Since that terrible awful day 10 years ago when Anna and Jason moved to Oregon, we’ve happily been able to reunite about every 2 years. We didn’t set an intentional schedule – that’s just about how long it took each of us to save enough money to travel to visit the other. And it was simply the longest we could manage without a visit.
It may not have begun intentionally, but planners that we are, we’ve now already scheduled our next 4 years of adventures (hello Disney 2014 and Montana 2016!).
The year 2012 was our turn to host a week-long Savannah staycation. Elliot has been to the beach plenty of times, but the ocean in Oregon is cold even in the hottest months, and her parents wanted her to experience the fun that is a warm, sandy, swim-worthy beach.
We took the boat to Wassaw Island one day and up the Skidaway River another, and were not disappointed. Many water shenanigans ensued. Jason put together a video of our Wassaw adventures, and I put together one of our Skidaway trip, complete with an epic turtle fight.
One highlight of the visit was the WSAV reunion we held one Saturday night. Anna, Jason and I used to work there together (and Lee had to listen to us go on and on about the newsroom so much that he might as well have worked there too). We invited the old WSAV crew and had a great turnout, both among those who still live in Savannah and from folks as far away as Myrtle Beach.
And in between all of these things we squeezed in a lot of other fun outings, like a pedicab ride through downtown to get some excellent barbeque, a trip to feed alligators at the Crab Shack and a tromp through Oatland Island.
On the night before they left, Anna and I went out for drinks at a rooftop bar on Riverstreet and watched the big ships go by. I will always treasure times like these with her.
Cheers to seeing great friends, and cheers to future plans to get together again. Let the countdown begin! (I can’t wait)
Happy 71 Months sweet girl, and happy summer! We are two weeks into your summer vacation – the sun is baking hot, the cicadas are humming and we’re spending as much time as possible in the water. Pretty perfect so far.
This month you wrapped up your kindergarten school year, and on that last day of school, we met buddies for a celebratory frozen treat. This has become something of a tradition – on the first and last day of pre-K, we met up with some of these same friends, and on the first day of kindergarten as well. Just typing that makes me want to see the pictures and see how you’ve grown – so here they are.
First day of Pre-K:
Last day of Pre-K:
First day of Kindergarten:
Last day of Kindergarten:
If there is such a thing as nostalgia for the future, a nostalgia for things that have yet to happen, then I feel that thing when I see you with these girls. You became friends just before your pre-k year, and despite the fact that you moved to a new school, you have remained friends. I like to imagine that you’ll always be friends. That one day, we’ll host a high school graduation cookout party and these same girls will be there and will still be important in your life. Who knows if that’s even likely – I am not still close with anyone from my kindergarten years, in part because we moved away. But I can wish it for you all the same.
I do envy your ability – and for that matter, the ability of most 5-year-olds – to make instantaneous friendships. You can meet someone at the pool, find out she likes to play dolphins as much as you do, and suddenly you’re best buddies. Cherish this, because when you’re older it’s not always so simple. When you’re older, the relationships often grow more slowly and require more cultivation.
But sometimes, all that slow-yet-steady growth allows the friendship to really take root. Unlike some random “friend” you meet at the pool but never think of again, sometimes these grown-up friends stick with you.
Such is the case with our friends Anna and Jason who came to visit last week. That friendship is one that keeps growing, despite the 3,000 miles between us.
And lucky for all of us, they also have a daughter close to your age. You and Elliot have a lot in common – you’re smart, funny, love superheroes and My Little Pony. And you both love the water.
During their visit we were able to introduce them to some of our favorite summer activities. We took them to Wassaw Island, where you rescued sea stars and harassed the blue crabs. We took a cruise up the Skidaway River, and you and Elliot took turns jumping off the boat into the cool water. We picnicked in the wolf cabin at Oatland Island. We took them to your favorite restaurant, The Crab Shack, where you and Elliot fed alligators together.
There goes that future nostalgia again, as I like to imagine many more opportunities for you all to build memories together in later years.
Sweet girl, it continues to be such a joy to watch you grow and develop your own personality. Lucky for me (from a parenting standpoint), you are, thus far, a fairly strict rule-follower. You like to be an enforcer as well, and I was on the receiving end of that trait earlier this month.
As I was getting you ready for bed, you asked, “Mama, why do you leave the light on in your room when you’re not in there?”
I didn’t quite know where you were going with this, so I said, “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes you leave the light on in your room when you go downstairs, and I have to climb out of my bunk bed to turn it off. That’s wasting electricity.”
