Christmas is for...

 Little kids, first.

These are little first graders from Casey and Riley's school, performing a song at the holiday concert last week. They were led by my friend Tracy, who has been teaching them music in the Music For Minors program. They did an amazingly good job of their three songs, and I was really impressed with them, and with Tracy's teaching. They also kind of broke my heart. They were so enthusiastic, so happy. And of course all of us were thinking of the little first graders from the school in Connecticut who are gone, or the ones still alive, who are traumatized by what happened in their school. Kids are resilient, there's no doubt, but to have something like that happen to your community or your family, even if you didn't even directly witness it, leaves permanent, altering marks on your psyche. The kids left will be different people now than they would have been before this happened. They've lost that innocent joy that these kids you see in this picture still have. And that is a tragedy of a less easily seen nature, and not something that can be given back to them no matter how much therapy or aid they're given.

The Holiday Concert was fun, happy, and bittersweet all at the same time, at least for me. My guys are in sixth grade now and they've grown out of a lot of the spontaneous gestures that the little kids have. They've become much more conscious of what others might think of them and it inhibits them in some ways, while it also makes them say and do really stupid things in vain attempts to be cool. I suppose it's a natural part of growing up, after all we look at adults weirdly if they shriek and jump up and down and do flips all over the furniture. So maybe they do have to learn to be conscious of what others think. But I miss that uninhibited joy. Okay, with my guys the flips over the furniture are still happening, but they're learning to control everything else a little more. And it's a little sad when the Christmas stuff is colored with them not wanting to do some things anymore because they're too silly or babyish now.

Holidays are so hard for many of us; there's so much expectation of happiness, and you're supposed to spend it with family and be loving and perfect and all. And it's never a perfect thing, really; even if you have a great family there's still friction and arguments and over-tired kids who melt down and things like that. If you manage to have a near perfect Christmas with kids, that's a Christmas miracle, really. If you don't have family or you're estranged from what family you have, you're faced with what you don't or can't have. It's hard in so many ways. Holidays bring up all of those things and people we've lost, or never had.

It's hard to go on after losing a loved one. My wise friend Annette told me a while back that holidays were especially hard, and that one had to find ways to make new traditions for holidays, make complete breaks with the old traditions that were Before. And that makes so much sense. But as she said, it takes time. What she didn't dwell upon, but is a great example of, is that it takes a ton of courage, perseverance, and determination to keep going, one small step at a time, to rebuild a life from the ashes of the loss. I wish for all of those parents in Connecticut the strength to go on, and the perseverance to find a pathway through the dark times they're going through now.

The Christmas season has always been a bittersweet time for me, and it can be hard for me to stay 'up' during it. I think with increased age, however, I'm coming to accept that melancholy is a part of the holidays for me; I need time to mourn people and things lost, as well as to savor the goodness in my life. I need a balance where both sides are acknowledged and recognized and felt, rather than trying to stuff the sad parts down and deny them. Christmas is not all about happy-happy all the time, not for me, not anymore. I used to love Christmas and all the implied magic surrounding the winter holidays. I felt that magic in a very real way, but it became harder and harder to feel, to rediscover that magic as the years went by. Life experiences tend to change us from those innocently joyous little kids we used to be. But bittersweet can be a good thing; it makes me savor the good parts, remember the parts that are irrevocably in the past and do some mourning if it's needed, and be able to see and recognize the good parts happening now that are fleeting in their own way. There's a lot to be said for enjoying the moment.

I am so incredibly fortunate with all my family and friends, and this Christmas especially it seems appropriate to appreciate all of the wonderful people in my life and to say thank you for being part of my life, though many of you are scattered all over the globe. I am a lucky person and you all make my life richer. Merry Christmas, all of you. Hope you can find some of the magic, too. I'm sending out virtual *hugs* to you all. 

My Little Car

I had this car.

