Memory

I messed something up.

I didn't realize it, of course, until I sat down to do something else.

That's right, let's start peeling back the onion of everything I do inefficiently. First, I used to make a yearly scrapbook for myself, my in-laws, and my parents for Christmas. It had a year of pictures and then a few captions in it. To make my life easier -- this is basically my mantra as I'm in the action of making my life harder -- I would look back at my blog and refresh my memory with my own stories of what had happened in the past year. Let me tell you, the years run together after age 30.

Today of all days, Memorial Day, I was looking for a picture of my grandpa that I wanted to use here and to show my kids how amazingly young he was when he entered service. I sat down and after one project turned into another and an hour turned into 8 I drew a blank. Couldn't tell you when school started, who was on what team, what lessons we took, who visited us, if we went anywhere. True and legitimate debacle. Plus I can't find the picture of my grandpa which really chaps my hide!

After fiddling with the pictures for something like 27 days, I opened up my old blog. Only three months in 2013 had been captured -- and rather shabbily at that. But the stories I read made me cry. I wasn't emotional because of the quality of work. I was so sad that I would have otherwise forgotten some fairly precious moments with my babies.

So, now I'm in a pickle. I don't have babies anymore. In fact, they both have feet nearly as big as mine. And no, I'm not one of those pixie people with dainty feet. I'm trying to remember back to when they still wore zippy PJs and held my hand on the way to school. Damn it, I can't. It's not alzheimer's.  It's the speed of life.

The blog is a kindness to myself. I have enough critics, so I'm giving this to myself. Be it selfish desires, I still think it's a worthy cause. Now, if I can just get those kids to do April 2013-May 2014, again. And seriously where is that picture of my grandpa?

Feats of Strength

We had a fairly big weekend. In terms of living in the suburbs, you could say it was a heavy hardware weekend. The Coop played in the Lacrosse Championships of his league/division/small corner of the world and won. Then the following day he endured the chaos of a kid triathlon. Both adventures earned him a medal. He's kinda a big deal.

What we didn't expect, was to have our Mason recognized, too. Following the lacrosse game it was parent paparazzi everywhere. I got some amazing pictures of Cooper. But what I missed with my lens and must capture here is what Cooper's coach did for Mason. He gave him a medal for his support! Indeed Mason went to every practice and every game. He was Cooper's no. 1 fan. He has his own stick and was Coop's practice partner in the backyard. Coach will never know the significance of this to me. 

After the excitement of the day blew over and we were watching TV, Mason started nonchalantly doing sit ups. Then he moved on to push ups. Before we knew it he was working the tricep-dip on the stairs and holding a wall-sit for an eternity. We sat up, we noticed. Like it was nothing, he lunged past us on the couch and asked if we could think of any hard exercises for him. The night continued on with us thinking of truly difficult feats of strength for Mason. Anything and everything we invented, he tried. If you know Mason, you know this is a thing. I can't help but think he was boosted by his hard-earned hardware. 

Can't wait for high school track when I see that kick!

Reasons

We all have reasons.

But I've taken 425 days to review mine. This might seem like an exaggeration. But you clearly don't know me. Perhaps you would like to ask me how shopping for a new dishwasher went?

Anyways. 

The reasons for not writing a blog are pretty clear: 

People will think you are stupid. 

People will say you're not an expert.

People will make fun of blogs in general because in general blogs are about things no one really cares about.

People will say you are not a writer. 

A few reasons to write a blog:

People say that they read it -- and they have their reasons, who are you to argue.

People will say you are a writer. 

People don't matter. What you really need to accomplish is remembering what happened at the speed of life, once upon a time when your kids were little. 

I accidentally quit this blog. There was no profound moment when I threw up my hands and declared, "This is the end." It just happened. 

In fact the last time I thought, "Hmmm I should write a blog entry," I sat down and wrote a long list of all the topics I wanted to cover. The really important stuff like what my favorite mascara is. That's when I realized, actually, I shouldn't blog. 

In my mind there is a difference between writing and blogging. In the beginning, blogging was fun. It was a record. It was fairly personal. It gave my introvert brain a chance to mull over everything I'd seen in a day and chit chat with myself about it. 

Then it became a thing. Like an audience thing. And people around me had blogs. Fancy blogs that had relevant information. They tracked their visitors, and recruited sponsors, and became like an overnight sensation. Made books deals!

I never wanted that. Never had that. Never tried to have that. 