You didn’t say it in a bossy tone. Rather, you said it in a gentle tone like a mother might say to a child who really didn’t know any better. I was amused. You continued.
“Mom, when you were a little girl, did you go to a Montessori school?”
“No,” I answered.
“Oh,” you said, as if that explained everything. “I bet if you had gone to a Montessori school you would’ve learned about turning off lights.”
I was still amused, but bordering on annoyed now because you were insinuating that you knew more about these things than I did. That somehow my education was incomplete compared to your scant 2 years of elementary school. But I bit my tongue because after all, you were right about wasting electricity. And if I admitted that I knew better but left the light on anyway? That might be worse. So instead, I accepted this lesson from you and have been better about turning out the light.
You teach me so much all the time – about how to live a good life, how to embrace friendships old and new, how to play and how to enjoy each other. Thank you for every lesson, and for all your love. I love you so much.
Well hello there blog. It’s been a while. I haven’t been ignoring you. I haven’t run out of things to tell you. On the contrary, it has been a jam-packed few weeks and it’s hard sometimes to know where to begin. The end of the school year? The start of summer? The Ruby visit? The fact that today – this very day – Boo moved to town? All of the above eventually, but I will start with a hike to the lake.
We took a trip up to see my parents recently, and although I lament the miles between us I can at least be happy they live in a beautiful setting that’s fun to visit. We lucked out with temps only topping out in the mid-70s (for the first week of June? Right on!) and it was the perfect day to be outside. So we packed a picnic lunch and hiked down to a lake and back before settling in for sandwiches in the cool breeze.
Camille wanted to lead the way (of course), so we taught her about trail blazes and let her set the pace.
Our effort was rewarded with clear, fresh water amid a setting of summery green foliage. Here I am doing what I love to do – photographing this sweet family of mine.
And is there a better way to wrap up a hiking day than a giant bubble bath? I think not.
A few weekends ago, Lee and I ran with a team from our church in the St. Peter’s Kilometers 10K race on Skidaway Island. I hadn’t run 6 miles very often since my half-marathon in January, and boy could I tell. The morning was clear but quite warm, and my energy really waned in the last couple of miles. I found this frustrating, knowing I’d tackled more than twice the distance only a few months prior.
The next weekend I went out for a late-morning four-mile run on a day that was even hotter, and the results were even worse. When I reached the halfway point at Forsyth Park, it was a good thing the only way to get back home and rest was my two feet – if I’d had the option to quit the run right there I might have done that.
So Lee and I have begun setting our alarm clocks early, getting in our runs before the day begins to warm. And just one week after that miserable 4-miler, I was reminded not to let a couple of tough runs get me down. I set out at dawn for a 6-mile run, determined to regain my conditioning at that distance.
Every step was pleasant. Car traffic was light. Pedestrians were friendly. The city looked crisp and inviting that morning. As I approached Bay Street, my turnaround point, the sun was rising beautifully over the Savannah River and I decided to extend my run. I walked down the cobblestone path to Riverstreet and ran there, adding another mile to my trip and happy to do so.
I didn’t set any speed records for myself, but it was nice to feel good out there again. I was reminded that each run, while building on the run before it, is its own run. A few discouraging runs don’t signal a trend, because there’s always the next run, and it might just be a great one.
The first day we rode the subway in New York, I couldn’t help but notice how many people on the train could not keep their eyes open. Sitting? Snooze. Standing? Snooze. Everywhere snooze.
I was too excited to sleep.
But by the end of our few days in Manhattan, as the subway rocked and lulled us on our way toward lunch downtown, I could barely keep my eyes open. I guess New York does that to you.
The main purpose of our trip was the reunion of the Afghan Whigs and their first concert in more than a decade. But we had lots of other things on our agenda too.
Some highlights:
Our first night the weather was rainy and gray, and we splashed along the sidewalks from our hotel in Chinatown going nowhere in particular, ending up at the World Trade Center site and finding lots to see along our way.
I was very excited for a run with Lee in Central Park. I always run with music to help pass the time, but we never used our headphones, wanting to fully appreciate the park and hear each other’s suggestions. We had no path planned, so it was a lot of, “Let’s go that way!” and “Let’s check out the trail over here.” Just what I’d hoped it would be.
