the first and last swim class

This is the first year that I signed Addison up for swim lessons.
Since he is just three, the parks and rec guy said that the mom and toddler
class would be the one for him. I would need to be in the pool with him
So last Tuesday Addison and I showed up for our swim class.
Along with about 10 other moms with their children.
Let's just start off by saying that disrobing and climbing into a pool
with a bunch of other people that you don't know is a bit unnerving.
Layer that with the cold hard truth that everyone else had brought
their INFANTS along to swim and it is even a bit more awkward.
It was mom and baby class and then there is Sue and her giant man-child.
Addison is a bit tall for his three years and his low voice reminds
us of a trucker from the the Bronx.
I got a few stares.
I laughed out loud nervously...several times...as women were cooing and
nuzzling their babies and Addison was nearly treading water beside me
and talking in full sentences like,
"The pool is very warm this afternoon, isn't it, Mother?"
When the teachers told us to place our little ones on the side of the pool
like Humpty Dumpty and have them fall into our arms in the pool,
while other babies screeched in delight flinging themselves at their moms,
Addison performed a half gainer into the pool.
There was also a crew of daddy paparazzi present. Because these moms had brought
their husbands to snap pictures of their cuddly babies meeting water for the first time.
The sounds of photos being snapped while I was in my bathing suit really set my nerves on edge.
The class told a definite downward slide when we played the game of "The Baby in the Pool" sung to the tune of "The Wheels on the Bus".
The teachers told us we would go around the circle and we would all be required to come up with our own verse with which to lead the class.
Right away I thought "The Baby in the pool goes splash, splash, splash!" Brilliant.
Wouldn't you know the girl/baby team next to me took my "splash, splash, splash" verse?
I was left scrambling and could only come up with a lame,
"The Baby in pool goes wave their hands."
Yep, you read correctly. Goes wave their hands. All of my syntax and knowledge
of the English language left me in my moment of song panic in the pool.
Then we had to play "London Bridges" and trail each other in a large loopy circle under the bridge of styrofoarm pool noodles held by the swim teachers.
All I could do was pray that I would not be the my fair lady that would be caught up in the noodle bridge during "take the keys and lock her up" part of the song.
I knew for sure that if we were locked up the teachers would get a close look at us
and know that somehow I had snuck my 11 year old into a mom and baby swim class.
The hour could not be over quick enough for me. Or for Addison, either.
At one point he looked at me and said, "I not a baby, Mom."
I believe we were in our car and driving away before the last mom and baby posed for the final paparrazi "climbing out of the pool" shoot.
The next morning found me back in the rec office transferring Addison to a swim class
all on his own.
And I will go back to being where I should be during swim class.
Sitting in the shade reading a book.
Praise the Lord and pass the suntan lotion...the world has righted itself.

