Favorite Things: Happy 3rd Birthday, Pax!

A party just isn't a party unless it has a theme is my general opinion of celebrations and festivities.  Hence, although our birthday celebration for sweet Pax this year was family-only, I was plagued with guilt because a "real" party should have a theme.

I had a theme, but two wise friends and one very convincing mother talked me out of it - my theme was "Go to Chuck E. Cheese."  We've never taken the kids, and I figured it would be fun for them - but the gasps of horror when I announced this plan coupled with the fact that my mother kept telling me that my father was asking her, "Did I really agree to go to C.E.C., or was that just a nightmare I had?"  - convinced me to consider alternatives.

Finally, I settled on a new theme and a better plan - a "Favorite Things" party.  We would do all of Pax's favorite things, all on one day, one right after another.

So we had pizza at a fun restaurant with a small arcade in the back (a nod to my original plan of Chuck E Cheese.):

We headed to one of the best playgrounds in town, one we don't get a chance to go to all that often, but always enjoy:

Pax's new best friend, Skippyjon Jones, was thrilled to join in every adventure.....

We attempted a group photo. (Betcha didn't know that one of Pax's favorite things is group photos...!)  But Leo was in a total funk, and it took eleven shots to get just two with all of us in it.  Totally entertaining for everyone at the park who watched us beg, plead, coax, and cajole Leo into joining us.  Imagine my annoyance, therefore, to discover that the ISO setting was way too high on the camera, and all of said pictures were blurry.  (Or blurry because of the ISOL setting - that would be In Search Of Leo....)

We headed to a local orchard for apple picking, running around, and generally having a good time.  But the orchard was packed; we were all in our church clothes, still; and there were two mean boys determined to torment the already-fragile Leo.  (Not even my meanest stink-eye nor giving them a bit of a MamaBear what-for deterred them from calling him "buttcheek" and "little wimp.")  We enjoyed a quick snack of apple cider and apple cider donuts (still warm and so fresh!) and then escaped the madness of the apple orchard.

Next we took a ride on the golf cart out to the boat for a boat ride (favorite things, remember?) and it was simply a gorgeous day on the water.  I love these times on the lake, because of the imminent change - the leaves just starting to show their colors; the air, blowing in cool gusts, suggesting colder days ahead; the water, calmer and quieter now that summer has ended.  Our three year old driver impressed us with his skill behind the wheel:

We topped the night off with hot dogs and cheese doodles, then had cake and ice cream:

One of my favorite things?  is him.  My baby.  My sweet Pax boy.  Who asked for a "hold onto" instead of "drumettes" or "chicken leg" when I served rotisserie chicken the other night at dinner.  Who announced, clearly and carefully at dinner that same night during good part/bad part, "My best part was yous clean my room for me" - this on the heels of me spending the entire day immersed in swapping out clothes according to seasons and sizes, purging paperwork unearthed from closets stored the day we moved into the house, and largely ignoring the small boy who helped himself to candy corn, poured himself some Diet Coke, and stacked couch cushions up in the kitchen, just to see what was on the countertops.  Who, on that same day, saw with apparent relief that my own bed was finally cleared off and exclaimed, "Yay yay!  Yous bed is clean now, yay yay!"  Who says "yous" all the time instead of "you."

Happy Birthday, Pax, Augustus.  I love this first photo of you because of the unmistakable emotions evident in my own face: relief; joy; gratitude; love. Mostly, this photo says to me, "I am so glad you are here. I cannot imagine my life without you...." We are even more smitten with you now than we were in those first few moments together.

 

Big Red Rock Eater

This past summer, I lamented to anyone who would listen that one of the things I dreaded most about Leo starting Kindergarten was that he was my buddy who chatted with me all day long; once he was off to school, who would fill the silence of my days?

I should have known all along how Pax-filled my days would be.

One year ago, as he neared his 2nd birthday, Pax had approximately 20 words and signs - his expressive language was more like a one year old than a two year old.  We started speech therapy in November, and progress was slow.  Hoping but not expecting to see a huge change when he had tubes placed in his ears in February, we only observed how much more he noticed in the noisy world around him.  Those months were long, and frustrating, and largely quiet.