This was my first car; we bought it new just for me about twenty years ago. I looked at a lot of cars and this one, this little Honda CRX, with it's Celestial Blue color and special wheels, was my dream car. It has been a staunch and reliable friend for all these years. It's been my freedom.

It has no radio and it's a manual transmission; nothing is automatic, there are no frills. It sits low to the ground and hugs the road and it's as agile as a cat. I've always loved jumping in my car and driving off into the redwoods or out to the coast and just enjoying the drive, the wind, the smells, the feel of the car on the road, the shadows and the scenery going by. I've explored all over California in this car.

I love this car. Note the present tense. It has been nearly, oh so nearly, past tense, and my car has been in limbo for many months, waiting to be rescued. Today we got it back from limbo, and I have begun the arduous paperwork process of re-adopting it. Because you see, when you have a twenty year old car and it gets in even a minor fender bender, your insurance company will insist that it's not worth fixing, that it's worthless junk, they will total it out, tow it off to a junkyard to be scrapped. Well, they can just kiss my tailpipe, because today I got my little car back and it looks like new. It runs as great as it ever did and it is one sweet ride, let me tell you.

Our lives changed a lot when we had the boys; we got the van and my little car became the one Paul drove to work while I hauled kids around in the van. He was hit from behind while at a stoplight about a year ago, and the left taillight and bumper were damaged. The insurance company wouldn't pay to have it fixed and called it totaled. They left us feeling like we had no choice but to let it get taken away, even though the engine was still great and there was only the damage to the light and bumper. I was trying so hard to be sensible and practical but the whole thing was eating away at me. They sent a tow truck to take my car, and the driver hooked it up and hoisted the front wheels off the ground and I stood there with tears running down my face as I let him drive it away.

So I called Paul after it disappeared around the corner and he knew I was crying and he knew how upset I was about giving up that little car and damned if he didn't just up and call the insurance company and insist that we get our car back from the scrap yard. They very reluctantly and rather grumpily told him we should have gotten our act together and decided to keep it before it was towed away (which we weren't told was an option) and it might be too late, but they'd give us the tow yard's number and let us see if we could get it back, though they didn't hold out much hope. And yeah, we'd have to pay the monetary difference between the cost of the car if it were totaled out vs. the cost if we'd kept it despite it's non-operable status, so we ended up returning their money to get our car back. The money they grudgingly gave us sure didn't come close to anywhere near all the money we've paid them over the years, but then I tend to think of insurance as a gambling game anyway. The house always wins. (Bastards.)

We drove out to the junk yard and waited our turn among a number of men who were salvaging vehicles to fix up to sell again, and they found my car and drove it up to the front, with yellow numbers written large on the cracked windshield in grease marker. I climbed in and drove it home with the numbers there in front of me, and it made me cry again because I was so glad to have it back. It wasn't legal to drive, however, and it was now classified as a salvage vehicle. In order to get it legal again, we had to get bodywork done, have it pass all the inspections for a salvage vehicle and go through all the paperwork associated with that. And we didn't have the money to fix it up since Paul was unemployed for much of that time. It sat in our driveway waiting until we could save up for the bodywork for about a year.

We finally took it in to get fixed up about three months ago, and we brought it home today, with a new bumper, new windshield, new brake lights and a new paint job to boot. It looks so beautiful to me, my dear old friend all fixed up.

We nearly let it go, and I'm sure that people who have even a lick of financial sense would tell us that we should have let it get scrapped, because it cost much more to fix it back up than it's worth on paper. Financially speaking, we should have used that money to fix up other things that need it as much or more, like house repairs. We've been told before that we are not the most sensible people, and that is true. If we were fiscally responsible Paul would have gotten out of games and into a more stable sort of programming, and I wouldn't be an artist at all. God knows what I'd be, though, since this is all I've really done as a career.

