1 Mother 2 Another

Last year, Maddie and her friends
undertook that classic kids’ boredom game, Digging to China.
Many of you will remember that Maddie’s posse began
assiduously href="http://www.1mother2another.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=1507">
working on a hole to China on their school playground,
calculating that they should be finished by sixth grade. Maddie
even asked Brian to be there the last day of school in sixth grade
– and bring scuba gear for getting through the oceans –
so the family could go to China together. Fortunately, the gang target="_blank"
href="http://www.1mother2another.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=1519&Itemid=2">
called it quits a couple weeks into the project after one
mother brought up concerns that their digging might cause shifts in
the tectonic plates, triggering earthquakes in other countries.
Ever ones to worry about causing other people harm, the girls
regretfully called a halt to their diggings.


Until now.

Cora has impeccable timing: last night
I’d juuuuuuuuuust sat down on the couch and pressed
“play” on my DVR’d Newsroom when Cora began
calling out: “Mooooommy! Moooooooommy!”


I walked into the darkened room and said, “What’s up,
bug?”


Cora shuffled around a bit in her bed. “I was just wondering
if you might need to get some snuggle right now. Because, you know,
if you need some snugs you can, you know, just take some whenever
you want.”


And she patted the bed next to her.

As I began to tell people this summer that
I’d be a baby empty-nester – both kids in full-time
school – come fall, I also began hearing the same question
over and over again. Sometimes asked wistfully, sometimes
bewilderingly, sometimes dripping with envy, but almost always the
same question:


“So . . . what are you going to do all day then?”


And you know what’s ridiculous? I often feel the need to give
a play-by-play justification of an answer to them. “Well,
I’m going to spend hours cooking gourmet dinners, and change
the sheets on the bed every day, and of course devote a significant
amount of time to caring for the poor.”

I may have hinted, here and there, that I
am a wee bit sad about school starting in general, and my baby
starting kindergarten specifically.


A wee bit.


So to everyone who called or emailed yesterday with their
condolences –er, sympathy –er, kind words – I say
a heart-felt thank you. Deeply.


To those who sent well-meaning words of encouragement along the
lines of “this doesn’t have to be an identity
crisis”, I thank you for your intention, but you missed my
point.

Dear Cora:


In a few short hours you will be starting kindergarten. Something
irreversible will have begun, and though I’m loathe to see it
happen I’m so proud you’re doing this so well.
You’re marching forward with joy and anticipation and
I’m doing my best to hide my sorrow so it won’t taint
your happiness.


For yes, I am sad. You are my heart, my little love, and I will
miss your daily presence in my life. And yes, I know you went to
preschool last year, but five hours, three days a week is simply
not the same as seven hours, five days a week. Last year we had two
days a week for pure Mommy and Cora fun, and those two days were
the best parts of my week. If I could put myself in your backpack,
I surely would: I have spent the past week furiously cooking
make-ahead breakfasts and muffins for lunches, labeling water
bottles and laminating favorite photos for you to hide in your
backpack. I’ve done everything I can, short of drinking
Alice’s shrinking potion and stashing myself in your
pocket.

I just went through Back To School night
with my baby, who is so excited we had to walk outside and practice
saying goodbye on the sidewalk, then watch her walk in and find her
own way to the classroom.


Go away now. I need to drown my sorrow in donuts.

I had a great day with the girls
yesterday. A fantastic day. We got up early, played at a sandbox
park, played in a sprinkler park, ate lunch outside, hung out with
my niece, went ice skating and clothes shopping, ate a quick
supper, played around the house – a fantastic day.


Which leads me to this: remember the other day when I said I was
ready for school, finally able to move forward and to let go?


Yeah, that was what I call a false positive.

Last week I spent some time with each girl
individually, doing whatever fun thing she wanted for a special day
together. For Cora, I suggested rock climbing; she’s always
been instinctively athletic and coordinated, and it was something I
thought she’d enjoy. I mentioned the idea to Cora, who
considered it, then vetoed the plan in favor of a trip to our
city’s indoor water park.


The waterpark, I should mention, is in the same building as the
city’s fitness center, which has, you guessed it, a rock
wall. So after we had a fun few hours playing in the pool area,
Cora and I sat on a bench and enjoyed a snack while we watched
someone climbing. After a few minutes, Cora said thoughtfully,
“Is it too late to do rock climbing too?”


Always wanting to encourage my kids to do new things, I said,
“Nope!” and we cheerfully raced home to get her
sneakers. Twenty minutes later Cora was being tightened into the
world’s smallest harness and clipped to the on-staff belayer.
Belaying guy? Not sure what the real title is there. At any rate,
Cora was snugged up, and she began to climb.

Monday afternoon if you had driven slowly
through my neighborhood, looking carefully at all the houses, you
would have seen several hundred pairs of eyes peeking out at you
from behind curtains. Should you turn onto a certain street,
you’d hear several collected inhales from behind closed doors
– followed by a sharp exhale when people saw it was
“just you”.


