Only the end of July is near

Tomorrow is the last day of July, and notoriously a time of great anxiety for me, as I feel the end is near.  For a person like me, even though I feel strongly that I have chosen my own perfect career, it may also simultaneously be my own worst career.  As a teacher, every year I repeat the same sick-to-my-stomach transition that involves nightmares (the only time of the year that I have them) and stomach knots the size of Kansas.  My husband doesn't understand this.  I don't understand it.  You would think that by this time, as I head toward my tenth year of teaching, I would be over the first day jitters and the agonizing anticipation of the end of the 6:30 AM deck-side coffee talks with my husband (and more recently, my invigorating AM runs) as the rest of the household sleeps soundly, and the unscheduled, do-anything days with my kids.  Soon enough, though, at 6:30 AM we will all be dressed and ready, on the way to school and work.  And I will be dreaming of those sweat-filled mornings as I instead prepare for twenty-five kids to enter my classroom.  Trust me, I don't want to feel this way, and I often wonder if I am doomed to experience this overwhelming sensation for the next 20+ years of my life. 

I know that within two days of school starting, I am always back in the groove and happy to have a routine again.  And I do love my job.  But that doesn't stop the emotions from rolling on the approach.

This year, I am going to try exceptionally hard to keep those emotions at bay, and enjoy the remaining moments of this wonderful summer without worrying them away.  There are still plenty of play dates, museum visits, swimming sessions, and do-anything days left, and I am going to enjoy them all. 

Just for posterity's sake, here are a just a couple of the many moments I enjoyed today:

Roasting marshmallows over an open fire (or, holding chopsticks with the ends of medicine droppers stuck onto them over an empty pitcher in my kitchen...completely Cortlan's idea)

A concert in the park (or, Cortlan singing his heart out into his microphone/vacuum hose while on stage/step stool...again, the product of Cort's imagination alone)

Unfortunately, I didn't capture the adorable Everly moments on camera today, but they were there...her enthusiastic dance party in the kitchen, her matchbox car sound effects, her jumping into the swimming pool.

Let's enjoy...

Just a thought

After managing a spontaneous trip to the zoo today and in the midst of stressing about (and working to complete) my never-ending "To-Do" list, I somehow found myself with a few spare minutes this afternoon to pick up my latest non-fiction read:  The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin.  I got about three pages further in my reading when I encountered this:

" 'Happiness,' wrote Yeats, 'is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that, but simply growth.  We are happy when we are growing.'  Contemporary researchers make the same argument: that it isn't goal attainment but the process of striving after goals - that is, growth - that brings happiness."

Definitely something for me to think about.  Care to share your thoughts?

Vacation, According to Cortlan

So we left Surf City, NC (which is on Topsail Island) last night at about 8:30, drove through the night with several stops, and arrived home early this morning.  There is much that I could write regarding vacation, which, despite some screaming by Everly and a few minor discipline issues with Cortlan, was a really awesome trip.  But, I thought that it might be interesting to hear Cortlan tell the tale of vacation, and so I sat him on my lap, where he dictated and I typed. Getting a story out of him was a lot more difficult than I anticipated, but I pushed through, thinking that he would ultimately tell the stories of him and his buddy playing in the loft of the beach (town)house and inviting us to a party in their bedroom, us making sand castles and collecting seashells, him spending hours swimming in the ocean, him seeing a big crab walking sideways on the beach.  This is what I got, with my interpretations bracketed:

