3 Laughs for your Monday

Overheard in the back seat:
Reed: "I'm going to be a billionaire!"
Skyler:  "How are you going to do that?"
Reed: " I'm going to be a PE teacher!"
Skyler:  "Well.  I'm going to be the Queen of England."

Reed found a photo of me with a newborn Skyler (8 years ago): 
Reed:  "Mom, I can't believe how different you look."
Me:  "Really?  Do I look better or worse now?"
Reed:  "WAY better now."
Me:  "Aw, thanks, Reed!"
Reed: "I would actually be crying right now if you still looked like you do in this photo."

Reed got his summer hair cut from Ellis, Tim's son.  Reed ADORES Ellis.  I think Reed was just so happy to have Ellis' undivided attention for 30 minutes.  He would do anything Ellis asked him to, including sit very very still.  Miraculous.

 

Reed was concentrating so hard to sit still that he didn't even notice that Ellis had walked away for a minute.  He just kept sitting still.   This photo kills me.

If you want a bonus laugh:  the most popular post I've written about Reed is when he was three and had an imaginary friend named "My husband Matt."

On being whole.

[Dedicated to Kristina, Meredith, Jenn, Jessica and Becca, and all the other mamas who don’t have their kids everyday.]  

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” — Rumi

 

I have survived almost a whole year as a divorced mom, my first year having my two kids with me only half of the time. I fixate on the word half.  I miss out on half of their meals, half of their sleepy yawns, half the silly questions from the bathtub. I live to pack little snack bags of baby carrots into their lunch boxes, bandage their skinned knees, and neatly arrange the next day’s outfits on the dresser.  And now on half of their days, I don’t even know what my kids wore to school, or what they wondered about, or what funny jokes they made.  In every moment that I am awoken by a cry in the night, I am both relieved to give comfort and haunted by the nights I don’t even know about their bad dreams.  After a few days without them, my arms start to ache for their little bodies.  

A few months ago, even, I could not have written that paragraph.  I wouldn’t have wanted to define so clearly the way in which I changed my role as a mom, to admit out loud what I sacrificed by getting divorced.

Emotional life as a divorced mom is untidy, and trying to sort every feeling into right or wrong, fair or unfair is tempting, but futile.  It’s easier to be angry about what happened; it is much more confusing, though I’m sure healthier, to feel sad and vulnerable, and perhaps even dip a toe into regret.  People ask me:  “Are you happier now?” and I think:  “Do you really believe that is a yes-or-no question?”   I like to answer with a line from Macbeth, when the witches describe Banquo as “Not so happy, yet much happier.”

I am learning to come to terms with the ambiguity of emotional truth, of missing my kids,  yes, but also stretching out into that other 50% of myself.  While my kids are happily with their dad, I sometimes find myself flying down a hill on my bike, miles and miles away from anyone who needs me or even knows where I am. It feels good to wander through a bookstore without looking at my watch, or make a last minute decision to go to a yoga class, or stay out too late on a Friday night.  I believe that my losses exist side-by-side with my happiness, and that if we are honest with ourselves, then we admit that our lives are defined by a tender balance between sacrifices and gains. I can now turn and look at my past without covering my eyes.  It’s okay for me to feel loss and sadness all tangled up with freedom and strength.

I have my kids half of the time, but they are 100% their own selves, completely whole, just like me. When I catch a glimpse of my kids in the rear view mirror, looking dreamily and cheerfully at the passing landscape, I remember that their identities stretch far beyond just being my children. They are smart, funny, charming little people who see the world as beautiful and loving and safe. When they draw, they color big yellow suns and rainbows and trees bursting with fruit; they draw themselves with wide, bright eyes and crazy hair, their hands reaching straight up in the air.  Sometimes they draw me onto the page too, holding their hands or sitting with them under the fruit trees, and in other drawings, I’m just outside the margins, and you can’t see me.  I’m riding my bike down a hill, or drinking a third cup of coffee on the porch.  I’m out for a long run.  I’m writing.  I’m taking the stairs two at a time.

I love a man in uniform.

I have a thing for baseball, and obviously, I have a thing for Reed.   Reed playing baseball is just about the cutest thing I've ever seen.

Watching Reed's baseball practice is hilarious because of all the 6-year-old boy antics.  It also makes me panic a little at the thought that there are 8 other kids just like Reed.  What if Reed were one in a set of octuplets?  I'm sweating.

But it is also reassuring that my son isn't the only one who needs to be told:
"Keep your hands out of your pants!"
"Eyes up here when I'm talking to you!"
"Try to stop wiggling for one second!"

The coaches are the most gentle, patient, kind, supportive group of adults I've ever witnessed.  All the kids are like Reed, and somehow, they are all paying attention and learning to play baseball.

Well, most of the time.

I am struck as I watch from the sidelines what a charmed and timeless scene this all is, cute little boys trying to be bigger, more coordinated boys, just growing into their long legs, ball caps and smiling parents, freshly-mowed grass fields and coaches yelling:  "Nice one, buddy!"

 Americana.  Our favorite pastime.  I can practically smell the roasted peanuts. 

growing up here.

In May when Maine transforms into the best and most wonderful place to live, I feel guilty for having complained about it in March and April.  It's true that I tire of the winter and the greyness, but it's more true that the (late) Spring and Summer are such a huge payoff, and the rewards are all the sweeter because we waited for it.  The work-hard-to-earn-rewards is one of my favorite New England attitudes;  it's true that there is a ruggedness in our blood here.  Things don't always come easily, but we put our heads down and work hard.   I'm proud to be raising two Mainers.

We are in the midst of a crazy-long stretch of beautiful weather, and it is all anyone is talking about.

