We've somehow started a semi-weekly Friday tradition around here. Break out the food and cocktails and people all over the 'hood appear, and that's how it's been over the past few Fridays. I got home from work one afternoon and my neighbor Tyler handed me a mango juice and rum and that was all she wrote. End of story. In a good way.
I just love gathering like this. Chairs get carried across the street and people shift seats to make the circle bigger.
When the mango juice ran out, the Aussies contributed their national beverage: Bundy and Lime.
Bundy.
Lime.
With Shasta (!).
over ice.
The flip-flops come off...
and the pizza shows up.
Yeah, Friday night's all right.
We traveled back to Charlottesville over Memorial Day to attend my friend and her husband's 10th anniversary party. Oh happy day. She asked me to take pictures while we were there, and what an assignment. Joy: in helping her celebrate a beautiful day, done beautifully, and Terror: I'm responsible for capturing this event for them? AACK.
I've told the story over and over of why these guys had this party, aside from, duh. Happy Anniversary. At their wedding ten years ago, they got the wrong cake. It was the part she was looking forward to most, and the wrong cake was delivered...minutes from the ceremony, too late to do anything about. This would never happen on Cake Boss.
I think they made up for it.
It was a perfect way to spend a flawless Saturday afternoon.
cupcake boxes
cupcakes!
Oh happy day.
Officially or not, summer is here.
First Year Teacher to His Students
Go now into summer, into the backs of cars,
into the black maws of your own changing,
onto the boardwalks of a thousand splinters,
onto the beaches of a hundred fond memories
in wait, where the sea in all its indefatigability
stammers at the invitation. Go to your vacation,
to the late morning cool of your basement rooms,
the honeysuckle evening of the first kiss, the first
dip and pivot, swivel and twist. Go to where
the clipper ships sail far upriver, where the salmon
swim in the clean, cool pools just to spawn.
Wake to what the spider unspools into a silver
dawn dripping with light. Sleep in sleeping bags,
sleep in sand, sleep at someone else's house
in a land you've never been, where the dreamers
dream in a language you only half understand.
Slip beneath the sheets, slide toward the plate,
swing beneath the bandstand where the secret
things await. Be glad, or be sad if you want,
but be, and be a part of all that marches past
like a parade, and wade through it or swim in it
or dive in it with your eyes open and your mind
open to wind, rain, long days of sun and longer
nights of city lights mixing on wet streets like paint.
Stay up so late that you forget day-of-the-week,
week-of-the-month, month-of-the-year of what
might be the best summer, the summer
best remembered by the scar, or by the taste
you'll never now forget of someone's lips,
and the trips you took—there, there, there,
where snow still slept atop some alpine peak,
or where the moon rose so low you could see
its tranquil seas...and all your life it'll be like
some familiar body that stayed with you one night,
one summer, one year, when you were young,
and how everywhere you walked, it followed.
Well, the last day of school was pretty hard for me. Every time someone came up and said, "Doing okay?" I could feel the fullness of tears shimmer behind my eyes. It was a half day, and at noon I sat outside Callum's building waiting for the kids to come out. Tissues and camera in hand.
One by one his classmates emerged, a gaggle of happy geese set free for flight. Talking, laughing, hugging. Summer reflected in their eyes.
And I waited. I could see through the window as Callum sat alone in the hallway, under the coat rack. He was slowly putting things away in his backpack and sorting through the bags of detritus that every student was bringing home.
That's when I really started to feel weepy. My boy, slowly saying goodbye for the last time. I pictured us sitting in that very spot, my arm around him, sticky from the heat. How could I comfort him if I was so sad myself? Moments later, Callum burst through the door. Without a glance at me, he dashed off toward the back playground.
That's what this photo is of. Not Callum feeling bereft at this leave-taking. But Callum serious and concentrating as he seeks out the enemy in a water gun battle. Sometimes good-byes need to be just like this.
