Have you ever searched for just the right greeting card? The one that perfectly articulates what you feel? I have gone through rows and rows of cards over various occasions, quickly vetoing ones that don't suit me, the receiver, or that would just be ridiculous lies.
I have recently been through a similar experience of trying to find just the right words for an occassion, but this time, it was a bit bigger than a greeting card. I contributed to writing certain pieces of my younger sister's wedding ceremony. Much more on that later, but as I researched quotes, lyrics and various readings, I naturally had an awareness to the task at hand, but also couldn't help but consider which or what might be appropriate to capture the essence of my own marriage. What might I have chosen for our wedding ceremony or our now?
"It is wrong to think that love comes from long companionship and perservering courtship. Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created for years or even generations."
Kahlil Gibran
This is the quote that resonated with me most about our connection then and now. I know clearly, the precise moment I felt it first.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Happy Grandparents' Day
Being a daughter in a military family precluded me from really knowing very well the two people I referred to as my grandparents. My most vivid memory of them is from a time they were visiting us on Wrightwood Road from Portland, I was in high school at the time. It was morning and my grandpa had likely been up at the crack of dawn drinking coffee with my dad. I'm sure to my dad's chagrin, Grandpa was probably giving him all sorts of tips on everything from the best way to stake a tomato plant to the most efficient way to peel a carrot. I suspect my dad's smile and patience may have been wearing thin by the time the rest of us arose from our slumbers. I'm sure he welcomed the sight of his mom that morning, smelling of rosewater and donned in a fluffy pink robe. Grandpa smiled and opened his arm to her as she nestled in next to him, standing with his arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him with twinkling, sweet eyes. I don't recall what had been said, I do remember the love.
I suppose I do have a second set of grandparents as we all do, but those people I refer to as my mother's mother and my mother's father. They did not do anything to me specifically to earn such titles. They did do and not do a whole hell of a lot to my mother and her siblings though. I believe it is accurate to say one did a lot more of the doing and one far more of the not doing, but at a certain point I imagine you just stop keeping track of, we'll call them, uh, disappointments. What matters most is that my mother, for the most part, has made her peace with the both of them, one posthumously, but peace nonetheless. She was able to reenter relationships of her childhood and say things that were probably important to say. She was also able to reenter relationships and not say things that she might have wanted to, but would not have benefited anyone, not even the wounded children.
Shaun has quite the opposite experience of grandparents, at least on his mother's side. He knew them well and he and his mother even lived with her parents for a period of time when he was quite young. He credits his grandad and grandpa (great grandad)alongside his dad for being the most powerful, strong, male influences in his life. Powerful and strong not in a "he-man" sort of way, but more in that they were involved, loved him, and happened to be men kind of way. They all hold a very special spot in his heart and had a great effect on his life. I'm pretty sure I have never met anyone with a greater love for generations previous, unless of course I look in the direction of my own son.
Nathan has incredible grandparents, all four of them. I guess I am biased because not only do I not think my kid is "typical", there is not a one of his grandparents that is typical either. Shaun's parents are not geographically close and we don't see them as often as we would like, but Nathan has an uncanny sense when he is in the presence of family and his reserved nature grows relaxed far more quickly with them than in the company of others. He speaks of them with the affection and familiarity that one might expect with local grandparents seen on a far more regular basis.
One of many ways they are present in our home even when they are 800 miles away is their participation in most major celebrations around here. Boxes from Granny and Grandad are found with great delight on our front porch days before special occassions. The brown papered parcels make their way onto the living room coffee table, reminding us of a celebration approaching in the days to come. It is not at all about the gifts, but they are often homemade, sentimental and always treasured.
When people learn that Nathan is the first grandchild on my side of the family, they generally give me a knowing look, shake their heads, and mention the spoiling. Depending on how one defines that word, he may well be the most spoiled little boy ever.
Afterall, he has his very own treehouse at my parents house, how spoiled is that? Yes, my dad spoiled him with the planning process, the shopping process, the construction and engineering processes. The time spent, the teaching, the dreaming, no doubt the listening, and the completing of a pretty fantastic project will probably only serve to make Nathan treehouse entitled for the rest of his life, and that is to say nothing of the fact that it has a swing, it's own flag, and a patch of grass; the nerve! Did I mention the teeter totter they created out of miscellaneous parts from around the nursery? Good gracious, physics and fun, will the coddling never end?!?