But.  It would take more to get a decent used car to replace it than to fix it up (probably, unless we went with a complete clunker), and we couldn't possibly have replaced it with another car that came close to this one: a sturdy, reliable little sports car that's really fun to drive on winding little mountain roads and sticks to the road like a cat. We can't afford such a luxury item: a two-seater manual transmission sports car. If we are honest, we may never be able to afford one again. This one is the only sports car I am ever likely to own. I am the only owner it's ever had and I hope it lasts for a good long time to come. I am still in love with my little car and I am damned glad to have it again. All I need to do is slog through the paperwork now. And once I do I'm taking it for a long drive through the redwoods and driving on out to the coast to listen to the waves. Anybody want to ride along?

Safe Havens and Head Coverings

We went to a mosque yesterday. Or rather, we went to a Muslim cultural community center to witness and take part in a service. We are not Muslim, but we do go to Mission Peak Unitarian Universalist Congregation, and our boys take part in the religious education program there. Part of their religious education is to learn about other religions and right now they're learning about Islam.

Let me go back and explain for my own clarity of thought here.

Religion is a tricky, sensitive and volatile issue with almost anyone you talk to, and I almost always avoid the subject. It's not something I talk about with almost anybody; I figure your faith is your own personal choice and it's not anybody else's business what you choose to believe or not. I have always had issues with other people trying to foist their belief system off on others; it's one of my hot buttons that can make me incredibly angry amazingly quickly. To presume to know the One True Way and try to force others to believe that one way seems incredibly presumptuous.

Faith by definition is not based on fact, but belief. And presuming that your beliefs are right and everyone else's are wrong unless they agree with you is bullying at best. Your belief system may be right for you, and that's fine, but to tell someone else that they are going to a hot fiery burning place for all eternity because they don't happen to have been raised with your faith or haven't 'seen the light' and converted to your faith is coercive and 'us vs. them' exclusionary thinking at best.

Paul and I together have never been particularly religious, and I'd say we aren't now. When the boys started getting older and asking the bigger questions we realized that we could use a village of open minded, free thinkers to help us. We searched around and tried out various churches, starting with the Catholics since Paul was raised in the Catholic tradition. I wasn't raised with any particular religion, but my parents were generally in the Protestant Work Ethic camp.

The Catholics ruled themselves out for me pretty damned quickly when a priest told the congregation during his homily that gays were an abomination against God. Well. Out of there for good. I refuse to believe that anyone is an abomination and I will not be told to hate, and damned if I'll let anyone teach my kids that. I realize not all Catholics are like that, by the way, but there's a far distance between letting someone else have their beliefs and letting them teach my children to hate any group of people.

We looked around for a while before we found Mission Peak, and while most of the churches were friendly and welcoming, there were too many instances of exclusion and restrictions against 'others' and being told what to think and who was okay and who was not. Too much exclusionary behavior, honestly. I've just never been able to buy the notion that there is only one true religion, and there are a lot of churches out there saying they are the only true one.

So when we landed at Mission Peak and found a message of acceptance it was a real relief. Every service starts with a group promise to 'treat all people kindly, because they are our brothers and sisters'. Everyone was welcome as an individual no matter what their lifestyle, and everyone was welcome to have their own beliefs, whether atheist or deist or theist or whatever. Acceptance and love are the key elements, and that I could get behind.

The children's religious eduction program teaches the kids that. It also has them learn about many religions, to broaden their minds, show them a variety of different faiths and help them to think for themselves and make educated, informed decisions for themselves about these things. This year the boys are in the age group where they go to different churches to see other faiths and other services in action. So yesterday we went to a mosque.

It turned out to not be a church so much as a safe haven. It was deep in an industrial complex, tucked quite unobtrusively away, with only a small sign on a corner of the big building. There was nothing overt to label it as a gathering place for Muslim worship. Yeah. I'll let you think about why their building might need to be like that for a minute. We eventually found our way in and we were greeted and welcomed by a number of people as they made their way inside for the evening prayer. Several friendly ladies gave us a tour and fed us cookies and gave us hot sweet mint tea. The building was a soothing, welcoming place inside with several large gathering rooms, and many smaller more cosy rooms with couches and places to sit and relax and have quiet conversations. There was a meditation room that was especially inviting, but the entire place had a safe, warm feel to it.

