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Who doesn’t love a snow day!! This was our first big snowfall of the year, and Jack was off school! He’d been deeply disappointed the day before when we just had ice and school was NOT cancelled. Honestly, we were both a little giddy about suddenly having a whole day free. After lounging around a bit, we hauled out the snow clothes and headed out to enjoy the snow. First up, of course, shovelling…which Jack was surprisingly good at. Also, unsurprisingly, quick to tire of. He spent the rest of his time attacking me with snowballs while I finished the job. See the spark of evil glee in his eye. No worries, though, I had my own weaponry. Take a shovel full of snow, Jack!
Deep Midwinter is our family celebration. It began with my grandmother, who lived on the south coast of England (think White Clifffs of Dover.) England is terribly dark in the winter — dark and damp and generally dreary. Grandma would always look forward to the Winter Solstice because, since it’s the shortest day of the year, every day after that there would be more daylight. So now, thanks to my eternally inventive Mum, it’s become our yearly winter/Christmas celebration. This year we were lucky in that two of my three brothers were able to travel out to celebrate with us.
The highlight of the evening — for the adults, anyway — was a midnight show of fireworks thanks to brothers Owen and Hugh. That’s them with the insane, maniacal grins on their faces. Nothing makes our family happy quite the was blowing things up does! It was REALLY cold that night, so Mike and Jack took cover together under some thick quilts to enjoy the show.
The highlight of the evening — for Jack — is the bran tub. Another old English tradition, the bran tub is filled with, well, bran, of course. More to the point, there are also PRESENTS hidden in the bran. We all take turns digging around in the bran and retrieving presents. My Mum added her own flair to the proceedings by introducing the crazy hat (modeled above by both Jack and Hugh, a.k.a. Ninja Bran Tubber.) Whoever has the hat gets to dig next in the tub. Also makes for really entertaining pictures!
This was a great Family Home Evening — I’m sure the lesson was wonderful, but what we really remember is raking up the front yard together. We needed some way to tamp down the leaves so we could fit them all in the garbage can. Jack volunteered and I have to say did a really fabulous job of it. He was in danger of being buried a few times, but he came out on top in the end! His favorite part was being wheeled about from pile to pile while still in the garbage can.
yep, that would be Jack. Wiggly tooth number two is history, this time in a way cooler fashion than either of his parents were able to muster. Sick of chomping on it and it hurting, tired of waiting for it to fall out, Jack opted for the tie-a-string-to-a-doorknob method. He was really something, too, because he was really nervous about it, but when we’d give him the option to back out, he wasn’t having any of it. Uncle Owen would be WAAAY proud!
So….for those of you who don’t know (like I didn’t) teeth that get yanked out by a slamming door bleed WAAAY more than teeth of we weenies who let them plink out on their own. I mean, a LOT more. (Well, I suppose to be really exact, the TEETH don’t bleed at all, but the gums sure do! And appear to be great gaping holes. Yikes!!) Once again, Jack showed he’s made of tougher stuff than I am, as he was not fazed at all by the pouring blood. Well, there was a moment there where he was deciding whether the situation called for panic or was really super cool. Cool won out, of course! Not often you get to look like a vampire with REAL BLOOD!
In other momentous news, Jack came home from school beaming, announcing that he had read his first book today. Now, not to take anything away from my incredibly brilliant boy or his wonderful teacher, but I’m assuming Jack didn’t become a full-fledged reader in one week. Means I’m wondering a bit (to myself, only to myself. Well, and anyone reading this blog!) exactly what the text of this book was, but it’s still cool as heck!
