Along Came Sally...

When I found out I was having a boy, it took me a while to get used to the idea. I've already written about being a high school teacher, and keeping my male students a bit at arm's length, at least when I was a young and single. But because of those very same high school boys, I didn't just picture mothering a BABY boy; I pictured mothering a TEENAGE boy, with all of his tender, tough, confident, needy awkwardness.

My mother seemed to get a huge kick out of parenting teens and I expected the same to be true in my own mothering. "Of course I loved you all when you were babies, Anna, but I liked it so much more when you became real people!" she said. Sounds weird, but I got what she meant. Each year that passes a mother gets to see her child grow into the person he is meant to be, and she learns to relate to him in a new way.

A note I found tucked in her jewelry box after she died says a lot about the kind of relationships she fostered with her 3 teenagers, even though it deals specifically with my older brother.

It was scrawled on an index card and had been left beside the yellow wall phone in the kitchen by my brother one Friday night:

Mom, If  a girl calls, and it's Sally, tell her I'll be at Steve's party. Do not, I repeat DO NOT ask, "Is this Sally?" Let her tell you who it is. I don't want to scare any new ones away. Love, John

Mom got a kick out of my brother, my sister, and me even when, or maybe especially when, we were teenagers. I felt it and I knew it.

Jack should be entering high school in a few weeks.

High school.

Yep. High school.

Our relationship, built on love, respect and trust, would be entering a new phase if he were still with us, a phase of increased freedom and responsibility, a phase that we'd have to figure out as we went along. I had a great model in my mother about how to parent a teenage boy, and I was really looking forward to it, despite the challenges I know it represents.

Tonight we got back from a week at a vacation house and two of our family members were 14 and 15 year old boys.  I loved talking to them, joking with them, being with them. But it was hard. Seeing how they went from surly and disconnected to loving and cuddly in a millisecond and then cycling back again. Eating everything that wasn't nailed down. Flexing muscles that weren't there two years ago. Having real conversations about things that matter. Hugging their moms whom they'd already passed in height.

I'm having a really hard time not knowing what Jack would look like, what new things we would be talking about, and what issues we would be dealing with, if he were still with us physically today.

And it is crushing me that I'll never receive a note (text, whatever) like the one my brother left my mom that ordinary night almost 30 years ago.

Because you only leave a note like that if you're close to your mom and she really "gets" you.

So tonight is a double whammy as I miss having a mother who "got us" and miss the chance to mother my teenage son.

Almost Wordless Post: One Year Ago Today...

...we took the kids to Winston-Salem for the first time to show them where Tim and I met. We stayed with dear friends in Greensboro, saw a Wake Forest basketball game, and went geocaching. We showed the kids the exact spot where we met and 5 years later got engaged. Then we went to our favorite Mexican restaurant.

I realized today that I never put the pics in our 2010 album because it had already been sent to myPublisher, yet I forgot to put them in this year's album too. It was such a great trip for the four of us. So hard to believe how much things have changed. I guess I'll make prints of some of these pictures eventually, but for now I wanted to share them with you.

Making a Splash, Weekend Round-up Edition

Where to begin?

Do I share the beauty of going to an indoor water park with kids aged 9 and almost 12? Of being able to sit and read an entire depressing and wrenching and inspiring memoir all in one sitting, wearing street clothes, while my kids frolicked and cavorted in the water?

Of lifting my head from my serious reading matter to look around, ostensibly for the children, and glimpsing with pity lots of mommies of kids far younger than mine who were not yet free to say NO to the bathing suit and the enormous bucket of water pouring over their heads?

Do I share that this water park trip resulted in 2 epic telephone fights and a scheduling snafu that could have granted my eldest his wish of having divorced parents?



Do I share my opinion that chain hotel decor has come a long way from hunter green and floral by sharing this cool console table with you?

Instead, I think I'll share that for the second time in 2 weeks I was reminded of The Shining while staying in a hotel. Lest you conclude that I'm obsessed, perhaps you should see what slogan (?) Hampton Inn has decided to put inside every one of its elevators:


Seriously? Brilliant marketing, that.