Several people described the place to us as 'a safe place where you can just relax and be yourself, and not worry about the outside world'. Which when you stop to think about it is a very telling statement about how most muslims must feel when they're out and about in the everyday world around here. Not safe, not relaxed, not able to just be themselves.

We women wore headscarves to cover our hair, and we were told when one of the girls asked why that it was for modesty, and jokingly that it was handy when one was having a bad hair day. We eventually were led to the room where they were having prayers, though we were told it wasn't a formal space, not a formal mosque. During the prayers everyone faced east, towards Mecca, in unity with all other Muslims. Paul mentioned later that he really noticed the lack of any decor or obvious alter or any central focal spot, though honestly I hadn't really realized that until he mentioned it. Maybe because he was raised Catholic with their very clear focal point for worship, it felt odd to him. But it was a big room obviously set aside for prayer and we women found our way towards the back where the other women were and we sat quietly observing until the prayers were over, then we were warmly greeted by other women and we chatted quietly for a while. It felt safe, and very welcoming. I realized as we sat with the women that it was a kind of relief to be with just women; there was a feeling of immediate recognition that reminded me of how much I cherish the times when I get to be with my other female friends without any men there. Women have a bond just by being women, with all the difficult things only we go through, and it was a special thing to feel that common bond there, in that place, where we stood out as the different ones. They included us with kindness even though they didn't have to, and their warmth really touched me.

We went afterward and talked for a while with one of the community leaders and several of the other children followed us and sat with us to listen as well. There was a very relaxed, natural curiosity about us, and we were obviously not a common occurrence. Feeling like we stood out and were different made us realize afterward how many of them must feel when out and about in the greater community. No wonder they wanted a safe place to relax and be themselves.

So the next time some hating fool says Obama is secretly a Muslim and that makes him a terrorist, my boys and all the rest of us who went last night will remember the warmth of that cultural center and their kindness and know that what was slung in ignorance as an insult is of course in actuality a compliment. May we all be so kind and welcoming.

Regarding Riley

So I've debated about posting this one. It may just be too personal, though I know that for this blog that's saying something. So I figured I'll write it and then see how it feels.

The new school year started and the boys are now in 6th grade. Riley's teacher asked the parents to do a homework assignment: write her a letter describing our child and telling her all about him, including things she might need to know, likes, dislikes, etc. And it was due by the end of the week, so one must assume it was also a test to see if the parents take homework seriously, as well as to see how good their own writing skills are.

I wrote a little piece about Riley which I edited and and added bits to here and there; it got rather long and rambles around in no particular order. After writing it I think I need to write one for Casey as well, but I haven't gotten to that yet.

So here is my essay, though I've added in photos because I am me after all.

Mr. Riley is a very social animal. He talks a lot. He frequently annoys his twin brother Casey because he’s always talking about the latest thing to catch his interest, or humming whatever song has lodged in his brain that day, or talking about what happened to someone during the day, or musing out loud about whatever he's been reading and discussing the implications of this or that. He has a hard time not talking, and this has been a big struggle for him in class in the past. He loves to socialize, to make friends, to chat. He makes friends easily, especially with adults. He tends to launch into intellectual discussions about esoteric subjects that can make his listeners’ eyes glaze over quickly, unless they share the same passion and revel in finding a kindred enthusiast for their pet subject. He frequently will take great interest in the activities of an adult who interests him, and listens with great attention to what they say; this can give the target adult a slightly misleading impression of greater maturity and erudition than Riley really has. He has a big vocabulary and has sometimes been told irritably by other kids to ‘speak English!’ if he gets too wordy. He has always liked being the expert, the intellectual, the smart one. Recently he’s mentioned feeling like being too smart makes other kids think he’s weird or strange. He talks more lately about ‘trying to fly under the radar’, though he also says he’s not at all sure he really can do that. It seems that with adults he feels at ease because he can talk to them as equals; with other kids his age this can be a problem because they don't usually have the same interests or even vocabulary. I have to hope he finds a way to feel more at ease with being himself around other kids and not feel like he has to camoflage himself too much to fit in.

