Gummibunny

The older I get the more I realize that great friends are hard to find, and great friendships are even harder to keep. People grow, they change, or they move away. Eight years ago Anna and Jason moved from Savannah to Portland, and I still haven't forgiven them. I remember helping them load the moving truck - they were brimming with the excitement of a new adventure. In contrast, I felt a heaping helping of selfish gloom, realizing that with each box we put in the moving truck, they were a little closer to leaving here for good.

Fortunately, in the past 8 years we haven't lost that friendship. We've been able to make a few trips west and they've made a few trips east. Each visit has been fantastic, tempered only by the knowledge that the time together is too short.

I love that we both have daughters close in age. The last time we went to Portland, Camille was ten months old and Elliot was in utero. Today, Elliot turned three! On this trip it was so fun to be together not just as couples, but as families too.

We toured the zoo and the Children's Museum, a craft fair, spent an afternoon perusing the shelves of Powell's Books, ate really good food and took a train ride along the coast. One of my favorite afternoons was spent just walking around Mt. Tabor Park, catching glimpses of Mt. Hood, picking wildflowers, and watching the girls build fairy houses in the roots of giant trees.

Here's a video of some of our Oregon 2010 adventures:



All I can say is thank goodness for great friends, and for airplanes that can take you to them even when they're far away.

We have the first day of school under our belts, and we all came through just fine. Camille was so excited to go to school this morning - excited about her uniform, her lunch box, her bookbag, the whole shebang. Her excitement helped keep my anxieties down, too.

We stopped on the way in to get a picture of her with the stone lions at the front door of her school. Of course she wanted to ride them.

She didn't hesitate when it was time to say good-bye and walk through the door to her classroom. I wanted to cry, but she was so happy and I didn't dare give her any cause for concern or tears of her own. So I kept it together - on the outside anyway.

It was a long day of waiting and wondering how she was doing. I was so happy to see her heading my way in the car pool lane when the school day was done. She says her day went well and that she had a good time, but boy did she look tired. Thankfully, there is a restaurant serving ice cream just a block away, and a little treat perked her right up. Hoping tomorrow goes just as well.

Her name is on her lunchbox. Her bookbag is by the front door. Her mama is conflicted.

Camille starts pre-k tomorrow. In 12 hours she begins a new chapter - we all begin a new chapter.

A week ago I was feeling a large amount of despair about her first day of pre-k. Had we made the right pre-k choice? I was anxious about how she would handle the elementary school environment and the five-day-a-week schedule. I was upset about losing our Tuesdays and Thursdays together.

Then we went to open house at her school last Thursday. We met her teachers. We had questions answered. We visited the room - and oh what a room! There is a fort/playhouse, dress up clothes, baby dolls, a reading nook, a kitchen, a "beach area" and more. It's not that I expected a bare room, but watching Camille's eyes grow wide with excitement as she took it all in was such a relief. She played, she talked to her teacher, she checked out her desk and cubby, and she didn't want to leave. The teacher talked about some of the things they'll do during the year, like field trips. FIELD TRIPS! Those were always so fun! I joined the PTA and can hardly wait to get involved.

Sometimes I want so badly to freeze her in place because I'm enjoying her so much, but at the same time I also want to watch her grow. She needs to grow.

I'm still feeling anxious. I'm still upset. But there is less despair, and more importantly, there is also a new excitement for her and for us. That's the part I will try to focus on tomorrow when we walk through those elementary school doors, and hopefully that's what she'll focus on too. Let the adventure begin!

Hello sweet sleeping girl, and Happy 49 months! You, my traveling superstar, are sound asleep upstairs, exhausted after a day at the Portland Zoo and suffering from a wee bit of jet lag. We are in Oregon visiting our good friends Anna, Jason and Elliot, and your body clock is out of whack, but it's worth it. We spent out first day here watching animals at the zoo with Elliot and her cousin Xander, complete with a visit to the zoo's awesome dinosaur exhibit. I wondered if you'd be scared of the near-life-sized animatronic dinos that move and hiss and growl, but you delighted in every one. When a dilophosaurus sprayed us with water, you thought it was hilarious. "I have dinosaur spit all over me!" you said. I'm looking forward to what our next few days here will bring. 

We have managed to pack this summer full of trips, both long and short ones. We took you on your second camping trip this summer, spending two nights at Enota again enjoying the trampolines, hiking trails and farm. I love these two pictures of you and a goat - it looks like you're playing tag. I'm not sure who is winning.

The farm animals weren't the only animals you got to see on our camping trip. Both nights, right around bedtime, a black bear would wander down a hillside and hang out by the campground dumpster.

