A month done and gone

A month has passed.
My oldest chick has returned to the nest, having stretched his wings and grown in ways that are immediately evident and ways we have yet to see. It was an amazing month for him full of new sights and experiences. I was warmed to see how well he knew himself in the face of new opportunities, how brave he was in undertaking new challenges, and I was also reminded that "no matter how far you go, there you are." He is who he is who he is. Just as I am, of course, but why is this lesson so hard to learn?

I hope you followed along on his blog, as this one was totally silent (sorry) and he has a wonderful writer's voice. This makes me extremely happy, chip off the old block and all that, but I so wish my dad were alive to read it, too. Harry's grandmas both loved it and drank it up daily. (It was wonderful to be so close to the action and he was faithful in getting posts out almost every day.) That helped to assuage their worries about our boy so far away in a big, scary city! (I can say it helped me, too!) But, his Papa Joel would have enjoyed the storyteller in his grandson and the adventurer in a new port. He was like that himself. And loved to live vicariously.

This past month I have had writer's block, I suppose. And the longer I go with no words on the page, the harder it is to encapsulate all that's passed. There have been many moments I've thought "Oh that'd make a wonderful blog post." But alas, I never got the words out.

During the month Toby went to camp again for two weeks by himself and had a blast. Toby is known for his happy nature and will have fun wherever he goes.

During the month Ben went to stay with Nana and then Cousin Ruthie and then several different wonderful friends. He cooked, baked, chatted, played games, chilled, meditated, played more games (and video games), watched fireworks, camped and LARPed. And that was only one week out of four!

During that month Mark and I went away for our "second honeymoon" as he so lovingly referred to it. Despite the fact that he had just thrown his back out moving hay bales and was in terrible pain, we still had a wonderful time at Rancho Pescadero. We relaxed and relaxed and relaxed. Jumped (okay, hobbled slllooowwly) into the pool, sat on our terraced deck and listened to the waves on the shore, watched the waves on the shore for that matter! It's the most relaxing I've done in, well, my whole life I think. And it was much needed. Mark also visited a chiropractor while we were there...a well recommended ex-pat surfing chiropractor who worked his magic on Mark a couple times. Finally, a couple weeks later Mark is feeling somewhat better. Sigh. We're getting old!

Summer moves on. More to tell later. Thanks for your patience!

textversation

It took 40 hours but Harry finally arrived in Buenos Aires last night just past midnight. He was greeted by his lovely and warm hosts, who apparently said, "Welcome home, Harry!" He sounded exhausted but quite happy when we talked to him last night at almost 2 am Argentina time.

Throughout his ordeal at Dulles International Airport he kept such a cool head, it was astounding. His plane took off 15 hours late and through it all he was riding the wave, just dealing with it like a pro.

Oh, and texting his mama.

I had a deja vu moment yesterday morning. He texted me at 6:45 am west coast time to tell me he was finally boarding the plane. We texted back and forth for a couple minutes and then he found out that they'd changed their minds, there was some mechanical difficulty and everyone needed to sit down. Though it was probably the hardest moment for Harry (he had stayed up all night long and was totally and completely exhausted), he sat down and waited. We texted back and forth on and off until he actually did board (at 11:45 am), buckled himself in and shut his phone off.

At that moment I realized it was just like a morning about a month (to the day) ago when Ben and I had texted back and forth for a few hours until the moment he was wheeled into surgery at Shriners Hospital. It felt so familiar, the light-hearted chit chat, the reassuring comments I would make, the palpable nervousness on their ends, but the good humor throughout it all, the fact that they both came to me, their mama, in this time of anxiety and anticipation because that was safe haven.

I love that. I love this technology. I say "bah" to all the folks out there who judge the texting generation as not being connected enough. I don't believe it. Those "textversations" are real and deep and would have felt awkward and irritating if we'd had them on the phone. Somehow the silences between comments don't add up the same way in a textversation as they do on the phone. I suspect if we only had the phone we wouldn't have talked for an hour and a half.

And you can't do the cute little emoticons if you're talking to someone, either. ;)

I also love my relationship with my boys. I love that they open up to me, want to be with me during those times, text me. Me! I love that we are so connected and I am their safe harbor. It's a wonderful role to have and it's really all about the relationship.

I urge you to read Harry's blog: Don't Laugh at Me, Argentina. He's quite amusing and has a strong voice. He's already devoted to filling us all in on the details of his life across the equator.