Don't even get me started on my mother, she is the worst culprit of all, that one. First of all, a child really only deserves so much love and attention don't you think? At some point, enough is just enough. What is this child going to think anyway, that everyone is going to honor and cherish him as she does? I must have a talk with her, the sooner he learns how cruel the world really is, the better. What is she thinking, what with all the outings to nature centers; to historical, fun, interesting and even mundane destinations? The cooking together, the shopping, the endless conversations, the reading, the writing, the storytelling, the playacting, the singing, the dancing, the collecting, the painting, the walking, the playgrounds, and oh so many projects. Enough already!
If all of that weren't enough, amidst the act of spoiling him, I seem to be getting spoiled too. In the beginning, I would often come home from work on Grandma Fridays to the smells of dinner wafting from the kitchen. I think she made a game of it during Nathan's nap, to try to create something delicious out of the meager groceries I tend to have on hand by Friday. Other times she was not up for the challenge and brought or bought the fixin's for her cause. She's been known to bake up banana bread with the rotten bananas on the countertop, fill our fridge with fruit in the interest of making an eight ounce smoothie for Nathan, and leave fresh cut flowers in the kitchen window. Yeah, Grandma Fridays are a pretty good gig for Momma too. As Nathan might qualify, actually, the gig is good well beyond Fridays.
Since having a child, I have had to learn to ask for help and to draw certain unfamiliar boundaries. They have been pretty immense lessons for me, made possible by their necessity and the perceived lack of choices. While sometimes difficult to ask, it is a real comfort to have my parents close when a challenge arises. Funny, it doesn't matter much which of them I might reach in these times, each snaps to action in their own way. Dad will recon the situation thinking through every important detail before acting, whereas Mom figures it out as she goes. I hear that one may have more rhythm than the other, but in trying times, theirs is a well choreographed dance designed over decades. We have enlisted their help dealing with everything from date night to kidney stones to a dying dog. We were even fortunate enough to accept their generosity at the end of a very long journey, a journey that never reached the destination we so desired; but my disappointment will always by mitigated by the awesome gratitude for one more opportunity and greater peace of mind as a result.
I did not even know to wish for something so great as what Nathan has in all of his grandparents. What a gift, one we are all most thankful for.
I suppose I do have a second set of grandparents as we all do, but those people I refer to as my mother's mother and my mother's father. They did not do anything to me specifically to earn such titles. They did do and not do a whole hell of a lot to my mother and her siblings though. I believe it is accurate to say one did a lot more of the doing and one far more of the not doing, but at a certain point I imagine you just stop keeping track of, we'll call them, uh, disappointments. What matters most is that my mother, for the most part, has made her peace with the both of them, one posthumously, but peace nonetheless. She was able to reenter relationships of her childhood and say things that were probably important to say. She was also able to reenter relationships and not say things that she might have wanted to, but would not have benefited anyone, not even the wounded children.
Shaun has quite the opposite experience of grandparents, at least on his mother's side. He knew them well and he and his mother even lived with her parents for a period of time when he was quite young. He credits his grandad and grandpa (great grandad)alongside his dad for being the most powerful, strong, male influences in his life. Powerful and strong not in a "he-man" sort of way, but more in that they were involved, loved him, and happened to be men kind of way. They all hold a very special spot in his heart and had a great effect on his life. I'm pretty sure I have never met anyone with a greater love for generations previous, unless of course I look in the direction of my own son.
Nathan has incredible grandparents, all four of them. I guess I am biased because not only do I not think my kid is "typical", there is not a one of his grandparents that is typical either. Shaun's parents are not geographically close and we don't see them as often as we would like, but Nathan has an uncanny sense when he is in the presence of family and his reserved nature grows relaxed far more quickly with them than in the company of others. He speaks of them with the affection and familiarity that one might expect with local grandparents seen on a far more regular basis.