No, not that one! That's one of your toy bears we brought for the trip! This one:

It was very cool seeing a bear that close, but a little unnerving too. I tried to use the teachable moment to instruct you about not approaching wild animals. You attempted to reassure me by saying. "I wouldn't touch that bear! I would only touch baby bears!" So I had to include a lesson about the fierceness of mama bears too.

My favorite part of our camping trip was a hike we took up to a wonderfully cool waterfall with a swimming hole. We waded around in the chilly water, enjoying glimpses of rainbows in the cold mist churned up by the falls. But the hike may have been your least favorite part of the trip because of terrifying FACE ROCK.

There was a huge rock jutting out into the trail, and as we approached it your Daddy said, "It almost looks like a face!" Little did we know, his simple statement would send you into hysterics.

We managed to get this picture before you started fully freaking out, but on the way back down the trail you wouldn't even keep your eyes open when we neared the rock. I refused to carry you just on principle (I mean, it was a rock! You weren't even remotely scared of a bear, but a rock?), so you held my hand and groped your way past the rock with your eyes clamped shut and sobbing. I have no idea why that rock scared you so much, but it did! Your Daddy and I didn't know if we should be aggravated, feel sorry for you or laugh, so we did a little of them all.

Scary Face Rock aside, I hope your Daddy and I are teaching you to love and appreciate your natural world, from the mountains to the coast. We've continued to enjoy boating this summer with you, our Chief Dolphin Observer. We all love looking for wildlife, but your favorite activity by far is swimming in the rivers.

At first, I refused. The saltwater rivers snaking through our marshes are teeming with life, but so murky that you can't see what lies beneath. But I sure can imagine it. I can imagine it nipping at my toes, or worse. But as the weather got hotter and hotter, I finally decided we would enter the aquatic food chain or else roast on the deck of the boat.

The water feels great, and so far the worst thing that's happened is that a dead fish touched my neck. It was pretty gross, but better than being touched by whatever took the chunk out of that fish. You still won't get your face wet so you don't swim so much as bob in your life jacket, but you're in heaven as long as you're in the water. You'll float out there all afternoon, happy as a clam. And as long as I don't think about sharks or jellyfish, I'm very happy to float right there with you.

This month we had to decide whether or not to sign you up for another year of dance classes, and you were on the fence. You said you wanted another dance recital, but didn't want to go to class. So I thought we'd explore other options, and took advantage of a trial gymnastics class.

One thing that's very different about the class (compared with dance) is that I get to watch from a balcony. I was afraid that during the first class you might spend the whole time looking for me if you were feeling insecure, but I needn't have worried. As soon as you saw all the gym equipment and the TRAMPOLINE, you were hooked.

It was so fun watching you enjoy the class, seeing you enthusiastically tackling every task the teacher put before you. I watched you struggle with a skill, then work hard and master it by the end of that class. I watched you glow. You looked for me once or twice, but not out of insecurity. You waved and yelled, "Hi Mom!" with a big grin on your face.

So we signed you up for a session, and when we walked into the gym last week you said, "I'm so glad we're not going to dance class!" Guess I had my answer, so we're done with dance class for a while. And that's fine with me, because I'm having so much fun watching my budding gymnast!

This next month is going to be a really, really big one for you, and I have to confess that I'm kind of freaking out about it. In less than two weeks, you will say goodbye to your preschool and hello to pre-kindergarten. While you're not unfamiliar with the concept of school, this feels so different to me. First of all, you'll go every weekday for a full day, just like the big kids do. I am really going to miss our Tuesdays and Thursdays together, and feel heartbroken every time I think about it. Secondly, you'll be at an elementary school, and it is so much bigger than your little montessori preschool and I worry it will swallow you whole. And finally - here comes the melodrama - once you start your school career, things will never be like this again. Sure, it's only pre-k, but it's the beginning of a 14-year educational track that likely ends with you leaving our house and going away to college. I know, I know, we still have 14 years before your Daddy and I have to endure that, but still, this is a major transitional moment in all our lives.

Someone said the other day that when they looked at their four-year-old, she looked somehow so big and so little all at the same time. I have to agree. Sometimes I look at you and think that you're way too little for all this elementary school business. But at other times, I look at you and see a girl who is far from a toddler, a girl who wants to test her independence, a girl who probably needs to get out from under my wing a bit. I may be a little sad for me, but I'm excited for you as you prepare for this new adventure. My hope is that you love school, that you make great friends, that you enjoy learning and experience success. And as you begin this new chapter, I promise to be your biggest cheerleader (or maybe I'll have to share that spot with your Daddy). I think you have the two proudest parents in the universe, and I hope you feel the strength of our love everywhere you go, every single day. Thank you for another great month, Bear. We love you so much.