Today, on Father's Day, I am thinking of my father, of course, and feeling bittersweet about Harry's trip. It's a trip my father would have been so thrilled to observe. He would have read each of Harry's blog posts with a huge smile and a large and loud chuckle at the end. He loved good stories, especially about foreign ports, dashing young men (dancing tango?) with sexy young women. Harry's story would have fed him immeasurably. Today I am feeling the space my dad left behind this past year...and am still baffled by the fact that he won't be coming back. I really keep having this sense that he's just on a long vacation...out to sea in a way. But, I remind myself, he's gone...the final voyage, I suppose.

I won't be writing much in the next few weeks [we head off to a LARP campout tomorrow (until Thursday) and then send Toby off to Camp Tawonga on Sunday, Ben to Nana's house and Mark and I head to Rancho Pescadero for our 20th anniversary celebration week], so check on Harry at the link above and I'll catch you back up when I can.

red-eye night

Did I say momentous? Did I imply today would be a new beginning, his first solo flight?

No one knew what the universe had in store for Harry today, now did they?

I am exhausted, so I will make this short and to the point: Harry is stuck at Dulles Airport in DC, the entire United Airlines computer system having crashed around 7 pm tonight. For hours we texted and called back and forth trying to support him in dealing with this very unexpected situation. Finally, about 30 minutes ago he found out that his flight will be taking off tomorrow morning at 10 am, only 12 hours late.

Quite the adventure for my hatchling, no?

Waiting for his plane in SF...this one was on time and we were blissfully
unaware of the chaos soon to hit airports worldwide!

What is so amazing to me is that Harry has always been a person for whom changes in plans are very distressing. It's not that he's inflexible, just that he likes to know what's coming down the pike. Last minute changes throw him way off balance and cause spikes of fear and anxiety. He doesn't just get upset or grumpy, he goes sky high in his response. With Harry it's always ExTrEmEs. Never gray areas. He's either c a l m or he's on HIGH alert.

I knew that this trip would push the envelope on that because I would not be there to help him navigate. (I am often a buffer.) He'd have to ask for help, make his own plans, be responsible about schedules and waking up on time, and the like. He'd have to roll with the punches (as my master teacher, Polly McCall used to tell me). All of these things are challenging to him, but they're all a part of living in the world, so I looked forward to him having to figure them out.

But not quite like this. I never envisioned the universe saying, "You don't like last minute changes? You don't like not knowing what's coming next? Oh, do we have a situation for you!"

And yet. Harry is hanging out at Dulles, on his laptop, watching movies on Netflix, texting his friends, keeping us up to date on Facebook. He's got a blue blankie from United and an outlet to plug into. Rather than a red-eye flight to Buenos Aires, he's got a red-eye night in Washington DC. Tomorrow at 10 am, so they say, his flight will take off.

I pray it is uneventful.

Until then, I'm keeping him close to my heart.

stretching

About a month ago I started back up with my yoga practice. Well, that all sounds so professional…my yoga practice. Really, all’s I did was start back up at the yoga class I used to attend which has gone on without me for almost two and a half years. The last time I was a diligent yoga student was before Ben’s scoliosis situation had hit the headlines of my life, it was on the way back burner lurking. Once I got busy taking him to a million Feldenkrais and osteopathy appointments every week, however, those mornings on my aqua blue yoga mat fell by the wayside. In fact, taking care of me in many ways fell by the wayside.

Over the past many months I’ve been turning my focus back onto my Self: my body, my mind, my heart, my health (sounds like the 4-H club motto). I’ve been lightening my load in so many ways. It’s been an excellent process. Changing my diet (removing wheat and most grains), taking bio-identical hormones and a panoply of supplements and vitamins to bring balance back to my very depleted systems, hiring someone to do the heavy lifting in the pastures to relieve the compression in my upper body…all of these things have contributed to my feeling better all around. This wasn’t some overnight turn around, and it’s still in process.

But, I was surprised to find that returning to yoga has probably made one of the biggest differences of all. My sister, Mara, who I should mention is in the most amazing shape and is gorgeous, kept telling me that stretching would help my aching joints. I am not a physical person generally, the opposite of her. But she was right. As soon as I started stretching on my aqua blue yoga mat I started to feel better. And now my body is asking for more every week. It’s amazing.