Dear Callum,
Hello my lovely. Happy
Last Day
of School. And oh, what a bittersweet day this will be, won't it my
friend? You
asked at dinner the other night for something positive to happen, and
here today
let's do that. Let's not think about the goodbyes and the loss, but
instead all
of the wonderful things that have happened along the way. When you
started here
at school, you were such my baby, and as always with you, starting
something new
is hard.
It was hard for me to send you to school actually and hard to find the perfect place. School was not a place of fun and comfort for me, and I didn't want that to be true for you too. But, as I often tell people, when we stood on the playground in front of this magical Cottage, I started to cry because here, I knew I could send you. I do admissions tours sometimes and I always say what was said to us that day. "We want kids to learn that there is this magical place of fun and learning outside their homes and we give that place the name 'school'."
We had a goodbye ritual each day, you and I as we walked down the path to the Cottage. Take a few steps, kiss, take a few steps, kiss. Once inside you went straight to the window and waved as I backed away. The first day that you dashed to play without looking back was a bittersweet victory. I was so proud of you.
I was proud of you then, and I'm proud of you now, big-time almost fifth grader. You breeze into your classroom without a backward glance now. As it should be.
You started this year with a bang. In school a few days and woosh! Off to Hungary! We're so grateful that we can offer you the opportunity to travel and grateful that your teachers encouraged this trip. It was a great experience and a great place to turn ten years old. When you came home, you proudly told your classmates about your trip. You still love to get up in front of a crowd.
We traveled a lot this year. To Charlottesville to see Monticello, up to Pennsylvania to see friends, to Atlanta to see your grandparents. South Carolina for New Years, and almost South Carolina again this spring (bummer!). You're still one of the best, most enthusiastic travelers I know.
You still love dressing up and will take any opportunity to do so. You always look so sharp for your class pictures. A friend gave you a box of ties as a gift, and you were overwhelmed with delight. Your new school has a dress code, and I actually think you're excited about that! Still, you don't like getting haircuts and you don't like taking showers (?), but I'm working on that!
School this year had as many bumps as delights. Hard stuff with friends that we hadn't experienced before. Hard work that took a lot of effort. You worked hard, (even though you parents still think you could work a little harder...a-hem) although I think things (both with your friends and your studies) were more challenging than ever before. It didn't help that we threw this whole "new-school" curve ball at you. Sometimes things aren't fair.
The more things change, the more they stay the same. You still do your homework at the kitchen island (more difficult when our kitchen was under construction), and those are still my favorite times of day. You still read like a mad-man, although we sometimes have to encourage you to try something new, and this is still your way to fall asleep at night. In math, you worked like a demon to memorize your math facts (aack, multiplication tables), and you were one of the first three students in your class to accomplish this goal. And you still love science and history and World War II movies. Mama has to leave the house next week so you and Papa can catch up on all the movies you taped over Memorial Day Weekend!
You still have popcorn and gatorade after school almost every day, and you usually need to grab a snack out of my office before we head home. You've been eating soup for lunch still, and fried chicken this year now too. We stop packing your lunch next year, and you're a little sad about that, I think. You still love seltzer and tonic with lime, but this year saw soda creeping in to your beverage options. Sprite we're okay with (in small doses), and I;m always very proud of you when you call from a friend's house to ask if you can have a coke.
You love to learn and you love to try new things. This year you took French lessons, willingly giving up your Saturday mornings to dabble in a language that you've decided that you want to learn. You and I did some cooking together this year, and we had so much fun that I hope we do more. When Alfie came, you guys painted a picture together. You threw yourself into that project, like you do most projects. You love nothing more than involved, complicated plans...to be working on SOMETHING! You're always planning something like building a cabin the size of our living room or a fort in a tree. Go big or go home, that's my boy.
When you and your buds on the block planned a lemonade stand and ping pong tournament, you made $30! But more important to you, I think, was the fun you had. Although you like money too.
You're happiest when you're moving your body. Climbing, running, on the rope swing, playing capture the flag or dodgeball. You got your first Nerf gun, and now you have an arsenal. (Your dad likes them too!) Nothing shows the holiday spirit like the Nerf gun battle that took place on this block on Christmas morning.