This is just a little group  of essays on daily life. Just me missing my craft. Wait, that's a little overstated. I'm not like a world-renowned basketweaver or anything. So I don't really have a craft per se. But I am never short on opinions. I listen to people -- particularly my kids -- and I write down what they say. I make a fair amount of grammatical errors much to the dismay of one of my favorite teachers. But even she  Facebook-liked (that's a verb, right?) the idea of a resurrection.  

And just like that, I'm back. 

Shutterbabies

As our children mature around us there are times when I take a step back and feel confused. It's like I realize they've gotten to a place that's a bit more grown up and I know that they have reached the next stage but I didn't really feel it go by. Well, we're there, again.

This past week has been Spring Break in these parts. You might imagine that we would escape to warmer climes. So did we. But in reality we stayed really close to home and had a great time. One of our adventures was entering a photocontest that the kids noticed in a flyer that came home from school.

It honored Ansel Adams' 111th birthday. 

When I explained to the boys what good 'ol Ansel was famous for and the images that really set him apart from other nature photographers they actually understood. And that is how I found myself hiking one of my favorite running trails with both boys and a camera. 

They were both excited to use my camera. But they approached the project completely differently. Mason had remembered the trail from a hike we took about one year ago. He was determined to get to the view he was remembering and he would have none of the "views exploration" which Cooper and I were doing. 

Meanwhile, as I said, Cooper was stopping every 30 steps saying, "Oh this is a great view Mom." Until finally I had to crush his artistic heart and say, "NO, no it is not." This is how we stopped and started up the hill to find our artistic voice. 

Someone took this one of me, not sure which one. Not my best side. But hey, can't take yourself too seriously at my age. 

And here are their entries:

MASON, age 6

COOPER, age 8

We All Need Someone

Mom, when you were little did you have an imaginary friend?

Absolutely.

What was his name?

Mr. Fox.

Was he a boy or a girl?

MISTER Fox was a boy.

What did he look like?

I think he was like a fox that walked like a grown up.
So do you have an imaginary friend?

Yes.

What does he look like?

He has like skinny arms and he is yellow.

Like Sponge Bob?

No, like a little fluff ball with crazy eyes.

like The Lorax?

No, that guy has a mustache and my friend just has a really nice smile. He always listens to me.

Science Is Fun

Do you know what makes science fun? Vinegar. 

That's a little known fact. With enough eggs and vinegar you can pull together enough pictures and observation notes to create an excellent science fair project. You can also make your house smell really ... really ... really like a second grader's basketball uniform after it's been worn for both a practice and game on the same weekend without washing it. Also, if you stuff a dirty washcloth in the bottom of a laundry basket and forget about it for 5-7 days, it kinda smells like that, too. Anyway, they don't call it the smell fair.

Should you think the discomfort of preparation for this event was limited to an odiferous acid, let me also describe for you the contents of a birds' nest that we found in our yard and preserved for 8 months. Did you know, for instance, that baby birds actually crap all over the inside of the nest for approximately 30 days? As it turns out, 8 months in a sealed plastic bag turned that little bowl of sticks into a scientific marvel all its own replete with spiders. That my friends IS science.

I myself have never been a presenter or contestant in a science fair. That is why I am so particularly proud of these two. They had to go head-to-head with the judges. No mommies standing in the wings, no daddies helping with answers. Frankly, they really did know the concept of the scientific method and explained their hypothesis and conclusion on their own. The boys did it. They loved it. And they did great.  

I love this picture. Also, did I mention we tried to set fire to eggs? Mason wrote in his notes, "Burned Eggs Stink!" 

Here is Mason explaining his experiment to a friend. Read into his body language anything you want.  You are probably spot on.

The morning of science fair.

All I did was finance the poster boards, binders, folders, picture reprints, about a dozen eggs, two gallons of vinegar, and button-down shirts. Well, as long as we're patting ourselves on the back, I did a pretty good job as Mrs. Moneybags. Where's my medal? 

Best Vacation Ever

Let's face it, our kids have a way of romanticizing family vacations to the point of unbelievability. But it's nice to bask in their superlatives. Our short sojourn to Steamboat Springs was a success, even if we didn't ski the slopes. 

At the close of our long weekend, Mason and I waited patiently in the warm car while Steve and The Coop ran inside to checkout of the condo and grab a donut. Mason murmured, "Sometimes it's hard to say goodbye." 

His voice was so sweet and on the verge of emotional and I asked him why he felt this was true. 

"Because I had so much fun." he explained. I reached back with my Amazonian arms and patted his knee then realized it was the leg that was hurting after a day of sledding and playing rough in the snow so I said, "I'm sorry your leg hurts."

He replied while blinking back tears, "Maybe it's sad to leave, too."


Some pictures from the trip: