This is what 8 looks like:

a giant, goofy, gap-filled smile showing the simple joy of hanging out with your dear friend (and your tiger, of course) at one of your very favorite places. Interestingly, Tovah chose to skip the usual party this year, and opted instead for a few special outings and her favorite malted milk ice cream. Very low key compared to previous years, but it seemed just perfect for who she is right now.

Shabbat Story

My 91 year old grandmother called yesterday and told me she had a huge thing to ask of me but first there was a story.....

Her brother (my Uncle Arthur) made a recent discovery while going through some papers. You should know that Arthur has been "going through his papers" for as long as I can remember so how he could possibly find anything new is beyond me but apparently he recently did.

What he found was a sealed letter from my great grandmother Ida which wasn't to be opened until her death. Ida was a lovely woman. She was short and plump, with beautiful silver hair that she wore in 2 braids pinned on top of her head until her very last years. She wore clunky shoes and plaid wool shirts and mostly smelled like sugar because she was always in the kitchen, baking. She moved from NYC to Portland when I was a baby, into a small apartment right behind my high school. I was lucky to know her until she died in 1982 when I was 16.

I am not sure how her letter got overlooked in my uncle's extensive file system but it had a number of requests relating to her death and afterward. As it turns out, most of her requests had been carried out anyway but for one. My grandmother started crying when she told me that her mother had asked that a yartzeit candle be lit for her each year.

Given my family history it's nothing short of miraculous that I am a practicing Jew today. My father isn't Jewish. My mother came from Orthodox Jews on her father's side and adamantly secular Jews on her mother's side. Part of my grandparents' decision to leave New York and come to Portland in the 1950's was about getting away from Judaism--all that Old World superstition and tradition. My grandfather's experience with Judaism as a child was oppressive and without joy so he wanted no part of Jewish life as an adult. My grandmother's family were the classic politically active, intellectual, lefty types of folks who had no use for religion.

When my grandparents came to Portland, they didn't join a synagogue. There was no religious education for my mother and aunt. When I was growing up, we gathered for some holidays but I was in college before I realized, for example, that most Jews say a blessing while lighting the candles at Chanukah. I had to figure out what being Jewish meant on my
own as an adult.

I don't talk about that much with my family. Jewish observance is an awkward
subject with both my Jewish and non-Jewish relatives--which is why this conversation with my grandmother felt so very significant.

Both my great uncle and my grandmother are feeling awful that this one simple request had been ignored all these years. Both feel like, now that they know, they still can't commit as they're both over 90 and don't know how much longer they'll be with us. So my grandmother asked me today if I would accept this responsibility.

So, of course I will be lighting the yartzeit candle in my great grandmother's memory. I'd always wanted to but it was such a touchy subject I didn't know how to approach it. I already feel a little bit guilty when I light the candle for my grandfather every autumn. I think he'd surely disapprove but when I finally confessed to my grandmother today, she assured me he would be honored.

My house is full of my great grandmother's beautiful old furniture. Each morning I take my clothes out of her old dresser. Our Chanukah menorahs are lit on the same old oak buffet where she lit hers. And every week, I braid my challah on the same wooden bread board that she used for her delicious baking. So I don't know that I need to light a candle to remember her, but it does feel like both an honor and a very strong connection to those who came before me.

It's funny how things work out, isn't it?

Thanksgiving 2009

It's the last week of November and I had yet another chance to get all teary when we had our annual Thanksgiving lesson in my classroom. What I wrote last year remains true:

I find myself incredibly grateful for my own family. We've never had to send anyone away to earn money and we've never had to communicate with one another by long distance. I have parents, in-laws, and a grandmother who love me and are always there for me. A blessing, indeed.

Though they've both gotten more challenging, we've both managed to keep our jobs this year and we are keenly aware of how lucky we are in that area. Apart from the endless dental bills, my children are healthy, creative, and growing up well. Our parents and my 91 year old grandmother are still going strong . My health has improved bit by bit and most days I feel strong and capable. I don't miss being the fragile, frazzled wreck I was a few years ago, that's for sure.

