Mama Bird

No one mentions the Mama Bird....

"Come to the edge," [s]he said.
They said, "We are afraid."
"Come to the edge," [s]he said.
They came.
[S]he pushed them...
...and they flew.
-Guillaume Apollinaire
 
I pushed another one out of the next today, and as I expected, he flew.  He soared.  He never even looked down, so confident was he in his place in this world, so sure of his footsteps down the path blazed before him by his older brother.  Leo started Kindergarten today. 

 

And Aidan began his year as a third grader, in a new, upper elementary school serving grades 3 and 4. 

But it was a hard day for Mama Bird, and perhaps harder still for the last baby in the nest. ... I think Pax summed it up pretty perfectly for the both of us.  This is how my heart felt this morning watching my two big boys head off to school in the bright yellow bus. 

 Some things don't get easier the longer you parent, and this is one of them.  I can't quite articulate yet what was so hard about this morning, about the 2:1 ratio of school boy: home boy, instead of the house full of boys I most prefer.  I can't quite articulate it, yet Pax, in his magnificent wordlessness, does a pretty outstanding job of illustrating my sentiment.   


 And yet it is this photo below that is my favorite, because it speaks to what my heart hoped for most of all, shows what I've coached Aidan to do for Leo in these first weeks of school. I asked Aidan to protect Leo, watch out for him, represent our family to Leo and act as a guardian for him.  I reminded Aidan what it felt like in his first weeks of kindergarten, and made sure he knew how lucky Leo was to have Aidan on his side.  The full truth is that after a summer of bickering and squabbles, I wasn't sure Aidan's sweet and compassionate nature would shine through quite bright enough when it was his middle brother in need of some light. 

But it did, and he delivered.  From reports on both sides, the (horribly long) ride home was filled with kind words and sweet laughter.  Tonight, hearing this account, Mama Bird was able to smooth tired feathers and tuck small wings into warm nests with the understanding and contentment of knowing that at least there is soaring and flight to enjoy in place of the empty holes left in the nest. 
 

Epic News

Drumroll, please.....

Jeff Carter has a new job!!!

Yep. We were pretty surprised, too.  (Although this is probably old news to you, by now, since I'm still playing blog catch-up).

After three years of struggling with the demands of night shift floor nursing, Jeff landed a job that is Monday - Friday, 9-5, no weekends, no nights.  We are elated, and I feel very proud of Jeff.  What began as a casual inquiry turned into an in-person meeting, scheduled for the day before we left on vacation and ended up being an actual interview.  Three days later, as we strolled toward our rental car parked next to the beach in Ventura, California, Jeff's phone rang and it was HR with an official offer for the job.

Jeff's new title is Clinical Application Analyst/Programmer for the medical records company called Epic.  In plain English, he is an experienced nurse working to improve the computer technology used by doctors and nurses for patient records and care.  Leaving hospital floor nursing was a bittersweet parting, though, for many reasons.  Jeff is a kind, compassionate, extremely competent nurse who is beloved by staff and patients alike.  He made lifelong friends and was mentored by an incredible group of seasoned nurses.  His nights were filled with stories - funny ones, poignant ones, troubling ones, traumatic ones, joyous ones, sorrowful ones - and he never grew tired of collecting those stories, remembering those stories, sharing those stories.  I never grew tired of bragging about my husband, the neurosurgery nurse.  And being among the ranks of those who work night shift was a badge of honor I wore with pride.  We did it: and we survived it.  And yet, the schedule was beginning to take a toll on the health of our family and of Jeff.  Change is good, then, even when change is hard, or different, or unexpected.

"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another." -Anatole France.

Although it is too soon for Jeff to name all the things he loves about his new job, here are just a few I re-discovered immediately:
1.  My bed gets made every day, with no one messing up the sheets in the middle of the day.
2.  I can fling my drapes wide open, any time I want.
3.  I no longer dress in the dark; I haven't left the house with mismatched shoes in one month!
4.  I have someone with whom to share my morning coffee. (Oh wait, strike that.  Pax, Leo, and I have someone else with whom to share our morning coffee.)
5.  I can leave my house, sans children, every evening  (And let me tell you, what a hoppin' joint it is at 9:00 p.m. at our local bar Food Lion!)