Riley can be very passionate and outspoken about things and causes he’s attached to. We haven’t gone to McDonald’s since third grade, when after talking to his (awesome) teacher about it, he did some research on his own into what their practices were and decided they were Bad— bad nutritionally, bad for their business practices, and bad for the environment. If you want to get a rise out of him, just say you’re thinking of going to McDonald’s. 

Riley is very sentimental about people, animals and things that have special meaning to him; they’re often very surprising things that others wouldn’t think of valuing. He’s fiercely protective of people and animals that he cares about and is always quick to jump in to defend them; this gets him into trouble at times because he's not afraid to fight to protect who or what he cares about. His heart is big. 

He’s honest even when he knows it will get him into trouble and one of the things that bugs him a lot is when people lie and try to put the blame on others. He can be very emotional and yet he hates to be embarrassed, and in the process of trying to hide his emotions he can come across as tough or cynical. He wants to be ‘cool’ but often feels that he doesn’t really fit in with the cool kids, though he’d like to. 

He will trust and consider people friends early in a relationship and then staunchly defend them despite clear evidence that they have hurt him. He tends to give people the benefit of the doubt, believing their intentions are good even after they let him down repeatedly. He is determinedly optimistic, preferring to see the positive, to change the subject or try to cheer things up if things get too depressing or dark and intense.

 Riley has always been a very energetic, on-the-go kid; he’s always been a handful because he’s athletic and fearless, opinionated and not afraid to say what he thinks. Every teacher, each year so far, has struggled to get him to sit still, to focus, to stop talking, finish his work. 

From kindergarden.

The beginning of each school year has always been the hardest period for him, as he seems to gradually ‘settle in’ during the course of the year. He’s been a challenge for teachers to have in a classroom, but Riley seems to grow on most of them; he has great respect and admiration for almost all of the teachers he’s had. It's no coincidence that the teachers who've had the most impact on him have been the ones who treated him fairly, with firmness but respect for him as a person. All of the teachers he admires and respects have had a really profound impact on his views and opinions about things in the wider world.

He’s always received good grades, been on the honor roll. He’s very bright, but his high energy has become ever more of an issue with the increasing school workload as he goes up in grades. We've had various people, teachers among them, who suggested having him tested for ADHD, but I was always resistant, feeling that there was nothing inherently wrong with him, it was an imposed, artificial environment that he wasn't well suited for that was the core issue. However. Last year after talking at length with his 5th grade teacher and Riley himself, we finally had him formally tested, and the results were borderline. Through the last school year, Riley was increasingly anxious and moody, and told me that he was concerned that he wouldn’t be able to go to college or get and keep a job because he was having such trouble focusing; he found the noisy classroom environment overwhelmingly distracting. He was having a lot of trouble sitting still and finishing in-class assignments, constantly distracted by wanting to socialize and talk, feeling the need to jump around. The fact that he was on the honor roll was more a testament to just how intelligent he is because he could do so well academically when he was doing so little actual schoolwork in class. Over this summer, with our pediatrician's guidance and support, we started him on a medicine for ADHD and after some time to get used to it, he seems generally calmer and much more relaxed. We aren’t sure yet whether it will actually help him sit still and focus in the classroom, but we hope so. It was a very hard decision to come to for us as a family; there are plenty of debates about the merits and pitfalls of doing such a thing and whether energetic boys should be treated in this way in order to fit in better within the artificial school environment. When it came right down to it, we and Riley decided together and we'll see how it goes. We're trying to do the best we can to help Riley have the best chances at a good future as well as a happy present.