I was digging through boxes in our attic tonight looking for an old toy I wanted to show Camille when I found something unexpected. As soon as I opened the box and saw the familiar hot pink notebook with wavy white lines (totally '80s style), I knew what was inside. A great treasure, yet simultaneously a source of embarrassment. I cracked open the battered notebook with a mixture of delight and anxiety.

It was the first and only chapter book I ever wrote and finished. If I remember correctly, I wrote it in the 5th grade, typing it out on our new computer at home. Looking at the print on the old, brittle pages, I can almost still hear our dot matrix printer dutifully committing my words to paper.

I'm proud of my 5th grade self for writing a book, all 55 typed pages. But oh to read the chapters! Each sentence makes me laugh and cringe. The world of a 5th grader, at least this 5th grader, was so much smaller and simpler. I almost can't decide if I even want to share any of this, or if I want to hide it away in a box again rather than judge it with my 32-year-old eyes.

First of all, I didn't even know how to spell my main character's name. Her name was Teresa. There are variations to be sure, like Theresa, but not Tarica, which is how I spelled it. Tarica Moscow.

Here's how it begins:

It was the last day of school and Tarica Moscow ran home and shot through the front screen door into the kitchen. "I'm home mom. What's for dinner? I'm starved!" yelled Tarica.

I introduced the first bit of drama before we were even off the first page, with Tarica's mom announcing that they were moving to a relative's house in Alaska because they needed a bigger house with room for a new baby brother on the way. Tarica's first thoughts were for her dogs who were not "made for snow." The mother tells her the dogs have to be sold, but she is not unsympathetic.

After 15 minutes, her mom came in. "How about if we get you a pack, a whole pack of Siberian Huskies and a trainer along with a sled?"

Because that's how things work, right? So they put an ad in the paper to sell the dogs for $125. When a nice couple comes to buy them, they are so excited to discover that the dogs already have their shots, they decide to pay $200 just to show their enthusiasm. Again, because that's how things work. In your imagination. When you are 9 or 10 years old. And you are me.

In the attic tonight, I also opened another box to find a journal with two hand-written essays from college. It was fun to read some of my writing from a much different time, and one essay about horses was particularly touching. Still probably a little naive, but then again, that's me. Some things don't ever change.

Brace yourself for the understatement of the century: it's hot.

Today's high temp was around 100, but the heat index was the real clincher, hovering around 120 degrees. It's the kind of heat that smacks you in the face when you open the door.

Last weekend we went camping in the North Georgia mountains, and I had hoped that by heading north we might escape the worst of the heat. I was both right and wrong. Saturday morning was quite pleasant as I made our traditional campground breakfast of bacon, eggs and grits. Then we headed off on a hike, and while we broke a sweat on our way up the mountain, we were rewarded with a GLORIOUS cold mist from this waterfall as we waded around in a chilly swimming hole.

But then the afternoon came, and the heat was just brutal. We went on a farm tour, and as we walked back on this hot dirt road, I thought we might just melt.

Yes, the temps in North Georgia were lower than Savannah on that day, but they were still in the mid-90s with no air conditioning for escape. We were stuck in the heat, like it or not.

That night, we had to make a fire to roast marshmallows, because what would camping be without them? But I think Camille's pose in this picture tells the story. She looks wiped out from her day in the heat, and is leaning as far away from the fire as she can while her Daddy braves the flames and roasts the marshmallows for her. He's a dedicated Daddy for sure.

We had a good time on our trip, but we learned something about ourselves. When it comes to camping in Georgia, we're all about the spring and fall. You know it's just too hot when you start looking forward to that six-hour air-conditioned ride home.

If you want to make me feel woozy and nauseous, just bring a syringe into my line of sight. I'm not sure why I'm so afraid of needles, but I really do hate shots. So for weeks, ever since I made the appointment, I have been DREADING Camille's four-year-old checkup and the accompanying vaccinations.

I hated watching her get immunizations as a baby, but I took some measure of comfort in her oblivion. She didn't see the shots coming, and I'm sure they hurt, but as soon as they were over all was forgotten.

But I knew this visit would change things. She doesn't remember shots prior to this appointment, but after getting her finger pricked and two injections in her thighs today, she has a new frame of reference. She cried, but I think she handled it really well, and I will forever be grateful that Lee canceled a meeting to stay and hold her so I could hide behind him until it was over. I didn't think Camille needed to see the panic in my face as the nurse walked in with syringes.