We’d been lucky enough to get tickets to the taping of the Jimmy Fallon show, where the Whigs were performing. As fans of the Fallon show, it was fun to see all the off-camera moments, the frenzy during commercial breaks, the failed stunts and re-takes. Anderson Cooper and John Mayer were on the show, but seeing the Afghan Whigs was the real treat.
We spent a morning at MoMA, coming face-to-face with some works I know and love like Monet’s water lilies, and discovering other works I didn’t know but now love as well. All of this after a lunch and coffee at MoMA’s Terrace 5.
We met up with my cousin Jill for dinner one evening. She lives in New York and we hadn’t seen each other in ages so it was great to be reunited, especially in such a fun place.
And then there was this – need I say more about it?
The main event for us was the Afghan Whigs concert at the Bowery Ballroom. It was thrilling to see the guys back on stage together again, and as each song began I declared it to be one of my favorites – apparently I have a lot of favorites. I was not alone in this, as indicated by the enthusiasm of the crowd. After the show it was fun to spend time with the band before wishing them well as they left for several European tour dates – can’t we come along on those too?
As I type this I’m sitting in LaGuardia waiting to board a delayed flight, knowing I’ll post this later because I’m too frugal to pay for the wifi. I’m ready to see my girl and sleep in my own bed. And I’m ready to go back to New York, all at the same time.
I’m exhausted but simultaneously invigorated. I guess New York does that to you too.
(I wrote this on the 21st, and intended to publish it when we arrived in New York but our hotel wifi was terrible so it’s a wee bit later than late!)
Hello sweet girl and Happy 70 months (plus a few days). I’m writing to you today from the Jacksonville airport, where your Daddy and I are waiting to board a plane for New York. We’re going to see a band and enjoy the city, and you’re a bit disappointed not to be coming along. I have mixed feelings about this – you are a superstar traveler and I LOVE exploring new cities with you. But at the same time, this rock show will be no place for a 5-year-old, even a cool 5-year-old. And I also believe couples need to spend time as couples – something I’m sure you’ll understand when you have a family of your own.
There were no big trips for you this month, but we thoroughly enjoyed a short and pleasant excursion to Wassaw Island, marking our return there after a winter break. We took the boat to Wassaw last weekend and as soon as your feet touched the sand you were off to explore. You discovered beautiful shells, an enormous (and dead) horseshoe crab, and another shell that was still very much inhabited (you tossed him back into the sea).
You sat on your knees in the surf and punched at the waves, superhero-style. You laughed and swam until you were freezing cold, and then you built sand caves for all your toy animals. I am looking very much forward to a summer of this. How lucky we are to live near such a special place.
This month also marked some highs and lows in your burgeoning racing career, with lessons learned along the way. A few weeks ago, your Daddy and I participated in a local race that included a kid fun run. That morning I offered you several breakfast choices, and you opted for a granola bar. You sounded so serious when you said, “I don’t want to eat a big breakfast. I have a race today.” I think you’ve heard that a time or two.
Unlike the other races you’d run, this one did not provide race bibs for the kids, so you asked me to make you one. I pinned a rectangle of red construction paper to your shirt, and at your request, drew a big “100” on it.
You were enjoying the playground near the start line prior to the race, and then suddenly you weren’t enjoying it anymore. Tearfully, you told us that some kids were giving you a hard time about your homemade bib. “You can’t wear that. That’s not a real race number,” they told you. “You can’t run in that.”
“Mama,” you said, “I want you to take off my number.”
I was so mad at those kids – what right did they have to make you feel badly because of your race bib?
“Camille, are they the bosses of this race?” I asked. You shook your still-bowed head.
“You can absolutely wear this bib. I will take it off if you want me to, but do you want to wear it?”
You nodded and whispered, “Yes.”
“Then WEAR that bib.” I said.
We had on coordinating headbands and, in a show of solidarity, we began bumping our headbands together. Your spirits seemed to lift and soon it was race time. You ran hard, homemade bib and all, and approached the finish line to cheers.
And then just after that picture was taken, a kid ran sideways across the finish line in front of you. SMACK into you, sending you down onto the asphalt, scraping your elbow, wailing inconsolably.
What a crummy race day it was for you. There was a lesson there – that not every race is going to be a good race. Everyone has a bad race sometimes. But I wondered if it would flavor your still-forming opinion of the sport. I wondered if you’d need a break from it for a while.
So I wasn’t sure how you’d react to the news that there was another kid race last weekend, and not just another quarter-mile fun run. This race was for kids only and was a whole mile. Four times as long as your previous races.
To my surprise, you were enthusiastic, excited to test a new distance and meet a new challenge.