Cortlan, will you tell me a story about vacation?  We can start it "Once Upon a Time..."
There was a... I smelled some horse poop. 
[So this is the first thing he remembers.  Nice.  There was one point on the last day at the beach that he said he smelled something like poop when we were outside.  It was a two second conversation.]
Wait, you want to tell the story about your vacation, right? 
Uh huh.  The phone was ringing at the beach house where the sand is and the waves.  Everyone had their phone but not us.  Everyone had their phone at the beach.  We had our phone at the beach.  But not where the sand was. 
[Huh?  Maybe he was thinking about them playing with the phones in the bedrooms of the beach house.  They actually plugged into the walls, which was some novelty to them, I think, since they are used to cell phones and cordless ones.  But we rarely heard a phone ring the entire week.  And definitely not at the beach.]
Ok, what else do you want to tell about vacation? 
We made a big hole and me and Wesley got covered up and we made... um... um... it was like a tower and it was like a zoomer that we zoomed down. We just did our hands to zoom down it.  [With some help, they made a huge mound of sand, which they preceded to slide down on their bellies.  Those swimming suits may never be the same again.]
And we made some pork chops. 
We didn't have pork chops at the beach. 
We had pork chops but didn't have pork chops.  We just made a pork chop in the sand.
Oh.  [No, we didn't.  But we did have pork chops for dinner tonight.]
And we had to go to the store but there was nothing at the store.  It was closed.  We were still at the beach but we were at the store.  It was a little bit far away.
[I have no idea about this one.  Though, through the entire trip, he struggled with the term "being at the beach."  We were at the beach in the general sense through the entire trip, but at times we were actually at the beach where the sand and water were.  He thought about that very carefully.]
What else do you want to say? 
Um.  Nothing. 
What about swimming in the ocean and things like that?  Tell me something else about the fun things that you did at the beach!
Um... I am going to tell you about the quads.  Ok, Mommy? 
Ok. Tell me about the quads! 
They have special kind of wheels that they can actually drive in the sand and the mud and they had to go in the water to get the sand off of it.  They were driving around.  We didn't know the people that were driving it.  They went past another quad.  I ripped the waves and Wesley did, too.  I just showed him how to.  When the waves comed, I told Wesley to rip the wave. 
[We saw two quads with beach patrol guys riding down the beach one day.  I wasn't aware of the "ripping" of the waves, but apparently John was there for that one.] 
What does it mean to rip a wave? 
Um. I saw some seashells that we could take home. 
Ok. What does it mean to rip a wave?
Um. To go underwater. To go under a wave!  Can you ride a wave? 
[At the beginning of the week, Cortlan only wanted to play in the sand. By the end of the week, I couldn't believe how much he loved the water.  There was a sand bar that allowed the water to pool a little bit and created an area that had only very small and calm waves for the kids to play in.  He got to the point where he was pulling himself through the water with his hands on the ocean floor and his legs dragging behind him and was going underwater, which he rarely even does in a swimming pool.  So in his head, he was probably ripping the wave.  If that is actually what that means.  Because I didn't know until he just told me.]
Can YOU ride a wave? 
Haha! No!  Can Daddy? Daddy, can you ride a wave??  Mommy, I am all done with my story. 
You don't want to write anything else?
Um. No. 
You don't want to tell about the turtles?  Nothing?
No.  I don't .  Yes, I do!  Yes, I do! 
Ok.  So tell me! 
Once upon a time, there was a big turtle that was huge and Mommy wasn't that big!  The turtle was an inch big! The turtles hurted people, so a forklift had to get they up. 
[We went to the turtle rehabilitation hospital on the island, where we saw a turtle that weighed more than me (as pointed out to him by his father).  As for the forklift, I don't know.  But he had one in his hand during this story telling.]
Wait.  The turtles didn't hurt people, the turtles we saw were hurt. 
Why were they?  Did some get hit by a boat? 
Yeah. 
Why did some get hit by a boat?  How did some of they get hit by a boat? 
It was an accident. 
How did they?  How did they?  How did they, Mommy? 
It was an accident. 
How did they, though? 
The propeller hit them. 
Why did the propeller hit them? 
The boaters didn't know they were in the water.  So what did we see when we went to the turtle hospital? 
We saw the black thingy? Why did they have the black thingy on them? 
What black things? 
The things that were on their, um, the black things that were on them. 
The black things on their shells?  What were they for? 
I don't know what they were for. 
Were they holding their shells together? 
Yeah.  Why were they holding their shells together? 
Because they were broken and they were trying to heal so they could be released back into the ocean.  What else did we see there?  What was it like? 
I'm going to tell you something different.  A forklift needed to pick they up.
Ok.
It smelled stinky in there.  Mommy, did it smell stinky in there? 
Um.  A little bit. 
Why did it a little bit smell stinky in there?  Did some of the turtles smell stinky? 
Some did, I think.  It was hot, too.  So, how does this story end? 
You say stuff.
What is the last thing that you want to say in our story? 
There was some frogs. 
There were some frogs? 
Yeah.  That's the end of our story.
But we didn't see any frogs at the beach. 
But that's the end of our story. 
Ok.  That's the end of our story. 
The End.