One of many ways they are present in our home even when they are 800 miles away is their participation in most major celebrations around here. Boxes from Granny and Grandad are found with great delight on our front porch days before special occassions. The brown papered parcels make their way onto the living room coffee table, reminding us of a celebration approaching in the days to come. It is not at all about the gifts, but they are often homemade, sentimental and always treasured.
When people learn that Nathan is the first grandchild on my side of the family, they generally give me a knowing look, shake their heads, and mention the spoiling. Depending on how one defines that word, he may well be the most spoiled little boy ever.
Afterall, he has his very own treehouse at my parents house, how spoiled is that? Yes, my dad spoiled him with the planning process, the shopping process, the construction and engineering processes. The time spent, the teaching, the dreaming, no doubt the listening, and the completing of a pretty fantastic project will probably only serve to make Nathan treehouse entitled for the rest of his life, and that is to say nothing of the fact that it has a swing, it's own flag, and a patch of grass; the nerve! Did I mention the teeter totter they created out of miscellaneous parts from around the nursery? Good gracious, physics and fun, will the coddling never end?!?
Don't even get me started on my mother, she is the worst culprit of all, that one. First of all, a child really only deserves so much love and attention don't you think? At some point, enough is just enough. What is this child going to think anyway, that everyone is going to honor and cherish him as she does? I must have a talk with her, the sooner he learns how cruel the world really is, the better. What is she thinking, what with all the outings to nature centers; to historical, fun, interesting and even mundane destinations? The cooking together, the shopping, the endless conversations, the reading, the writing, the storytelling, the playacting, the singing, the dancing, the collecting, the painting, the walking, the playgrounds, and oh so many projects. Enough already!
If all of that weren't enough, amidst the act of spoiling him, I seem to be getting spoiled too. In the beginning, I would often come home from work on Grandma Fridays to the smells of dinner wafting from the kitchen. I think she made a game of it during Nathan's nap, to try to create something delicious out of the meager groceries I tend to have on hand by Friday. Other times she was not up for the challenge and brought or bought the fixin's for her cause. She's been known to bake up banana bread with the rotten bananas on the countertop, fill our fridge with fruit in the interest of making an eight ounce smoothie for Nathan, and leave fresh cut flowers in the kitchen window. Yeah, Grandma Fridays are a pretty good gig for Momma too. As Nathan might qualify, actually, the gig is good well beyond Fridays.
Since having a child, I have had to learn to ask for help and to draw certain unfamiliar boundaries. They have been pretty immense lessons for me, made possible by their necessity and the perceived lack of choices. While sometimes difficult to ask, it is a real comfort to have my parents close when a challenge arises. Funny, it doesn't matter much which of them I might reach in these times, each snaps to action in their own way. Dad will recon the situation thinking through every important detail before acting, whereas Mom figures it out as she goes. I hear that one may have more rhythm than the other, but in trying times, theirs is a well choreographed dance designed over decades. We have enlisted their help dealing with everything from date night to kidney stones to a dying dog. We were even fortunate enough to accept their generosity at the end of a very long journey, a journey that never reached the destination we so desired; but my disappointment will always by mitigated by the awesome gratitude for one more opportunity and greater peace of mind as a result.
I did not even know to wish for something so great as what Nathan has in all of his grandparents. What a gift, one we are all most thankful for.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
1st Day of School 2009
It's the first day of Nathan's last year of preschool! We took the plunge and made what felt like a huge decision in changing schools from where we have been for the last three years. We felt that while the old school had a lot to offer, they may have been missing the essence of our particular kid. Montessori philosophy seeks to encourage a love of learning while following the child in their own interests and pace, that did not seem to be occurring with Nathan. We felt he was being shut down rather than encouraged to bloom in his own unique way.
When I was introduced to the practices in a Montessori classroom; I was told that before the child was allowed to "work" with a particular material, he had to be given a "lesson" on that material (and it's intended use). After said lesson, I was told the child could "work" with it in any way he chose, so long as it was respectful. One of our first red flags was when his teacher made a point to tell us that he turned whatever materials he could into instruments. This was mentioned as though it were a problem simply in the material being used differently than its prescribed use, not because it was loud or boisterous. We were glad she told us of her concerns; we thought it was smart, creative, and a peek into the heart of our child.