But instead of dealing with a crazed murderer flashing his maniacal smile at me in an empty resort hotel, I was driven to distraction by another sort of foe:

A lovelorn teenager who parked himself on the floor outside our room as he had a heartfelt (loud!) phone conversation with his girlfriend. You know, one of those tortured, miserable conversations with pleading, sighing, and what-not?

Who needs in-room porn when your 11 year old can share, verbatim, these snippets and more with you:

"Well, I didn't know those kinds of pictures of you would make you uncomfortable."

"If you had been with any other guys before me you would understand all of this better."

Ewwww.

At about 11:30 I had had enough. The driving, the reading, and the water park fries had done me in.

I hopped out of bed and charged to the door, wearing my tank top and undies, and decided to give him the kind of scare that would make Jack Nicholson look as cuddly as a Pillow Pet. As I angrily flipped the deadbolts, the kid jumped up and darted down the hall, narrowly missing a sighting that could have turned him off of women forevermore.

Mission accomplished.

I slunk back to my bed and climbed in with my now-sleeping daughter.

...who had decided to take her half of the bed right down the middle.

Back in the Day

Some thoughts on a weekend away:

If you are the one making the reservations (Tom), and you see that the hotel has an indoor pool, please share this information with the rest of the family. Not super fun to watch the kids have to resist the siren song of the pool just because no one thought to pack bathing suits.

If you are packing the portable DVD player (Anna), it might be a good idea to remember the plug as well. Kind of stinks to have a brand new movie in the car and no way to watch it.

When you take your kids to Historic Williamsburg but don't want to spring the money for passes to the exhibits, you may need to find other ways to turn the weekend into a learning experience.

Note: The old-timey dressed actors will NOT let you inside without a pass. Trust me on this. And what is a milliner anyway, and why does she think she's all that?

Tree climbing is free:

As is spending time with the livestock:


Just be warned that both horses could be male and may be rather "excited" to see you.

While it is not on the official Williamsburg curriculum, this could be described as a "teachable moment." It could fall under science, or sex ed.

I do not recommend zooming in on the next photo, even though this is well after things had died down, so to speak.


If you find you need a little alone time, you can just throw those meddling kids into the stocks:


If one child says his shoes are stuck and he can't get out of the stocks, just yell, "There's a BEE!" and see how fast the problem resolves itself:






Talk about lightning speed.

Feel free to take the kids down to the James River in Jamestown. If your daughter falls in, gets soaked, and starts wailing, just keep shooting pictures and laughing:

You may want to apologize later when you realize her leg is scraped up and bloody.

Give her a hug when you hear that she risked lfe and limb to recover a submerged Colonial artifact.

Give her another hug when she discovers her treasure is a mangled 1991 penny.

Bear in mind that the success or failure of any trip is directly related to the mother's blood sugar level at any time. Feed said mother chocolate and Diet Pepsi at regular intervals.

And finally, remember that despite the schlepping and the arguing and the enormous fear of bedbugs (or fear of enormous bed-bugs), a get-away, even just for a day or two is usually worth it.

"I'm Doing it Because I Want to and NOT Because You Told Me To"

So we just got back from a fantastic trip to my sister's house. And by fantastic I mean that no one got hurt on the trampoline, everyone bonded and slept well, and I wasn't too much of a brat. Feel free to substitute another b word of your choice if brat is not to your liking.

As has been my lifetime practice of being nicer to complete strangers than my own flesh and blood, especially when I feel "safe" with them, I continue to be a bit of a nightmare when unleashed upon my family. For those of you who have pitied me for the way my daughter Molly unloads on me, I must emphasize here that it is payback to the nth degree.

Anyway, my sister and I had a great time, greatly aided by the fact that she is a yoga instructor, and attending her Holy Yoga (Christian yoga) class kept me calm and grounded for the most part. I got snipe-y a few times about the kids but kept my stuff together pretty well until right before we left.