She Says, No. 2

More and more every day.

The "WWAAHHHHHH!!" is certainly still in her vocabulary, but more often it is replaced by (or at least preceded by), "Eh!  Eh!  Eh!  Eh!!  EH!!" and a finger point as she tries to tell us what she wants.

She still isn't clear with her words, but she is getting better, and her spoken and signing vocabulary is increasing daily, and I am pretty sure she understands a good majority of what we are saying to her.  Though, I am pretty sure that she does NOT understand what "first" and "then" mean, as in "First, we will change your diaper, THEN you can play with Cortlan (or have a snack or go outside or...).

Her signing words that she uses on a consistent basis: eat, drink, more, please, thank you (which is just the cutest, especially when it is unprompted or if she has something in her hand and she puts it down just to say it), all done, hat/helmet, sunscreen, come here, open, yes, no, brush teeth, sleep, telephone, and bye-bye.

Her "real" words: more, mommy (which she seems to use for more than when referring to me, but I find the recent switch from mama to mommy adorable), daddy, hi, bump bump (her favorite), ball, Cortlan (well, she tries, and I find it funny when she is calling for him loudly as if he could possibly know), banana, shoes, hat, catch, and today for the very first time, she said bye-bye.  :)

Love her.

He Says, No. 2

Yesterday, Cortlan was riding his bike like a maniac down the sidewalk and try as I might, I couldn't catch him when he got going too fast.  My cries to "stop pedalling!" were ignored, and as I visualized it in my head three seconds before, the ride came crashing to a halt.  So, of course, he got a scraped knee.  And, of course, a Band-Aid was the necessary fix.  Do all kids have this weird relationship with Band-Aids?

He examined and showed his Band-Aid to everyone he came in contact with, and kept close tabs on it all day.  The decision at bath time was that he would leave it on.  When it was time for him to wash his legs, he commented, "Mommy, I am not going to wash this leg because I have a Band-Aid on it." Ok.  But I did wash it for him, apparently without him knowing.

This morning, Everly called from her crib while he slept, but as I was changing her diaper, Cortlan appeared in the doorway fresh from waking.  The first words out of his mouth:  "Mommy, I am feeling a little stinky because I didn't wash this leg because I had a Band-Aid on it."   Yes, we have quite often said that we take baths so we don't get stinky.  Oh, the mind of a three-year-old.

But, that put a smile on my face this morning, when a lot is weighing heavily on my mind.  And as I have found that happiness sometimes takes a conscious effort, I decided to also write a few other things that have made me smile recently.

A few days ago in the kitchen, while Cort finished his breakfast:
John:  I am going to go back to the bathroom and get ready.
Cortlan:  Daddy, when you go to the bathroom, hop.
John: You want me to hop on the way to the bathroom?
Cortlan: On one foot.
John:  Well, bud.  I am carrying my coffee, and it might spill.
Cortlan (with a shrug of the shoulders):  Ok.

I would hazard a guess that my three year-old isn't the only one with some grammar issues, and though I do make every effort to help him get it right, sometimes I find the little slips to be endearing reminders that Cortlan is still a little boy.  For example, his general misuse of "because" instead of "that's why," as in, "my hands are full because i can't pick that up," gets me every time.  (Translation:  My hands are full, that's why I can't pick that up.)