Encinitas Country Day is a few miles from my office, it is still Montessori, but with a heavy play overlay and a much less strict interpretation and execution of the Montessori philosophy. The campus feels like a handful of quaint rural cottages surrounding two huge playgrounds on two different levels. A far cry from the tiny outdoor concrete space the kids are limited to at the old place. They have at least two outdoor playtimes, which may well transition to three or four depending on drop off and pick up times. It is a newly formed class so it's small and all the kids and even the teachers are all new together. A weekly gymnastics class and a music class are part of the curriculum, to which we added a keyboard class to support his continued interest in music and specifically the piano after his encounter with one in Ventura over the weekend.
We are looking forward to the Halloween parade and the Thanksgiving Feast created from all the vegetables the kids will harvest from the gardens they are tending outside each classroom cottage .
I am here to update a week and a half in; Nathan seems very happy with the change. There has been nary a tear and he's come home singing new songs, talking of plans for tomorrow, and generally happy to go back each day. So far, we are thrilled.
When I was introduced to the practices in a Montessori classroom; I was told that before the child was allowed to "work" with a particular material, he had to be given a "lesson" on that material (and it's intended use). After said lesson, I was told the child could "work" with it in any way he chose, so long as it was respectful. One of our first red flags was when his teacher made a point to tell us that he turned whatever materials he could into instruments. This was mentioned as though it were a problem simply in the material being used differently than its prescribed use, not because it was loud or boisterous. We were glad she told us of her concerns; we thought it was smart, creative, and a peek into the heart of our child.
Encinitas Country Day is a few miles from my office, it is still Montessori, but with a heavy play overlay and a much less strict interpretation and execution of the Montessori philosophy. The campus feels like a handful of quaint rural cottages surrounding two huge playgrounds on two different levels. A far cry from the tiny outdoor concrete space the kids are limited to at the old place. They have at least two outdoor playtimes, which may well transition to three or four depending on drop off and pick up times. It is a newly formed class so it's small and all the kids and even the teachers are all new together. A weekly gymnastics class and a music class are part of the curriculum, to which we added a keyboard class to support his continued interest in music and specifically the piano after his encounter with one in Ventura over the weekend.
We are looking forward to the Halloween parade and the Thanksgiving Feast created from all the vegetables the kids will harvest from the gardens they are tending outside each classroom cottage .
I am here to update a week and a half in; Nathan seems very happy with the change. There has been nary a tear and he's come home singing new songs, talking of plans for tomorrow, and generally happy to go back each day. So far, we are thrilled.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Stress Management
I have been known to those close to me, or stuck with me, to be somewhat quick tempered. It is something I have sought to mitigate the majority of my adult life. I have seen some successes in those efforts and sometimes wonder if more label remains than reality, but whatever the case, I have been extraordinarily lucky in the teachers put in my path. Some that I have been fortunate enough to walk pretty fair distances with.
On this particular evening, we had just come home from the grocery store. I was trying to get the groceries unloaded, the fridge wiped clean, and the vittles put away just so. As an aside, is it a typical part of midlife to become particular about the direction food labels face in the refrigerator, or is this just my personal brand of OCD? Also, the matter of the proper size container to store leftovers in has become problematic. When exactly has this become even something to notice? Now, I notice. It mustn't be too large as to occupy too much space on the shelf or mislead me in meal planning, yet if said leftovers wind up imprinted with any design from the lid of any container as a result of being jammed in it, I am not happy. Yes, I'm afraid I have a lot of problems and I need help. I am quick to add that despite my many problems, I am very grateful for shared responsibilities in the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Nathan, our resident electronics expert and music aficionado started spinning discs at too high a volume, turning all the fans in the vicinity on and off repeatedly, letting the dog in and out of the backyard multiple times, all the while explaining all of these activities in detail to his "kids", and intermittently tossing random objects into the air exclaiming "catch!" to no one in particular.
Shaun who had helped unload the car of groceries, went so far as to unload the items from their bags onto the counter, then knew to step away. It was 5:30 and someone's blood sugar or anxiety level was going to incite a meltdown at any time and he knew it. He readied himself between the deep breathing (sighing?) going on in the kitchen and flying monkeys in the family room as a goalie might before his net; knees bent, arms forward, eyes darting, prepared to lunge in any direction.
