Savoring Summer's End

In the mornings recently, a deliciously cool breeze blows through our bedroom window, reminding me of the cool weather around the corner. By afternoon, the heat sets in, encouraging me to daydream about just which location would be right for a nice shade tree.

The Composer, in his own baby way, has captured this cusp of the seasons; he loves chewing on watermelon rinds and apple cores.

In a furious frenzy to pack in all the fun that we can before school starts, we've been, in the past week, to the museum, the beach, the movies, and apple picking. We sent the Painter off to visit with his grandparents for a few days, allowing me the presence of mind to remember to call the preschool to which I have been interested in sending the Inventor. As a result, I will now be sending two of my babies off to new schools in the next few weeks.

Suddenly summer seems too short.

Washed away.

Too many days drifting, and I start to feel washed away. Need to *do* something, *accomplish* something, have some time for me. I've been alternately cranky and patient with the boys, and with AD. We have had some nice time lying in the back yard looking at the trees & the sky, reading books about alligators, pirates, nutrition - we love the library.

Today I accomplished something - two loads of laundry helped to wash away my day, as well as some weeding. We have some beautiful vining toxic weeds in our garden, that I decided were too hazardous to health of the wee ones, as well as to the other plants in the garden. We also did the requisite shopping in preparation for the school year, although we didn't buy any pants, since R & I couldn't agree on the size. (He insists he should wear his age, which would have him stylishly tripping over the pant legs and wearing them out too soon to pass along. You see the trouble.)

Why does this not feel like enough?

Stained glass class is over for 3 weeks now, and despite best intentions, I have not kept dates with myself to keep working on my own.

I feel ill at ease. In the evening I have become a surfer instead of a drifter, riding the internet waves, speeding away from the discomfort, but not getting anywhere. I search for a cure, but I am not broken. Discomfort is okay. Hunger is okay. Sadness is okay. Anger is okay. I don't need to cure myself for feeling the full spectrum of human emotion. Like all emotions, these also come and go. I am okay.

When I stop the thrill ride and accept my thoughts and feelings for what they are, they lose their power. The swells diminish. The pendulum slows and returns to center. Centered, I carry on.

Drifting away

Like the codas below, I find myself drifting away. I drift where life leads, and spend less and less time in front of the computer. Partly, we moved the computer into the office, leaving it somewhat inaccessible to me while AD is working. More than that, however, I'm just living, as best I can, right now. My life goes from breathtaking to infuriating and back a thousand times a day:

I delight as I watch V gleefully bounce in his jumper, listen to E's imaginative description of the world he lives in, and survey R's increasingly unusual whiteboard art. I sigh when I'm covered in baby poop, again, or find more to clean up from another source. I roll my eyes when I discover the window screen ripped to shreds, and NOT by the cats. Then we go out to the beach for a picnic, and E is disappointed that we can't plant the roasted sunflower seeds I brought with us for a snack. What a beautiful thought, to plant flowers on the beach. V is crawling, like an inchworm, which makes it difficult to keep him from eating sand or other things he shouldn't. He seems to know the difference between baby food and people food, and has decided he deserves the latter. And he is still a "spitter". R seems so mature sometimes, outgrowing childish refusal to utter the name of an animal he doesn't like, then must make a game of everything to take twice as long keep from getting bored. And E ... well, "no" is the first two letters of his middle name. In our house, we get "terrible threes".

And that's just the boys. AD's mom visited us last week, so we took her to visit the city and the lake and the state fair, we had a family dinner, and a date (woowee! first adults-only movie at the theater since ???), and a couple nice evenings getting to know the neighbors. Busy, yes, but not too busy to hear that AD will be much busier soon. As will we all. First grade starts for R in just three weeks.

In the midst of this wonder, this exhaustion, this joy, this laundry, this aching body, I sometimes think about writing, but life goes too fast and the moment passes me by, leaving only these remnants as evidence that I have a brain:

Titles for Almost Posts:

Suddenly six months (about V)

First Tooth (now second)

One Year Ago (what started our move)

Where I've been and where I'm going

Art Glass (work in progress)

and without a title, pictures pictures pictures.

Sometimes I worry about not "getting anything done", when we don't manage to get out of the house all day, but what's the point? I make a goal to get out of the house the next day and see how it goes. I can only be where I am.

Right now, I am not much here. I could worry about that, but I think I'll just take things day by day and see how it goes. I invite you to do the same.

Potty party

Only parents of toddlers will appreciate this:

E went and pooped in the potty all by himself today - on time, and without any prompting, help, or parental involvement of any sort.

Hooray!

The List

Another day done, the list not so.