It was a weather-y year too. A nor'easter that shut down school, not to mention our neighborhood, for more than two days. And, oh, the best snowfall ever. You could have stayed outside all day during that snowstorm. You were at a perfect age for Mother Nature to dump eight inches of snow on us. We both hope it happens again next year!
You had some disappointments this year too. You didn't win the Teacher Jane book award, but when you told me, after having had a pretty bad day, that the only good thing to happen was to hear that a classmate of yours had won...well, Mama and Papa were prouder of you then than if your essay had been chosen. You played lacrosse again this year and had a lot of fun, but you guys were more like the Bad News Bears than reining league champions this season. That's okay. Learning how to lose gracefully is good for you and something you needed to do. You competed in the hardest category in forensics and didn't win, but your essay was wonderful and we thought you did a great job. You're a kid with a lot of sparkle, and I think the hardest lesson you learned this year was that simply being Callum isn't always enough. It's always enough for me though.
Speaking of "sparkle," you absolutely SHONE in the school play this year. You love to be on the stage, and you have a great ability to connect with your audience. You look so at home up there, and you got so many laugh-out-loud moments that it's hard to remember that it's a big deal for kids to get up and perform on stage. Very nicely done.
Our vibe as a family has been pretty good this year. We have a lot of fun together. You still love to snuggle and you still seem to need us in a lot of ways (like a death-grip on Papa's wrist when you're struggling with math homework). I see shades of growing up, of course I do, and that's okay. You call us "Mom" and "Dad" when you're with your friends. I can understand it, even when it makes me sad.
I am so enjoying the person you are becoming, that it makes everything so worthwhile. I love talking with you and hearing the questions you ask. You want to know and understand things, and you love having knowledge about anything in the arsenal of your mind.
Yesterday was your DARE graduation at school. In another post I will write about how timely and important this experience has been for both you and your Mama and Papa as well. Your essay was chosen to represent the 4th grade, and when you read it to everyone, I had to fight back tears. I told you on the way home that of all the writing assignments you've had this year, I was happiest that you won this one. As we all look to your very near future of navigating the teenage and young adult world of violence and drugs and bad choices pressing in on all sides, the intensity I so love about you definitely gives me pause. But the confidence you have in yourself definitely gives me hope.
It's been a year for the record books, my sweet. My Bug, my Moo, my own sweet baby. A year of challenges and crazy fun. You navigated it well, my lovely. You've handled everything we've thrown at you. And if you're sad today, this last day of school, that's okay. It's a last day like no other last days, a final goodbye that is as bitter for what we lose as it is sweet for what we all have to look forward to. We're both jumping out of the nest, aren't we, chicklet?
I love you to the moon and back again my man-child. Love you, I do.
Mama
It’s nearly time to write my year-end recap for Callum. It’s
been a bumpy year, for many reasons, and just because it hasn’t been all fun
doesn’t mean we shouldn’t mark its passing. But what I want to write today is
separate from that recap, I think. We’ve handed Callum a lot to handle this
year. We’ve all had a lot to handle this year. In the early fall Neel and I
made the decision that it was time for him to leave his current school and
attend another next fall. In many, many ways this was a tough call to make.
He’s been at this school since he was barely four years old. From the earliest
of preschool right through fourth grade. And he loves it here. Callum once said
that when he died he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread on this
campus. I work here, and Neel’s on the board…the fact that this is Callum’s
school is as intricately entwined in our lives as our house is to our homelife.
So many wonderful things have happened here. Callum learned to read here.
Callum discovered his love of writing here. Callum decided that he might like
math, just a little, here. He’s come into his own on the stage and on the field
while he was here, and he even learned to sing!
But things change and places change and people change too. Callum needs, we decided, a bigger world, a higher bar, space that pushed him and expanded him…a place that was both more comfortable (in some ways) and less comfortable (in others).