This week marked Jack’s first days of school!! He has been excited since he turned five — in March. The day after his birthday, when I took him to preschool, he told me, I don’t go here anymore, Momma. Remember? I’m five, I go to kindergarten! As the day itself got closer, his excitement was tempered more and more with anxiety. My anxiety (oh my gosh?!? My boy going to school? How did that happen so fast? What will I do with myself? I’m going to MISS him!!) was tempered more and more with excitement. In the end, it was a wonderful day. Here’s how it happened:
Our school district is awesome. Clearly they have dealt with scared parents and kindergartners for a while, and they hav ea whole slew of events to help ease us all in. It began with Back to School day, where the whole gym was set up with different stations getting us all signed in. Served a bureaucratic purpose, of course, but also gave Jack and I a chance to look around the school and see some of the teachers…who were very nice! Big sigh number one. Then came curriculum night, just for the parents. We met the teachers and found out what they would be doing this year, found out that Jack knows pretty much what he needs to know and that they won’t make him feel like an idiot for the things he doesn’t know. Big sigh number two. Then there was Meet the Teacher Day, when Jack got to, as you might guess from the name, meet the teacher. We got to go together and spend an hour playing with all the cool stuff in the class. This is where things got interesting….
Having been wanting to go to school for months, having been talking about Meet the Teacher for days, when we arrived on campus, the enormity of it all seemed to sink in on Jack. He walked quite bravely up to the door of the school, then found something really very important to do on the sidewalk. (Happened to be playing with a game of magnetic checkers with only four checkers left.) Try number two: we made it into the building, at which point he proclaimed he was going to throw up (he’d been coughing over some juice on the drive in) and took off tot he back of the school, telling me not to follow. Try number three: made it to the classroom door, whereupon Jack became extremely interested in the contents of the Lost and Found bin across the hallway. Try number four: Mum has now lost patience. Mind you, I have been in the classroom four times now and am beginning to feel a bit of an idiot. I believe there was some threatening involved. Finally, we made it in the classroom, and all the way up to Mr. Walker, who sat down with Jack and tried to engage him. Jack engaged himself in climbing up my leg and pulling my sunglasses off.
Did I mention Jack responds to new and possibly scary places by getting silly. (Mmmmm, wonder where he gets that from?)
Camels back, meet last straw. I suddenly realize there’s something super important for me to do in the car and leave Jack to his fate. When I come back a few minutes later, Jack is writhing on the floor doing something silly, still not having introduced himself to Mr. Walker, but he is now at least willing to go check out the rest of the classroom. We had a very nice hour meeting other kids, painting, playing with blocks, and leave feeling like it might be alright after all, if we can only get him in the door.
Next up, Assessment Day. Otherwise (for those of us prone to freaking out) known as “Gentle Start”. Jack had a day of school with only four or so other kids in the class, which gave them a chance to get used to their surroundings and Mr. Walker a chance to size everybody up. Once again, strange place — strange Jack. Of course, he did have the deck a bit stacked against him. He’d brought all his school supplies in his brand new school bag, and apparently I hadn’t been emphatic enough when explaining to him that his school supplies were actually communal. Unfortuantely, his first task of the day turned out to be seperating his brand new, highly prized school supplies into boxes to be left at school. What?!? Adding to the issue was the fact that the school supply bins happened to be right next to the play-kitchen area. Verbal scuffle ensures, which I eventually win but not without first feeling like I’d proven us to be the worst mommy-boy duo in history. (A bit prone to over-reaction, anyone?)
Not to leave any kindergarten-parent cliche untouched, I email Mr. Walker immediately to ask how things went. He, patient soul that all kindergarten teachers much be, avoids even a hint of a sigh as he gives me a rundown of how Jack did. Notwithstanding the fact that he tell sme exactly what I had been expecting, both behavior and academic wise, I freak out for the next 24-48 hours before deciding it might all be ok after all.