My kitchen is full of good smells from the tasty dishes we'll be sharing with friends today. I hope those who are celebrating today have a joyful holiday.

Oh--and don't forget that well deserved Thanksgiving nap!

Validation

Anyone reading this with kids has probably figured out by now that it's kind of a big waiting game. Once we get past the ever adorable baby/toddler stage and our kids begin to assert their own personalities, we realize that it's maybe not all going to be a piece of cake. Our kids argue and test and push and roll their eyes and swear they'll never make the choices their parents made--or is that just my kids?. They develop interests which their parents can't understand and begin speaking in a language almost incomprehensible to those of us who raise them. Sometimes it seems like they're just really far away and they simply cannot hear us. We might try to guide them but often as not, they insist on doing things their way. And we parents just have to sit back and wait to see how it all turns out.

Every once in a while, though, we get a glimpse of who they are becoming and, if we are lucky, we get to see the part we parents played in that transformation. I was blessed with one of those moments today and it brought tears to my eyes.

It happened, as these things so often do, in the car, while I was driving MonkeyBoy to the bank. He had finally saved up enough to buy his own computer and we were going to move his money into my account since I needed to do the ordering. I think I jokingly said something about how mean I was to make him make this purchase with his own money and then pointed out how lucky he was to be a kid. He could spend his money any way he wanted but we parents had so many things to pay for and often not a whole lot left over.

Then out of the blue, he said, "I think you guys totally made the right choice". I wasn't sure what he was referring to, but then he explained that he thought it really was great that one of his parents was always home, that he and his siblings never had to go to day care or school, and that they could be home schooled. He actually said these things were more important than money and he hoped to be able to raise his kids in a similar way.

We parents don't get to hear things like that all that often so you know I was paying attention!

Sometimes I look at my friends who seem to have it all: lovely homes and cars that aren't one breakdown away from the junk yard, money for vacations and beach homes and endless camps and classes for their kids. Oh, and health insurance. The Spouse and I traded those luxuries for time with our kids, more time than most American families ever get . There have been many, many times when we've questioned the wisdom of taking this route. We've explained this choice nearly every time the kids ask us why we can't take "real" vacations or eat out more often or any number of things that would be lovely but aren't really so hard to do without. I always figured that down the road, perhaps when they had kids of their own and were up against the kinds of choices we've had to make over the years, that hopefully then they might understand why we made the choices we did about money and time and work and family. But I was astonished and hugely gratified to find that my 14 year old already had it figured out.

16

Sixteen years ago today, Simon came into the world and I became a mother. It sounds so simple, doesn't it? But what a day--what a wild ride. I learned so much during my 24 hour labor: that birth plans mean nothing in a hospital (the nurses laughed at mine), that doctors mean nothing in a hospital (mine wasn't to be called until the nurses decided I was ready, which meant that my doctor very nearly missed the birth), that nothing really prepares you for labor (apart from pushing out a baby), that I was so much stronger than I ever imagined, and that time stops when a new baby arrives.

I'm still learning, every day, what it is to be a mother to this boy who's so nearly a man. His siblings will surely benefit from my trials and errors as I try to figure out how best to support him on his journey. I love the person he's always been and the one he's become: bright, observant, witty, and creative.

He's a typical teen full of sass and attitude, but every now and again he breaks out in unstoppable laughter and it's a sound that makes everyone smile. My wish for him is that he has countless opportunities for that delighted laugh to ring out.

My April

The sun finally came out around here and my thoughts turned to gardening. It's hard to get an early start here in Portland at least for the casual home gardener like myself who has no intention of mucking around with greenhouses and row covers. I just tend to wait out the rain until things look good and then I jump in with a few cool weather transplants and what I fondly refer to as sacrificial tomatoes. Planted in April, they're as likely to wither and sulk as they are to take off and grow beautifully, but some years we get lucky.

But here's the the thing. Inevitably my first serious foray into the garden happens in mid to late-April. And while I'm out there, pulling up bindweed, turning over garden beds, and whacking the hydrangeas back to something manageable, my mind inevitably wanders and I grow quite melancholy. This time of year, so ripe with possibility and optimism, is also terribly sad for me, as it's the very time of year when we lost my brother.