But the best part?  is knowing that this man finally feels rested, more relaxed - and is happier and healthier at the return of a diurnal schedule....  

...yet in his new job, he remains, first and foremost, a nurse.

Soft Soles - by Nikki Grimes (from this children's poetry collection, which I love). 
You walk like a whisper
'long the hospital hall,
tell patients you pass
not to worry at all.

You rush to your ward
 on cushions of white
to smooth and fluff pillows,
set everything right.

You bathe fevered foreheads,
give needles with care,
and chat with those patients
who've no family there.

Truck drivers are cool, 
and firemen aren't bad,
but Kyle plans on being 
a nurse like his dad.

Repeat Offender

My parents live just a few streets over; in July, when Jeff was unavailable, my parents were the ones who cared for Aidan, Leo, and Pax during my mornings at reading clinic.  The boys looked forward to "Camp Grandma and Grandpa" as one of the best parts of summer.  And it's no wonder, when mornings were full of adventure, beginning as my dad arrived to pick them up....

....in his new golf cart.  There's nothing cuter than seeing a proud grandpa zipping through the streets with three grinning grandsons (safely strapped in, of course).

There's nothing cuter than that - unless, of course, you happen to be a police officer.

At dinner one night, Pax told his first-ever story, complete with hand motions, sound effects, "big eyes," stealthy glances, and a mischievous grin.

Pax's Account:
Cops.
Zoom!
Home.
Hide.
No cops.
Zoom!

Perfectly told and practically poetic, this boy rendered his first tale, and quite a fine one, at that.  We were a captive audience, delighted to hear it told, again and again, as Pax perfected his timing, delivery, and animated expression.

The full story:
The crowded golf cart set off in the direction of my parents' home when they spotted a police cruiser.  Quick as lightening, my dad turned around and fled back to the cover of our driveway.  The officer did a slow drive-by of our house, staring intently at the four people sitting in a golf cart but refusing to make eye contact.  Eventually, the officer drove away, and finally my dad could drive the golf cart and its giggling passengers back to his house.

I asked Pax, "And who were you with when this happened?" Shooting a furtive glance in each direction, he replied, "Grandpa!" and with a tone that implied, who else would you expect?  Grandpa, of course!

California Dreamin' 2012

In 2007, when our second son was born, we chose the name Leo, a tribute to the first Leo I'd ever known and loved:  Jeff's grandfather, the famous Leo Vanoni.  Famous because of his 5 children, 11 grandchildren, and 10 great-grandchildren (and counting).  Famous because he makes friends with every person he meets.  Famous because of his enormous and loving heart, encased in his slight stature and unassuming demeanor.  Famous because, after nearly 60 years of dedicated leadership, "Uncle Leo" has become synonymous with "Ventura County Fair."  Famous for the love and warmth and pride and joy he finds in the ordinary and extraordinary. 

In 2008, Jeff and I made a commitment.  We decided that there were few gifts we could offer our children that were greater than the gift of family, of legacy, of love.  We decided that we would fly across the country, every other year, so that our children would know their only living great-grandparents, the lovely Leo and Rita.  We want our children to know their roots and to be engulfed in the love of extended family.  For if there is one thing you can say about the Vanonis, it is this:  their home knows no strangers.  Every visitor is welcomed with a warm hug, a cold glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade, and a generous portion of guacamole straight from the avocado trees in the "backyard."     

This year marked our third cross-country trek.  It was, perhaps, our best trip ever.  Some snapshots:

The ocean always seems delicious to me.  But when it's 3,000 miles away from home, it seems extra-special.  Our first afternoon:

 I've had a thing for artichokes since I was a kid.  Imagine my thrill to discover these on the farm!  I asked if I could take one home, and my cousin-in-law snickered at my request.  "Anne!"  she said.  "They are in the brush pile!  Of course you can take it!"  then I heard her mutter, "I guess one man's trash really is another man's treasure..."

