It Is Starting...

It is the end of an era. It went much faster than anticipated. I feel the door slowly closing on this age of preschool now that my oldest is going to all-day-kindergarten this fall. While I was tucking him in last night I looked over at the calendar by his bed and gasped, “Only a few more weeks, and you’ll be an official school boy.”

He wiggled with excitement, the anticipation burbling out of him. I keep rehearsing the first drop-off. I’ve made arrangements for my mom to watch the younger two, so that I can relish in the moment. Lately I have been finding myself telling my oldest, “You were my first baby. You taught me everything I know about being a mom.”

“Buy why was I your first baby?”

“You made a good one.”

“Why did I teach you how to be a mommy?”

“Because before I had you I didn’t know how to feed a baby, change a baby’s diapers, get a baby to sleep, calm a baby down......”

I still remember my first Mommy and Me class at the Newberg Hospital. I thought I was doing so well. I went when he was only two-weeks-old. The other new moms gasped when I shared how old my newborn was. I thought they were impressed, now I know they thought I was crazy. And I was because only about 30 minutes into our circle time my new son started to cry. I was so embarrassed. I tried the pacifier. Nope. I tried rocking him. Nope. Breast feed? I was too much of a novice to do that confidently in public. I had to leave. I rushed out of the hospital with my little boy in his infant carrier screaming as I cautiously, totally paranoid, maneuvered the westbound curves of 99W. I’m pretty sure you can drive those curves going at least 5 mph. I pulled into our driveway and collapsed onto the couch exhausted. It took me a while to realize my first baby had actually stopped crying---fallen asleep.

Now I don’t even notice when a baby cries, mine or others. It is just background noise. When our final son arrived nearly 18 months ago, I finally had the confidence to nurse when needed in public and to do so with tact and privacy. This is the true mark of a veteran mom---at least for me. (Something that was good at the time, but I am happy to never have to do again.)

I can reach back and touch those first moments of motherhood so easily, and that is why I know I will be an emotional wreck the day after Labor Day when I drive my oldest to school. I’m excited for him, but sad for me---the one he’s leaving behind. I will now be relying on my oldest to let me into his world, his day. I’m depending on my son to talk to me, tell me who he is playing with, who he likes, who’s mean to him, what he’s good at in school, and when he needs help.

I’ve scheduled a day for just us to go school shopping. We’ve made our list. I have grand plans of this new annual tradition being very special---I hope I haven’t built it up too much. I imagine that first-day-of-school-picture that we will take on the front porch---you know, the porch no one ever uses, but remains sacred for this documented, picture occasion. We will pose here for the next 12 years, or at least until he stops wanting to in about the 6th grade: new shoes, pants, shirt, jacket, and backpack. I can visualize my son’s distinct smile, consistent through the progression of elementary, middle, and finally high school. He already has plans on attending college, since that is when he will finally be able to take his mechanical engineering classes. He informed me that since his brain works so well, he’s going in to engineering. (Always good to start out with that much confidence.)

I can’t believe this day has arrived, this very first day of school. This is it. We did it. I got him this far: he got me this far. We are both jumping into a pool with smiles, but eyes shut...not sure of how it’ll feel when we splash into the water, yet pretty sure it’ll be good.

I’m going to need to drive extra slow on my solo drive back to the house after dropping my oldest off in September, about as slow as I drove home from that first class at the hospital. I need enough time to get all my tears out before my other two sons greet me at the backdoor with vim and vigor.

Yum, Blackberries. Friday Photo

Yes, the shirt was ruined. But see the joy on his face?

My New Soapbox

I hate cans and bottles. I loathe warm, sticky pop and beer. I disdain those that purchase bottled water. I'm sure these feelings will fade. (I just drank a Dr. Pepper at a birthday party, shsss.)

But every time I open my garage door and see this pile of carbon footprints...I cringe. I've decided that the way to fund national health care is to tax anything made with fructose corn syrup. These pictures shows 1/4 of the cans we collected in one section of one town...in a two hour period. When I stare at these cans I see visions of corroded livers---can a liver do that? Do you all hate me?

One little tidbit: drink of choice---Keystone Light.