My kids are clearly pleased about the warmer temps. This started as an early-mother's-day car wash for me and ended with two soaking kids.  All of this sunshine makes everyone a little lighter on our feet.

I don't know if I can expect that my kids know how lucky we are to live close to Acadia National Park.  But I take a lot of photos just so I can show them where they spent a good chunk of their childhoods.

Sunday, we took on Acadia Mountain with Meredith and crew.  

We packed trail mix and led them up a mountain to eat it.

The kids were so good on the hike up, which is a mile of fairly steep terrain.   Reed got too tired for the last quarter mile, so I put my pack on my front and my Reedo on my back for a while.  Roz, all dressed up for the occasion, did just fine on her own two feet.

There was a fair amount of "WHERE IS THE TOP OF THIS MOUNTAIN?" from my two as they got tired.  Once again, the reward is sweeter if you work for it.  Or if your mom carries you for just a little bit. 

Everything looks better from up here!  When you get to the summit of the mountain, you flex your muscles in victory.

And then relax in the sun.

Next up:  hike down, find a spot to eat our lunch.  Meredith introduced me to a new corner of Acadia:  Compass Harbor.    I've driven right by the entrance to it a hundred times and never even knew it was there. 

Killian and Beckett, dwarfed by the horizon.  Hello, beautiful world.

 Theses two besties can't stop being cute together.

Not a bad spot for cheese and crackers.

There is actually a very precarious drop off behind us, so I'm holding on tight. 

This is their playground, wide open ocean dotted with islands, climbing up and over the point, exploring tidal pools, and lying on sun-warmed rocks.  Because I didn't grow up in Maine, I marvel at all of this wonder every time. 

It was almost 5 pm when we dragged everyone away.

On the way home, I was rewarded with my most favorite day trip grand finale:  I listened to the Sox game on the radio while my kids slept in the back.

Thank you, Maine.  Thank you, dear friends.  Next year, when I start whining about March, remind me of days like this.

it's finally here...

...warm weather. (if you live south of me, please stop laughing). 

In Maine, we survived an especially long winter this year.  Or maybe it was a normal winter; I don't even know anymore, but it felt record-breaking-long to me. So when the forecast showed up with an entire weekend of sunshine and high 60s, I felt like I was bursting out the end of a really long, cold, dark tunnel.

I have so many nice things to say about 60 degrees. Every single year that I see the cold, grey earth start to green up and the leaves unfurl, it feels like an actual miracle.  A miracle!

BREAKFAST on the deck?  So good.  

I finally got my bike out for the first time, and I had forgotten how much I love it. I just went for a quick 16 miler to work out the kinks and find my biking legs again, but it was enough to remind me about that particular satisfaction that comes from cresting a hill and flying down the other side of it.

The rest of my weekend included (besides the awesome 5K on Saturday morning) dinner with my dear friend Jenn, time to read, deck sitting, gardening with Tim, Red Sox, a motorcycle ride, and waterfall watching. Once I got my kids back Sunday afternoon, we added in catch in the backyard, burgers on the grill, corn on the cob, and ice cream cones for dessert.  Also, I wore flip flops all weekend, enough of a reason to get emotional right there.

Thank you, thank you. 

"What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness." ~John Steinbeck

Okay, fine, Mr. Steinbeck.  I guess you are right.  WELCOME, sweet sunshine.  Please stay.

Great Day and Race Report: Erin's Run!

 On Saturday morning, as the Bangor waterfront park filled with more and more people wearing purple and the signature butterfly that represents Erin, it was hard not to feel Erin's huge presence.  I also kept wondering what she would have thought of all this.  I can see the exact expression she would have made, a smile that meant she was kind of embarrassed but overwhelmed with pride.  



More than 400 people turned out for Erin's Run 5K.  It was a beautiful day and a joyful celebration of Erin's life. 

This is Erin's mom.  She said she thought the event was going to be really difficult emotionally, but that once she was there, she didn't want it to end.  There was so much love in the air. 

 I had so much fun checking people in at the registration table and getting to see so many friends and former students.  These girls were my FIRST students 12 years ago.

more students! Love for the Huber girls. 

my mom came out and walked too!

As for my running, I have one thing to say:  I'm not getting faster anymore.  I'll have to do something about that.  

Ben, my friend and a former class mate of Erin's,  (standing in front of the microphone) did an amazing job (understatement) pulling this event together.  400 people and more than $12,000 raised for the first year?  Just imagine next year!

Besides all the love for Erin, I was struck by what it means to live and raise kids in a community like Bangor.   I feel so lucky that I chose this as home, a place where we take care of our own, honor our friends, and rally around each other for a good cause.  Seeing the many students that came through my classroom and now work and give back in the world, I just feel so lucky to be a part of it all. 

Spring Break, part two.

When I got home from New York, I had four days ahead of me with my kids before we went back to school. Pretty soon, the days took shape and filled up with plans of day trips, hikes, picnics, friends, and road races. I love it when that happens.

Thursday = hiking.

silly faces and trail mix.

my friend Ange, each of us with a cute boy. 

Friday = Day trip to Bar Harbor with my mom, and then exploring at Wonderland.

Saturday = bonding with Hillary,  basketball with Tim, a road race, and burgers on the grill.

So much love for Hillary.

And the Healthy High 10K at UMaine.  Everyone wore blue and yellow in honor of Boston.

Geez, Hill.  Why don't you look like you just raced 6.2 miles?

Sunday = 7 kids set free in the woods.

And a glimpse of Reed's perseverance:  trying to shoot baskets with Tim, set to Reed's favorite song.


Tim and Reed Sunday hoops from Emilie Manhart on Vimeo.