I've written here about my brother before but if you're a new reader the short story is that he took his own life 6 years ago at 33 years old. It's still hard for me to believe how long he's been gone and all that he missed. His son is a sweet, strapping young man with his father's wry sense of humor and love for animals.

When I first get out in the garden, I am always overcome with memories of him. Nothing reminds me of him like growing things. Somehow my brother got his hands on a copy of this book in his teens and from then on he was always growing something, always working proudly on his gardens. When we lived on a huge lot, he would come over and help us beat back the grass and weeds that seemed impenetrable. At that same house, he decided to build us some raised garden just because we hadn't gotten around to it yet. He was famous in his block for running out, post shower, in nothing but a towel, to remove an errant weed. And I'll never forget his excitement showing me the first blossom on his passionflower vine.

The day he died was one of those days when we finally accepted that it was spring and time to get moving in the garden. We headed off to the nursery that day and when we returned home with, among other things, a lovely Autumn Joy sedum, the creepy people from the sheriff's office were waiting for us to break the news.

[big long pause, lots of typing, deleting, re-typing, more deleting.....]


You know what? I don't know where I'm going with this, folks. I thought I had all these deep, weighty things to say about life and death and the changing of the seasons but the words aren't coming and I still can't make sense of what my brother went through, and what my family continues to struggle with. Another year and still no answers. You'd think we'd be used to it and stop asking why. Years pass, seasons change, and there's an ebb and a flow to the sadness as well. It's always worst just as things are bursting into bloom.

Have You Noticed?

It's pretty much full on autumn here in the northern hemisphere and the color is everywhere.

We went on a leaf-gathering expedition yesterday. It was a bright, clear day and despite the usual sibling squabbles, we all had a lovely time together. Even the teens ran around like puppies let loose from their crates.

Don't you wish you could save those breathtaking colors? I learned how to keep autumn leaves from fading so quickly. A simple dip in melted paraffin enables them to hold on to that brilliant color for weeks. The Princess and I filled a basket with wax-dipped leaves today in no time. I expect they'll end up scattered around the house for a little autumnal color, maybe even on the Thanksgiving table. Because they are just so lovely--the light coating of wax seems to deepen the colors and make the leaves glow.

Mosaic Monday--The Bar Mitzvah Edition

So we had a bar mitzvah. What can I say? It was delightful. After a little tiny mini freakout as the guests started arriving, MonkeyBoy (or should I switch to MonkeyMan?) collected himself and did an absolutely fabulous job. With the best ever bar mitzvah tutor at his side, he helped lead prayers and songs, read his 12 verse Torah portion flawlessly, and delivered a drash (an interpretation of his Torah reading) that was clear and well-received. Best of all, he had a wonderful time and enjoyed being king for the day.

My Torah reading went so smoothly that I might just step up to read a bit more often. That was mostly due to MonkeyBoy's help which shows just how much he's learned. I gave up on the DPS. I knew I wouldn't be able to say what I needed to say without crying, so what was the point? What MonkeyBoy knows is that he is loved, not only by his family, but by a whole community of friends and family who came to support him on a very special day.

None of this could have come together as smoothly as it did without all the hard work of many, many friends and family members who helped with food, flowers, photos, set-up, delivery, and a hundred different things that needed to be done. Our guests were generous in their support of MonkeyBoy's mitzvah project and the kids at Kateri Park will now be well supplied with pencils, notebooks, and other school supplies for the foreseeable future. Anything I asked for I got from so many people I hardly know how to start thanking everyone. An event like this makes me realize how very lucky I am to be part of a warm, caring Jewish community and an even wider community of friends who came from near and far to be with us.

Mamanxiety, Part One

Sometimes all I wish for is a day or two, even an hour, of knowing I'm making the right choices for my kids. My mamanxiety is pretty high these days and I keep having that nagging feeling that I'm messing up my kids for life. When you homeschool your kids, there's no one else to blame, right?