Finally the big day arrived. Nanny came up the night before to be on hand for the momentous occasion. Jack woke up earlier than ever before, and that includes babyhood, and go thimself dressed (never before heard of) and spent the last twenty minutes asking, almost continually, if it was time to go catch the bus yet. Finally, it was. We all set up, Mum, daddy, and I walking, Jack absolutely tearing down the sidewalk, looking back periodically to encourage us to hurry it up already. I had expected to be really, horribly sad and bereft, but in fact I was really happy and extremely proud. It was wonderful to see him bounding off, all excited and proud and ready, no fear. We waited all together at the bus stop, on a beautiful, perfect-temperature, sunny morning. Jack was a bit shy to talk to any of the other kids, which handed me a lovely gift. We’d had this game, started by Nanny, of course, of looking down into the storm drains to see what was there, tossing stuff in. Well, as far as games go, it’s not the best, but you know, we’re all for encouraging the scientific inquiry. So, the last few mintues of mommy&me time, the boy and I spent together, huddled over the storm drain (!). I’m not sure why it was so sweet for me, maybe a little sign that things weren’t really changing so drastically after all. The bus came, Jack happily got in line to get on. Then as the last person in front of him went, and it was just him and those big daunting school bus steps, he paused. I know that feeling exactly! Oh, you think it’s going to be great. You think you are ready. But when you get to the stepping off place, it’s all so MUCH. I stepped in, gave him a hug and a kiss. and that was all he needed. Up and off he went. It was perfect. He was excited and happy, and this moment that I had really been dreading, when it arrived, was not so bad after all. There’s a life lesson in that, as Mum would say. Instead of feeling empty, I just felt proud, a tad bit lonely, I guess, but happy my boy was on his way, and excited for him to experience the world and come home and share it with me.
Coming home was a bit of an issue. though! Thank goodness Nanny was there! The bus was forty minutes late! I ran through all the possible scenarios, why the first day would be slow, reassuring myself it would be ok, but I was definitely not up for FORTY minutes worth. I finally decided to dash for home, to grab the cell phone and the number to the school, a move I’d debated for probably 35 minutes, knowing that things being what they are, the bus would appear while I was in the house. Sure enough, as I come back out of the house I can see nanny waving frantically at the end of the block. Sprinting full blast, I just make it as the bus pulls up. Turns out, poor bus driver, that the bus had blown a tire, with a full load of first0day Kindergartners. They’d had to switch buses, then the driver had discovered that her list was wrong and she’d been navigating at least partially by asking the kids where their bus stops were. Did I mention they were all kindergartners? On the first day? Yeah, they were helpful!
So, now settling into this new routine, I have to say somehow we feel like more of a family. Maybe it’s just that this is the part of being a family that I remember from being a kid. The sitting round the dinner table, everyone talking about their day, each of us having different things to add. I love it. And so, it is the beginning and the end. The end of the part of my life that I’ve loved beyond anything else. Being home with Jack, being there for everything, teaching him and watching him learn and just being with him, enjoying everything together. And the beginning of this new wonderful adventure. I’d only seen before the things I was losing — the being together all the time, the seeing everything he does, the being there. Now I’m beginning to see all the things I’m gaining — the him becoming who he is on his own, of being exposed to new things and new people, and most of the all, the coming home and sharing it all.
We found ourselves with a beautiful day on Labor Day and absolutely no requirements. So we headed off to one of the Metro Parks — one of our favorites, actually — but it is about as far away from us as you can get and still be considered in town, so we hardly ever go. This park holds good memories for us, as once of our favorite memories (and pictures) from Jack’s babyhood happened there. It’s sort of iconic.
So, off we went. The weather was gorgeous — a bit hot and humid, which only added to the draw of the park, since THE reason for going was to do some creeking. We waded, we hunted for crawdads, we herded fish (no so easy to do, you know), Jack pretended to be Arfy the dog being swept away by the current and needed his mommy-dog (hmm, who could that be) to save him time after time after time. Mike, being Mike, waded around most of the day taking close up pictures of interesting flora. Once my mommy-dog duties were done (including, at one point, rescuing Arfy the Puppy from marauding pirates who had set up shop in an old beaver dam — luckily, as pirates are wont to do, they had drunk too much and were fairly easy to sneak past) –
I sat in the streaming sunshine, on a rock in the middle of the creek, absorbing the extra-brilliant colors and watching my suddenly grown boy. I’m pretty prone to waxing reminiscent about things, getting all , and the tendency was especially strong there. We haven’t been in that creek since Jack was still strapped to my chest in a Snugli — 8 months old, perhaps? And here we were, days from the start of kindergarten, in the same place, so much and yet so little changed, so much time passed and seemingly in the blink of an eye.