the journey home

I met Teacher Virda five years ago when Jack was 3.
Jack was three years old and my friend Melissa called me and said,
"You need to go sign up Jack for this free preschool down the street."
"Free preschool?" "Yep. Free."
So I called the number she gave me and the next day I was sitting
at a small round table across from a vivacious no nonsense type of teacher
who had one mission...to teach children about Jesus.
Her red hair and quick smile belied her personality.
Fun and firm always getting things done.
Teacher Virda. For 30 years she had run a free preschool at her church
with the help of other church members and moms like myself.
Each year the school, sometimes upwards of 50 children,
would take field trips and play in the sand and
ride tricycles and do crafts with glitter and learn to play nice and sing songs about Jesus in a Christmas concert. Jack flung himself off the risers his first Christmas concert due to his overextension of arms during singing "My God is so Big."
Each year, we parents volunteered and subbed and helped on playground duty
and spread out graham crackers and juice on small round tables and prepped crafts.
I cut out a whole lot of sandpaper letters. And Teacher Virda oversaw it all.
With her group of friends from her church, she led us and loved our kids and
admonished us a little on parent help out night if we talked too much when we
were cutting out sandpaper letters.
When Will started preschool he had a nervous breakdown, sobbing.
She firmly told me, "Go, Mom, he'll be fine." And of course, he was.
She did home visits with the children in her class. First with Jack and then with Will.
You would have thought the president was coming to our house. Rooms were clean.
Brownies were made and the excitement was palpable as she was introduced to their stuffed animals and brought to see their dinosaur bed spreads.
My boys knew they were something because Teacher Virda came to their house.
And we parents knew we were loved, too. When I told Teacher Virda I would be taking Will to a different school because I had to go back to work and started crying, she hugged me and cried a little with me.
She and her husband, Bill, encouraged Scott and I in our ministry, knowing how hard it is to start something from scratch. Bill had lost his job and started his own company 30 years earlier. The preschool had been birthed out of those hard times.
They told us about how faithful Jesus had been to them.
This past September we heard that Teacher Virda had cancer.
Which seemed crazy because I would have figured that cancer would have been a little afraid to take on Teacher Virda. I had once seen her back down a train conductor who doubted whether or not an entire train of children had been paid for.
So these past months we have been praying for Virda and against stupid cancer because
of all people that we need to stick around, we need the ones who love our kids and cry with us and tell us how faithful Jesus is.
I e-mailed her and told her we were praying heavy as my mother-in-law would say.
We got care updates on line and cheered when the chemo was working and booed when
it seemed to be zapping her off all of her signature energy.
When my book came out I sent it to her along with a thank you for all of her encouragement for my writing over the years and she took time in the midst of her battle to write me back.
She said she was proud of me. And that I was special.
And to please squeeze my boys on her behalf.
And I sat in the midst of her words, like a small child, basking in the glow of her approval.
She ended her e-mail by saying, "May God bless us all on this journey Home."
Yesterday, Teacher Virda rounded the corner on her journey Home and met Jesus face to face.
All those years of loving little ones and telling them about Him and now she is with him.
And I for one, can not stop crying.
Because there is only one Teacher Virda and we will surely miss her. Yes, we will.
When Scott told Jack and Will the news, Will said,
"But Dad, she was my best teacher."
Quite a few of us, still on our journey, feel a little bit like we've been hit by a truck.
But of course, we will soldier on. Doing things the way Teacher Virda taught us to.
Playing nice and singing songs about Jesus. Being kind to each other and loving little people. She set a pretty good example to follow.
And I for one am thankful that I met Teacher Virda on this journey Home.

jam

My sister, Erica, makes the best jam.
Every summer she and her 4 kids put up strawberry freezer jam.
Enough for the whole year.
They work as a well oiled machine, mashing berries, boiling pectin, pouring into clear glass jelly jars.
She has told me that because of this good jam that her children will no longer eat store bought jam.
They turn their noses up at it with its gummy fruit and high fructose content.
They are jam elitists.
And really, I can't blame them. Every summer when Van and Erica drive through they stop to see us and they bring us a jar of that jam.
It is ruby red heaven in a jar. Erica gave me a jar to give to my other sister, Jenny, last year and I tried to hide it from Jenny. But she found it.
Good jam does things to you. And one jar is not enough. It is just a tease.
So a few weeks ago when my mom and dad came to stay, I asked my mom if she would help me make some jam. My mom also has the touch when it comes to jam.
I remember as a child being in the kitchen as she boiled and ladled ollalaberries into a deep purple jam.
She stopped to taste it. And them I think it was my brother, Chris, that she grabbed up into a jam dance,singing,
"Mommy makes good jam! Mommy makes good jam!"
We were shocked and excited. Seeing mom dance was something new.
We kids wanted to get in on both the dancing and the jam.
I decided I wanted to do strawberry freezer jam. So mom and I got the berries, the jars and pectin. And the 2 five lb. bags of sugar. Yes, you read that correctly.
Mom cut and I mashed. I boiled pectin and sugar and mom stirred and poured.
Not being profound at math, we thought we had enough strawberries for 12 jars.
We had to go buy more jars. It was a jamapolooza.
And I felt like Laura and Ma on Little House on the prairie putting up provisions for the winter. I felt industrious. And a little sticky.
And now I have some rows of jam pearly with frost in the freezer.
And every time I take a bite of toast with that valentine red jam slathered on top
I can't help wanting to break into a jam river dance and sing,
"Mommy makes good jam! Mommy makes good jam....with Grandma's help!"