This race included race bibs so no homemade versions were necessary, but we still bumped matching headbands as is our new pre-race tradition. It was your Daddy’s turn to run with you, and my turn to be the screaming photographer at the finish line.
We’d discussed a strategy for the race – start out with a jog and get slowly faster, and then when you see the finish line if you saved enough energy, run hard.
I watched you take off and soon you and the mob of other kids and parents disappeared from view. I took a shortcut to the halfway point and screamed wildly as you went sailing by. Then it was a sprint to meet you at the finish, where you crossed underneath the arch and were awarded a medal. A big, shiny medal, bigger than any you’d earned before.
I was so proud of you. Your Daddy said you had such a great attitude, ran hard, walked when you needed to and never complained. You seemed quite proud of yourself, and if this post-race picture is any indication, I think you are becoming quite the medal chaser.
I put together a quick video of your race, including a soundtrack of your favorite song, and I won’t apologize for all that screaming I did.
But even if you never run another race, even if you decide racing is not for you, I hope you’re learning that you have the determination and ability to meet new challenges and to do big things, on a running path or on any path of life.
You make me very proud, sweet girl. And you can always count on your Daddy and me to be your wildly screaming cheerleaders.
(headband bump)
I love you so much.
When I picked Camille up from school Friday, she couldn’t wait to show me what she’d been working on last week – a fill-in-the-blank, multiple-choice book all about her mama. I love it, and I thought it would be fun to share it here, and then answer the questions for my mom, too.
Happy Mother’s Day everyone!
Camille’s book about me
This Mother’s Day, I hope my mother and I can:
Eat breckfist in bed. (We did!)
I have circled six words that really describe my mother:
pretty, helpful, kind, loving, creative, happy (glad she didn’t circle “tired,” although it’s true sometimes!)
My mom makes “being a mom” look:
like a piece of cake (as opposed to “like it would have its ups and downs” and “like a hard job.”)
These are some of the fun things I do with my mom:
watch TV, cook, play games, read
If I were to make my mom breakfast, I would give her this drink:
milk
I would give her this to eat:
donut (she did!)
The last time I hugged my mom was:
this morning
I want to give Mom a hug. I think I’ll hug her:
this affternoon
If my mom were an animal, she would be this animal:
a pupy
If my mom were a color, she would be this color:
pink
If my mom were a food, she would be this food:
pizza
Three things my mother does for me that I truly appreciate are:
1. help me writh xthra math (homework)
2. playing gams
3. cook
My book about my mom
This Mother’s Day, I hope my mother and I can:
Talk to each other. It’s not as good as an in-person visit, but I’ll take it!
I have circled six words that really describe my mother:
kind, generous, fun, loving, caring, adventurous
My mom makes “being a mom” look:
like a piece of cake (I know it’s not, but she is always so easy-going that she makes all this motherhood stuff look easy!)
These are some of the fun things I do with my mom:
shop, travel, read, go to the beach, go to movies, cook
If I were to make my mom breakfast, I would give her this drink:
mimosa
I would give her this to eat:
pecan waffle from the Breakfast Club on Tybee
The last time I hugged my mom was:
when she visited in March
I want to give Mom a hug. I think I’ll hug her:
when we visit in June
If my mom were an animal, she would be this animal:
a unicorn because she’s that special
If my mom were a color, she would be this color:
blue like her eyes
If my mom were a food, she would be this food:
salsa, because she’s a blend of some of my favorite things
Three things my mother does for me that I truly appreciate are:
1. Makes time for me, whether in a phone call or finding an opportunity to visit
2. Supports me. Whether I need advice or just affirmation, I know she’s always in my corner.
3. Loves my child and husband too, and demonstrates that love in so many ways
I love you mom!
I talked about this topic in my last letter to Camille, but wanted to write it up on the HowdyKids.com site as well. It goes into a little more detail about why I started looking for service projects I could do with Camille, and I ask for suggestions for more projects. We’re wrapping up our senior center project in the next week or two, so I’d love to get some new ideas and hear what others are doing to teach compassion in their families.
Insomnia isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes that’s when inspiration strikes!
A month or so ago, I inexplicably woke up in the middle of the night and could not go back to sleep. And just as suddenly, I figured out how we could fix my biggest pet peeve with our house. Then I got so excited I really couldn’t sleep.