Running with Yoda Bob Dog.

Sports are very important for Riley; he’s currently in CYO Cross Country, and he’s hoping to make the basketball team again this year, as well as competing in CYO Track and Field in the spring. Years ago he started in gymnastics with his brother (who is still in it and competes at the state and regional levels), and the discipline and exercise was great for him. 

A rather prophetic picture from when they were 4; Casey on rings while Riley runs.

He wanted to go into running and track rather than gymnastics, and we’ve tried to let him explore whatever sports he’s interested in. Running and sports help him as well with his excess energy; he does better in school and with everything else when he gets regular energetic workouts, so we try to support that as best we can. High jump is a particular favorite at the moment.

Why, yes, tennis is all about jumping the fences between courts.

Riley is an enthusiast; he takes on new interests with single-minded passion and immerses himself in his latest subject to the exclusion of almost everything else. He likes educating himself to a deep level and he really enjoys talking about what he’s learned. He can also come across as a know-it-all, since he likes to display his knowledge. He tends to move from one subject to another after awhile, but usually retains an interest in and affection for all of his past crazes. 

At a rock jam. Photo by John O'Halloran.

Many of his interests are ongoing; he comes back to them periodically and keeps learning more about them. A few have been role-playing games (ongoing), collecting and learning about fossils, story writing, calligraphy, learning to play guitar and drums, reading fantasy and sci-fi, chemistry, genetics, sustainable energy sources like solar power, reptiles, strategies for clean energy cars, and a lot of others I can’t remember right now. His interests are pretty varied but he has always liked nature and animals.

With Lester the Bearded Dragon. They're both much bigger now.

Reading plays a huge part in Riley’s process of learning about his interests, so he reads avidly and constantly about whatever his latest interest is. He likes the process of learning about things, but it’s harder for him to focus on other things that aren’t his latest obsession. He likes most subjects at school; he’s got a natural affinity for math. He doesn’t much care for being told there’s only one set, established way to do something; in the past he has taken that as a challenge to stubbornly find his own unique way to do it. He tends to rebel against rote methods that are not rationally explained (or not explained in a way he can understand) and he responds to ultimatums with resistance. He responds better to explanations with logic and reason than to ‘because I said so’ or ‘just because’. He can be very stubborn and rebellious, and he likes to think for himself.

Reading Harry Potter in 2nd grade.

He writes his own stories and has described writing as a need or a craving. He likes learning and creating things that combine handwork and puzzles, and so he and I like to learn and make various crafts together, like jewelry and leather crafts, artwork and calligraphy. I suspect his interest in those is mainly because those are my interests; he picks up enthusiasms from his dad and teachers and coaches and other adult friends as well. He likes the process of learning in general, though maybe like any kid he’s probably only going to want to learn about whatever interests him. If you can get him interested in a subject he’ll run with it and strive to become an expert in that. And then he’ll talk your ear off about it.

Riley is one of my favorite people, not just because he’s my kid, but because he’s genuinely funny and very intelligent and he has some amazing insights. He’s a really interesting person, and he just keeps getting better. I’m looking forward to seeing where he goes.

pause for a summer...

Pause for a moment... no, actually, pause for the whole summer...

There. We had a good summer.

Lots of swimming, lots of roller coasters and even a stagecoach (my own favorite). Casey had a gymnastics meet for Future Stars, the elite track for kids who excel beyond their allowed levels. He did qualify to go on to the Regional Future Stars as one of the top three in the state of California for his age and level, but between the pressure Casey felt, the fact that the required routines turned out to be completely different from what he had worked so hard at all summer, and the fact that none of his teammates would be joining him, he decided to opt out of Future Stars for this year and continue along the regular track of competitive gymnastics. It's really the first time he's decided to pull back from a challenge like this, but it felt to all of us like the right thing to do, and he was the one who decided. He'll be happier, he'll get to be with his teammates and he can work on the usual level 7 routines and know he can do well and have fun.