NO - COOK STRAWBERRY FREEZER JAM

4 c. ripe strawberries
3 c. granulated sugar
1 box Sure-Jell powdered pectin
3/4 c. water

Wash and hull the berries; crush them completely, a few at a time. (Should end up with 2 cups.) In large bowl, mix together the berries and sugar. Let stand 10 minutes. Combine pectin and water in saucepan. Bring to boil; boil 1 minute, stirring constantly. Stir hot pectin into the fruit bowl; continue stirring. Don't worry if sugar is not completely dissolved. Ladle jam into freezer containers. Put lids on immediately. Let stand at room temperature 24 hours or until set. Refrigerate for a few weeks or freeze for up to a year.

summer reads

As far as I am concerned, summer is made for reading.
The sun hangs long in the sky so you can read for hours.
Or there is reading by the pool which may have happened years ago for
me but now my time at the pool is focused on keeping children alive so
I don't feel that one as keenly.
Somehow escaping into a book, into someone else's words and pictures,
is a little bit like a summer vacation even though most of us are
doing that stay-cation thing this year.
I have two new favorite summer authors.
Wendell Berry and Richard Peck.
Their stories, their words, their art draws me and and I can't sit
the book down until I'm done.
I just finished Fairweather by Richard Peck about a family who goes
to the World's Fair in Chicago in 1893. Loved it.
And I'm also looking forward to starting a new Wendell Berry Novel
Andy Catlett, a novel based on one of the characters in the town of
Port William. All of Berry's novels center around this town.
Some other summer favorites are
Austenland by Shannon Hale
Home to Holly Springs by Jan Karon
Lucia Lucia by Adrianna Trigiani
The Crocodile on the Sandbank by Elizabeth Peters.
Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry
A Year Down Yonder by Richard Peck
I'm hoping you will help me fill in the rest of my summer reading list.
Any favorites out there that I am missing.
Because summer is made for reading.

three boys and a wedding

I have specifically never taken my children to a wedding.
One reason is because I remember thinking weddings were about the most boring thing in the world when I was a child.
Another reason is because I actually want to enjoy weddings when I go to them
instead of being in a high state of mommy alert during the entire ceremony.
So up until this point I have always arranged childcare when attending these
states of wedded bliss.
But this past weekend my boys experienced their first wedding.
And I brought a wide range of bribery with me.
Gummies, animal crackers, new drawing supplies and also,
there were the veiled threats, just in case the bribery didn't work.
It was an outdoor wedding in a garden setting at a brewery.
Very beautiful. But there were grounds. Sloping hills and fauna abounded.
Do you know what happens to small boys when they see grounds?
They want to run. There were also a large number of boulders and rock beds.
Do you know what boulders and rock beds lead to? Jumping and throwing rocks.
Just writing this is making me a little tense between the shoulder blades.
As the wedding started I realized I was going to have to give the boys a quick
run down on wedding etiquette as Jack was sitting on the ground his legs sprawled
in the center aisle.
"This is where everyone walks...you can't put your legs there even though it is
grass and seems like a nice place for your legs.
When the bride walks down the aisle we all stand up and watch her.
We don't talk out loud and ask questions during weddings. Use a whispering voice.
Yes, even though it is outside and usually it is okay to use your outside voice outside but not in this case.
And do not stand on the folding chairs. NEVER stand on folding chairs.
(This was additional info I tossed in after Jack collapsed the folding chair in front of him.)
Got it? Got it! Gummies anyone?"
Jack was thoroughly disgusted by the whole affair.
Will was enthralled that there would be kissing. IN PUBLIC.
Addison ate a vast amount of gummies. By vast I mean maybe a whole box worth.
I stopped counting. No one went for the animal crackers.
I ate some gummies myself to calm my nerves.
We made it through. Keeping track of the boys at the reception was a bit like watching a parcour video on you tube.
There was leaping off of rocks, swinging off of railings and balancing on boulders.
At one point, Scott removed light sabers (sticks) from Will and Addison as they were re-enacting a scene from the Clone Wars near the bruschetta and hummus table.
There are some koi in a fish pond in San Diego that will never be the same.
For some reason the children felt the fish would enjoy a few rocks in their usually peaceful environment.
We lost the boys a few times in the surrounding foliage.
But I am alive. They are all alive. The fish are all alive.
And there was a rich chocolate cake served at the end of the night.
God is good.