And the last one for today:
Me: If you don't have your clothes on by the time I have Everly's diaper changed, you are going to have a time out.  I have asked you enough times.
Cortlan:  Nooooo!  Take a long, long time to change her diaper!!!!

Love him.

Not my favorite moments

Ok, contrary to my typical posts, but still in the "This is Life" spirit, here are some things that pretty much suck:

• Finding a Redbox movie under my husband's hat days after I thought it had been returned.  Ugh.  At least I randomly came across it today and not a week from today (or more).
• Knowing how well my kids can behave, yet watching as they act completely and uncharacteristically inappropriate and without manners in front of friends, leaving said friends with that impression.
• Promising Cortlan that I will make cookies with him and then realizing that I have no butter.
• Hearing Everly wake a mere hour after being put down for a nap, knowing that she could really use about four hours of sleep.
• Buying something at the store that I need a jackhammer to open (thus, no salvaging the packaging) only to find that said item will not work for what I need it for.
• Getting all mentally ready to do some serious training for a 10K only to have no way to do it one week later.  Pretty hard to find a babysitter for 6 AM before the kids wake, and nearly as hard to run in 95 degree humid heat in the noon day sun when I can get a babysitter.  How do single moms do it??  Tomorrow, I will try to find a sitter for after bedtime.

All that aside, it was still a pretty good day.

Life these days

Last week, we went to an animal park where you can see many types of interesting animals, feed most of them, and even pet some of them.  We saw a baby kangaroo get into his mom's pouch.  We saw lions laying on their backs, basking in the sun.  We saw a beautiful peacock with his tail completely fanned out.  Everly was excited to feed the animals the food pellets and carrots, and she giggled when the goat took the carrot from her hand.  BUT, there was one carrot that she was not willing to part with.  She held it far from the animals as we walked around the park, held it while she ate lunch, held it on the entire ride home. 

Cortlan, on the way to the animal park, was very excited at the prospect of feeding the animals and even said, "Mommy!  You can take lots and lots and lots of pictures of me!"  But, when faced with the reality of mouths larger than his hands licking food from his palm, he wasn't so keen on the idea.   He mostly watched and eventually did end up feeding them towards the end of the visit.  But he spent most of the trip sanitizing his hands.

In other news...

• Everly keeps telling me that she has to go potty.  Then, I put her on the potty and she wants off.  Maybe she is telling me she just went potty, but it would be pretty awesome if she is in the process of potty training herself.  I am not pushing the issue...she is, after all, not even sixteen months old.  But I am certainly not discouraging it, and am very willing to put her on the potty whenever she wants.
• Speaking of potty...Everly peed on the floor when I was changing her diaper.  Nice.
• The status of swimming:  Everly loves it and will practically jump in the water herself.  Cortlan could care less about it and is perfectly happy playing on the deck.  But they both loved when we put the baby pool at the bottom of their slide in the back yard.
• Cortlan got to stay up late to watch the neighbors' fireworks last night.  What a treat for him, and what a treat for me.  He knew it was special and was thankful, and was so darn cute as he watched them in awe.  If only the late night would have translated into sleeping in...

Sky Dive, Part 2

(Click for Part 1)

I was floating through the air, my legs involuntarily kicking as if I were swimming, and then in an instant, the chute opened.  I looked up and saw the full canopy, checked everything that I was taught to check, and heard the reassuring voice on the one-way radio attached to my jumpsuit telling me that everything looked good from the ground.  In the moments when the voice wasn't coming from the radio, I have never heard or felt such peace.  I felt like I was sitting on a pillow, dangling from a cloud.  I looked around for a landmark that I recognized, seeing the world from this new vantage point for the first time.  It was amazing.

