Homecoming Dated

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Everyday Life of Students of Eastern Kentucky University in the 1960s (17)This past weekend was my daughter’s Homecoming dance. As always, I was on hand with the other parental paparazzi to take pre-dinner/dance photos.

I am always amazed at how mature our teenagers look when they are dressed up in snazzy dresses, heels, suits and ties. Still, they have their kid personalities, and it’s almost as if they’re playing at being grownups. The boys congregate to one side while the girls chat on the other, and it’s up to the loudest parent to corral them into groups for the requisite photos.

What struck me the other evening, though, was how the kids glittered and glowed while we parents looked a bit schlubby in our casual clothes and lack of makeup or hairstyling. Of course, there were some parents who’d made an effort and looked pretty put together in a casual yet chic way. But for the most part, we parents were on the sidelines, our own sense of youth dimmed by the dazzling display around us.

That’s one of the things that happens when you become a parent. I remember being a new mother and bemoaning the soft new “mom bod” I had developed. Late nights and breastfeeding and clothes covered with spit-up didn’t quite exude youthful sexiness.

But that feeling of being a young person in an old fogey’s body really heightens as the children near adulthood. It’s hard to remember the thoughts and feelings you had as a little kid. But it’s easy to remember your high school and college years, a time when you failed to appreciate your youthful vibrance and energy. With adolescent freshness all around you, it’s natural to feel a bit wistful about the days when you were the belle of the ball.

To our kids, we are hopelessly outdated, clueless about our smartphones, and generally relegated to coexistence with the dinosaurs. After Homecoming photos, my daughter dismissed me with a quick smile and a toss of her glossy black mane. I went home to takeout and TV with my equally ancient hubby. But on the car ride home, I couldn’t help smiling as I remembered the shiny, baby blue halter dress I wore while dancing with my date to “Precious and Few” at a Homecoming in the distant past.

The Millenials and iGen-ers may be taking over. But they can’t take away the memories of our own shining youth and the knowledge that back in the day, we were pretty cool ourselves.

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Dog Days

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My college age son really wants a dog. The other day he was regaling me with photos on his phone of all his favorite breeds, most notably pugs. He told me about the pets of various friends and what he likes and doesn’t like about them. He even surprised me with the fact that dogs are actually allowed in his dorm room at school. But he also acknowledged that any dog he were to get would have to live with my husband and me for long stretches of time while he pursues his college and career goals.

As our nest empties, it’s tempting to think about adopting a shelter pet to keep us company. It would be great exercise to have to walk a dog every day. It would be nice to have the unconditional adoration of a pet who wants nothing more than to be petted and fed and loved (kind of like a husband!).

Our town is a dog paradise. Everywhere I go, I see dogs out with their owners on walks, at the park, or sticking their heads out of a car window to catch the breeze. Local businesses put water bowls outside their establishments or offer dog treats for the neighborhood hounds.

Yet I’m hesitant to take on the responsibility of caring for another creature in my life.   Dogs require constant tending, grooming, and attention to their healthcare needs. They cannot be left alone for long periods of time, and travel means finding a pet sitter or boarding situation for them. I don’t relish the idea of picking up a dog’s poop on a daily basis either. And some breeds bring unwanted odors to one’s home or massive amounts of hair that need to be removed from every surface.

Still, I can see the appeal of a cute little French bulldog or a rambunctious, loving Golden Retriever. I can acknowledge the comfort of a dog’s head on one’s lap on a cold or lonely night. Studies show that having a pet can be good for one’s health.

On the other hand, it’s easy to contemplate getting a pooch during the dog days of summer. Not so much fun to consider the frigid below zero days when that same dog will need to go outside every day regardless of the weather. I guess I’ll revisit the idea of getting a dog during the depths of winter when there’s snow on the ground and the temperatures plummet.

For now, I’ll enjoy these dog days sans dog.

First Day of School Fun

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Caroline-EvosNYToday marked the first day of class for our neighborhood elementary school. It made me smile to drive by the school and see mothers and fathers walking their backpack-ladened progeny to the red brick building around the corner from my home.

I’ve always loved the first day of school. The new school supplies, new lunchbox, new shoes. The chance to see friends I’d missed over the long summer months. The colorfully decorated classrooms and hallways. Teachers at their freshest, brimming with energy and good will for their new crop of students.