But here's where the rant begins. Much as I fear shots, I would NEVER use them as a threat. But I've heard two instances just in the last week of this sort of parenting tactic.

Today, we were in the waiting room with a few other families when one girl began to wander close to the door. Her mom snapped, "Don't go out there or you'll get a shot!" Sure enough, the kid jumped away from the door. I was irate. Here I was, trying to convince Camille that shots were necessary for good health, and this mom was threatening her kid with shots. And what would she have done if her kid did walk out the door? Order up an injection? And I feel sorry for the nurse who gives the shots who is being painted as a punisher.

Last week, I was talking to my dentist about making Camille's first dental appointment. He gave me some advice about what to tell her and how to help her be at ease. Then he told me a story about a recent patient who'd brought her son in for his first visit. All was going well until the mom told her son that if he didn't do all that the dentist asked, the dentist was going to give him a shot.

Why on earth would you sabotage that dentist-patient relationship before it even had a chance?

What the heck?

Happy 4th birthday my big, big girl! We have finally wrapped up an entire week of birthday fun, during which you were spoiled, loved on, sung to and celebrated a whole lot. We had several small parties, like your cupcake party at school and your special birthday lunch at The Crab Shack. But the big celebration was on Saturday, when your friends joined you at Norwood Stables for a pony party. It was so great!

You appropriately donned your cowgirl hat and boots for the shindig, and took great interest as the employees saddled the ponies at the start of your party. As a horse person myself (perhaps horse-obsessed person would be more accurate), my heart melted when I saw how sweet and tender you were with the ponies. You weren't afraid of them, but you were respectful and kind, offering gentle rubs and soft words.

When it was time to ride, you hopped happily into the saddle, but as soon as the horse started walking your face grew grim and serious. I wondered if you were nervous. Or were you upset? Had you wanted to ride the other pony instead? I couldn't figure out the cause of your sour mood. "Camille, are you okay?" I called out. You nodded your head yes, but didn't drop the stern face.

Then I remembered. The last time you put on your cowgirl hat, I asked to see your "cowgirl face." And it was serious indeed. Somehow, you've decided that cowgirls are a very serious bunch. So the whole time you rode, you kept your cowgirl face on, except at the very end when you started merrily chanting "Go pony, go!" over and over to your four-legged friends.

Despite the scowl, there was no doubt in my mind that you were enjoying those ponies. You took turns with your other friends, but eventually some of them grew tired of riding and wandered over to the table for snacks. But you kept riding, until finally I had to ask you to come join us for pizza and cake.

While I will try not to push my own hobbies and interests on you, I sure did enjoy watching you loving those ponies.



Though it may have been a pony party, it had a Totoro theme. You still love Totoro, the mythical Japanese forest spirit that has been described as a cross between a rabbit, bear and owl. You adore your stuffed Totoro toys and love the Totoro movie. We were happy to oblige with your Totoro party request, but it did require some creativity on our part. Party City does not carry a "Totoro" line.

So we improvised. We ordered some tiny Totoro toys from Hong Kong as party favors for your guests. Your Daddy created Totoro gift bags, cutting and assembling each one by hand. You wanted balloons, so he drew Totoro faces on them. Then I worked on your Totoro cake. You delighted in everything, making the extra effort worthwhile.

Although the party was a great success, it was actually our Plan B. Our original party plan was to rent a bouncy house for the backyard, because bouncing is one of your favorite things to do.

But it was not to be. About ten days before your party, we were vacationing with Uncle Jeff, Aunt Michelle, Stella and Jane in Florida. You fell off a couch onto a brick floor and hurt your shoulder. You cried so hard that I knew it really hurt. There was no bruising or swelling, but you didn't like to lift your arm or have any pressure on your left shoulder at all.

Before I go on with the story, let me back up and say that you had earned a reputation as an overly-sensitive drama queen. Take tonight, for example. I was giving you a bath when you suddenly screamed, jumped to your feet and started to cry. You began yelling, "I'm done! I'm done with my bath!" through a voice thick with tears. What brought this on? One of your band-aids was starting to come off. You were afraid it would hurt when it came off.

So, fast forward to your shoulder injury. We decided to give it a few days, based on your prior overreaction to pain. It didn't seem to bother you most of the time, just when you moved in certain ways. After three days of this, we finally took you to the doctor. To find out it was BROKEN.

Your broke your collar bone. And we didn't even know it. I AM SO SORRY!