MonkeyBoy is a pretty intense and challenging kid. This is hard to accept for those who see him under ideal circumstances because most people only see his charm, his quick wit, his thoughtfulness, and his brilliant smile. All of these are completely genuine, but when it's time to buckle down and work, most of these attributes disappear and he becomes easily frustrated, ill-tempered, and not my favorite companion.

I think at some level I understand his frustration. Academic work doesn't come easily to him. He's an incredibly talented artist but words and numbers won't behave for him and even at 12 it's torture for him to sit still for long. For years I've tried to adopt the relatively easygoing attitude that so many homeschooling parents seem to have mastered: there's no rush, he'll get it when he's ready and so on. And then I realize that he's more than a little bit behind--he's still struggling with concepts that much younger kids have mastered. But it isn't just that I realize it, he's more and more aware of it himself. Our semester in the awful virtual charter school had him convinced that he was just plain stupid compared to other kids his age. That realization was what prompted me to pull him out and give the kid a break. A really long break.

I don't believe this kid would thrive in public school especially in our small district which lacks all the groovy special interest programs found in the large neighboring school district. I think he'd be so overstimulated in the average classroom that he wouldn't learn much at all. I felt this when he was 5 and my opinion really hasn't changed much. But you'd think that after all these years I'd be a confident homeschooling pro and I am as full of worry as ever.

Unschooling sounds so wonderful and I wish I could be that kind of homeschooling parent, but I'm not. I love the idea of child-led learning and I have met a few self-identified unschooled kids that seem to have blossomed with such an approach (and I've met a few that scare the pants off me, to be fair). But left to their own devices my boys would do nothing but play computer games, read crappy fantasy books and squabble with each other and I just can't feel OK with that.

On the other hand we are way too disorganized and spontaneous for a rigorous scheduled curriculum. Because MonkeyBoy takes hours to do a few minutes' work, the idea of 8-10 hours a day at the kitchen table (because he still can't get much done without my constant supervision) to cover the state standards fills me with no end of horror. That was the nightmare that was the virtual charter school and I can't see doing that again.

On the other hand (how many hands do I have now?) my mercurial little sprite needs to learn some buckling down skills as well as how to write a decent one-page essay without excessive drama. So we're at it again, nose to the grindstone. Am I teaching him much needed discipline or am I crushing his spirit? I still don't know but I can't help but feel that I really ought to have this all figured out by now.

The End is Near!

The end of the term, that is. I'm sitting here grading exams and getting a bit giddy at the thought of three weeks of vacation beginning at the end of the week.

It's been a week fraught with money worries as the bills from my hospital interlude roll in. Why I'm messing around teaching English when I could be charging $300/hour for brilliant doctorly advice like "take Advil for the chest pain" is beyond me. Happily I managed to convince the hospital to take some pity on my and they shaved a cool two thousand dollars off my total bill, getting the total below what I paid for my last vehicle. Whew.

Speaking of vehicles, The Spouse's Honda started acting odd in perfect conjunction with the arrival of our kicker check. It's happened to us before: tax refund= car malfunction. So he took the car down to our local import auto shop whose website says "In love of Jesus, In Love of Cars". Huh? I didn't get the connection. Before we got the car back, the mechanic managed to go some $200 beyond what The Spouse had authorized in repairs, taking care of our kicker and then some and prompting me to wonder What Would Jesus Charge?

And now we have a cat who's acting punky and smells like he's rotting. Doctor, hospital, mechanic, vet--sorry folks, there's only so much to go around!

While I know I can kvetch like a champ, there have been some lovely moments in the last week. MonkeyBoy earned his first stripe at last Saturday's taekwondo promotion. He went through his paces smoothly and with confidence.

Since his class is during my working hours this was my first exposure to taekwondo culture which involves a great deal of formality and displays of respect. We were expected to sing not only The Star-Spangled Banner but the Korean national anthem as well, which was a bit of a shocker. I kept wanting to refer to the Great Grandmaster as Grandmaster Flash but The Spouse thoughtfully kept me in check. It's a whole 'nuther world, for sure but my boy seems a bit taller since his promotion and I can see real, tangible changes in his behavior as he works on mastering his emotions. No small thing, that. He'll be back in class come January, for sure.