I will admit that I didn’t return to the yoga class because Mara told me it’d be good for me. I returned because Mark and I are celebrating our 20th anniversary this month. Late in June we’re flying down to Baja California to stay at this most lovely hotel, Rancho Pescadero, for a whole week. A WHOLE WEEK!! Besides being remote, small, beautiful, on the beach, having their own organic garden, and no kids allowed, one of their offerings is yoga classes every day, sometimes twice! When we made the reservations for our penthouse suite I hadn’t even started back up with my yoga practice, but I knew I wanted to, I knew it’d be what I needed to get to the next level in my recovery. I returned to my yoga class because I didn’t want to arrive at Rancho Pescadero and look like a dork in their yoga classes. And now I’ve had a couple months to warm up, to stretch.

At the same time that I’m preparing to head to the beach with my most amazing of all husbands on the planet to celebrate twenty incredible years of togetherness and life building, I’m also preparing to send my oldest chick across the equator on the first huge adventure of his life. Harry has been studying ballroom dancing for the past three years and this summer will take it to another level in Buenos Aires, doing a month abroad studying Spanish and tango. He’ll be living with a couple in the city, close to the language school he’ll be attending. I imagine he will return quite changed. I’ve sent him off before, to camp, to the JC, to weeklong meditation retreats. But this is different. This is a whole new world for him and it’s causing me to really expand my world, too. So far…Argentina is soooo far away. Tell me that this stretch will feel good in the end, too!

The other chicklets will be at camp (Toby) and with friends and family (Ben). It took some serious planning to make this week available for a trip away. It’s been 17 years since Mark and I had a whole week away from home together just us!

I can feel my arms stretching, I see them reaching to touch my children in their far flung locales. It feels good to stretch. I might be wanting more.

scenes of summer

I haven't had a lot of trust in our technology situation of late, but finally organized some of the photos from our summer fun. Here are a few. No captions, since these photos say it all. More to come in a day or so.

 

Last views of London

Big Ben

I'm already home, feeling the surreal time warp one experiences with air travel. Here today, gone tomorrow. Odd that just two mornings ago I was driving on the left side of the road in the back of a classic black London cab and yesterday I was on the right side, driving my own minivan to the Santa Rosa farmer's market with the boys. Whew!

My whirlwind week in London was wonderful, emotional, and too short. Erica and I had many heartfelt talks, some easier than others, and got to know each other better. This was one of my goals for the trip. Our lives have been so disjointed until now, and as much as I had dreamt of a seamless reunion, of course reality is that the joy is mixed with pain. It's almost impossible for us to connect or reconnect without touching on some of the hardest and most difficult memories and experiences of our own lives. We have 18 years separating us in age and thousands of miles in distance. I think we both wish we could have another chance to be together, to learn from each other and to know each other. Unfortunately, that seems like a slim chance, and that knowledge made the week feel even shorter.  I spoke with her yesterday morning and we both agreed it seemed almost like a dream, here and gone in a wisp. The only evidence of my presence there in that sweet brick cottage was a stack of knitted gifts and the fact that she now knows how to knit as well! (She was quite the enthusiastic student.)

Spending time with Gabi was another goal, of course, and that was pure sweetness. She is the easiest, happiest, and calmest baby I've ever met. Not to mention being one of the cutest, of course! And, man, does she look good in that hat!

Marylebone

I spent three days tooling around London proper; one by myself and two with Erica, Mike and Gabi. London is so full of culture I imagine you could live there for years without really seeing everything. Sunday M and E drove me all over town to just see as much as possible. We did stop in Marylebone, a fairly posh neighborhood that housed some great restaurants and shops.  Visited the Cath Kidston store and went into a cutsie pink coma (that stuff is great in small doses I decided...a whole store was a bit MUCH). I loved seeing Big Ben, the Parliament, and Westminster Abbey even as we drove by in the quintessential London drizzle. And we ended the day in Notting Hill where M and E insisted we visit their favorite cupcake shop to allay our low blood sugar. Monday we took Gabi to her first museum...the British Museum...and I saw the Rosetta Stone and Cleopatra's mummy, to name a couple amazing archeological treasures housed there. I could barely stand it without the boys at my side, so much was there that they would have loved!

Tuesday came 'round with alarming speed, and saw me hugging and kissing everyone goodbye. Then working my way through Heathrow and back on a plane to the states (this time, though, I was smart enough to pay the $50 upcharge to get more legroom...well worth it! I actually ended up with three seats to myself!). The boys (all 4) were quite happy to see me again and I have to admit I almost cried when the customs agent said, "Welcome home." Homesick?