I have decided to do something to make the world a better place. I can't cure world hunger. I can't sit down with the Palestinians and Israelis and broker a peace agreement. I can't even control my own future, or at least not completely. But I can send an e-mail to my representatives and ask them why California accepts so many more cans than Oregon? Really? You can't find a way to recycle the Kirkland brand. Other states do. Seems like they are made out of the same plastic as Aveeno. And is there a reason why Oregon won't give 5 cents for Gatorade? And Lipton products? All made out of the same materials.

OK, I'm done.

Summer Hopes

We only get one shot every year to do it right, to live summer well. There is a lot of pressure put on summer and how we use June, July, and August. My husband is a teacher and a soccer coach, so this season is his sanity break---our chance to get time together, for my boys to get their love tanks filled before the storm of soccer season and fall’s chaos.

Sometimes we do summer well, sometimes not. This summer is feeling a bit not. I feel like we’ve been juggling too many events, activities, and obligations. There have been too many days when my husband has left before the boys wake and gets home after the last one has fallen asleep----only to do this arduous schedule again the next day



My middle was starting to regress, act out, exhibit 2-year-old behavior that I thought we’d left long behind. I was starting to doubt my parenting abilities. I was evaluating myself, wondering what I was doing to cause these sessions of passionate angst.

At the dinner table last night the older two boys announced that they wanted to do a toast. My oldest lifted his juice glass, “Here’s to Daddy’s quick visit home!” Earlier that day my husband had dashed in for 20 minutes to grab something he’d forgotten between meetings. They each got a kiss and hug, and for that they were grateful. I got it. It wasn’t me; it was the loss of Daddy Time they were feeling instead. My middle son acts as the canary in the coal mine. I need to listen to his expressions a bit more often, since it usually mirrors what we are all feeling inside.



Near the end of the summer we always evaluate our commitments, what we accomplished, what we were glad happened, and what we hope to never repeat.

This has been helpful throughout our marriage. After three summers in a row, pre-kids, of me finding summer employment my husband pointed out that the extra money was not worth the time and effort, and that for my health and his, it was better for me to enjoy my summers so that I could be a better teacher during the school year. He was right.



Good summers include many evening meals eaten outside, running our toes in the green grass. Good summers mean that we don’t have to look at our watches. We can spend more time playing down at the river and not worry about getting back by a certain time. Good summers mean we play, rest, relax, and then play again. We fill full, like we’ve just relished in a good holiday meal, and now we are sleeping it off in our lawn chairs. I just don’t feel like this happened well this summer. We were too busy, had too many obligations.

Each summer hopefully we do better. Hopefully we continually evaluate and adjust our expectations. I know we will need these skills as our family of young men age. I don’t want to collapse at the end of the finish line, in roughly 20 plus years, and say, “Well, we survived. They all gradated. No casualties?”

Instead I hope we are able to take a step back and enjoy each moment and stage, releasing our mistakes, and remembering to repeat our successes. Summer is essential to my soul, and I never want to skip over it without dunking myself fully into what it offers. I want to pass this type of summer living on to my kids. Summers done right are about watching time stand still as you lazily rest against a tree and watch the sprinkler dance in the back yard.

Fast Monkey

This is the summer of Fast Monkey, The Elephant Song, and Opposite, which are all songs by Steve. Not sure what the official titles are, but that is what the boys shout at me when we load up the van. And for once I don't mind, at least for the last two months straight. Now, I'm beginning to get a bit tired, but Steve is pretty good. This is the same Steve who does the music on PBS Kids.

I just happened to find this CD at our local library and we've been renewing and checking it out now all summer long. I keep wondering if I should buy it, but what if right when it finally comes in the mail my boys tire of it?

I found another, earlier, CD, and it wasn't quite as good. But Marvelous Adventure is quite pleasant, and I find myself just as excited about the "turtle song" as my boys.

You should really check it out though.

Here is another link to some more video footage of Steve.

Friday Photo

First Fish!

Oops, 606 Dollars Per Family

Correction: According to Real Simple magazine, the average family spends 606 dollars on all school supplies: clothing and pencils, and that includes the whole family and not just one child.

I can see how that easily happens, and I know that will be us once all of our boys are in school. I can't even imagine what the cost will be like when I factor in sports fees and physicals etc.

We joke that I will be returning to work once they are all in school just so that we can afford to feed them, but I may have to get a second part-time job just to pay for their school related expenses.

My original post on this topic got a lot of conversation going, so now I am curious if anyone is all done school shopping