 Always, I am humbled by the food.  The primary crops on the Vanoni ranch are lemons, limes, and avocados - although they grow strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, kumquats, loquats, oranges, grapefruit, and artichokes - for fun.  Every time we tour the farm, I feel abundantly grateful for how easy it is for us to put food on our table, and how hard others must work to make it so.  Though nothing parallels a ripe California strawberry still warm from the summer sun, sometimes, watching the laborers in the field, the taste is bittersweet.

 This photo is the gem.  Our camera lens broke, and we hiked all over Ventura and surrounding counties, trying to purchase a new one, to no avail.  Using the lens in manual mode proved a steep learning curve for the Carters, but thankfully, there were several Vanoni photography experts who were willing to lend a (steady) hand.  Photo credit:  Matt Vanoni.  Fashion credit:  Marie Barratt, who made the boys' farm shirts.

 I love this photo because of the stories I elicited right before it was taken - stories of falling in love, with Rita Vanoni, some 65+ years earlier.  I love this photo because of the grins and the laughter.

My mother got me hooked on pictures of hands.  I love this one, especially - the weathered, worn, gentle hand of the farmer with the tiny, tender hand of the picker.

We'll never take for Granted....

...the friendships that we have.  The second half  of our California visit is always spent with our long-time friends, the Grants.  Emily and I became very close during the fall semester of my senior year of college as we shed many tears bonded over our student teaching experiences and collaborated on drinking at the Door coursework requirements.  We stood as bridesmaids in each other's weddings, compared notes during months and months of pregnancies together, and have remained faithful friends, through weekly phone calls and yearly visits.  Though the photo is blurry, I love it all the same, because it takes my breath away:  Emily, look at what we've done in 11 years, I think.  Look at these gorgeous, happy, healthy, playful, funny, kindred-soul boys we grew.  Look at how they love each other, look at the friendship they share, just like their mamas and daddies.... 

The Grants treated us to four nights in Palm Springs.  It was an unbelievable luxury, providing us the respite and relaxation we so desperately craved.  More importantly, our friendship grew and our ties to each other strengthened in the most unlikely and unexpected ways.....

 ...inventing games down the water slide, for example, and conducting "wipe out" type races across the pool....

 ...playing rounds and rounds of the most inappropriate, hilarious, pee-in-your-pants kind of laughter-inducing game of all time:  Cards Against Humanity....

...and in what I have come to think of as our Palm Springs theme song, the reminder that life is short and fleeting.  No, it's not the perfect song for this occasion.  But each time I heard it (played on the outdoor speakers connected to the endless ipod playlist) I heard its wisdom:  embrace the moment.  Fill our lives with our own rhythms of love:  Our family.  Our friends.  And know that it is good -
good beyond measure.

(nearly)Back in the Saddle

Dear Blog,

Oh, how I have neglected you, you poor, silenced, thing!  I owe you many posts.  But, though I have many planned, tonight's must necessarily be brief.  In the days to come, I promise the following:

1.  A recap of our California Adventure in which I will ATTEMPT to capture, in words and a few photos, the unforgettable journey we had, the memories we made, the stories, laughter, respite and rejuvenation we enjoyed; the countdown until our next visit.... 
2.  Drowning in Liquids:  from cat pee to tonic water. 
3. An Epic Tale in a New Direction.
4.  Close Encounters with The Constable On Patrol:  Story and Poem by Pax Augustus, age 2. 
5.  What I Have Mastered.

Until them, I leave you with two gems:

On the day of the final swim meet of the season, Leo was protesting and complaining that he did not want to go to the swim meet.  "But Leo," I implored, "Why not?  You LOVE swim team!  You have so much fun!  And tonight, you get to do backstroke again - I know how hard you've been working!"  "I know," he replied.  "It's just that I don't like all the RACING at swim meets."