Ok, so we all know there’s something fairly wrong with me, and let me just prove it by telling you about one of my great joys in life. It is, wait for it….great big cups of soda. The kind you get from the gas station. Self serve, just the right amount of ice, big long straw. Mmmmm. Who knows why! Maybe it’s because my mum would never let us have Big Gulps when we were kids. Maybe there’s some deep psychological thing about waiting to drink deeply from the well of life (yeah, I wish it were something impressive and deep like that!) All I know it that it started the summer Jack was born, in Texas. Right around the corner from us there was a Sonic, and the other great joy in my life (the first and foremost being Jack, of course) was to drive through and get a diet Cherry Limeade. Ahhhh. Icy, tangy, delicious. No calories!! 89 cents or something. The perfect indulgence! And the love has been with me ever since. I get the same gleam in my eye, I think, as I approach the self-serve station at Speedway as a heroin addict does approaching his stash. It’s really not normal.
This weekend begins a new chapter in the love story. Why? Because now I have a PERMANENT plastic cup from Speedway. Complete with even cheaper refills! Ah, the joys of life. This thing is huge, insulated, holds the promise of sodas to come, even when simply filled with tap water from my kitchen. As I sit here, about to type up the latest installment of the blog, sweating through the first humid night of the year, I hear it beckoning to me from beside the sink in the kitchen.
About a week ago, I found out that a dear friend of mine, also infertile, just adopted a baby girl a few months ago, is pregnant. Out of the blue, astoundingly, pregnant. It’s a miracle. And somewhere in my brain, I realize it’s a miracle, and it’s amazing, and I’m happy for my friend, and awestruck to see a miracle happening in front of me. But that’s way way back in my brain. At the forefront of my brain is a screaming crazy person. This person is not a stranger, I’m afriad to say. I’ve spent a lot of time with her in the past. I thought I had put her to rest. Or maybe I thought she was better now, healed. But nope, here she comes again, on another pass. She’s quite annoying, really, all absorbed in her own issues and she’s BORING, always complaining about the same things. But I seem to be unable to shut her up, or shut her out, or shut her down. And this is a sampling of what she says to me: What’s wrong with you, that you’re the only one in the world that can’t manage to have a baby? What’s up with your stupid body, then, eh?? See, I told you you were worthless! See, if you only (insert pretty much any verb here: prayed more, read your scriptures more, had more faith, were a better person, dieted more, didn’t diet as much, blah blah blah) you might have a baby, too. You’ll NEVER have another baby, ha ha ha ha haaa. She’s a pleasant person, this crazy screamer. You can see why I was pretty happy to think I’d put her away for good.
So here she was, tearing around my head again last Sunday evening. I took myself off to bed and had a good cry. I thought about praying, but in these moments, often it seems so futile. I’m pretty sure from 10 years experience that God is not simply going to *poof* me pregnant because I ask him to. Not that he can’t, mind you, because I believe he can….I just don’t think he generally works that way. And since at moments like this, the only solution seems to either *poof* be pregnant or *poof* get to adopt again, praying seems pointless. So I had myself a good cry, which was heading downhill pretty fast, as these types of cries tend to do, when I at least had the thought to say, please help me, Heavenly Father. And into my head popped a vivid image of the heartbreak of people all over China right now, who have lost parents, siblings, children, whole families. It wasn’t a snarky response, mind you. I didn’t get the feeling Heavenly Father was unsympathetic to my hurt. I did, however, get the very strong impression he was giving me a reality check. Does my situation stink? Yes, it does. But it’s also extremely blessed and privileged. So have a cry and get on with it, I think he was telling me.
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