Chanukah has been enjoyable and full of small pleasures. I always say I don't like it when the holiday falls before the end of my term but it does keep things from getting too crazy. We had family over Sunday night for dessert and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves although The Dark Lord did manage to fall asleep on the couch in the middle of everything. We had friends from our homeschool co-op over today and an astounding number of doughnuts were consumed.

It was a little bit melancholy as we lit the final candles tonight. I know The Princess doesn't want the holiday to end. But I am looking forward to some down time. I'd like to finish The Great Cabled Monster that is The Spouse's belated Chanukah gift. I got The Happy Hooker out of library in hopes of learning to crochet. We have plans for leisurely dinners with friends and lots of quiet time by the fire. There's a rumor we might even get some snow.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving Day was delightful around here, for the most part. Sure, there was the usual kvetching about tidying up and who always unloads the dishwasher (and who never unloads the dishwasher) but for the most part it was a calm, enjoyable day. I felt a little guilty about having called the relatives and rescinding my offer to host the big meal after my recent stay in the hospital. But really I'm fine. I cooked on and off all day with lots of pauses to knit, draw with the family, and eat one of the desserts which we decided was too ugly for the Thanksgiving table.

Before the meal we had the required conversation about gratitude. but it really was lovely to hear my kids speak on the subject, each in a distinct voice. A five year old and a fourteen year old see things quite differently --no surprise there. But each had something interesting and heartfelt to say and I so enjoyed listening. They really are wonderful people.

I read the following poem from Ritual Well and I confess to getting a bit choked up.

A Thanksgiving Prayer

By Rabbi Naomi Levy

For the laughter of the children,

For my own life breath,

For the abundance of food on this table,

For the ones who prepared this sumptuous feast,

For the roof over our heads,

The clothes on our backs,

For our health,

And our wealth of blessings,

For this opportunity to celebrate with family and friends,

For the freedom to pray these words

Without fear,

In any language,

In any faith,

In this great country,

Whose landscape is as vast and beautiful as her inhabitants.

Thank You, God, for giving us all these. Amen.

It was a good day full of laughter and warmth. I hope all those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving also had the same.

Ritalin Sticks

Please note the lovely handknitted garments worn by The Princess: black fingerless gloves and bright yellow kerchief thing. They were made not by me, but by MonkeyBoy who is a fine if erratic knitter in his own right.

My boy struggles with attention issues and has a lot of the classic ADD characteristics. He's impulsive, has to tap his feet and fiddle with things, is easily overwhelmed, and often has a hard time staying on task. As hard as it is to be around I know it's ten times harder to live it so I am always happy to see him engaged in something that allows him to be still and relaxed. Often it's reading or drawing. And, once again, it's knitting. He'll go months at a time without picking up yarn and needles but then he remembers goes on a wild knitting streak. And he's good. We should all have such even stitches.

Knitting is good for kids. It's a time tested activity in Waldorf schools--the dolls creep me out but I love that they do lots of knitting. Even more mainstream schools are finding many benefits to teaching kids knitting. At our house, I love it when MonkeyBoy settles down to knit. Sometimes he listens to books on tape, but often he's willing to engage in thoughtful discussions. He's excited when he masters a new technique. And the generosity with which he knitted the items for his sister was absolutely lovely to behold. She is so proud to wear his knitted gifts and he's clearly thrilled at seeing her wear them.

Validation

I wrote last month about The Dark Lord venturing into public school after having been homeschooled since kindergarten. He's running on too little sleep and too little food and he's often rather stressed out. But he does get himself up every morning, showers, and gets himself out the door. He's made friends and seems to be enjoying himself overall.

Today were the first parent-teacher conferences which I approached with some trepidation. After being my child's teacher all these years I felt like it was my work being scrutinized as much as his. It's all about me, right?

The teachers were each set up at a table in the commons area and the parents went from one table to the next in order to speak with them. It was a bit of a madhouse and I left with a lot of sympathy for the teachers and all they had to juggle (and not a little appreciation for my job which allows me to focus on one subject with one group of students for an entire term).