The first day of school is so full of promise. If you’d had a rough time or a tough teacher the year before, here was a chance to start anew. After a long summer that was starting to get boring, there were both old friends and new classmates to play with on the school playground.

For moms, the first day of school marks the first day of freedom. There’s time to get things done, even the chance to grab a cup of coffee with a friend or take a long walk in the still-warm weather. While sending a child off to kindergarten can be traumatic, most moms relish the first day of school as it restores a little quiet to their rough and tumble lives at home.

A short while ago, I once again drove past our neighborhood school. It was alive with kids at recess, running across the grass, bouncing balls on the blacktop, climbing the jungle gym, swinging on the swing set with happy abandon. I recalled all the times in the not too distant past when my own children played with their friends on those same school grounds. That red brick building housed their early years of education and formed the foundation for their future successes.

I don’t really miss having a young child in grammar school, one who walks home for lunch in the middle of the day and brings home glittery art projects. But it’s nice to see and hear a new crop of kids enlivening the place that has been quiet and closed up for a few months.

The first day of school is fun for everyone, even those of us miles away from our own salad days. It’s a reminder that our youth are growing and learning and stretching themselves. And, if their efforts on the swing set are any indication, the sky’s the limit!

The Little Things

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healthy-family-dinner-keeps-the-weight-offThe little things in life are the big things. That’s what age and wisdom have taught me as I meander into my sixties.

The other night, I lingered with my husband and two of my children over the remnants of a steak dinner, a homecoming dinner of sorts for my college-age son, who had just returned from a summer internship across the country. Our conversation would never make it as scintillating movie scene dialogue. But just being there with my family sharing a meal at the kitchen table constitutes one of the great joys of my life.

So too with my morning cup of coffee, enjoyed on my front porch in the morning while the summer air is still comfortable and not muggy. I’m able to sit out there in my pajamas, concealed from the street by bushes and trees. Today I read the paper and completed the Tuesday crossword (another little thing that gives me outsized pleasure) outside before going in to start my day of errands and chores.

A walk through the neighborhood, a good book, a glass of wine. A kiss, a hug, the warmth of my husband’s hand in mine. Sharing a laugh with my sister or a good friend. Watching a great movie or television series. Listening to a Chopin nocturne. Even the peaceful and methodical act of folding clean laundry. All these little things add up in a life.

My daughter and I have taken to playing card games lately. As summer wanes and the schedules of school and sports loom ahead, we are having fun whiling away the time with such games as gin rummy and crazy eights. To my daughter’s dismay, I am seriously kicking her ass at gin rummy. Sometimes the old lady seasoned veteran holds all the cards (pun intended).

It’s wonderful occasionally to plan a huge celebration or take a once-in-a-lifetime trip. An evening of live music or theater, a trip downtown to see the fireworks, dinner at that gourmet restaurant you’ve read about: these are all fine diversions to spice up our everyday lives. But for me, the accumulation of small pleasures day by day is what makes me truly content. I hope to amass memories of thousands more little things in the course of my life.

They really are the big things.

 

Father-Daughter Bond

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My husband and I saw a new film the other day entitled Leave No Trace. Although the title suggests some sort of crime thriller, the movie is really a lovely and elegiac contemplation of the relationship between a father and young teenage daughter living in the woods of the Pacific Northwest.

Throughout the film, the bond that has formed between this father and daughter is depicted as respectful, nurturing, and loving. The father has taught his daughter not only the kinds of things one learns in school, but also survival skills and the virtue of living without possessions. Refreshingly in this age of modern parental coddling, he expects her to carry her weight and contribute to their survival. Yet their deep closeness is what moved me most about the story.

It reminded me of the odyssey my own husband and daughter have been on this summer. They have traveled near and far to nurture her soccer talent and visit potential colleges where she might both play and learn – and grow into adulthood. Along the way, they have had to coexist in hotel rooms. He has had to cajole her out of bed and off to early morning sessions. He has helped her keep in touch with coaches and given her pointers on her soccer development. They have attended numerous college tours and info sessions. And while they haven’t quite been roughing it in the manner of the father and daughter in Leave No Trace, they have experienced the merits and detractions of dorms and cafeteria food.