I played with V and cuddled him,
but didn't write about his six month milestones.

I wiped his nose,
but didn't call the pediatrician to schedule his six month checkup.

I nursed him,
but didn't clean the pump parts so I could store some milk for the next time I am gone.

I carried my phone with me all day,
but didn't call my friend who is expecting her fourth son to soon make his debut.

I brought the clean clothes to the living room,
but didn't fold them.

I went for a walk with E, and took him to the park,
but I didn't call for more information on a potential preschool for the fall.

I picked up R from summer school,
but didn't find out who his first grade teacher will be in the fall,
nor what school supplies he might need.

I made lunch,
but not the potato salad I have been thinking about.

In my head I made my list,
then let it drift away like the clouds in the sky.
.

We didn't bring the kitchen sink ...

... although E. asked if we could bring his play kitchen.

Last week, we visited the lake, stayed at my grandparents' cottage (read free vacation), boated, swam, harvested lake weeds, and fed the mosquitos.

It was nice to get away, to leave behind the daily distractions - the computer, laundry, dishes, laundry, cleaning, diapers, dishes, eating, laundry, diapers ...

I guess we didn't leave it all behind, but there is something so wonderful, relaxing, refreshing, about leaving behind so many of our *things*. I've heard it said, that no matter how big a house you have, you will find enough things to fill it up. We sure love our things here, and they are filling up all the space we have. Unpack and put away one box, and there are still more to follow. Throw everything from the floor of the living room into bags and other things will, as if by magic, appear. I've designated a basket in the corner of the room as "things to take upstairs". There are two partially unpacked boxes and another basket of "things I don't know where to put." On the back stairs reside "things to go downstairs," "things to plant," and "things that we didn't want to leave outside so they were left here instead." AD and I both seem to have inherited the mindset of "waste not, want not." Interpreted another way, you could say, we can't ever seem to get rid of any thing. This is a mild exaggeration, but true enough to affect the way we live. And, of course, the boys learn our habits as well.

Most days, thankfully, I don't worry too much about the mess, but some days it just gets to me. More things means, of course, more things for which I don't have time, don't care to take the time, to care/clean/organize/remove. Pieces of games, toys, and puzzles are spread throughout the house. I try to remember, if it is not my game, toy, or puzzle, that it is fine for the boys to play as they will, and to take responsibility for their own things. But with so many things to choose from, a missing part of one or another leaves little impression on them. I worry what lessons about consumption we teach the boys with so many things around.

Stepping back, I realize we have far fewer things than some, and we do regularly give away or donate whatever we can bear to part with. I also realize that moving 6 times in the past 5 years, 5 years during which we added two more members to our family (even if they re-used a lot of the same baby things), and during which we inherited many things from one who helped to teach us our habit, has taken its toll. I hope we hope stay here long enough to un-shop, de-clutter, and find some semblance of organization for our things. Even so, I'm sure our home will never look like a model, or have any consistent interior decoration other than 'eclectic'.

In the interim,we can visit the lake whenever *things* are fogging our vision, and leave (most of) them behind.

Now, back to the laundry ...

Ten Minutes

Prompted by Jena, here I go:

Feeling exhausted, don't really know why. Too much sugar today? Or perhaps it's the punctuation after the unusually restful previous two days while E was visiting his grandparents and there were only two (humans) under four feet in the house (and two felines).

Feeling untethered, craving connection, but too tired to write, just surfing instead, visiting all you wonderful people, but almost too tired to leave comments, being voyeureuse, lurking instead. Why not get off, at least connect with the one other human in this house who is conscious?

Feeling a bit stressed I suppose. Vacation is supposed to be happy and fun. I suddenly realized that our laid back trip is coming up very soon, and no plans have been made, or at least they haven't been finalized. One must make plans, right? And charge up the portable movie player for the drive. And bring the tent. And get someone to care for the cats. And we'll only be gone 5 days and staying at the family cottage, but still ...

I am still making progress. The work room is getting more organized. Soon, I may actually be able to work in there, to cut some glass, make some progress on my project. But it feels good even just to put a few more things in order.

V is delightful at five months, eating sweet potatoes, rice cereal, and pears, playing in his jumperoo, on his baby gym, and sometimes, still, only wanting to be held. He has started to delight in baths, only an inch or so of warm water in the tub, sitting (with help) or lying down, splashing, cooing, giggling, and squealing with delight. His delight is my delight.

Didn't succeed in not editing this post, but at least I didn't edit it much.

I've been wanting to say, though, and haven't figured out how to change my profile quite the way I want it, that I go by rocketmom here, but my name is really Cheryl.