After Easter services we went to Shoney's buffet. I was seriously put out when my brother-in-law announced to the waitress-- with great flourish-- "We'll all have the buffet," and the waitress disappeared, taking any chance I had of perusing a menu with her.

I realize you, like my relations, may enjoy buffets. I, however, had something else in mind. A crispy asian chicken salad, perhaps? A chicken caesar wrap? I don't even know what Shoney's offers, but I just wanted the chance to choose for myself. When I go to a restaurant buffet I tend to overeat stuff I don't really like in the first place.

So I guess you can lead Anna to the buffet, but you can't make her eat. I got screechy and weird in front of my bro-in-law as I picked dramatically at my salad and biscuit. Sure I went back later for grits and french toast sticks, but that's beside the point.

I think my tantrum was my way of saying I was ready to be back on my turf, with my own schedule, making my own choices. Old lady much?

So, L, if you are reading this, thanks for having us. The kids and I are still talking about how much fun we had. Thanks for your hospitality and for loving me DESPITE me. I miss you already.

And as far as getting the chance to practice being nicer to those I love? Tom's sister, brother-in-law, and 5 kids will roll into town on Wednesday. You read that correctly.

Pray for us all.



We are over $1300 for the Well Project, but we only have 2 months left to reach $5,000. Here's the donation page.

"Night, Lucy." "Night, Ricky."

Just got back from a week in captivity with Tom’s family. They are lovely people, and I do believe I behaved pretty well this time. Semi-psycho, but not all-out psycho.

I think my issue comes down to a concept I read about recently that in-laws just aren’t of your tribe. A different tribe doesn’t mean a bad tribe, just different. My own tribe is wracked with tragedy and riddled with dysfunction, but it’s mine so I more or less “get” it.

On a day to day basis, my vacation problems stem from the fact that I’m not in my own home, thus not able to get anything “done,” and the issue of a fundamental magazine-incompatibility. I first heard this phrase from Marinka and I fell in love with it and her fabulous blog.

In-Law’s Magazine List:

Knit Simple
Prevention
Consumer Reports
New Republic
Cooking Light
Tennis

Anna’s Far Superior and More Interesting Magazine List:

Country Living
Better Homes and Gardens
Vanity Fair
Elle Décor
Southern Living
Family Circle
Guideposts

…and the ultimate guilty pleasures: People and US Weekly.

Yes, yes I brought books to read, but I whizzed through them all. No, I couldn’t drive to the store, because after almost 18 years I still don’t know where the heck I am out in the country and how to escape if necessary.

By the end of vacation I was so desperate I was reading the labels on vitamin bottles.

I am not trying to be judge-y here; my own sister and I are magazine incompatible. Hers: Yoga Journal, Self, Health. Ewwww.

But she and I usually manage to stay occupied discussing our differing views of the same childhood incidents or stuffing our faces with jumbo marshmallows straight out of the bag.

Entertainment-wise, we did better than in the magazine department on this trip.

My mother in law has a dvd collection of “I Love Lucy.” We loved introducing the kids to the show.

Reactions:

Molly: “Lucy needs to tell Ricky to go make his own breakfast.”

Jake: “Lucy and her friend always make things worse by lying about stuff.”


And, in a case of "life imitating Lucy," Tom and I were once again assigned the room with twin beds in it.

I was PMS-ing HARD so Tom’s little bed could have been in Alaska for all I cared. The distance probably kept him safe from any vacation-induced stabbing.

In all, it was a very good trip, yet I’m glad to be home. And waiting for me when I got here? 3 crisp new magazines. Aaah.

Monday Memory

I'm trapped on family vacation and am borrowing my father in law's computer. He is sitting right behind me, so you'll understand why I'm just posting my link here, instead of pulling the whole post up for you. Here's an oldie but goody. Check it out.

http://aninchofgray.blogspot.com/2008/12/perplexing-postage.html