In June, after making a giant leap in expressive speech, we were happy to realize that Pax was using nearly 200 words or so.  Two months later, his expressive vocabulary grew to include nearly 400 words.  He began to string together multiple words to form sentences and mimicked multisyllabic words like "emulsifier" (thanks to his beer brewing daddy, of course.)

And then this weekend, even more emerged in his speech: the jokester, the comedian, the funny guy who finally has enough language to deliver the punch lines to his most adoring fans.

What is big and red and eats rocks?

Car Talk and Driveway Moments

I am helpless when it comes to directions; my internal compass rose is something more like a wildflower.  Driving through town today with Pax as my co-captain, I turned on the GPS to help me navigate through the confusing grid of streets.  Yet as I got my bearings, I didn't like the route that Amelia was giving me (my nickname for the Garmin), so I ventured off the beaten path.

"Turn left, then turn left!" Amelia implored when she sensed my detour.

"Turn left, then turn left!" she repeated, with urgency uncommon in a pre-programmed voice.

"Turn left, THEN TURN LEFT!!!"  my co-captain shouted from the back seat.  TURN LEFT, THEN TURN LEFT!!"  

I love that stop-me-in-my-tracks feeling when Pax so clearly articulates a new phrase, a new mimic, a new command.  I love the tiny, careful, deliberate voice that fills the quiet of my days at home.  On our adventures around town, I love our car talk.

(...and yet, might I add, I feel equal parts awe - and exasperation - with the fact that even nearly-3-year-old Pax believes the electronic gadget is smarter than his very own mother. Humph.)

**************************************
NPR published a book of stories titled "Driveway Moments."  They're the stories that make you sit in your car after you've arrived at your destination.  You stay and listen, because you can't bear not knowing the end.  I love these driveway moments.

Similarly, I've begun to enjoy the fleeting moments in the car that are filled with insight and information from a budding tween.  This age group, and especially teens, are notorious for clamming up despite your best open-ended questions - yet seem to come alive, miraculously talkative and uninhibited, when trapped traveling in a car.  Yesterday, I could tell that Aidan was troubled by something, but I couldn't figure out what it was, despite my best queries.  On the way to karate, just the two of us in the car, he was quiet, then asked, "So there wasn't a plane that hit the White House, right?" I instantly knew what lay so heavy on his heart.  At school, they had discussed the terrorist attacks of 9/11/01, and he was desperately trying to make sense of it.  I felt so torn, wanting Aidan to feel safe and protected, yet wanting Aidan to emerge from our shelter just a bit, to begin to learn of the injustice, the hatred, the sorrow, the reality of the grown up world. He asked questions; I answered them as best I could in that driveway moment. 

Another day, on another ride, Aidan asked me, "Do you think that animals have souls?"  I stammered and stuttered, trying to explain my answer, feeling inadequate and unprepared.  My driveway moment came to a screeching halt - you know, the kind where you go just a little too fast into the parking spot, and everyone holds their breath to see if you're going to hit something...?  Later, the next morning, I broached the question again, more prepared this time with an answer.  He was eager, receptive, ready to talk again, ready to share his perspective.  We swapped our favorite pet stories, wondered aloud about where pets of the past might be, before unceremoniously segueing back into the morning routine: did you make your bed?  where are your shoes?  Please close that door behind you.  Keep your hands to yourself!  Put that stick down!  Pax, stop hitting your brother!  Come on, we are going to miss the bus if we don't hurry!    

Oh, I love these driveway moments.

Anne Carter, M.Ed.

Do you know how long I've wanted to write that?!?!?! 
Anne Carter, M.Ed.  There.  I did it again. 

I picked up my diploma and my parents threw me a big party, so now it truly feels official. 

 Outside Curry, the only buildings in which I ever had class... thank goodness.  Even though I was a student at UVA for 5 1/2 years, I remained lost and disoriented on campus, every. single. time!  Maybe I should have taken a geography class while I was at it? 

 This building was completed during the time I was a student there.  I absolutely love the Palladian windows, and my best/hardest/most challenging class ever met around a big conference table, right beside that window. 

