Taking a Break from Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

This morning, the boy and I head north for our 4th annual Cape Cod camping trip. JT looks forward to this trip all year long; its arrival on the calendar is a source of great happiness. This trip is one of the best things I do as a parent and I am so grateful to the R-K family, who first invited us along on the adventure and will be with us this year as well. Last summer, when we arrived at camp, my friend S said to me, "the boys will always have these memories." In the low points of the year, when I feel tired and overwhelmed; when I wonder if I'm a good enough mama, I think of those words. And then I look at my assortment of camping pictures and memories they spark and I know that I'm for sure getting it right for at least these two weeks.

The equipment has been organized and packed. Like Lewis and Clark, we've laid in a supply of hardtack and jerky (ahem, in our case, that would be potato chips and Velveeta shells n' cheese), and we're ready to hit the road for some time at the sea. And in the woods.

These photos are from last year but the ingredients for this year's trip are the same (though the boys involved....they are bigger. And louder.)
Tonight we'll play cards at twilight. We'll sleep in our tent in the woods and awake to the sounds of the outdoors. JT will plan adventures a lot like the adventures I recall from my own childhood camping. In the days ahead, we'll enjoy outdoor suppers, the leisure of an afternoon nap in the woods, daily bike rides on the bunny trail, plotting the morning coffee run, and hours of relaxation. One of us will enjoy infrequent bathing.......and we'll return home with a whole new set of memories to sustain us in the year ahead.
Postings will be light for the next two weeks, as we enjoy the low-tech pleasures of life at camp.

Time

There is an old southern phrase and I can't even recall when I first heard it: You can't fence time. It means that life marches on; things change; and to struggle against it is futile. You can't fence time.

As this summer seems to be flying by, I watch my boy and it seems that he is just growing up before my eyes. In a glancing look, I can still see a glimpse of his lovely baby face. But those moments are less frequent. He still loves to play outside and would rather do that than play video games. He doesn't know how to send a text message on a phone (and he doesn't care to learn). Every once in a while, he climbs in my lap to give me a bone-crushing hug. Better yet, he casually calls "I love you, Mama," as he heads upstairs to play in his playroom. He cheerfully helps with household chores. He still believes in Santa Claus and fervently avoids any intrusion of reality on that fantasy.

He's nine and though my nine year old is still a boy, he's not really a little boy anymore. I know that being nine can't last forever. I see other moms with their bigger boys and I am sure there is much about the coming years that I will enjoy. We'll still laugh together. We'll still be a team marching through life. But on these lovely summer days when the future stretches before me, and change is in the air, on these days, I'd like to hold on to these moments a little longer.

I'd like to fence time.

Cat Blogging: The View From Here

Most summer mornings, I sit in the dining room, drinking coffee, listening to NPR, and working on my laptop. I sit at one end of the dining room, and it affords me a view of the living room, where JT sits on the sofa and the kittens enjoy some quality lap time with a certain young man.

When I look up, I see the three of them relaxed and cozy. It reminds me how much Tiger and Lucy mean to our family and it is one of the best parts of the summer.

Inertia

One of the very best things about summer is that we don't have a schedule driving our every move. During the school year, the clock is always ticking. I get up at 5:30 am and I'm in nearly constant motion until 9:30 pm, when I pause to consider how much more I need to finish before I can call it a day.

I'm a teacher and a single mama and a lot of my days are about looking out for the needs of others. I'm not complaining (in fact, I dearly love what I do), but sometimes it takes its toll and there are days when I am beyond exhaustion. On a daily basis, I have two tools to keep my sanity: reading and working out. The third tool in my bag of tricks is summer vacation. Summer offers nearly 3 months to rest and restore. That prospect keeps me going when I get over-whelmed during the school year.

Come June, I'm ready for some down time. I feel that I've earned it. Though I consider it essential to my well-being, I am also aware that it's a luxury. And I'm always amazed at how quickly our active and busy lives slide into hours and hours of inertia. Though I get up at 8 am, last week I was hard-pressed to get out of the house in time for JT's swimming lesson (a five-minute drive for a lesson that doesn't begin until 10:45). Some days, getting my workout in during the morning means starting to run just seconds before noon; it's not at all rare for me shower in the afternoon.

I am okay with that.

New and Improved!

The other day, seized by the spirit of cleanliness and order, I emptied out the linen closet on the second floor of my home, culled the weaklings, organized and folded the lot, and presto! A much-improved, well-organized linen closet.

The top shelf: beach towels, swimsuits, and some white bath towels.

The middle shelf: more bath towels, hand towels, and washrags

Down below: sheets and pillowcases. Lots and lots of incredibly-soft pillowcases. I am a pillowcase softness artist. And, of course, a side of makeup and my corner of the pink ghetto.