As for The Dark Lord's academic progress, he's doing well. Very well. He's missing an assignment or two here and there but overall he's making great progress and his teachers seem to like him. The Spouse and I kind of figured this first quarter would be all about learning to get up and out the door in the morning and keeping track of assignments. I figured we'd be ahead of the game if he made C's in his classes but right now it's looking like 7 A's and a B!

I know that grades have nothing to do with who he is or even what he knows, and I know that much of school is learning to jump through hoops. But the thing is, he's having a good time. He's making friends. He's working on group projects and is starting to look into extracurricular activities. He's not getting taunted or harassed and he's not taking drugs. My fears about high school seem to be pretty much unfounded. And good grades? Icing on the cake!

When it works…..

The Dark Lord stumbled out the door bright and early for his another day of hell high school, leaving the house quiet until the other two woke up, which is happening earlier and earlier these days.

After big bowls of oatmeal, we got down to the day’s schooling which went remarkably smoothly, enough so that I wanted to take note of it.

Last year we dropped a ton of money on a big set of Zome which the boys have built with on and off. I also purchased a set of lesson plans to help me use them to the fullest for teaching math, science, art but because we'd enrolled in the Evil Charter School last year, I never got around to exploring the lessons. Given the hands on, multidisciplinary aspect of Zome I figured it might be perfect for MonkeyBoy this year and we started today with lesson one. We watched an introductory BrainPop movie on polygons and then got to work building shapes. We worked in a lot of new math terms and some Latin roots though I still don't understand why don't say quadragon. I loved that my 5 year old and my 12 year old were equally engaged, each exploring at his/her own speed.

Eventually we moved on to this week's Five in a Row book. I've long been intrigued with the Five in a Row model. The title refers to reading a classic picture book five days in a row and focusing each day on a different subject: art, literature, math, science, or social studies. The reading list includes books we already know and love along with titles that are new to us. Our first book was a total bust despite my assurances that it was one of my favorites as a kid. The Princess simply refused to hear it more than once. The next two books went over better and this week's book was lovely and engaging, even if it did require us to talk about slavery. Both kids listened as I read, admired the pictures and asked questions. So there they were for nearly two hours, completely engaged. It was like a homeschooling parent's dream!

Tonight we watched yet another great documentary. MonkeyBoy has his academic challenges but he will watch just about any movie we bring home. Not only has he seen far more documentaries that your average 12 year old, he's really learning things from them and his inevitable questions nearly always lead to great discussions. He's well versed on the problems of credit cards, the climate crisis, and the electric car, all due to recently watched documentaries. Tonight we watched Promises, a wonderful film about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through the eyes of kids from both sides. It was very well done and if you decide to watch it, make sure to watch the follow up material on the DVD.

The Dark Lord was gone all day and then had to spend the evening on homework so I haven't seen a whole lot of him. The whole schedule thing is still very challenging and he's currently not very thrilled about school. I still have no idea if this experiment is for the best but I do know that I miss having him around while we learn.

Back to School

OK, it isn't really back to school because The Dark Lord hasn't been in a schoolroom since pre-school. When he finished up there, we tried getting him into a charter school kindergarten which fell apart. We decided then that we would homeschool him for kindergarten because we really didn't feel that he would thrive in a busy classroom all day long. He's always been a kid with the ability to focus deeply when he's interested and the need for lots of solitude. Being around too many people for too long and being required to switch from one task to another seemed to stress him out, so we saw no reason to push him into that kind of environment so early.

Our first year of homeschooling grew into many years. MonkeyBoy joined in as well. Over the years, both boys learned to read in completely different ways. They've explored topics in depth, tried out everything from fencing to yoga, worked at home and in lots of different groups, and have read hundreds of books. They've written stories, made movies, built bridges, dissected owl pellets, taken field trips, acted in Shakespeare plays, and had endless hours to dream and imagine and just...be.

