From what I can recall, my earliest musical education came from my father. Long before piano lessons or show choir performances, Dad encouraged me to really listen to music. To pick out the different instruments, pay attention to variations in tempo, unique harmonies – but more than that, to just enjoy getting lost in the music.
We listened to music together in the car on the way to school, we listened to it at home, and I especially loved it when he created music for me. I remember several times, as he was tucking me into bed, I’d ask him to go downstairs and play a song for me on the piano. I relished being comfortable under my covers, growing sleepy while notes from the piano drifted upstairs. Notes from my Daddy just for me.
As I grew older, we kept our musical connection. I went with him to see Chicago perform at Chastain Park. He came with me to hear a favorite college band play at the 40 Watt. So even now, when I’m at a concert and really enjoying the music, I think about Dad. And I want to share it with him.
So when I found out The Avett Brothers – my new musical obsession – were playing at Chastain Park last Friday, I was desperate to get tickets. And I thought of Dad. We’d enjoyed many shows at Chastain, and Atlanta is almost halfway between our two cities. Happily, the timing worked out and we were able to get tickets and see the show together.
I enjoyed our pre-show dinner. I enjoyed the opening act. I enjoyed The Avett Brothers immensely. But most of all I enjoyed sharing all of these things with Dad, our musical connection still very much intact.
On Labor Day, we took advantage of the work/school holiday for a road trip to Jacksonville and a day at the zoo. When am I going to learn that it’s still too hot in September for an all-day outdoor activity this far south? We enjoyed seeing the animals, but we were also very glad for the zoo’s splash park. There was a shaded area for the adults and plenty of water fun for the kiddos.
One of the highlights of the day was feeding the giraffes at the zoo. So when we stopped to eat our picnic lunch, Camille insisted on eating just like the giraffes. Here’s a little video for comparison (complete with a blooper at the end):
Last weekend we got to combine two of our favorite things – great beach weather and even better beach buddies. The Valles fam was vacationing on Tybee – how nice of them to pick their vacation spot so close by! And how nice of them to welcome these interlopers all weekend!
They vacationed on Tybee three years ago (that link is a fun blast from the past!) and we had a good time then. But now the kids are a bit older and even more fun. We didn’t have to remind anyone not to eat sand, we adults spent more time socializing and less time chasing children up and down the beach, and best of all, the kids really enjoyed playing together. I miss them already!
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?
