They have shared in a very special part of the life with his whole family. They've seen the love and creativity displayed by his parents at each specially-themed party.

Instead I thought, "Are you KIDDING me?" His parents have paid through the nose for a special birthday cake, plus decorated the whole house in a ranch theme, plus brought in a PETTING ZOO?! Yes - a petting zoo with baby animals including pigs, lambs, ducks, rabbits, and I can't remember what else, besides a pony for pony rides. In their back yard.

I couldn't help but think these parents will have a heck of a time upping the ante every year. What is this kid's 16th birthday party going to involve? Hookers and tequila shots for his high school classmates?

As you can imagine, I'm not exactly the 'fun' parent in my household. No wonder I felt a strange kinship for Justin's father when I first read Justin's twitter feed.

YOU tell ME what this means

Three weeks ago, J and I were watching Popeye. I know, it's terribly formulaic, is it not? Kind of like Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd. These things never occur to you when you're five. Like J, I would watch anything as long is it was a cartoon. Anyway. In this episode Olive Oil was acting as an entertainer down Cuba way, doing a funny version of Carmen Miranda. I said as much.

J was all, "Who's that?"

"Honey," I replied, "Let's ask our friend Internet."

As expected, YouTube had quite a selection of Carmen Miranda videos, and J was enthralled. It may have been the additional mindless entertainment, or that she was getting to sit on my lap in front of the computer (something that I don't usually allow since I read lots of news with big words and right-wing conservative propaganda that she's too young to appreciate), but then again those fruit hats can be mesmerizing. I was glad to have expanded her cultural horizons.

Fast forward another week. I was visiting a friend in Pennsylvania, and we were out for dinner with a mess of her friends. Kim and I were knee-deep in serious conversations and pomegranate martinis when I heard someone ask, "Who is that singer from the 40's that always wore the fruit on her hat?" My head tilted to the side like a dog hearing a high-pitched noise, considering the unusual coincidence. "Carmen Miranda!" I piped up, delighted with my own knowledge. Hey, some people are book smart, while others are common sense smart. I am neither, but I can remember lots of really unimportant things. Which is nice.

Now go another week forward. J and I are watching Cash Cab, and a $50 question came up for a lucky contestant. "Name the woman who was the highest paid entertainer in 1945 [?], famous for wearing fruit on her head." I looked at J in amazement. What in the name of Sam Hill....? "Carmen Miranda!" I shouted at Ben. Then I turned to J and asked, "Can you believe that?" She had forgotten the name and relation to fruit, and really couldn't care less. I felt deflated but still dumbstruck. Seriously - what are the chances that this name would come up so frequently in such a short period of time? Freaky.

Then last weekend JBL and I are getting ready to watch football, and I note Chiquita Banana has a new ad campaign. Now, think about this. When is the last time you saw a Chiguita Banana commercial? For me, I can honestly say it has been decades. But, of course you know the logo for this brand of bananas. IT'S CARMEN EFFING MIRANDA. My head almost fell off at that point. I told JBL of my string of coincidental run-ins with her persona, and he just chuckled.

This really has to have some Greater Meaning, but for the life of me, I cannot think of one. Any ideas would be appreciated. I'm going to eat a banana...

Also recently

[Out of the backseat, after a pause in unrelated conversation:] "I don't like cheesecake. Not at all."

[When asked if she wants to make a wish, blowing on a dandelion:] "But why, when they don't always come true?"

Yes, J is grappling with a new, bigger and more complex world. The jury is still out on how school is affecting her. She comes home daily on an adrenaline-like high, almost frenetic. She appears to be over the moon about her classmates, the school itself, and MY GOD, the snacks! Multiple snacks a day! But when asked about what she actually does (besides gym, recess, and eating), I get the typical 5-year-old response. "I don't remember."

Is she too tired to think about it? Does she honestly forget? Does she want to keep it from me, since it's something she's doing out of my watchful control?! I imagine that we'll need another month or so to be sure. As for now, I have glimpsed only snippets of her day, which for me is a shocking change. (Did I mention we still have the little camera in her room so that, at least when it's light enough, I can watch her sleep? I guess that sounds creepier than it is.) I'll hear a song they learned in class as she is showering. K will ask how she liked the hay ride.

"Hay ride?" I inquire.

"Yes, we picked and cleaned the pumpkins, and the little kids come out to the plot and select pumpkins to take back to their classroom." Part of the school property has a giant vegetable garden where kids and parents alike can participate in the growing of food for use in the school cafeteria and for charities. Pretty cool. Anyway, I swung my head around and stared wide-eyed at J. "You had a hay ride and picked pumpkins?!" I daresay I was a bit wounded.

"Yeah!" J replied, gazing distractedly out the window as if she had already told us the story numerous times.

Clearly I am still adjusting to her being gone, but it didn't occur to me that I would have trouble being ignorant of what she does all day. I emailed one of her teachers, asking at least for a general curriculum overview. So far I've heard bubkis. Humph.

As for now - ah, Saturday - she is sitting next to me at her little work desk in the kitchen, drawing up a storm. It's good to have her home.

Mmm-mm good

Kissing J goodnight.

"I think you're wonderful," I say.

"I think you're mommy-licious!" she replies.

Does it get better than that?

Now what?

Tuesday. Quiet house. Planning for J's daily departure for kindergarten took a lot of time and emotional energy, and the void of her absence has settled in. Time to stop pining and get my act together. So...yeah, what now?