So this past fall, the great school search began for us. At first we were just exploring. We didn’t tell our son about our thoughts, because at the time they were no more than that…thoughts. We wanted to see what was out there, what options we had. I went to open houses and reported back to Neel. We read and read and read. We talked and talked and talked. We gravitated to one school, and I day-dreamed about a (much) shorter commute. Still small, still nurturing, but a bit bigger and different enough… we thought we’d found it. And then a friend of ours, director of the lower division at another school, took us on a tour of his school. WAY bigger. Very different. We went to mostly rule it out, and, well you can see where this is going. We came out thinking, “hmm.” Hmmmm.
On the evening we told our son that we were looking at new
schools for him in the coming year, Neel and I sat across from each other at
the dinner table, making the eyebrow-wiggling equivalent of, “You say it. No,
YOU say it.” I’m not sure who jumped in and started speaking first but it was
probably me, because all that eyebrow-wiggling reminded me of a particularly
painful moment in high school which I am certain is a story for another day.
There was Callum, happily eating away when we dropped the metaphorical bomb on
him. His eyes grew round, he looked from one of us to the other and then
quietly stood up beside his chair. It was as if his seat couldn’t contain him,
but his emotions had no voice.
So we talked. All evening we talked. It wasn’t long before he ended up on my lap at the dinner table, just liked he used to do when he was a toddler. We talked about how we still loved his school. We talked about how it was hard to even think about saying good-bye. And we talked about how it might be time to think about doing something different.
After all that talking, we put him through the ringer. Tours, interviews, a day-long visit at one school, rigorous testing at another. Sitting for the tests, spending a day with kids he didn’t know…it all took a lot of bravery, I think. Hardest for Callum was having to keep the news a secret from his friends at school. It was a long winter.
We told him that he would have input (and he had a clear
favorite), but that we would make the ultimate decision (he railed against
that, let me tell you). He’d ask regularly which way we were leaning or state
emphatically that he knew we weren’t leaning to the school of his
choice.
And it was hard. Oh my gosh, so hard to make up our
minds. We weighed pros and cons and talked and talked again. It felt like all
we ever talked about was school. I really wondered if we’d ever be able to
choose, but first we had to wait to see if the schools chose us. And when the
first one did, I realized that I’d made up my mind. The way the light of a new
day gathers so slowly, one tiny drop at a time, until suddenly it’s day, I
had been gathering awareness about what we should do. And then I knew.
This post is as much about me as it is about Callum, because of what I learned. I learned that it’s not about what I need or want for him. I learned that ten is plenty old enough to have a strong voice in what happens to a person. I learned that what I wanted for Callum could be different from what Callum wanted for Callum or from what Callum really needed. And that’s the most important thing. When I was able to divorce myself from my vision of Callum’s schooling to really understand what he needed from his schooling. Well, the decision became clear. Neel got it too. At first I worried that I’d need to tug him along on this because it was so different from what we initially envisioned, but he got it.
So we’re trusting ourselves, we’re trusting our boy. We went big, not small, and we think he’s ready. As parents we’ve laid a good foundation, I think. His current school has a laid a good foundation. Now he’s ready for the big time.
We’re stepping off a cliff, but I think this place will give him wings.
runs together, stays together. Even if two of us are actually running together and one of us is slogging along slowly by herself. Ahem.
P.S. Callum says, "Thanks for the new shoes, Ama!"
Well, I had several sweet (little) posts written about how much I missed you and how I was writing, a lot actually, but that didn't take the place of writing here, and how I've been thinking about writing a lot too, and apparently I have a good bit to say these days but now we have a new computer and we're caught in that vague nether-world of transferring information from one to the other because the internet visits one but my photos are on the other and AAAACK what a pain. But what's also a pain is trying to post from my phone (which is where this picture is located). It was already hard to type all this out, but when Typepad didn't publish my post (the sweet little one), not once but TWICE. Then I got really fed up. And gave up.
Irritatedly,
me.
I hope to be back soon, but only when everyone is cooperating.
I know I told you guys I was taking a Photoshop class. It's fun, but tricky too. It's taking awhile to assimilate all this information, and I don't have much time to practice. Maybe someday. On our second class we made this franken-person, and after that it got really quirky and fun.