Aidan attended camp at Monticello last week, and he positively LOVED it.  He learned so many interesting facts about the life and times of Thomas Jefferson, and I was impressed by how much fun he had, how varied the activities were, how engaged he was in the experiences, and how much he gained in the short week he was there.  Toward the end of camp, the kids toured the home as a group, and because Aidan has toured it several times before, I wondered how interested he'd be to see it yet again.  "How was the house tour, Aidan?" I asked him.  "Mom!  It was so great!  And GUESS WHAT?  I learned a SECRET about Thomas Jefferson's house, something that NO OTHER GUESTS KNOW ABOUT when they come!"  "What is it?"  I asked excitedly, thinking that they had been shown a cordoned off section, or perhaps the dome room, or even something super-cool like a hidden room.  "I KNOW WHERE THEY KEEP THE VACUUM!!!"  he exclaimed with a puffed chest and a broad grin. 

Katie Goldfish and other Tales

Last November, Pax started receiving speech services, one hour a week, for his expressive speech delay.  Immediately, I knew that his speech therapist, Katie, was a perfect match for Pax's personality and needs.  It took several sessions for Pax to warm up to Katie, but hers was the first name (after Mama and Daddy) that he spoke.

Progress was slow and arduous for many, many months.  Katie's patience and steadfast determination allowed her to weather the storms of Pax's fits of rage.  Sometimes, he threw blocks at her.  He hit her.  He tried to bite her.  Mostly, as she coaxed him into using the words she knew he had, he scowled at her, shot her dirty looks, refused to say goodbye to her.

Gradually, though, her patience and her kindness and her understanding won him over.  In February, when we had to buy a new goldfish for Pax to replace the one that had died, Pax rejected every name suggestion we offered, until the last one--


"Pax," I said excitedly.  "What about if you named your fish Katie?"

He beamed, nodded his head vigorously, and beamed some more.  Katie Goldfish - a play on her last name, as well.  On her next visit, he was eager to introduce her to her namesake, and she was honored by the name choice.  "I think that's the first pet that has ever been named after me," she said.


With regret, Katie let us know some months ago that her husband had gotten a new job, and that they were moving.  Perhaps sensing that their time together was coming to a close, Pax seemed to redouble his efforts these past few weeks, and gave it all he has.  Pax has quite a ways to go, still, but it was a celebratory farewell we said to Katie on her last day, one that was filled to overflowing with words, with happy play, with sweet hugs and fits of giggles.  It was a beautiful way for Pax to say goodbye to his beloved Katie, who is also one of his best and fiercest advocates.  


It feels exciting to list those words he's used in abundance these past two weeks:  

 apple juice  (thank you, flight attendant, for frequently offering us drinks!) 
two minutes!  (this one has been perfected.  As in two more minutes of whatever I am doing, please!)
open/close
on/off
over
baby pool (delivered with great urgency, as in, I want to go there NOW!)
popcorns
Nemo
dead (and not dead.  Indicated with a vigorous shake of the head, followed by "dead."  Applies to many bugs we find, inside and out).
more
milk
honey
eggo
no/yes
please
thank you
sorry
kitty
woof/dog
Aidan
Leo
Pax
Katie
bubbles
pool
mine/my/me
help
you
done
bug
ants
boat
bowl
red
orange
blue
purple
want
hot tub (thank you, Palm Springs, California!)
Hyatt (thank you, airport hotel shuttle!)
eggs
in/out
night night
hi
bye bye
water
happy (as in "happy boy."  He says this one a lot.)
one, two (and more, with modeling, first).
big
cold
love (I can prompt him  to say I... love.... Mama!!)

Sometimes, his delivery is perfect beyond his age and his ability.  On vacation, Pax necessarily shared a bed with us at two hotels and one rental home.  Thankfully, they were all king sized - a luxury we don't even have at our own home.  So after 8 nights of not sleeping in our own beds, we were all grateful to be home again.... though Pax still found his way into my bed at some point in the night.  In the morning, I asked Pax,

"Did you like sleeping in your very own bed last night?"
He replied, "No!"
I said again, "You didn't like sleeping in your very own bed?"
"No," he said.  Paused.  "Mama's," with emphasis on the possessive.

Still, there are moments when his silent expression is most eloquent of all.  And it is these moments I will miss the most, despite how loquacious or eloquent he may become.  One night, Pax kept searching through one book after another, clearly looking for one in particular.  I tried to help him, naming favorite characters or often-read titles.  Finally, I asked him, "Pax, can you show me what the book is like?"