Were all the mothers in my area hoping for the Publishers
Clearinghouse Sweepstakes Prize Patrol van? No way, man – we
were looking for something much more important.


Our school teacher’s letter.

I've had my A$$ kicked the past couple of
days by a couple of wildly disobedient, out-of-control kids.
Totally tag-teamed me into a puddle.


And my parents taught me that if you don't have anything nice to
say, don't say anything at all.


Hence my silence.

I spent yesterday living as close to the
life of a typical soccer mom as I have, and let me say, I was
exhausted.


And I don’t think I’ll be enlisting any time soon.

I just realized that as we push our
girls’ rising times earlier and earlier to get ready for
school, so also do we push forward our girls’ bedtimes,
giving me a bigger chunk of “free” time at night.


Huh.


Maybe this early rising isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Well, it’s begun. That annual time
of year when I mercilessly torture my children for no immediate
reason, causing tears and irritability for the entire day.


Also known as the Backing Up of Getting Up.


Two weeks before school starts I begin waking the girls up earlier
and earlier: I start at 8 a.m. and move it back by 15 minutes every
two days, until by next weekend we’re at the time we need for
a school morning.


Yes, I know, many people think I’m crazy and will suck every
last Sleeping In drop out of the summer that they possibly can. And
to those people I say, If you can do it, God bless you.


We, however, cannot.

I know I’ve waxed rhapsodic about
our recent family vacation, but in the interest of full disclosure
I feel honor-bound to tell you about the worst part of our trip
– just to even things out.


That would be our first travel day.

Anyone else's kids completely entranced
by the Olympics?


We recorded it the whole time we were on vacation, so now we're
catching up and pretending we don't know the results. Every night
we eat dinner in the living room - a HUGE first, I assure you - and
watch another evening of DVR'd Olympics. The girls adore the
gymnastics portion, of course, but are much more into other sports
than I'd anticipated.


The swimming races get the girls on their feet, screaming at the
television and jumping up and down. I think Maddie's going to have
a heart attack sometimes, she's huffing and puffing so hard. We
watched several track races last night and Cora finally got up and
started stretching- limbering up for a big race, I suppose. But
they do love their gymnastics, and whenever it comes on Maddie and
Cora being assiduously practicing handstands and cartwheels and
splits and shoulder rolls all over the room -until the competition
is over.


Heaven help us when the Olympics close on Sunday.

When my husband and I go on vacation
someplace gorgeous, we love to be outdoors. We’ll explore
national parks and pull over at scenic vistas and climb through
tunnels and traipse up to see cliff dwellings – love it. And
if we’re in Hawaii, our two favorite things to do are hanging
out at the beach, and taking long hikes. Pre-kids, we’d do
8-11 mile hikes in a day, then collapse for a couple hours on the
beach to clean up and cool down. Heavenly.


Now, we knew going back to Hawaii with kids would be different, and
it was. We knew we wouldn’t be able to do our
4,000-feet-in-the-air, clinging-to-a-cliff’s-edge, 11-mile
hike. We knew that. But we also wanted to expose the girls to
hiking, and see if we could give them a taste of it so they’d
love it as much as we do. So we picked out a few of our favorite
hikes, ones with really spectacular, one-of-a-kind views very
shortly into the hike, and prepared the girls. We grabbed walking
sticks, water bottles, hats, and sunscreen, and headed out.


The verdict?


Happy Hikers, the Next Generation.

Last week I read a series of essays (while
lying on the beach, heh heh) entitled Because I Said So, all
written by mothers, on a variety of topics but all in some way tied
to motherhood. A few of the essays resonated with me, particularly
one about a single mom and her thirteen-year-old daughter: as the
mom tried to find her way in the newly-single world, she had to
take a good look at her daughter and figure out a whole new way to
parent, and in the process she asked the question, What is it
that makes a good mother?


“As far as she could ascertain, it seemed to boil down to a
fairly simple set of issues. A lousy mother was someone who looked
at her kid and said, ‘Here’s who I want you to
be’ and ‘Here’s what I’m going to give
you.’ A good mother was the one who looked at her kid, really
looked at her, and asked, ‘Who are you?’ and
‘What do you need from me?’”


I have tried to find a flaw in this – perhaps because
it’s sometimes more effort than I’m willing to put out
– and I cannot. Who are you? What do need from me? I ask
these questions, and my parenting style shifts. Subtly, but
distinctly.

Well, I’ve had the vacation of a
lifetime and unfortunately it had to end, so I’m back.


Not that I’m bitter.


Seriously, I think that’s the best vacation I’ve ever
had – a long week in Hawaii with my family. And yes, I know,
Hawaii is amazing, but beyond that, I had a really excellent time
with my kids.