I've been the recipient of many heartfelt "I missed you Mama"'s and tender hugs from all of them. And I have noticed an increase in the civility between them. Maybe a bit of a break from each other is a good thing now and then. Hmmmm...where should I go next?

I now have dreams, however, of returning to the UK with family in tow. There are quite a few castles, museums, and ruins I'd like us all to explore, not to mention Platform 9 and 3/4.

Kings Cross Station

The boys need to know their little cousin and she needs to know them, as well.

But for now I have these photo memories...enjoy!

Regent Street

Parliament in the rain.

Looking across the Thames to London Bridge.

The enclosed atrium at the British Museum.

A church spire in a London suburb.

More from London

It's waaaay past my bedtime, but I want to post some images from my stay.

Cute baby, eh? What can I say, she looks fantastic in that hat. (I made it.)

Erica and Mike's cottage

their hedgerow

their garden

Today I ventured into London on my own and visited Trafalgar Square, Charing Cross Road and the National Portrait Gallery. I took a double-decker bus and the Tube, wandered the streets in a torrential downpour, spent hours in the galleries of the museum and generally had a lovely time...all by myself. This is something unusual for me. Thoroughly enjoyable. Very civilized.

More tomorrow...

Another baby in my life

There's not much I can tell you about London that you wouldn't already assume: history, architecture, culture, fashion...it's all here. I haven't even seen the center (or should I say "centre"?) of London yet, but I've seen all of the above in spades.

The highlight by far, though, is spending time with my sister, my new niece, and my brother-in-law. This trip is really about family for me. If Erica lived in London, Ohio, I'd be visiting her there, too. I've wanted to spend time like this with her for years and, I suppose, Gabi's birth inspired me to act.

Since arriving yesterday midday we have walked all over Erica and Mike's beautiful neighborhood and tooled around some of the posher London outskirts, Primrose Hill and Hampstead. Erica and Mike recently bought a house in a little tract development in a suburb of London. But, please don't think "tract development" as in every suburban sprawl city in the states. Imagine 100 year old brick cottages, tree lined streets, an immense greenway filled with meadows, forests, playgrounds and a creek. It's one of the most charming neighborhoods I've ever seen and I'm thrilled that Mike and Erica are raising their family here. It's also a very Jewish neighborhood, one of few in the UK. This is one of the things that appealed to them when they looked for a house. They can walk to their shul from home, for instance, something that is required of orthodox Jews on Shabbat (Erica and Mike are modern orthodox, I suppose). There is a real Jewish ghetto near by, filled with much more orthodox people, but where Erica and Mike live is a more diverse Jewish community and the two synagogues there have congregations that run the gammet in observance practices.

I love that I'm enjoying London with a local. Erica and I spend our time walking, driving, eating and gazing at her beautiful daughter. Gabi is totally delectable in a way that only little babies are. She has incredible cheeks, the Stonefield dimpled chin, bright blue eyes, and a stellar disposition. She's starting to make those wonderful baby coos and ahhs that are the beginnings of spoken communication. She's so alert and social, rarely fusses and is charming me with her sweet smiles. I'm loving it!

Erica had asked me before I came if I'd teach her to knit while I was here, so I brought needles and yarn for her. Today we visited a local department store that also had a nice yarn department and I gave her an introduction to knitting and yarn and the tools of a knitter. She absorbed it all, even though a sleep deprived new mother. Tonight, after Gabi went to bed we pulled everything out and began...the beginnings of a beautiful blue scarf.

Saturday is Shabbat and Erica and Mike don't drive or work or cook or do anything much but rest. They've told me I'm welcome to anything I'd like, including taking the train into the center of London. I'm a bit hesitant to do it alone, but I'm sure I can handle it and so I think I will. Now I'm off to read up on the museums to see which ones to visit.

I'll leave you with some images from my first days here...

Day of travel

Note to self #1: Leave something at home.

Spend some time walking around the house with your HUGE purse slung jauntily over your shoulder and your carry-on bag full of things to pass the time draped across your chest. THEN see how much you want the spare change of clothes, the two books, the camera and cable, the large noise cancelling headphones, the knitting project and the three spare knitting projects (in case you weren't in the mood for the first one).

Note to self #2: Remember the power of positive thinking.

