Lost

I promised myself when I started this blog that I wouldn't limit the posts to sunshine-and-happiness reports and ignore the clouds and storms in our lives. We as a family are in the midst/on the brink of so many big (and happy) transitions right now, including Jeff's very different working schedule as a floor nurse, room sharing by Aidan and Leo, Aidan's impending start of kindergarten on August 10, and the new baby's arrival in a mere two months. Change is hard. But if Jeff's transition to nursing, and room sharing, are any indication, hopefully the others will be manageable and smooth as well. However, we are also faced with another transition, far from smooth or easy - that of finding a new church home. I am angry and resentful that we were left with no other choice but to leave a church we loved; I feel powerless that I am not able to voice my objections loudly and publicly. I can certainly give voice to them here.

We had been very involved, active members at a church near our home, with a church family who loved and supported us, who nurtured our children and helped us to root our family in faith. Jeff and I both sang in the choir and offered our gifts of flute and trumpet. I taught Sunday School, led Worship Workshop, and helped out with youth events. Aidan participated in Sunday School each week and was looking forward to singing in the children's choir. Leo made himself well-known to all those around us during worship. The members of the congregation loved us, and we love them. Most regrettably, irreconcilable differences with the pastor have forced us to leave the church, and it is painful beyond measure that one person alone could undo the good that so many others had created for us.

We visited a new church this morning, the first of a handful on our list. Jeff and I were hopeful and wanted it to feel like a perfect match, right from the start. We don't want to spend week after week searching for a place that feels like home. We want to be home already. When we told Aidan and Leo we were going to try a new church, Leo asked us, "Um, they sing bumblebee song at new church?" My heart ached as I responded, "No, honey, I don't think so." The bumblebee song is one of the warm ups our choir uses before the service, and Leo loves it (He also loves the "wee-oh wee-oh" warm up that sounds a whole lot like "Le-o! Le-o!") Aidan didn't have much of anything to say. But his behavior during and after church betrayed his feelings, and he made it crystal clear to us that he resents having to find a new church as much as we do. On the way home, all he kept saying is that he wanted to go back to our old church. Why can't we go back to our old church? he implored, over and over. I tried to explain to him, as accurately and age-appropriately as possible, why we could not go back, but still I failed him in my attempts.

In my 5 years of parenting, this has been one of the hardest times for me - doing what's right in the long run for my children even if it feels terrible to do so. I endure the cries after vaccinations at the pediatrician's because I know I am protecting them from greater evils than a needle prick; I put up with the protests when dessert is withheld when a good dinner is not eaten. But how can I possibly expect them to understand and accept that leaving a place that they love is "doing what's best" for them? We tried to stay. Oh, did we try! But a year later, those attempts have proven to be futile and we are back where we started, if not more saddened than when we first began. A wise man once asserted, "Doing what is right is not always popular. Doing what is popular is not always right." It is right for us to leave; we must find a new church home. But it makes us very unpopular with our children, and that is a difficult burden to bear.

One day soon, I hope, this rough period of transition of being church-homeless will only be a distant memory. The feelings of loss and resentment will be replaced with knowing that we have a new church where the congregation loves us and supports us - and the pastor is a leader who demonstrates integrity and a calling to nurture, encourage, and guide us in a positive, caring, and constructive way. We are lost, but we will be found.

7th Annual Camp Laguna!

Pictured above, the Camp Laguna Campers 2009: Kitty, Dan, Jake, and Max B.; Sue, Mike, Molly, and Haley F-O; Michelle P; Emily, Connor, and Patrick G; Paul and Susan Seehaver; the Carters.

Attempting to explain Camp Laguna Weekend is nearly an impossible task, but I'll give it a go. In a nutshell:

7 summers ago (in 2003) my mom and dad had this idea to invite all the neighbors from our Clyde Court house to come down for a weekend of fun at Lake Monticello. We lived at Clyde Court for about 15 years or so, and I used to babysit for some of the kids who were invited for the weekend. The Beckhards, Feazel-Orrs, and Polchows were always in attendance at homeowners' association meetings, Christmas parties, and even gathering on front lawns in princess dresses to watch me get into the limo on Prom nights. (Okay, fine. The adults were in normal clothes. The kids dressed up. But I wouldn't put it past Sue, Kitty, and Michelle....) I never would have imagined that the one weekend 7 summers ago would become an annual event with elaborate rituals and traditions, as well as ever-evolving new ones, but indeed, it has...

Camp Laguna Traditions, Rituals, and Highlights include, but are not limited, to the following:

• Games, games, and more games - Farkle and Rochambo (aka Rocks, Paper, Scissors); Ladder jacks; ping-pong tournaments; and of course, Mexican Train (complete with an official plaque with names added each year of the Championship Team).