There are no 'before' photos because my shame was great. The job took a smidge more than 30 minutes to complete. The feeling of ordered virtue will likely last a whole lot longer than that.

JT, generally unimpressed by such order, did allow that it "looks nice." Then he recommended that I re-organize his dresser.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Ironic Slacker Edition

The backstory: Summer's relaxed schedule has taken hold around here but the other day I decided to get in my workout before heading off to swimming lessons. We leave for swimming lessons at 10:30, so that wasn't exactly a tall order. Around 9 am, just as a certain young man in pajamas was ready to consider his breakfast options, I headed upstairs to put on my workout clothes. When I came back downstairs, we had a conversation as the boy slouched in front of the telly, armed with a Pop Tart (yes, I'm one of those mamas):

Mama: I'm working out now.

JT: It's 9:15; you'd better hop to it. No slacking, Mama.

Who's the slacker now?

Independence Day: Can't Never Does Edition

The backstory: For all of my life, when I would announce that I couldn't do something, my father would respond, "can't never does." For years, I found this Dad-ism tiresome and annoying. But grudgingly, I came to understand that it was also true. As a parent, I have repeated the "can't never does" lesson to my son. JT knows the phrase well.

At the community pool to which we belong, there is a slide. It's no water park, but it's a pretty impressive looking slide, and JT has been fascinated with it since we joined the pool. The catch is that potential-sliders must demonstrate swimming competence. If you want to slide, you must be able to swim the length of the pool. You must swim on your belly, demonstrate some command of a stroke, and you may not touch the bottom of the pool as you swim those 50 yards.

It's a high standard and JT has never met it. In fact, in previous summers he's never even tried. Though he's had plenty of lessons, swimming never came very easy to him. His skills have steadily improved but he's not always been confident about what he can accomplish.

Last summer, when his California cousins visited, we took them to our pool and they passed the swim test in seconds. JT was impressed, but he still wouldn't try the test himself. I let it be, hoping that he would grow more confident.

Yesterday afternoon, we went to the pool with his buddy B. JT and B have been friends for years; earlier that day they had completed their two-week swimming lesson class.
In the afternoon, they announced that they were going to practice and see if they could pass the test. And then they set out to swim the length of the pool, cheering one another on. B's mom and I watched and speculated about this process. JT doesn't much care to take risks and his fear of failure is sometimes greater than his willingness to take a chance. I know exactly how this feels so though I wanted to provide him encouragement, I also wanted him to own his potential success.

Within the hour, JT decided that he could pass the test. He sat on his towel, nervously resting and plotting his next move. Then he hopped up, found an off-duty lifeguard and asked her to supervise him as he swam the length of the pool. He jumped in the pool and started swimming. I watched with my heart in my throat, thrilled that he was willing to try, willing him to keep on swimming, and crossing my fingers that he would succeed.

He did.

With a new confidence in his step, he took his pool card to the front desk, got it stamped for slide privileges and then had a fingernail painted so that the lifeguard at the top of the slide would know he was good-to-go.
And then he enjoyed his new privilege.
At the end of the day, as I tucked him into bed, we admired that painted fingernail one more time. I told him how proud of him I was. I said I was pleased that he had passed the test and that I was incredibly proud that he had been willing to take the risk; that he bravely handled the whole process like a pro. He smiled and said, "The whole time I was swimming that lap, I kept thinking about how great it would feel when I succeeded. Can't never does I thought.....but this time.....can did it, Mama."

Indeed.

Blatant Plagiarism: Cat Blogging

On Fridays, one of my favorite political writers, Kevin Drum, takes a break from the usual political blog postings for a little cat blogging. It's a dose of sensible feline philosophy in the midst of the political discussions. Tiger and Lucy are smarter than the average cat and they read the cat blog every week. They are demanding equal time. So I have decided to blatantly copy the idea.

Here's Tiger, hoping that someone will bring him the remote-control so that he can watch Animal Planet on the TV.
And that would be Lucy enjoying some quality cuddling time (and Spongebob) with a certain young man of our mutual acquaintance.

First Pickings

This little bowl of lilies represents the first floral harvest from my garden. They are lovely and they smell great. And, perhaps most importantly, they grew in my garden because I planted them. That makes me happy.

July 1st: Hosta Day

All of the hosta patches in my garden are literally days from blooming. The garage hostas are prepared to play their role in the garden show.
This point in the summer is always gratifying; nearly every plant in the garden is at its verdant best. Thus far, the garden season has been incredibly wet (though not particularly hot). The hostas have flourished and provide a spectacular display when I sit on the back deck to admire the green.