My husband told me that the favorite part of his summer has been the dinners he’s shared with our daughter after her day on the soccer field. In those quiet moments and with full and contented bellies, they have shared their thoughts and hopes and dreams for her and her future. They have experienced the quiet joy of just being together.

As a mother, I have spent countless hours with my children. All the nitty gritty of parenting has been part of my lot, and I have appreciated it all: the good, the bad, and the ugly. I have grown close to my kids in the process, in the ordinary moments shared at the kitchen counter, bent over a homework problem, driving to school and practices and doctors’ appointments.

As the primary breadwinner in our family, my husband has missed out on a lot of that. He has had to make an effort to get to know his children and provide them with the expertise and guidance of his perspective as a businessman and father. Early in their lives, he would take the kids on trips, sometimes together and sometimes individually, in order to nurture that bond. Because our soccer star is our youngest child, she has had the benefit (or at times the curse, she’d say) of her dad’s undivided attention.

Mothers and fathers tend to relate to their children in different ways. I’m grateful for the bond that my husband has developed with each of our children as they have grown. And while she may find her dad’s hovering presence a bit annoying right now, I know that in a couple of years his love and wisdom will go with her to college and beyond.

No Hurry

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It is a pleasure and a luxury not to be in a hurry.

So often in our frantic lives, we find ourselves hurtling from A to B on our To Do lists, scarcely stopping to take a breath. Our blood pressure rises as we wait in traffic or long lines, knowing that precious minutes are ticking by and the day will all too soon be in our rearview mirror.

Time to take a breath.

This past weekend I was on my own. I could sleep in and stay in pajamas as long as I wanted in the morning. I could while away the hours reading, doing crossword puzzles and binge-watching The Chi (That show deserves a blog post of its own!). I took long walks without the nagging sense that someone or something at home needed my attention soon. And even though I had made myself a fairly impressive To Do list, I was relaxed and in no hurry to complete it.

It’s nice to drop something off at the local dry cleaner and say, “No rush” when asked when I need the item back. It’s lovely to drive when a little bit of traffic or a road closure (We’ve been having many in my small town this summer.) needn’t faze me. It’s wonderful to give my attention to small chores and errands that have been nagging at the edge of my consciousness for weeks.

On Saturday morning, I went to an 8 am yoga class. The theme of the class that day was balance, and most of our poses were designed to help us achieve that balance of body and mind. On my way home from the class, in the spirit of calm it induced, I decided that all prisons should offer yoga classes to their inmates. I can’t help but believe that a regular yoga practice would help diminish anger and aggression in those incarcerated.

Tomorrow life will return to a busier pace for me. My family and household responsibilities will keep me on a more pressing schedule. But I hope to hold onto the peace and calm I am feeling right now when there is no hurry.

Birdland

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There are birds nesting all over my front porch. They seem to like the ledges under the porch roof for building their homes of twigs and other plant matter. And while I complain that the nests themselves are unsightly, it’s so much fun to peek out the window and see baby robins lifting their little heads up looking for mama bird.

Today my world is a bevy of bird activity. I hear bird calls of all kinds, some sweet and lilting like a song from Snow White, others like miniature drills rat-a-tatting away. And there is a group of brown birds with soft red heads flitting back and forth from the rooftop to one of the nests on the porch. It looks as though the young ones are having flying lessons.

Birds seem like nervous creatures, always jerking their heads here and there, looking out for predators, no doubt, such as the giant hawk that soared over the house earlier today. Yet they themselves are predators, hopping across lawns searching for worms and grubs to feed themselves and their hungry young.

In the quiet of the morning, it’s peaceful to hear the birdsong and think of the busy avian life going on in our trees and on our front porch. I’ve always wondered what the nightingale sounds like, trilling away in the dark while other wildlife sleeps. On the famous Beatles’ song “Blackbird,” you can hear the melodic lilt of a real blackbird  singing.

In years to come when I have more time on my hands, I plan to take up bird watching. I’ll buy binoculars and maybe even one of those jaunty hats to wear out in the forest. Perhaps I’ll join a birding club so that I can learn more about the fascinating world of birds.

All in good time. First I need to have an empty nest of my own.