• Drinks, drinks, and more drinks (this probably should have come first!) Vast quantities of Sue's homemade white sangria and Jeff's homebrews are among my personal favorites.

• Food, food food! Michelle brings delectable baked goodies; Kitty, the breakfast pastries and croissants; I provide some kind of cake or another (wedding cake, fish cake, sand and lake cake, etc.), and my mom (and dad, too) cooks up a huge feast for every meal. Dan and Mike try to provide fresh-caught fish, but always fail!

• Boating, sunning, tubing, and fishing - we rarely leave the waterfront.

• Competitions including "Name the Car Color," "Name the Boat," "Name the Baby," "Camp Laguna Theme Song Contest," and even "Talent Show!"

Almost always, Camp Laguna has included some new faces. Sometimes obligations like performing at Wolf Trap and returning from mission trips prevent the kids from joining us... but they always seem to make it back the next year. I've been pregnant for half of the annual events, so Aidan, Leo, and Future Baby #3 have all made/will make their debuts at Camp Laguna. This year, my close friend from college, Emily, joined us with her two children. What is most amazing is that in the past 7 summers, the Camp Laguna "kids" have started to become legal adults, heading off to college this fall!

I'm always afraid that "this year" will be the last of the Camp Laguna Weekend tradition, and I am always thrilled to hear everyone planning next year's activities as they are packing up the cars to head home. This year, we each received bright blue official Camp Laguna t-shirts, and there's even one for the impending Carter baby, so I think CL will be alive and well for at least one more summer.... at least, it better be, because I have some serious Sangria catching-up to do!

It seems only right to end with the Camp Laguna theme song. Sing it to yourself, to the tune of "Take Me out to the Ballgame," for the full effect. (It is worth noting, too, that it was the Carters who developed this award-winning jingle.)

Take me to Camp Laguna, take me out to the lake!
Bring out the ping-pong and ladder jacks,
We play in the sun as we float on our backs!
Now it's time for a glass of sangria, Mexican Train and grilled s'mores!
Here's to P_____! B______! F____-O___, Carters, and See...ha...vers!!!!"

A Rich Woman

"I feel very rich when I have time to write and very poor when I get a regular paycheck and no time to work at my real work. Think of it. Employers pay salaries for time. That is the basic commodity that human beings have that is valuable. We exchange our time in life for money. Writers stay with the first step - their time - and feel it is valuable even before they get money for it." -From Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg

Seeking inspiration to teach my students creative writing and blogging, and seeking inspiration to guide their own writing, I came across this excerpt in Writing Down the Bones. It spoke to me, resonated with me, not because of my fledgling attempts at writing, but rather, because it gave voice to a sentiment I feel, a challenge I struggle with as a mom who grapples with the difficulties of needing to work part-time and wanting to be with my kids exclusively.

Teaching at UVA's Summer Enrichment Program each morning, I earn an attractive paycheck in exchange for some pretty cushy hours spent with some smart and interesting kids. During the school year, I receive a hard-earned paycheck for working with one student a few hours a week. And yet, particularly in the summer when I am away every morning, I feel like a poor woman. I love teaching, am passionate about it to the core of my being, and yet it takes me away from the job I love best.

It is only after investing in a morning spent at the pool splashing Aidan and Leo, an afternoon going on a walk to the fishing pond to help them hunt for frogs and fish, or the half hour we spend before I start cooking dinner playing with play-doh, when I finally feel like a rich woman. Out of curiosity, I googled what a stay at home mom (or dad) would earn if she or he could be paid for what we do, and the amount is staggering - the mean salary is $137,000.

The things I miss most about earning a full-time paycheck are fresh-cut flowers every week, buying books for pleasure at the bookstore, and enjoying a weekly dinner out at a restaurant. But flowers wilt, books get read, and dinner ends up as poop no matter where it was first savored. I am a rich woman, indeed, because of the quantity, and quality, of hours I invest in my children.

More, more more!

"More, More, More! Said the Baby" - a popular children's book by Vera B. Williams. More blogging, more blogging more blogging! I've been so busy teaching my SEP campers how to blog, I've neglected to blog myself. So here's a quick-and-dirty post to get caught up. (Quick because the content is pretty much already written for me; dirty because, well, you'll see.)

Out of the Mouths of Babes, part 5(?):

(During a "school" session in which I have Aidan practice writing the alphabet and sentences, plus illustrations)
Aidan: "I'm a Piwrite. I'm a Pirate who Writes. Get it?"

(Jeff and I both think that this comes from a book or something that Aidan has read. But it is still impressive that he can verbalize one of the strongest tenants of our faith in such a memorable, concrete, visual way...)
"If you put God's love into a measuring cup, it would overflow."

(a short time later - this is Car Theology, by the way, announced to me on the drive home from gymnastics class)
"You can't measure God's love, because God loves all the people in the world, and there are a LOT of people in the world."

(After Jeff and Leo made a quick run to the store, Leo kept telling Jeff all sorts of random things that we "needed," like honey and syrup and milk, all of which we had. Finally, Jeff asked him,)
"Leo, do you like going to the grocery store?"
Leo: Yep. Actually,..... sometimes.

This is a turning point for Leo, a change in our conversations with him - instead of reflecting back a question as a simple yes or no, he is elaborating and incorporating abstract ideas into his answers. To answer more completely for Leo, he likes going with Jeff, because Jeff lets him use the tiny pint-sized shopping cart made especially for kids. I, on the other hand, feel I deserve a medal when I acquiesce to the dreadful, impossible-to-steer, low-capacity but kid-pleasing "car cart." Finally, there's nothing quite like hearing a two and a half year old utter words like "Actually...."

And finally - as I've stated before, a second child will prove to you, over and over, that nothing is the same or can be expected to be similar (or easy) as it was with the first. Potty training has proven to be an ongoing battle which Leo is still winning, for the time being. Here's a recent exchange between Leo and Jeff:
J: (groan) Leo, did you poop?
L: No.
J: You didn't poop? Then what's this? (pointing to his rear)
L: Shorts.
J: (grabbing his rear) So there's no poop in here?
L: Nope.
J: Then what's inside your diaper?
L: (stares at Jeff, blinks, stares some more).......... "Chicken."
(Perfectly articulated, two distinct syllables, staring right at Jeff the whole time.)

When it rains....

It pours! (A little foreshadowing there, to keep you reading...)

This past weekend, we headed to Virginia Beach for a beach getaway at our favorite campground and state park, First Landing. The forecast looked good; the kids were psyched about sleeping in the new tent we got for Christmas, and Jeff and I were excited about sharing the joys of outdoor living with Aidan and Leo. Here you'll find our new, Top 10 Rules of Camping:

Rule #1 of Camping: Expect the unexpected. This ranges from expecting your children to ask "Are we there yet?" before you've reached the gate 1/2 a mile from your house to doing things you swore you would avoid at all costs (more details on that to come.)

Rule #2 of Camping: Put the rain flap on, even if there is not a single cloud in the sky. Miraculously, we followed this rule - but only because we interpreted "rain flap" to be "shade provider" in the blistering sun and muggy heat.

Rule #3 of Camping: Anything you think is really cool and possibly your favorite parts of camping, your children will not agree. Case in point - cooking and eating outdoors. Personally, this is one of my favorite parts. Aidan and Leo were completely nonplussed by the meals we prepared and the cool camping gear we got to use. Instead, they were fascinated with the clothes line hung up for wet towels and the camping trowel formerly used to bury unmentionables when camping backwoods on canoe trips.

Rule #4 of Camping: If you think to yourself, "This is so much fun! Everyone is having the best time! What could possibly go wrong?" pack the car and head home immediately. I think this is what did us in, our fatal error on this trip.

Rule #5 of Camping: If your campsite happens to have showers, go ahead and enjoy them... as long as you're prepared to continue to enjoy the shower long after you've turned off the faucet. Case in point: after hosing down the kids after dinner (they'd been playing too close to poison ivy, and I was envisioning weeks of itchy rashes) we heard a loud PLINK PLINK PLINK on the roof of the shower house. Jeff and I looked at each other in dismay - could it be? - and opened the door to see the deluge that was just the beginning.

Rule #6 of Camping: If there are hotels nearby, forget about even thinking about getting a room. Hotel owners know about desperate campers who hydroplane their way into parking lots after attempting to weather a storm for 3 hours. Not even these desperate campers were willing to fork over $200 - and our pride - for a mediocre room.

Rule #7 of Camping: If said Hotel Room option fails, consider options you never considered before (see rule 1). In our case, it was one of three options. 1. Drive home. (And lose all street cred as campers. No way). 2. Transfer sleeping kids into tent.... and pile them, sandwich style, in order to avoid laying in the gallon-sized puddles lining the sides. 3. Sleep in the - gulp - car all night. We chose option #3, although I'm not sure I can really qualify what I did in the front seat as "sleeping." Pregnant women stuffed in the front seats of cars, along with all the camping gear and bags, do not make for good sleepers.