I feel terrible about not taking you to the doctor right away. They expect it to heal well on its own and didn't do anything to treat it, so it's not like we delayed treatment. They just said no bouncy-house birthday party. But still, I hate to think you were walking around with a broken bone and I didn't take it seriously. We went to see an orthopedist after we found out it was broken. He had you do a series of movements to lift and move your shoulder. You did them, very slowly and carefully, and he said to himself. "Wow. Tough girl."

And I felt even worse! All this time I'd been calling you a drama queen, when in reality you can be quite the tough girl. So tough that the orthopedist was impressed with your pain tolerance. After I got over the shock of his statement, I had new found respect for you, my tough girl who also likes theatrics from time to time.

Despite your injury - and perhaps because we didn't yet know the extent of it - we had a good time in Florida playing on the beach. We got some great pics too.

We gave you your birthday present a couple of weeks early this year because it just wasn't the sort of gift you could easily hide. Your Daddy and I got you a playhouse - a for real, wooden, shingled, awesome playhouse for the backyard.

Your Daddy and our friend Allen built the house, which has a nice faux-wood floor and working windows with screens. It looks great in the backyard under our shade tree, and there's plenty of room inside for a table and a tea party with your new Jessie doll.

I got to relive a beloved childhood memory with you earlier this month - picking blackberries. We went to the local Coastal Bamboo Farm and walked up and down the lanes in the berry patch, plucking ripe blackberries from the thorny vines.

I have very distinct memories of carrying my Grandmother's wooden, woven baskets down the dusty dirt roads around her farm, picking blackberries. I'd put one in the basket and about 5 in my mouth. It took a really long time to fill the basket that way.

Then we'd walk down their long driveway back to the house where she would make blackberry cobbler. My Grandmother has been gone for several years now, but as you and I bent over the blackberry vines - braving the brambles for the juiciest berries - I felt my Grandmother was still close to us.

I regret that I never got my Grandmother's blackberry cobbler recipe, but Boo shared one with me that is very good. I want to share it with you too, so that one day maybe you can make our blackberry cobbler and remember picking berries with me too.

Don't forget to serve it up warm with a bit of vanilla ice cream.

Fruit Cobbler

Ingredients:
2 cups fruit (in juice, or add 1/4 to 1/2 cup of sugar to fresh fruit to create juice)
1 stick melted butter
2/3 cup self-rising flour
1 cup sugar
2/3 cup milk
dash of cinnamon

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Melt butter in pie plate. In mixing bowl, combine flour, sugar, and milk and cinnamon. Add batter to butter, don't stir! Add fruit, don't stir! (I put the pie plate on a cookie sheet in case some of it spills over during cooking.) Bake for 45 minutes. Sprinkle a little more sugar on top when finished.

Thank you for four of the best years of my life, sweet girl. You may be getting bigger and turning into a tough girl, but you're still my baby, and still sweeter than fresh blackberry cobbler with ice cream on the side. I love you so very much.

You know what's not easy? Surfing.

I was a HUGE fan of boogie boarding as a child, and the waves at Ormond Beach last week were absolutely perfect for it. They were just high and powerful enough for a fast ride, but not big enough to be scary (at least not to me, Camille thought otherwise). Monday morning I sailed on top of several waves with a borrowed boogie board and felt like I was 12 years old again. Such fun.

Then Michelle's family brought out the surfboards. I've never tried surfing before but always thought it looked fun - at least on the smaller waves. No pipelines for this lady. I got a pep talk from the experienced surfers, then tried riding a few waves on my stomach. On the first one, the nose of the board tipped down and the board and I ungracefully somersaulted to shore. The second time, I kept my weight on the back of the board and things were much better. The third time I wiped out and took a board to the chin.

I never managed to get up on my feet, and I totally understand now why surfers are always so ripped. That was hard work, as my aching upper arms reminded me the next day. But I suffered no bodily harm and had a really good time trying to surf, so I consider that a small personal victory. Yay me!

On July 4th we headed down to Ormond Beach in Florida to visit with my brother, Michelle and the girls. They were vacationing there and we decided it would be a whole lot easier to join them in Florida than travel to Tulsa to see them (although we still want to see their new home sometime soon!).

We had a good couple of days together, and my favorite moments were spent on the beach. The stretch of sand was wide with tidal pools perfect for the kids. I hadn't seen baby Jane since she was 4 weeks old - what a difference!

Stella is 2 and a half now, and full of energy. She would just run in circles all around the beach, happy to be outside and stretching her legs. I snapped a bunch of pictures while Camille and Stella played in the tidal pool, and when you put them together it looks like synchronized swimming.

I miss them already!