I juggled and jostled items in my best effort to do too many things at once and as they toppled out of my hands, a "damn it" escaped my lips. The little boy that seems to have developed selective hearing, amazingly heard my frustration and though I expected a reprimand, from around the refrgerator door, I received a gift instead. Dolt that I am, I still am learning to see and accept the gifts all around me, but this day, I was stopped dead in my tracks at the thoughtfulness and presence of my sweet boy.
"Mommy, are you having a hard time?"
"Yes, actually I am."
"What can I do to help you?"
"Well you can turn off the music for 5 minutes, that would be really helpful, thank you for asking."
But alas, before the request was even made, it was done.
Not only is the little guy around here pretty amazing; the bigger one, I think I'll keep him too.
On this particular evening, we had just come home from the grocery store. I was trying to get the groceries unloaded, the fridge wiped clean, and the vittles put away just so. As an aside, is it a typical part of midlife to become particular about the direction food labels face in the refrigerator, or is this just my personal brand of OCD? Also, the matter of the proper size container to store leftovers in has become problematic. When exactly has this become even something to notice? Now, I notice. It mustn't be too large as to occupy too much space on the shelf or mislead me in meal planning, yet if said leftovers wind up imprinted with any design from the lid of any container as a result of being jammed in it, I am not happy. Yes, I'm afraid I have a lot of problems and I need help. I am quick to add that despite my many problems, I am very grateful for shared responsibilities in the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Nathan, our resident electronics expert and music aficionado started spinning discs at too high a volume, turning all the fans in the vicinity on and off repeatedly, letting the dog in and out of the backyard multiple times, all the while explaining all of these activities in detail to his "kids", and intermittently tossing random objects into the air exclaiming "catch!" to no one in particular.
Shaun who had helped unload the car of groceries, went so far as to unload the items from their bags onto the counter, then knew to step away. It was 5:30 and someone's blood sugar or anxiety level was going to incite a meltdown at any time and he knew it. He readied himself between the deep breathing (sighing?) going on in the kitchen and flying monkeys in the family room as a goalie might before his net; knees bent, arms forward, eyes darting, prepared to lunge in any direction.
I juggled and jostled items in my best effort to do too many things at once and as they toppled out of my hands, a "damn it" escaped my lips. The little boy that seems to have developed selective hearing, amazingly heard my frustration and though I expected a reprimand, from around the refrgerator door, I received a gift instead. Dolt that I am, I still am learning to see and accept the gifts all around me, but this day, I was stopped dead in my tracks at the thoughtfulness and presence of my sweet boy.
"Mommy, are you having a hard time?"
"Yes, actually I am."
"What can I do to help you?"
"Well you can turn off the music for 5 minutes, that would be really helpful, thank you for asking."
But alas, before the request was even made, it was done.
Not only is the little guy around here pretty amazing; the bigger one, I think I'll keep him too.
Tree of Life
There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root.
Henry David Thoreau
Henry David Thoreau
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Paraffin
Tonight Nathan was helping to prepare dinner of a simple green salad and barbecue chicken pizza with Gouda cheese. He loves the Dutch delight and even more so since his preschool class was assigned Holland for International Day in May. Yes, Gouda cheese is the best and one of the things that makes it the best is the wonderful red wax that it is packaged in. A simple pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless to peel away that wax in one soft piece revealing the mild goodness within. Nathan was up at the prep counter, standing next to me on his chair in our kitchen. The salad was made, table set, all that remained was to assemble our pizza. Instinctively, he knew the Gouda must be freed from it's encasement unmarred, whole and beautiful. He worked slowly and methodically. Deep in concentration a question came to his mind, and for me, the Gouda will never be the same. "Mommy, is this the same kind of wax that comes out of my ears?"
Friday, July 3, 2009
What else is there really?
As we were leaving music class last Saturday, Nathan spotted a dandelion full of fluff, just waiting to be wished upon. He yanked it out of the ground, thought for a moment, took a deep breath, and blew that weed to smithereens. He answered my expectant look, "I wished for love."
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