hotel rooms

I would pay $737,800.20 to never have to spend the night with my children in a hotel room again. If I had $737,800.20.
Last night, right around 9:30 I officially lost my mind yelling out into the night of this hotel room things like,
"Everyone owes me $100 for keeping me awake!" and
"If I hear anyone jumping on the beds, I will officially take you out." and
"For the love of all that is good and holy, if you don't whisper I will
put you on time out for the entire summer!"
Scott was doing a wedding rehearsal for one of our former youth kids
and I was in charge of all the hotel room madness that comes into play with travel.
Hotel rooms take away all of your bargaining chips.
You can no longer seperate the children unless you ban one to the tiny bathroom to play with their batman characters in the sink.
Where can the children go on time out? Under the lilliputian desk in the corner?
Every corner of space is spoken for.
You can't take away tv or you take away your own sanity and the children
take to entertaining themselves by filling up all the flimsy plastic cups they
can find at the mini bar.
When Scott came back to the room I told him, just in case he was wondering,
I would never have made it as a Native American in a teepee.
"Where could you have made the children take a time out...in which part of that
circle?"
and
Can you imagine every night of your life sleeping in a rawhide room with all your children....that is why they went for such long rides out on the plains I am sure...because of the thought of what night time held for them back in the teepee.
But I digress. The only redeeming factor is the maid service.
For this I am thankful...if my children are going to drive me totally nuts
at least someone else makes the beds.
Say a strong prayer with me in mind....only two more nights to go.

simple

Last week was our last week of school.
We packed the weekend in like a can of sardines.
A kindergarten graduation. An 8th graduation. A graduation party. A smores party.
Parents visiting. Dinner out. A full day at church and Scott speaking at another church for Sunday night.
There has not been much room for an extra breath.
It has been good stuff. Really good stuff.
And now that we have done all that good stuff
I would like to keel over and take a two week nap.
But since that is not an option I'm thinking about how I can soak up this summer.
When we were kids summer was an long strand of days stretching out before us
like paper lanterns hung on a wire.
Each warm day brilliant with its own possibilities.
We weren't sure what each day would involve but surely there would be some friends on hand and maybe some home made popsicles to eat out on the steps.
There was space and freedom and we had so much time on our hands we got bored.
And somehow, someway, I want to sneak some of that feeling of laziness and
leisure and possibility into these next three months.
I'm not quite sure how I will accomplish that with subbing part time, writing part time and mothering full time.
But I know this...I've done a whole year of complicated.
And I would like a summer full of simple.
Summer evenings with the boys playing in the back yard.
Reading fat books with good plots and even better dialogue.
Sipping lemonade with girlfriends.
An actual date with Scott...that would be a novelty.
I would like to re-organize my pantry.
Let's face it....I have delusions of grandeur.
But somehow, someway, I would like to be able to breathe a bit more,
to laugh a lot more and to enjoy the days that lay before me with the people
that I love the most.
Who's with me?

looking like Will

Yesterday Will squeezed in beside me in the rocking chair.
Newly six, he is looking especially old and more like his dad each day.
My sister, Jenny, was sitting across the room on the couch as we were talking.
I pointed out Will's hands to Jenny,
"I love these hands. They look exactly like Scott's hands."
"What about my feet? Whose feet do I have?"
"Your dad's. And your eyes look like your dad's. And your curly hair."
We decided almost everything about Will looked like Scott.
His chin didn't look like mine. I have a small cleft in mine.
His nose is a little ski jump like Scott's. His knees didn't look like mine at all.
Finally, Jenny said maybe our elbows looked alike. \
It was a pretty close match. But Will said,"No, Mom, my elbows look like Dad's, too."
He wasnt' given me anything. Luckily, I like Scott a lot so it's okay with me if Will wants to be all Daddy's boy.
Later last night, I paused to look in the mirror and was caught off guard once again by my hair.
I have always had straight hair and now all of the sudden it has decided to go all Gene Wilder on me. But just in one or two places. So now I have straight AND curly hair. It's strurly. It's frightening is what it is.
I came out to show Scott my bangs which instead of staying nice and straight like I had blown them dry, had shrunk up into a decided "s" curl in the front.
"Do you see this crazy curl? Where in the world did that come from? Why is my hair getting curly all of the sudden?"
Immediately Will was in front of me looking up at my bangs.
"Mom, do you look like me? Don't you want to look like me?"
I grabbed him up, all six years of him and said,
"Yes, Will, I would love to look like you."
Maybe in the grand scheme of things having Gene Wilder bangs is not so bad after all.