Riley went off to High Altitude Running Camp, where he ran and ran and swam and ran more up in the Sierra foothills with his Cross Country teammates and some of his favorite coaches. It was the first long sleep-away camp for him and he did great and had a blast, according to his coaches.

And besides the fun stuff of summer with two 11 year old boys, we had other stuff going on. Paul left his job at Zynga and is now actively searching for a new, happier job situation. So there's all the anxiety and uncertainty of health coverage, money and all the rest that goes with being unemployed. Again. It's not like it's new, so we know how it goes. Here's hoping this time is easy and short.

Go ahead, I tell myself, pick a star and open it up, see what wisdom it can give you this time round. Though ironically enough since I picked all the quotes and wrote them on the strips and made all of these fun little lucky stars, all of the messages are already in me somewhere waiting to be applied...

 At least it all has been reminding me to slow down and just breathe. Savoring the fleeting moments seems like a healthy respite from worrying over the unknowns, along with a realization that everything passes. This phase will pass soon, just like summer has. And it's raining outside, in September. It never rains here in September. Wild things happen all the time.

Afternoon of 'shoulds' not being done

Summer afternoon, and the music from 'Heroes of Might and Magic' is wafting over from the computer over there. Casey is addicted to games right now; he went through a frenzy of engineering and building in MineCraft, then went on to playing the Protoss in StarCraft and now is indulging in a little light Heroes. Apple, tree, short distance. Apparently games never get old. I'll have to kick him off soon for his own mental health. And mine. Okay, mine. Enough with the mom-guilt. What is summer for, if not to indulge in wretched excess and the boredom of not enough to do as a kid?

I could have enrolled them in those earnest summer enrichment classes like the ones being advertised all over town: math, reading, writing. But they made the top of the Honor Roll at school, their grades were excellent. They're doing tennis and dance and gymnastics and basketball and cross country running this summer. All stuff they wanted to do. We're actually pretty booked up; this little lull is kind of the calm before the busier parts to come.

The kitchen floor linoleum is peeling up in a way that drives me crazy. The side yard is overgrown with jasmine vines which are not nearly as charming as they were a month or so ago when they were blooming and spreading that amazing jasmine smell everywhere; now they're just spreading vines everywhere and tying their tight little knots on everything they shouldn't. Can't open the side gate because there's a huge pine tree branch in the way. I planted that tree as a tiny sapling about 15 years ago and now that thing is about a hundred feet tall and spreading its branches 30 feet in all directions.

Who woulda thought it'd get so big so fast? I thought I'd be long dead and it'd be someone else's problem when it was this big. Though I may still get that petty little satisfaction from the Giant Sequoia and the Giant Redwood that I also planted about the same time. Those ones aren't quite so big yet, since they grow more slowly. What the hell was I thinking? Whoever moves into this falling-apart heap of a house when we're gone will be asking that same question. "What the hell were they thinking, planting a goddamned giant redwood and a giant sequoia? Didn't they have any freakin' clue that they're called GIANT for a reason?? Who the hell plants a damned GIANT REDWOOD in their back yard??? Stupid short-sighted bastards..."

The garage has two little pathways through it- one to the mailbox opening, the other over past the washer and dryer and out the side door. We have a Commodore 64 out there that probably still works, along with an Amiga and some IBM's and every other computer that we've ever had. I live with a packrat, and honestly I'm not much better. Very few people are ever allowed to see in the garage due to my shame about the way it is. There are boxes of Computer Gaming World and Life magazine and old textbooks on genetics that are at least 20 years out of date. There are also two giant arcade games out there; neither work now but they are still out there. I secretly wish that the giant arcade Cyberball game that now resides in the dining room would join them and they could all fly away to some grand place to be restored and taken away from my environs. I go out there to run laundry and sometimes I stand there and stare at it all and despair of ever getting enough energy to tackle it all. There are sometimes critters out there, roof rats, squirrels, maybe raccoons, who come and go and treat it all like their own personal playground. I go out to do laundry and glare around suspiciously, nervously, looking for the little jerks and hoping I won't see them. Which is usually what happens.