But then one day last spring, The Dark Lord mentioned that he might like to give school a try. We set up a visit and off he went to see what high school was all about. He came home not exactly eager, but definitely willing to give it a try. This month we've turned in forms and worked on replenishing the wardrobe. We've bought binders and lunch kits and a fancy new backpack and all of this business has kept me from focusing on the real issue, which is that my child will be leaving our home and spending much of his day out there, in the land of TV and pop culture and drugs and promiscuity and fundamentalist Christians and racists and gangs and cheerleaders and all the things we've tried to keep him from. He's strong and he knows who he is and what's right and wrong and I am confident that he will make good choices, but I just can't begin to imagine what he will make of this experience.

It's a good enough school. We're outside the city's big school district and don't have to participate in the competitive struggle to get our kids into the best school. There's one high school in the district and all the kids have the same opportunities. The classes range from remedial to honors (and my homeschooling mama self is proud that the boy's writing was good enough that he was accepted into those honors classes). The school's population is diverse which, admittedly, can't be said of our city's homeschooling community which is mostly white and mostly at least middle class. The arts program surprised me in its variety--I thought they didn't have money for arts in public schools anymore.

So our whole family is just.....waiting. We all seem to understand that this is huge, for all of us. I will actually welcome the chance to pay more attention to his siblings who will continue to learn at home, but I am having a hard time getting used to the idea that he'll be missing from our home for hours and hours every week.

Eclipse

Because last week's birthday festival wasn't enough (it never is when you're 5) The Princess wanted to know about plans for her Hebrew birthday. Operating from two calendars can be confusing, but it does offer up double birthday possibilities. The Princess (and MonkeyBoy as well) were born on the full moon which is the middle of the Hebrew month. She mentioned last night that maybe she could have ice cream for her Hebrew birthday but I suggested a more exciting surprise.

So, at around 2:30am I bundled her up and joined her brothers on the front lawn where we had a perfect view of the complete lunar eclipse. The night was clear, not too chilly, and our noisier neighbors were unaware of anything spectacular occurring outside so things were relatively peaceful. It was truly magical. and, while I'm still yawning this morning, I'm so glad I pried myself out of bed to see the eclipse with my children.

Consolation Prizes

I lost one of my dearest friends last week and I hear another friend will be packing up to leave soon. I don't handle changes well, especially when loss is involved, so I've been rather sulky of late.

But.....and thank goodness for the but......there are consolation prizes and I want to recognize them:

It turns out that my impulse-purchased second hand bike was rather a score and is worth a bit more than I paid. This fact is neither here nor there as have every intention of holding on to it because every time I ride the bike I love it more, but it does make me feel rather clever.

Yesterday's ride was to the Montavilla Farmers Market where I had one of the most memorable peaches of my life, an Elegant Lady grown by the Baird family of Dayton. This really was a fantastic peach, and I enjoyed it sitting with The Dark Lord, juice running down our chins. He's a teen, he simply had to act blase, but even he admitted it was delicious. The peaches were that much tastier for our having biked a few miles to buy them. We ended up taking a big bag home and making a pie.

My boys are being unusually sweet and agreeable. Dare I even say...helpful? It's quite wonderful.

Yes, I've lost a good friend, but I am re-discovering others and that's a wonderful thing.

A long lost member of our knitting circle is closing down her yarn store and giving everything away. Everything. I did my part in helping her liquidate and I have yarn for years and years of projects. I have long dreamed of making my first sweater for myself out of this in plum and I am now the owner of 18 balls!

We headed to the beach over the weekend expecting the usual cool weather and overcast skies typical of the Oregon Coast. Instead, we had brilliant sunshine, warm breezes, and hundreds upon hundreds of pelicans. It was a perfect day of kites and sandcastles, shells and tidepools. No one argued and no one snarked until dinner (which really was truly snarkworthy--why bother starting up a restaurant of you're just going to serve nasty food but I digress...) . We'd planned a beach trip the weekend before but it was rather abruptly canceled due to fraternal squabbling so this peaceful, sunny day was a rare pleasure.

I tell you, when you're flying a kite, everything looks good!

When I'm Right......