Possibilities include:
- Finding a way to quickly increase my workload in my part-time job. Not really under my control.
- Begin volunteering, either locally or at J's school.
- Tackling a home project.
* Framing photos
* Painting the white-walled rooms
* Finding a rug to replace the one in the dining room
-> These all involve spending money, which of course makes me anxious.
- Finding a new, long race to train for. I'm already signed up for an 8K in November, but why not look for a spring half-marathon? I don't know if I'm ambitious enough to sign up again for the local metric marathon in December. Maybe that's just because I'm tired and recovering from yesterday's Labor Day cookout.

I am feeling guilty for being at home and not quickly making more money, though I am helping JBL with a new business idea. How do women deal with this feeling? Ugh. One thing is certain, though - I still love being at home, and am grateful every day for the opportunities available to me. I am blessed beyond belief...

Wine Notes - September 5

We have more than steak for dinner - honest. But with school starting this week, plus some late nights working for JBL, and dinners with friends, last night was the first sit-down dinner without the girls, which is typically when we'll do something with nicer wines.

Why steak again? Well, Costco has started carrying beef rated 'prime', typically only available to restaurants but now here for us thanks to the effects of a lagging economy on steak houses, and we picked some up last week. After all, in addition to being an oenophile, JBL loves quality food. Why not have ribs shipped direct from Memphis for the summer party? Why not regularly order bagels from Manhattan when our options around here are so pitiful? Of course we'll drive 45 minutes for the best smoked salmon for our holiday open house. Wouldn't you?!

So there we were, hunkered over the coffee table, finally watching show 1 of Mad Men's third season, eating the best damn steak I've had outside of Ruth's Chris. We went lighter on the seasoning than with last week's filets, and they were just perfect. What else do you need besides bread with good olive oil and salad to accompany it?

But enough about the food. JBL came up with a 1998 Viader - a blend of cabernet sauvignon and cabernet franc - from the St. Helena region in Napa Valley. Another block buster, and more mature than our previous splurge. Thanks to the cab franc, it was a little softer on the tannins, but still round, luscious and weighty.

I don't really have much more to say than about the whole meal than, wow - you really out to treat yourself to this. Hopefully you will.

Alone

It just occurred to me that it is noon, and I have finished lunch and my 5 mile run for the day. That means I have exactly 3.5 hours to do whatever I want uninterrupted. I will choose work, but it's thrilling to know I could do it naked if I wanted to. Not that I would, but, you know. I could.

Milestones

How do I describe yesterday - J's first day of kindergarten? It began with the anticipated early wake-up, followed by an excited and barely-hungry-because-of-nerves breakfast time. Suddenly we were at the bus stop, and then suddenly the bus pulled away and I found myself at home with watery eyes posting photos on Facebook.

The house was not entirely quiet - JBL chose to work from home. I think I might have liked it better had I been totally alone, with space to be vulnerable and not feel like I had to have any particular expression on my face. Does that make sense?

The day went by quickly, with a surprising amount of work, coupled with the usual exercise, cooking and laundry. Finally it was time to go back to the bus stop. J and K tumble off in a flurry of chatter and excitement at seeing Daddy again. Riding home, my inquiries about the day were rebuffed as J wondered incessantly who in the neighborhood would be available to play.

There was garden time, TV time, dinner help, and play with neighbors before bed. J's ebullience continued to bubble over, causing her to flop all over the bed as I attempted to read to her. "I can't WAIT to go back tomorrow!" she sang.

Later in my own bed, I marveled at how incredibly blessed I am. How could I have possibly hoped for a better day? My husband was there to support me and share in the celebration, my daughter - my littlest rabbit - was all smiles, even when she wasn't feeling brave, and she returned to me as joyous as she has ever been, delighted to finally have all the stimulation she so richly deserves. (Not to leave her out - K had a great day as well, making friends with several of the new children at the school, loving her 'advisory' teacher (akin to a homeroom teacher), and enjoying being back with her best friends. But entering 6th grade is a whole different thing from entering kindergarten. I have my own separate feelings about this continued progression into womanhood, and will write more on it soon.)

But how do I describe how it all felt? There isn't a mother out there who wouldn't cite the same emotions: pride, grief, trepidation, and pride again. These small words, however, barely scratch the surface of the depths of these feelings. And they are different for different people. Some may feel utterly bereft if motherhood is their life's ambition. Some may feel guilty for taking this new freedom as an opportunity to pursue personal goals. Most will have trouble explaining the biologically-deep feeling of loss, or the sense that time is washing over us, past us.

I suppose my feelings run the gamut. It is not as simple as being glad for the ability to focus on tasks for more than 15 minutes at a time. It is not as plain as the need to hear J's voice, feel her soft skin, to be in her sparkling presence. It is not as easy as feeling at a loss after bearing full responsibility for her life until now, only to have her disappear for what seems like years at a time. It is all these things and more. I look forward, and my life is open and changing. My identity and goals are morphing. My love for J seems to spike in intensity as she continues to gradually step away from me.

I am still left with the ability to control her destiny for now - to give her everything possible, and love her thoroughly through it all. That is all I can ask for, isn't it? And so there I was last night, holding her while standing in the kitchen. Late afternoon shadows and a warm breeze filtered lazily through the open windows. The sound of wind chimes offered a gentle lullaby.

"Tell me more about your day," I begged.

"I already TOLD you!" she laughed. "But what I really need to do is THIS!" She threw her arms open wide and tipped back precariously from my body, then lunged forward, wrapped herself entirely around me and kissed my cheek wildly. Big, wet kisses. Then suddenly she was down and scampering upstairs to play, singing to herself. And my arms were empty.

From the mind of J

Driving home last night, we pass a Dodge Stealth.

"Mommy, that's an unusual car."

"Why, yes. Yes it is."

"I wonder if there's an unusual person inside."

Indeed.