The thing about having the boys home now, except for the running around ferrying them to this and that activity, is that I'm still (supposedly) an adult, expected to keep everything going and still accomplish stuff and do all my normal grown-up business, despite these guys. I've been drafting them to do chores and help me on things; they did really well the other day when Casey cleaned house inside while Riley and I cut down the overgrown bamboo around the side of the garage (never, ever, plant bamboo within a mile of your house- our neighbor planted some years ago and it has magically migrated to our house) and we cleared the front walkway so it wasn't such an impassable jungle. The bamboo stalks then became things to collect and treasure and now we're in the throes of converting the bigger, sturdier ones into the cores for boffer weapons. Duct tape has been acquired in cool colors and foam of various sorts appropriated for padding. Two swords and a two-ended spear have come into being so far, with many more in the plans, according to Riley.

I've been running up against my own limits, though; headaches the size of the Titanic have been hitting with disturbing frequency and they wear down everything, including my patience, my energy and my will to live, honestly. The boys are surprisingly patient about it all, and they are pretty self-entertaining, which makes it all easier than it used to be when they were smaller. But it'd be so much easier not to be flopping around uselessly in a fog of pain.

Anyway. I'm looking forward to going more places, doing a bunch of day trips to places. The boys have been surprisingly reluctant, wanting to stay home and play games for a while. And with the headaches and all, I've probably been overindulging that tendency. I figure we'll all get bored and start getting out more, getting more done Real Soon Now.

Last day of school

Short day of school for the boys today, last day before summer break. Last day for me of time to myself, too. And there are so many things I need to take care of that would be so much easier to do without dragging reluctant kids along for the ride, and yet here I am, procrastinating.

There have been various end-of-school activities and events, and mostly I have dodged them; the guys are getting of an age now where they don't much care if I'm there and I have felt like I don't have the bandwidth to do all the volunteer things that all of the Good Moms and Dads do. Fortunately Paul has been stepping up and doing some of that stuff. He's been going in and playing music with the fifth grade kids every week all year long, and they finished up the school year at the Talent show with a couple of songs they'd been working up for a few weeks. It went about as well as one might guess. :)

One of the things that got to me, though, was seeing how grown-up all of the kids are getting. We have always volunteered with the boys' classes since Kindergarten, helping the kids learn to read and doing math projects and other things like reading books aloud; Paul's been playing music once a week with all of them since 2nd grade, so they all know him really well. He lets them request songs to learn and sing together, and it means that he ends up learning to play some of the pop favorites out now, which the kids sing along to with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Getting them to be enthusiastic is harder to achieve as they get older and more self conscious, of course, so it was cool to see them all singing loudly during the talent show, even if some of them lost track of the lyrics or the melody.

Today is the last, short day of school and when they all come back in the fall they'll be the oldest, the 6th graders, the biggest kids, for their final year at this grade school. They're really ready, though. And they're really ready for a big break. We've signed them up for various summer sports things; Casey will keep up with gymnastics, of course, but he's adding tennis and they both want to try Aikido, so we'll see where that goes. Riley's going to go to high altitude running camp where his long-distance running coach has a cabin in the mountains and holds a long weekend of distance runs and swimming in lakes and more cross country running and games and exhausted sleep and more running. Riley is of course stoked to do all this. We also signed him up to try a hip-hop dance class, since he's game and he's already doing moves all the time.

It'll be busy, certainly, but there will be time for lazing around and playing games and going out to the beach and exploring in the woods and that sort of stuff.

And much to their chagrin, there will be plenty of chores and getting some of the long overdue clean up stuff done, hopefully. Summer never ends up lasting as long as we want or getting all the fun stuff done that we planned, but that's all a part of summer too. We won't get bored. :)