I followed the instructions from the voice and navigated through the air.  There came a point when I felt that I wasn't even falling anymore, that I was stuck in the air.  As it turns out, I kind of was stuck.  I got caught in an air pocket that was preventing me from decending at any noticable rate, and so I was instructed to pull down hard on the right cord, causing me to spiral out of the pocket.  I began my decent, and landed safely.

I am not sure the smile could be removed from my face with a chisel after I landed.  "How was it?!"  I couldn't even put it into words. 

I got my first job that summer, and the money I made was so that I could jump.  A few more static line jumps, and I would officially be able to pull the cord myself.  I made it to that point, and did my first free fall with great success.  There were a few hang-ups along the way.  For example, on my second jump, the cords were tangled.  Reaching up as high as I could reach and pulling down hard through the tangle allowed me to spin out of the mess and my chute to fully open.  But I loved every minute of my decents.  What freedom.  And what peace.

The summer ended with eight take-offs and no landings in the Cessna.  And then I never jumped again.  Part of the reason was that I found other things on which to spend my money.  Part of the reason was that I had done it and was satisfied with my experience, and I didn't need to do it anymore.  And part was because, even though there was no trace of nervousness as I embarked the plane for my very first jump, nor as I jumped out that first time, with every flight after that first one, my nerves got worse.  Reasonable or not, as the number of times that I jumped out of the plane increased, something inside me told me that the odds of something bad happening were increasing, too.

This memory came to me the other day as I reflected at the halfway point of the year.  I realized that, generally speaking, I am at a very happy place in my life.  This year, more than any other, I have taken the time to savor the good moments and push through and beyond the bad ones without dwelling for too long.  I have refocused and tuned in.  I have learned a lot about myself, both good and bad.  And I have worked to change some of the bad, with some margin of success.  I am happy.  And I feel peace.   And every now and then, I feel nervous.

It only takes turning on the evening news to realize that our lives can change in an instant.  And while I realize that I can't live my life being nervous that something bad is going to happen, like I did that sky diving summer, there are certain times that the fragility of life is brought to the forefront of my mind.  "However good or bad a situation...it will change."  All the more reason to love life and the moments it gives us, hold onto the sweet and precious memories, and appreciate everything good and happy and peaceful and free.

Sky Dive, Part 1

I watched them fall from the sky several days a week during the summers as I grew up.  Just over the trees as I looked off of the deck, I could see the colorful canopies open.  And on clear, crisp days, I could even hear them shout to each other from thousands of feet away in the sky.  I decided I wanted to do that someday.  I told my parents.  "Maybe for your 16th birthday.  You are too young to do it now."

I turned 16 at the end of May years later, and I didn't forget what had been said.  I knew what I wanted to do.  My gift that birthday: enough money to cover the cost of the lesson and first jump out of an airplane, if that is what I chose to use it for.  I have a suspicion that the hope was that once I had the money in my hand, I may just find a different use for it.  But I didn't.  I scheduled the lesson for early June.

I hung from the rafters of the hangar, pulling on ropes, imagining the real thing, learning how to turn, and brake, and what to do if the ropes were tangled, and how to deploy the reserve chute.  I practiced my body posture and learned the commands.  It wasn't long before I was ready.

I donned my ultra-fashionable, solid blue jumpsuit, and felt the weight of the parachute strapped to my 110 pound frame.  I got on my goggles, waved to my family and friends, and boarded the Cessna.  I am deathly afraid of heights, but there was no trace of nerves as I found my position in the tiny cabin.  (Interestingly, I have since found that it is common for the sense of fear to diminish one you are beyond "normal" heights.)  But no, I wasn't nervous at all...only excited beyond belief.

Once we reached the required height, the jump master opened the hatch and forced his face in the air, which distorted his features beyond recognition and made his face ripple like a pond.  He attached my static line, which would pull my chute for me the first several times I jumped, and barked the commands that ended with me perched with my left foot on a foot peg, my two hands on the wing of the plane, and my right foot dangling in the thin and chilly air.  He counted, and I let go.

(Ok, naptime is over.  To be continued...)