And this is what he did:

Obviously, as plain as day, I knew what he wanted -

(Leonardo, the Terrible Monster by Mo Willems)

Eating my Words

June 30?  How did that happen??  SO much catching up to do:


We've enjoyed lots of adventures these past two weeks.  I'm glad, though, because July is going to be a big month, full of off-kilter routines and big changes amongst the grown-ups.  More on that to come.  


If there's one thing in parenting I've learned, it is this:  any statement you make, where you swear up and down that it will "never" happen, that you'll never LET it happen - be prepared to eat those words.  After several summers of witnessing overtired parents gather in the bug-infested lawn in the blazing hot sun outside the crowded pool deck counting down the the minutes until the swim meet was finally over, I swore up and down that I'd never let my children join swim team, and that those parents were downright crazy.

And then they joined - Aidan and Leo joined the swim team.  Go Sharks!

And I discovered that I love it.  I actually love it, like Mikey and his bowl of Life cereal.  I love the evening practices that wear the kids out to exhaustion, giving them a half-bath in the salt water pool and sufficiently preparing them for deep slumber each night.  I love the attention that Pax enjoys when older brothers are occupied, giving him Mom's undivided attention.  I love the social aspect of the practices and the swim meets - for both my kids and for us Moms and Dads, too.  I love knowing that a bad day will likely end well, with swim practice.  I love the swim meets, the village we've built, where moms and dads haul unfathomable amounts of stuff to a central location where we feast on salads and sandwiches and s'more bars and keep an eye on the village children who race from one end of the lawn to another, drawing on each other with Sharpies and squirting each other with spray bottles full of chilly water.

Is Aidan or Leo destined to be the next Michael Phelps?  Hell no.  And I'm fine with that.  (In fact, I'm quite relieved.  Just yesterday, I swore to myself, up and down, that my kids would NEVER do year-round swimming.....)

But what I really admire is how hard they both work, how excited they are and how committed they are to swimming.  Aidan is a quick learner, diving off the blocks at his very first swim meet and practicing his strokes even on days we go to the pool "for fun only."  Each meet, his times improve, and swimming has provided an excellent way for him to cultivate his competitive streak in a healthy way.  The focus is on your own personal best time, beating yourself each race, not worrying so much about what other kids are doing or how fast they are going.  I love this about swimming: being your personal best.

And Leo - Leo experienced a truly epic moment during his first backstroke in his first meet.  We refer to it as Leo's First Backstroke: Or The Little Engine That Could.  At the start of the race, all was fine in the lap lanes.

But quite quickly, the other under-6 racers backstroked themselves far beyond my Leo.  Determined as ever, he kept going.  Coaches from the other team encouraged him, demonstrating how to use both arms to reach behind him.  His own coaches yelled encouraging words from the sidelines.  The other racers finished, and Leo was just 1/3 of the way down the lane.  Patiently, we all urged him on.  He stopped frequently, holding on to the lap lanes but never turning his front toward the finish, always maintaining a half backstroke pose.

Halfway down the lane, the entire crowd around the pool began to cheer for him.  "GO LEO GO!"  we shouted.  "GO LEO GO!!"  I crouched at the pool side, cupping my hands around my mouth in the hopes he would hear my singular voice.  I fought back tears: wanting to help him; knowing how hard he was trying; deeply moved by the encouragement and the enthusiasm of bystanders.

At times, it was very scary. There were moments when panic overtook his face, and I was just seconds from plunging into the water to save my baby.  Nervously, I said to one of my favorite dad friends, "Seth, that lifeguard is really hovering near the edge."  He replied in a voice that would calm passengers on the Titanic, "It's her job to do that.  She's supposed to be there."  We cheered louder and louder, and as Leo made his eventual approach, the coaches urged him to keep going, to touch the wall, to stay on his back!

And he did.  He swam the whole damn thing, on his back.  All 3 minutes and 26 seconds of it - he did it.  He emerged, exhausted and cold and yet with a look of sheer determination still clearly evident on his face, that determination that I adore about him.

Leo Gabe:  The Little Engine That Could.