I forget how much I love the country until I am there again. And then I am deeply in love. This past weekend, I got to share that love with my kids, all of whom joined us for the weekend. OK, so Sam slept quite a bit, Ariel watched way too much TV between fishing outings, and Noah, well, he just needed to rest. But he also had a breakdown of sorts. Not even sure what triggered it. It was one of those manic episodes, where he cried and was inconsolable for a long time, and later the same day had bouts of manic laughter and silliness, a la The Joker, sort of.
Len played tennis with Sam, which gave Len great joy. I hope Sam experienced some of the same. Watching Ariel fish was a highlight for me. And Noah's hole-in-one on the first hole of mini golf was a cause of much merriment and bemusement. Len and I went on an early morning--and initially VERY cold and foggy rail trail ride, but what a great way to start the day. Wish I had a trail nearer by, as it's just great to cruise along past farms and streams and lakes, and to breathe in sweet, untainted air.
Coming home was a drawn out process, a kind of leisurely wending our way back. We stopped for lunch at an outdoor cafe, and it was surprisingly hot in the sun. We passed a local bike shop and Len and I stopped in, had odometers affixed to our bikes, and treated ourselves to new helmets.
There's always that "holy cow how much dirty laundry do we have??" reaction when we come home, but it was compounded this time by the fact that we had Noah's camp duffel with us. But that's part of summer's routine and tradition as well, it seems.
It's hard to know, once your kids reach a certain age, how long they'll deign to spend even part of a summer with you. So I try to remember to treasure the moments, especially the silly ones, like dinosaur feet, kids quiz show, competitive mini golf, bladder busters, and just being around one another, however haphazardly.
As the school year approaches again, I try not to anticipate the tightening in my stomach, the worries about already being unprepared, disorganized, and somehow behind. I just want to find a way to hold onto the slower pace, lazy days, and happily diminished expectations of summer.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Monday, August 6, 2012
Ultimate Zen Mama
Calm, cool and collected are probably not the adjectives I would typically attach to myself. Passionate, opinionated, yup, got a lock on those. But the calm thing, not so much. Not until lately, that is. Cannot tell if this is cumulative fatigue kicking in, such that I'm just too darn tired to kick up much of a fuss about anything, the advent of some kind of long-sought wisdom, maturation, or the general byproduct of aging, but I'm finding that things that might have--would have?--rattled me a few years ago or even less, kind of blow past.
Examples: found out by accident that my daughter's sleep away camp was without power for several days, in the middle of what is probably our hottest summer on record. It's a low-tech and lovely camp, so this meant candle light, gathering around the generator in the dining hall, trucking in bottled water for tooth brushing and washing, and hauling water from the lake so the toilets could be flushed. I heard this litany from one of the administrators and I thought, "Inconvenient, but kinda cool. Throwback times. Humbling to be reminded of how utterly dependent we are on the things on which we are utterly dependent. But we can adapt fine." Not that I would necessarily have done anything a year or two ago if I'd heard the same story, but I was totally calm, unworried, unharried. Just assumed my daughter would manage. And that the power would eventually come back on. As it did.
More to the point, hired a new housekeeper when I went back to work full-time at the end of June. Had my doubts because she seemed too competent--and offered to cook. Showed up for the interview with her Ipad and printed reference letters. But ok, she actually seemed to want this part-time, largely housekeeping job. Then her uncle died and she needed a day off for the funeral. Then she wanted to visit her daughter in Virginia. Then her mother supposedly died. After which, she just went AWOL. At a different age/stage of life I would have been frazzled and frantic, worried about how I was going to get to work and have coverage at home. But now my kids are older (and presently in camp), and I'm just glad she went AWOL now, so I could replace her before school starts. And it took me a whole day to do so. Now I just want my house key back. Or I'll just deal with the aggravation of changing the lock.
Then there were the pleading "I want to come home" letters from my daughter with the cast-encased broken wrist. It must truly be frustrating to be in summer camp (second half) with your forearm in a cast, but it ain't the end of the world. I got tough during one teary phone call about a week ago. Told her we could not--would not--pick her up and bring her home. It's not the end of the world and she'll just have to deal. Didn't feel the guilt I normally would have. Felt instead that she needed a reality check. I'm no jumping bean mama who runs to the rescue every time my kids kvetch. And lo and behold, when I spoke to her today in the infirmary, where she's nursing a low-grade fever and a wet cough, she sounded good, all things considered. Color War had broken noisily outside, and she found out that she was on the White Sesame Street Team (vs. Blue Muppets Team). Good to hear the enthusiasm in her voice. And one of the counselors had brought her a Hunger Games book to read.
Not sure if it's age of life, stage of life, or what. But this Zen Mama thing is pretty great. I feel it at work too, where things that might have rattled my cage some time back just blow by. I can honestly say that however things go at work, they go, and I'm ok with that. Will do my work with pride and integrity, as I always do. If it's good, great. If not, hey, no job defines me, and it ain't the end of the world...
Examples: found out by accident that my daughter's sleep away camp was without power for several days, in the middle of what is probably our hottest summer on record. It's a low-tech and lovely camp, so this meant candle light, gathering around the generator in the dining hall, trucking in bottled water for tooth brushing and washing, and hauling water from the lake so the toilets could be flushed. I heard this litany from one of the administrators and I thought, "Inconvenient, but kinda cool. Throwback times. Humbling to be reminded of how utterly dependent we are on the things on which we are utterly dependent. But we can adapt fine." Not that I would necessarily have done anything a year or two ago if I'd heard the same story, but I was totally calm, unworried, unharried. Just assumed my daughter would manage. And that the power would eventually come back on. As it did.
More to the point, hired a new housekeeper when I went back to work full-time at the end of June. Had my doubts because she seemed too competent--and offered to cook. Showed up for the interview with her Ipad and printed reference letters. But ok, she actually seemed to want this part-time, largely housekeeping job. Then her uncle died and she needed a day off for the funeral. Then she wanted to visit her daughter in Virginia. Then her mother supposedly died. After which, she just went AWOL. At a different age/stage of life I would have been frazzled and frantic, worried about how I was going to get to work and have coverage at home. But now my kids are older (and presently in camp), and I'm just glad she went AWOL now, so I could replace her before school starts. And it took me a whole day to do so. Now I just want my house key back. Or I'll just deal with the aggravation of changing the lock.
Then there were the pleading "I want to come home" letters from my daughter with the cast-encased broken wrist. It must truly be frustrating to be in summer camp (second half) with your forearm in a cast, but it ain't the end of the world. I got tough during one teary phone call about a week ago. Told her we could not--would not--pick her up and bring her home. It's not the end of the world and she'll just have to deal. Didn't feel the guilt I normally would have. Felt instead that she needed a reality check. I'm no jumping bean mama who runs to the rescue every time my kids kvetch. And lo and behold, when I spoke to her today in the infirmary, where she's nursing a low-grade fever and a wet cough, she sounded good, all things considered. Color War had broken noisily outside, and she found out that she was on the White Sesame Street Team (vs. Blue Muppets Team). Good to hear the enthusiasm in her voice. And one of the counselors had brought her a Hunger Games book to read.
Not sure if it's age of life, stage of life, or what. But this Zen Mama thing is pretty great. I feel it at work too, where things that might have rattled my cage some time back just blow by. I can honestly say that however things go at work, they go, and I'm ok with that. Will do my work with pride and integrity, as I always do. If it's good, great. If not, hey, no job defines me, and it ain't the end of the world...
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