Summer's end

Working in the front yard
Bored kids making the same circles in the driveway on their bikes
Hose in my hand as I water the flowers.
Hmmm...

The mom in me said, "but they're in dry clothes!" 
The kid in me said, "yes - dirty play clothes and it's 90 degrees outside. Attack!" 

I completely DOUSED them with water. They looked like they were going to cry - especially Carson, who was so shocked he didn't make a peep for about 10 seconds. Then Ella burst into laughter and charged over to turn my own weapon against me. I let her win.

The next day we did lunch and a little window shopping with Anna and Kelsey...

And met up mid-week with the Trowbridges for a concert we thought Ella would love - THE FRESH BEAT BAND! Little did I know that you were about 6 months too "over" this, my little princess. So there you sat, looking around for anyone to relate to—as you pretended not to know every word and every note. But alas, your silly brother and Ty danced for the crowd like they owned the place.

Red Hotz 2012

It's a two-week summer camp that involves music, singing, dancing, makeup and a stage. You can imagine it's the highlight of Ella's summer every year.

I don't know how these amazing women do it. This group of about 20 Oakwood teachers, moms, interns and volunteers takes a group of over 200 kids and teaches them really clever song and dance routines in a very short period of time. Sounds a little corny? It is. It's campy and cute and hilarious, just like Glee...except without the fussy costumes and thankfully, a little less drama. 

Bravo to my sweet songbird! 

Forty is the new 30.

My kid sister and I stood in the driveway on a hot summer day. We waited for Mom to unlock the door to our 1982 brown Chevy Nova. She dug through her giant bag and rambled on about age, and how a person never really feels the age they are. 

"For instance..." her voice dragged along as she collected a thought to educate my ten-year-old mind. "I'm forty-two, and I still feel like I'm in my early thirties." She looked so pretty to me with her huge blonde perm and printed silk blouse. Yet all I could think is, "Forty-two....wow, my mom is OLD." 

I grew through my teens, then my twenties..always longing to be just a little older so I could drive a car, or get into a college bar, or be taken seriously, or finally have my own money. 

I turned thirty, and suddenly it all felt right; I am married (check!) I have a great job (check!) So this is when I have kids and build a nest. And so I did. And it was divine! For at least a few years, I lived in the present moment, checking the distance between my inside feeling and that outside number, and (CHECK!) they matched. 

Fast forward a decade. About six months before my 40th birthday, I started having these insane dreams. The most recurring on involved me riding in a speedboat with no driver. The boat would gain speed with every passing second, and I'd sit there watching as we headed directly toward a rocky beach. On that beach lay a Golden Buckeye Card, VHS tapes of Matlock re-runs, and a pair of tennis shoes with velcro closures.  

Every night I would wake up in a sweat. I'd think, how can this be right? Someone has the numbers wrong! I have ridiculously supple skin! I am the girl who is the first to crack a joke in a serious business meeting. The one who still puts my feet out the car window on long road trips. I know every line to the movie "Dumb and Dumber" and occasionally break into my yoda voice when the mood is too heavy. I never lose at thumb wrestling and I have a collection of music that could be broadcast for 29 days without repeating a song, and if enough people listened, I'm pretty sure we could start a party or create world peace. I still get nervous when I meet a friend's parents. I talk to myself in the mirror...drop a "that's what she said" when the timing is right, and can hold a rapid-fire debate with any teenager over who should win American Idol.

How did this happen that I'm all official now, a bona fide grown up? And more importantly, what do I do with this information? 

I pondered this for a day or two, then referred to my tiny guru. She has more answers at age 7 than I do at 40 (which either says something remarkable about her or indicates that, as usual, I am thinking so hard I can't find my own answer.) 

"So Ella..." 
"Yup?" she says, carefully cutting a rainbow out of construction paper. We have all our big talks in the art room. Something therapeutic about chatting while you create with your hands.
"What do you think about Mommy being 40?" I realize I'm whispering, and I'm not sure why.
"What do you mean?" she asks sweetly.
"Well, I just don't feel like I'm 40." She stopped cutting and looked up at me with a toothless grin. 
"How old do you feel right now?" 
"Hmm...28." 
"Then why don't you just be 28?" 
"You can't do that," I snort.
"Says who? You don't have to lie, just feel how you feel. And don't try to be anything different."  

Told you this kid is good. 

So...I proclaim that starting this day, my fortieth year and beyond will be all about authenticity, with no apologies. 

Sounds like no big deal but for me, it's a big one. For most working moms it is. How often do we find the nerve to say "gee I'd love to make cupcakes for that fundraiser but I was really excited to read he next chapter of my novel?" or "I know that creative brief is due, but my kids are flying kites at the park with a babysitter and today, for just one day, I am walking out of this cube at 3 and spending time where it really matters?"

How often do we spend our precious hours "catching up" with acquaintances...thereby plugging our hectic schedules so full that we have no time for those who mean the most to us? And the worst offense of all...how many times have you withheld praise, or love, or affection, or gratitude because you didn't have time to do it perfectly? How ridiculous.