We’ve done a lot to this house since we moved in 7 years ago, including big improvements to the backyard. Unfortunately I never enjoy entertaining out there because of how you get to the backyard. You have to go through our teeny tiny laundry room, which is also where I keep my vacuum cleaner, cleaning supplies, etc., so it’s a junky-looking room by nature. Add to that a litter box, the laundry basket on the floor and my bras drip-drying from hangers at the back door, and it’s a less than desirable transition to the backyard.
Several months ago, Lee began a major DIY project to convert our sun porch into a playroom for Camille. Without his work on that playroom, my idea would never have been feasible.
Camille’s play space has been an area behind our couch in the living room. It worked just fine when she was a baby with a few things, but as she got older and bigger and her collections grew, the space became cramped and cluttered. And I’d never liked the fact that the main storage piece for all her stuff was in front of the big back window, making the room feel darker and smaller than it was.
The sun porch/playroom conversion has turned out better than I could have imagined and deserves a post of its own. We’re still waiting on delivery of new curtains, so I’ll post pictures of the new playroom soon.
But now that Camille’s play space was moving, I thought how nice it would be to take out the big back windows in our living room and replace them with french doors leading out onto a new deck.
The project wrapped up today and I couldn’t be more pleased. Reclaiming Camille’s play space meant we could switch the couches around and made it feel more open. Add to that the bright and lovely doors, and you have a very nice transition to the new deck and to the backyard. The house flows so much better now and I’m looking forward to having friends over for cocktails on the new party deck. And I can even leave my bras hanging in the laundry room – no one has to know.
The living room before the renovation, looking toward the backyard and the play area:
With the play area moved in preparation for the renovation project:
Pre-renovation: the backyard area we never used behind the living room windows:
The living room now, with the french doors in place and the couch positions switched:
Party deck!
C’mon over!
Happy 69 months to my 5 and a HALF year old girl. That half is awfully important! Whenever I tell anyone that you are 5 – whether stranger, friend, doctor, cashier at the grocery store – you are quick to pipe up, “Five and a HALF!”
Well, sweet 5 and a half year old girl, last month won’t be remembered as our favorite, thanks to a little something called walking pneumonia. It started as a random fever one Friday afternoon, just after you and buddy Ellanor enjoyed your first ever jazz concert as part of the Savannah Music Festival.
We’d had a great time, but when we came home you seemed so tired, and a thermometer confirmed what I’d already guessed – a fever.
We took it easy Saturday – the fever was the only symptom and you didn’t seem terribly sick. I was really hoping for a recovery by Sunday, in time for our church’s annual Easter egg hunt.
At 6:30 Sunday morning you came into our room and asked if you could get your Easter basket from the attic and put on your Easter dress. I reached out and touched your forehead and immediately knew the answer would be no. Still feverish. You crawled in bed with us and cried. I wanted to cry too.
Once the tears dried, you agreed that a backyard egg hunt would be an okay second choice. So we put on your church dress anyway and made the best of the day.
We took you to the doctor twice before getting the walking pneumonia diagnosis, about the time the coughing and wheezing began. It made me so anxious to see you getting sicker and sicker, but thankfully once we got the the antibiotics, you recovered quickly.
By the next weekend, you were yourself again – fever free just in time
to decorate eggs for the family egg hunt at Grandma Lou’s house.
You and Ava successfully hunted almost 100 eggs (with a bit of help from time to time), and enjoyed exploring the farm together.
The week after Easter was your spring break, and we made the short trek to Jacksonville to visit the zoo. You dressed appropriately in a giraffe dress, and we teased you endlessly about how confused the giraffes would be to see you wandering outside the enclosure.
The new butterfly habitat was enchanting, and we spent much time enjoying (aka harassing) the butterflies. One newly hatched monarch even agreed to rest on your arm for a bit as her wings dried.
As we left the habitat through the gift shop, you were smitten by a pair of monarch wings – so smitten you agreed to use money you’d saved so that you could add them to your dress-up collection. Perfect.
We wrapped up spring break with a visit to Fitzgerald where Erin and the boys were spending a few nights. Regrettably, I forgot my camera, but I managed to get a couple of pics from my phone of the fun and shenanigans. It was a wonderful way to finish the week.
Then it was back to school, including a field trip chaperoned by none other than Granddaddy! He even got to join us for our first Sand Gnats game of the season (many more to come!).
Looking back over the month, it really was a good one, minus your being sick. I’m just so glad to see you well again – you are your happy, energetic, silly, loving, enthusiastic, five and half year old YOU.
I love you so much sweet girl.