Do not be surprised if the day before your departure and only moments after speaking to your sister who you are going to visit in London you suddenly come down with a nasty stomach problem sending you straight to bed with cramps, exhaustion, and the runs. Keep up the mantra: "I am not sick. I am not sick," and indeed you will be able to go on your trip with your HUGE purse stuffed with bananas, herbal gastrointestinal remedies, and lemon ginger tea bags. It WILL make a difference. But stay away from the frappuccinos and pizzas in the international terminal.

Note to self #3: Have gratitude in full measure.

Turn a deaf ear to your children's bickering in the car ride to the airport shuttle on the morning of your departure. What they mean to say is: "Mama, we will miss you while you're gone and don't quite know what to do with all of our feelings of emptiness and separation anxiety. Please have a lovely trip and travel safely. Oh, and don't forget the souvenir es for yours truly." But what they say instead is, "Maaa-ahm...he's touching me! Maaa-ahm...he's giving me the finger! Maaa-ahm..." Feel the love. And don't forget to give your wonderful husband a big ol' kiss when he drops your off at the airport shuttle. After all, he's staying home with them.

Note to self #4: Premium Economy.

Next time you see a can of sardines on the grocery shelf remember in acute detail ten hours spent housed inside a jetliner with a seatback reclined three inches from your nose, 2.5 inches of leg room exactly, and your neighbors touching skin with you in the adjoining seats. Think of the large leather chairs with 12 inch wide arm rests in the Premium Economy class. Start saving your pennies.

Two and a half days...and counting

Mother Nature heard my pleas. (Not to mention the pleas of thousands of people stranded a continent or two away from home and those of my sister, Erica.) The volcano quit spewing and so I began packing. I am SO excited about this trip.


When I leave home it is no easy task. Since I homeschool my kids it's not as easy as arranging drop-offs and pick-ups from school. Reminiscent of my years as a classroom teacher, I prepare detailed "sub" plans for the folks caring for my kids. Mark, is no sub, by the way, nor babysitter, nor stand-in. I'm not condescending. Any of you who know him in the flesh and have witnessed him with me and the boys know that he is the dad, my full-scale partner in parenting. But, the minutia of our daily lives are not the things he keeps track of and so it's usually necessary for me to write out plans of some detail for those times I'm absent.


Once, a couple years ago, I went away to a Jewish songleaders' retreat in Wisconsin for a week. It was amazing, a transformative experience, but the reason I'm telling you about it now is that you would have been very impressed with the notes I left behind. A calendar of activities, a page of contact names and phone numbers, and more on four pages. It took me weeks to flesh out. But, hey, it worked. Everything went smoothly.

A week after returning home Mark's uncle died and Mark needed to go back east to be with his family. The time frame went something like this: Saturday got the call, Sunday made the arrangements, Monday saw him standing at my bedside in the wee hours of the morning ready to leave for the airport.

"Bye, hon," he said. "I'm off."

"What, no notes? No sub plans?" I croaked, with as much irony and humor as one can muster at 5 am.

"Yeah, guess it's a little easier for me to leave, huh?" he said sheepishly.

I was only giving him grief in a teasing way, I know that he appreciates me and what I do with the guys. And yet, it is nice to sometimes to notice and be noticed. Yeah, I juggle a lot.

THIS TIME, however, I'm handling the task a little differently. I have arranged for activities, but haven't written any notes. Names are on the calendar and I know Mark is able to make the calls or send out the emails to the moms taking the kids for the day. I'm only going to be gone a eight days, three they have plans scheduled, two days are free, two days are weekend, and one is the day they drive down to San Francisco to pick me up. I'm confident it'll all be FINE.

After all, the boys may not even notice I'm gone. Imagine the extra time they'll have for TV and video games. (Mark and I used to joke about leaving them home with an endless loop videotape and a bowl of kibble...now with the frozen Amy's burritos in the freezer and the endless brain-numbing quantity of television on cable, I don't think we're far off from that scenario. Unfortunately.)

Not writing up the big plans feels a little risky. Yet, the three boys are so much older now, so much more able to figure out what they want to do and then do it. They don't seem to need as much herding as they used to.

So, my piles of folded laundry and my collection of small toiletries are accumulating. The knitted gifts are almost all wrapped. I have a few knitting projects for the plane, and my iPhone is stocked with podcasts to listen to when the pilot says I can turn it back on.

Two and a half days and counting.

I hope to blog from London...but until then...Cheerio!