In this photo, I leached out all of the color and added back in the green of the cans. I can't remember how.
Same cans, only this time I added a layer on top of them. See if you can guess what it is.
Remember those artichokes Callum and I had for dinner a couple of weeks back? They're there. Under the big blue sky. Yeah, I think this is going to be fun.
Callum's been a reading fiend lately. It started with Pippi Longstocking over the weekend, and he's been plowing through Judy Blume all week. He's always been a reader, but sometimes (as with all of us, I suppose) he blows hot and cold. Right now, he's hot, hot, hot. That means that even as I'm yelling at him to put down his book and eat his breakfast, finish his homework, brush his teeth, turn out the light, set the table, get ready for practice, feed the dogs...I'm happy, happy, happy.
Callum and I played hooky today. Is that how you spell it? Anyway, we are supposed to be in Myrtle Beach with Neel right now, and we're both worn out so we decided to take the day. We lazed around for awhile before going to see How to Train Your Dragon, which was awesome by the way. The lacrosse practice was canceled, and we had artichokes for dinner. Only Callum and I like artichokes, so it was the perfect no-Neel dinner. We've been watching a lot of TLC. Callum and Neel watch war movies. Callum and Lauren watch Say Yes to the Dress. Callum wants us to get remarried now, and he wants me to let him come along to pick out my dress.
Great kid.
We had a party for my 40th birthday last Friday. Forty years old. Oh my goodness. How quickly the time passes! It's a funny thing about milestone birthdays...you tend to think about them a lot as they approach (at least I do) and suddenly it's your birthday and, simple as that, time marches on. Life continues apace and there you are, just older. Nothing more, nothing less.
Nothing more, nothing less. I didn't do anything to deserve a party, really. We're all getting older, and it's not as if I've lived such a dangerous life that it was a miracle that I'd made it this far. But we had a party anyway.
My friend Seamane sent me flowers.
We had a little food.
I told Neel that I wanted to be sure to have a few moments before everyone arrived to take pictures. Those are the best times aren't they? That anticipatory hush before everyone arrives.
The hit of the night was, alas, not me. Check out the champagne fountain!
Here's Tyler "helping." And, really, I'm only teasing here because he was so helpful. He brought over music, and extra tables and chairs, and helped Neel build two new gates for our backyard (not that night, of course, but in anticipation of that night), and made lots of fruity drinks to pass around. And his wife made cupcakes! I have the. best. neighbors. ever.
Doesn't that table look pretty?
You can't have too many pictures of the champagne fountain.
Or of my cake. My beautiful, beautiful cake. I loved it so much that it seemed criminal to cut into it, but once we did...well, it tasted SO good. I know one should only have a fancy cake like this for special birthdays, but really, isn't every birthday special?
As night fell and the party s.l.o.w.l.y wound down, I felt well and truly celebrated. So many of my favorite people were there with me, the night was beautiful. It was a great way to kick off what I know will be the best years of my life.
(Catherine's cupcakes) As I approached my 35th birthday, low many years ago, I felt a sense of loss and a hyper-awareness of aging. Not good. But this year was so different. I know some people who refuse to meet this milestone head on (a friend of a friend had a blow-out 39th birthday because she wouldn't want to celebrate her 40th!), people who wish it weren't happening. Others, most of whom are already in their forties tell me that this decade is better than any they experienced before. That's the tack I'm taking. Nothing but blue skies ahead.
Or is it?
Seriously, what is it? I have no idea what that thing is called.
People, I am so beat down these days, it's not even funny. It's not just the allergies, it's this silly old life that has kicked me to the back of the room. A friend of mine said the other day that she had nothing left in the tank, and that's exactly how I feel lately. All I want to do when I come home from work is watch reruns of Millionaire Matchmaker and 9 By Design. Still, I've neglected you for too long, so the least I can do is throw up a few photos here every so often. I have tons of those.
I picked this little critter to take pictures of during my lighting workshop a few weeks back.
We had to make something look like what it wasn't.
?
I liked him AS IS, so I found that hard to do.
He's pensive. Like me.