Jeff and Pax went with me when I picked up my diploma.  Most embarrassingly, Jeff had a kazoo in his pocket and took it out to play Pomp and Circumstance when I collected my diploma from the University Registrar.  They were not amused, and neither was I.  He made up for it, though, for taking me out to lunch.

**********************************
A longer, more elaborated version of the toast I offered at the party:

From the very start of my Master’s program in 2007, I didn’t quite fully believe I would ever see this day.  That first fall semester, the road ahead seemed so long, and so lonely.  I was unique among my peers in that I was a part-time student but a full-time mom.  I wasn’t fresh out of college, like some, and I wasn’t a seasoned teacher with decades’ worth of experience, like others.  In the beginning, juggling the demands of a baby and a preschooler and hoping for another down the road, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to manage being Mom and Student.  Yet my parents, particularly my mother, had already paved the way through their own examples.  Both of them earned advanced degrees when I was a kid.  Apparently their method worked:  in 2009, my brother finished his Master’s, juggling the needs and demands of his own growing family.  Finally, it was my turn. 

 The journey was indeed long, sometimes lonely, sometimes filled with tears, often rewarding.  When I think back to this time, I will remember two professors in particular who challenged me and pushed me and helped me thrive.  I will remember several classmates with whom I shared triumphs and tribulations.  Above all, I will remember those who supported me in the long and incredible journey:  my friends.  And my family. 

You, Friends, who were so generous in allowing me to use your children as guinea pigs in the many practical applications I was required to do for each coursework requirement.  You listened to me rant about this particular assignment or that demanding professor, and you asked how my classes were going.  You consulted me for advice on book selections or reading strategies, allowing me to test out my newly-learned literacy language.  You supported me, you encouraged me, you cheered for me, and when in doubt of what to say to me – you recommended I go enjoy a glass of wine.

And my family.  This journey would have been impossible without you.  Aidan, Leo, and Pax, you were so patient with me, both when I needed to study, and when I needed to use you as test subjects.  You kept me company in the basement as I read and wrote papers, quietly playing with trains or, as one photograph reveals, sleeping on my back in the Ergo as I typed.  You were excited to hear about my teachers and classmates, and were proud to tell your friends that I was a student, too.  Mom and Dad, you cheerfully and tirelessly provided child care, week after week, so that I could attend class or work on a paper. You celebrated with me after every big assignment or class was finished, and you reminded me how to dust myself off and keep going when I was discouraged and frustrated.  You led by example in your own pursuits, and I am proud to follow in your footsteps.  And Jeff – you are my biggest supporter, my loudest cheerleader, my most trusted partner.  Everything I’ve said about the support of our friends and our family describes you, tenfold.  I am humbled by your endless commitment and support of my education.  You helped me fulfill a dream, one that started in our earliest years together.  You never doubted that this day would arrive.      

Henry David Thoreau implored, “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.”

Thus, it is because of each of you here today that I was able to go in the direction of my dream, and it is because of you that I am living the life I had imagined:  a life full of friends, rich with family, a dream, actualized.  I will never be able to say it enough: thank you. 

Proverbial Sons

Inspired by a sweet little idea I saw in a magazine, I asked Aidan and Leo to complete the following sentences.....

Good things come to those who....
--love you (Leo)
--believe. (Aidan)

People who live in glass houses....
--should always wear shoes (Leo)
--should think of others, not just themselves. (Aidan)

If you don't have anything nice to say....
--you should not say it.  (Leo)
--count to 10 and think of something nice to say (Aidan)

Life is a bowl of...
--cereal (Leo)
--choices. (Aidan)

You can't have your cake and....
--ice cream.  (Leo)
--dinner (Aidan).

You can't teach an old dog...
--tricks (Leo)
--the way of life.  (Aidan)

The early bird catches...
--worms.  (Leo)
--dreams.  (Aidan)

A woman's work is...
-- a watch.  (Leo)
--undeserved.  They shouldn't have to do it if they don't need to do it.  (Aidan).

If wishes were horses...
--then they would gallop to the barn. (Leo)
--I would ride to freedom.  (Aidan)

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.