My husband is a very good person. He is a wonderful husband and father, which is not news to anyone who knows him. But he's also committed to the rest of his family. When word came down that his grandmother was about to celebrate her 94th birthday and neither his father nor his brother could attend the festivities, my dear husband made plans to travel to Oklahoma City for 4 days. I think the weather alone at the end of July would probably kill me, but he's clearly stronger than I am.

We dropped him off at the airport yesterday and then couldn't resist a peek at our fair city's celebrated newcomer nearby. You'd think we were hosting the Olympics or something. We went, we bought a few things to make our home more streamlined and Swedish (as if!) and it was a scene but now we can say we've been. Those folks do have a way with color and I fell in love with some of the fabrics by the yard, so I may well make the trek again one day. What I cannot understand is why, when one covers the entire the entire 280,000sf store and finally makes it through checkout and to the exit, there is no conveniently placed coffee cart outside the door. I think I would have willingly paid $10 for an iced Americano at that point to prop me up for the long journey back to our car. The boys were calling it "the IKEA death march".

All I could think of at that point was water and shade. We had an errand to run downtown and I decided to take the kids to one of my favorite childhood spots. The Lovejoy Fountain is tucked away in a part of Portland where the former shtetl was flattened by 1960's urban renewal. It was a spot I loved as a kid--there's water, of course, but it's also a space where one can scale heights, rest near a tranquil pool, get splashed by rushing water, and (not to be missed) float one's Crocs from top to bottom. The boys kvetched on the way there of course, assuming that the fountain would be dull. Our brief stopped turned out to last much of the afternoon. All the kids got soaked, the pigeons got a lot of mediocre Swedish oat crisps, and everyone was happy (except The Spouse who was stuck all afternoon in the Salt Lake City airport, poor fellow). I love it when my hunches are correct!
We picked up some Indian takeout and came home to fill out the meal with homemade naan, pakoras, mango lassi, and carrot halvah and spent the evening watching Lagaan, the best 4 hour anti-imperialist Bollywood cricket film you could ever hope to see!

Another Birthday

Summer is non-stop birthday fun in our family. Today we celebrate The Dark Lord who's now (gulp!) 14 years old. Sometimes I can't believe how the time has flown since he looked like this:
but other times it seems as if he's always been with us. Yes, he's gotten taller but it's amazing to me how much of the baby is still there if I look. The same fixed, calm gaze and the sweet mouth. He was never a risk-taker and never hysterical and he remains sensible, thoughtful, and calm to this day, but with a silly side that can pull us all into his goofiness.
I remember being 14 and even though I become exasperated with him, he's handling it all with far better sense than I did.

Motherhood has been acutely on my mind recently and he's the boy who made me a mother, the child on which I tried out my first attempts at parenting, the guinea pig, really. His siblings have him to thank for whatever refinements his father and I have developed at his expense.

I feel light years away from that hospital room where I labored, completely overwhelmed with the intensity of bringing him into the world. I had no idea what was waiting for me as I crossed from where I was before kids to where I live now. Parenting is such an all consuming place that I have very little perspective, but from what I can tell, things look good for this child of mine. He is bright and creative and I am enjoying watching him spread his wings. Happy birthday, my sweet boy. May this year bring you only good things as you grow into your strength and find your way in the world.

17 Years

It's hard to believe that 17 years have passed since The Spouse and I exchanged vows in a funky, home made, hybrid wedding ceremony one June morning. I remember a lot of frenzied planning leading up to that day, but what we've learned since is that it's the marriage, not the wedding, that matters.

I am blessed to be married to a man who is endlessly patient, incredibly kind, wonderfully creative, and surprisingly wise for his years. He is a marvelous father, and a loving son. Yes,he's forgetful but he pays attention to the details that really matter in a way that sometimes astounds me. We've watched quite a few couples falter in recent years and had a few good fights of our own, but never have I doubted that we'd be together forever.

One of my deepest desires is that each of my children will be blessed to find someone who can be partner, lover, and best friend in the way my sweetie has been to me.

A dear friend offered to take all the kids from "lunchtime to lunchtime" and we've yet to make our plans. But it hardly matters what we do as long as we have some uninterrupted time together. There's no one I'd rather spend that time with.