Yes sirree, for the next 40, I will spend every day working toward the phrase, "to thine own self be true." I will say no when I need to. I will invite people over even when my house is filled with laundry and dishes. I will stop worrying about what everyone thinks and concern myself with what kind of a friend, wife, daughter, mother and sister I am to the 15 or 20 people who really truly care. And when I appreciate someone, I might use my yoda voice, but I will make sure I tell them - always.

As my own tiny guru taught me, I will feel how I feel and not try to be anything different. Now there's a mantra.

To the Lake

Trowbridges. Painters. Sands + Lakehouse = so much fun.
Carson, you had been so scared to jump off the dock but you suited up in your tiny lifejacket and into the water you plunged, as stiff and straight as a pencil. We all held our breath waiting for you emerge from the glassy surface. You popped up, took in a deep breath, blinked your eyes and yelled "AGAIN!!!"

And that was exactly what you did for the next 2 hours.

You, Zoe, Willa, Ty, and Ella swam in the lake, cuddled up for a movie, watched fireworks, and the next day you took your very first ride in a ski boat. You and I rode behind the boat in a tube, and you laughed so hard I had to check your face to make sure you weren't crying. 

Daddy and I are both water lovers—we both spent high school years and beyond on a lake every summer, both lifeguarded—so seeing both of you enjoy the time that much made me so happy...and so very grateful to our friends the Trowbridges, who were nice enough to share their time and their perfect place with all of us. 

Three cheers for Mimi!!

Ella's Birthday comes every June, and Mimi is at the front of the celebration with balloons and candles. Then 10 days later, we celebrate Carson, and Mimi is there to cheer him on.

13 days after Carson's birthday, guess who gets to sit back and be celebrated?

 I love that you two make her feel like a kid again, over and over. 

Sunwatch Indian Village

For a city of less than 150,000, Dayton is truly filled with sights to see. It had been years since I had been to Sunwatch Indian Village.  We went for a summer pow-wow, which featured authentic Native Americans in full garb, practicing dances that have been passed down through the generations. The kiddos marveled over the colors, textures and sounds.

 

We sat in a replica of a pre-historic hut and talked about where each of us would sleep if we had been a Native American family. In pure Carson fashion, this is where he went. Rather than choosing a bed, he determined that he would have stayed awake to peer out of the hole and "watch for robbers." 

If only every tribe had a Carson on watch—to fend off those greedy cowboys! 

SEVEN and THREE...how can it be?

In accordance with the statutes of childhood birthdays around the world, we celebrated daily for 3 weeks in June and officially crowned June the "birthday month." Our first celebration was at Anne and Max's house - a lovely dinner to celebrate Miss Ella. 

On the 13th, we honored her request to dine at El Rancho Grande for her "good stuff" (= a mystery mixture of refried beans, yellow rice, sour cream, salsa and other random ingredients from around the table. I know, sounds delicious, right?.) Then back to the house for cookies, ice cream and gifts.

And the party! A cookout for 30, field games, canoeing, a pinata, and homemade cupcakes from Granny made for a lovely day at the park. Friends and family chipped in on a trampoline for Ella and a Power Wheels ATV for Carson. Once that was revealed, Carson was a blur for almost an hour! 

The 23rd brought Carson to the ripe old age of three. We woke him on that Saturday with a song and a smile. He opened his eyes wide, sat up, and yelled "TODAY I AM FWEE!!!" 

I thereby decided that I would adopt this line as the first thing out of my mouth on each and every birthday. 

Carson said the number one thing he wanted to do on his birthday was "see a ja-waff." We met Cindy and family at the zoo for the day and Carson got to FEED the giraffe. I don't think he had any idea that a living creature could catch something 6 inches in front of itself with its tongue. Carson was riveted.

 

We finished off the evening at—you guessed it—El Rancho Grande in Cincinnati.

After the weeks of festivities and plans, the reality settled in: 7 and 3 marks a huge leap for us. 

For the first time in seven years, there's no presence of an infant or toddler. We are finished with diapers and sippy cups. No longer do we own a high chair or a potty seat. Our bottles have been given to charity; the crib is in the attic. 

There's certainly a sense of freedom that comes with jumping in the car and going - but there's a part of me that looks back with nostalgia over those late night feedings, zipping up footy pajamas after a bath, or watching those unsteady first steps. What if I forget that Ella's first word was "duck"? Or that we called Carson "little squeaker" because of the constant birdy noises he made during his first few months?

It felt good to purge it all to Goodwill. But Derek saved a pair of Ella's shoes, and I've stashed our a few baby blankets under the bed. Maybe now that the commotion is over, Derek and I will take a minute to examine those soft blankets, inhaling the fading sweet scent of their tiny furry heads, and congratulate ourselves on this rite of passage. We survived the midnight feedlings and poopy diapers. Despite our flaws, we're raising two healthy, well-adjusted kids. 

Let the fun begin!