Rule #8 of Camping: Rain brings out the mosquitoes two-fold. It does not matter how clean you feel after your shower. If you feel too clean to apply more bug spray, you should not have showered in the first place. (I have precisely 57 bug bites to prove this rule)

Rule #9 of Camping: Enjoy the moments and find the humor. Sometimes, things end up funnier the more tired you are. Cases in point: Aidan woke up in the wee hours of the morning, complaining that everything in the car was "stinky." He went on and on until Jeff found a bandana for him to sniff. Oddly, this was the cure. Point 2: Leo's pacifier was wet and therefore especially noisy as he sucked on it all night long. There was nothing rhythmic or soothing about it, but Jeff's imitation of the noise kept both me and Aidan in stitches. Point 3: Surrenduring to the sleepless night, we wimped out on those lovely outdoor meals and headed to Dunkin Donuts for breakfast instead, where Aidan announced that he "looooved sleeping in the car - it was so cool!"

Rule #10 of Camping: Take what you can get. If you're disappointed that the torrential downpour, huge gusts of wind, and relentless flashes and booms of lightning and thunder prevented you from enjoying your tent, take heart that your children loved the adventure of sleeping in the car. If the huge storm affords you the beauty of a calm, cool morning before a muggy Virginia summer day, savor it. If the skies clear and the sun shines warm on the beach, relish the time to play in the ocean, no matter how tired you are. If you intended to stay longer but bailed early, know that your kids enjoyed every minute of the adventure - and laugh at how excited they were to sleep in their own beds again.

Although we bailed early, due to our wet stuff and spirits that were spent, our adventure continued at home. In the end, roasting s'mores on the outdoor fireplace on the deck, we were all such happy campers.

Turn Around Podcast...(click here!!!)

My First Podcast!!!

Like any good chef who tries out a recipe before preparing it for a party, a good teacher tries out all parts of a lesson before teaching it. Hence, my first podcast. I'm teaching a blogging class at the Summer Enrichment Program at UVA, and I wanted my students to add podcasts to their blogs.

This first one is rough and primitive, but certainly a start!... and one I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you encounter any difficulties playing it or hearing it....

*Click on the title at the top, or on this link:
PODCAST!!

My Shiny Penny

Photos include Aidan on May 28; the Shiny Penny with his mom, waiting for the party to begin; and Superheroes receiving instruction from the Training Camp Coordinator!

May 28, 2009 - Aidan's 5th birthday. It is hard to imagine he is five years old, and yet life without him seems like the distant-and-not-as-glorious past. Aidan is our "shiny penny." Our family friend/music director at our church nicknamed him that, and it fits him to a T. His bright, happy smile attracts you to him; he's someone you want to carry around with you; you'll never miss noticing him because he is unique among his peers.

Aidan is sensitive and loving in ways that continue to surprise me, and when I least expect it. He'll spend the morning antagonizing Leo, but suddenly when Leo falls and bumps his elbow, it's Aidan who runs to the freezer to get the ice pack for him. Aidan can sense sometimes when I am at the end of my rope, especially with Leo, and will spontaneously offer up a hug and a kiss. Aidan articulates his thoughts and the connections he makes in the world with shocking accuracy and insight. Recently when we were reviewing letters, he observed, "Mommy, all the letters in my name are made using at least one line. In fact, most of the letters have a straight line, except for ones like o's." (These are the words that reading specialists dream of hearing, because they indicate that a child is forming connections based on the relationships between letters, rather than simply rote memorization of how to form the characters.) Another day, Aidan observed that children are like trees, because they both start out small but both grow to be much taller.

Aidan is also exasperating and frustrating. Some days, I thought I'd never survive the F-word - FOUR [years old]. But by being exasperating and frustrating, he has taught me to be a much better parent. His behavior demands it! If my discipline style does not mesh with his needs, he refuses to comply until I think of a better way, because it is my job to do so. I am richly rewarded, though, once I am finished yanking out my hair and gnashing my teeth.

A good creative writing teacher would tell my that my words fail to describe and capture Aidan, and she would be right. A good creative writing teacher would say to me, "Show, don't tell." Yet I still find it impossible to choose the right words, the right adjectives that do justice to my Aidan, to show who he is and why we love him exactly as he is....

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We celebrated his 5th birthday with a Superhero Training Camp party, and it was a roaring success. It is perhaps the most fun I've had hosting a kids' birthday party.... so far, at least. Guests consulted on the decorations for their capes, made cool masks, and chose Superhero names and super powers. Newly named guests included Earth Wing, Doctor Brain, Rocket Boy, Mighty Mite, and Chameleon Genie. Super powers ranged from time travel, extraordinary luck, and unaided outer space travel to speed reading, ice generation, and super breath. Superheroes were tested in their stances, speed, agility, and aim at hitting terrible villains - all in the name of doing good deeds - through a series of crafts, games, and activities. Nine Superheroes received certificates upon successful completion of the Training Camp, and they were happy campers, indeed!

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I have survived!* (*See post "I Will Survive" from Monday, August 25, 2008). And so begins a new era, a new F-word - Five - which initially seems to be Fun and Fabulous, as opposed to the Fierce and Fearful age of Four. Hooray and Happy Birthday, Aidan!