Just ... stuff.

Is she shopping? Playing paintball? "Give me all your groceries!"

Well, Hector thinks it's a good time for a game of fetch-the-tennis-ball, and walks around with a dingy, yellow ball in his mouth, looking up at each one of us hopefully.

It's dark and raining outside.

Jesse and Owen have plonked down on couches to watch Judge Judy and eat sandwiches. It was a Basement Gang afternoon, when their friends come over to game in the basement. We picked up a copy of the new Mario Brothers game for the Wii, Madison brought pizzas, Sean and Brandon and Crawford all came, and they all had a fun afternoon. No Sydnors. :( Maybe next week. Wait. That's Thanksgiving, isn't it?

Meredith is walking around in her pink flannel Nick and Nora's. She'll probably change soon, as Joseph is coming later.

Yesterday morning, I posted a quote on facebook. I had read a story about a young guy from Richmond, who was working as a coffee shop manager when he began having episodes of numbness on one side. This past July, his doctor sent him to a neurologist and after tests and biopsies, he was diagnosed with an inoperable stage 4 brain tumor. The quote I posted from Colin's story was: "People get so stressed and it's all downhill from there. Look at the bright side. It sucks, but you might as well make the best out of it."

Because. It's a brain tumor. And they can't operate. And he has chosen to enjoy his life. Because, you know, if you are into complaining, a BRAIN TUMOR beats all other complaints hands down. (With the possible exception of ALS, which my father-in-law -- also Not a Complainer -- lives with.)

It just made me think about how we live in a culture of complainers, each of us laying down our sad stories and tales of woe. Try to go for a day without complaining. Huh. We draw energy from others' sympathy, and it's impossible for some of us to give up that energy. We become stuck, making no changes, working overtime to elicit more sympathy.

Anyway. I don't want to get into all of that again -- complaining about the complainers. Colin's blog is inspiring. It's full of what life with cancer and cancer treatments and their side effects is like for him, but there is no self-pity, no wallowing. It's exciting that, through the efforts of some of his friends, he has a wish coming true soon. He'll be able to visit the set of "Lost", in Hawaii. Or maybe he's just come back from his trip. I need to go check his blog for updates.

Yesterday, after turning this *complaining* subject over, and holding it up to the light, and examining my feelings about chronic complaining, I left the house to take Jesse to guitar and track. I was sitting in the almost-dark parking lot at the high school, when Meredith called me. She was still at work, at Hanover Academy, where she is an art teacher, and works in the after-school program. Her voice was shaky, and she was having trouble putting words together into sentences. She told me that she "felt funny" and her hand and side of her face were numb. She was in the office, trying to find aspirin. She kept trying to say "pain reliever", but couldn't, and it scared her. I told her to go back to the gym and get the gym teacher (one of the only staff members still there) to call the rescue squad, and Jesse and I would be right there. She walked back to the gym, but said the kids and teacher had moved to the kindergarten classroom. But "kindergarten" came out as "ginder ... ginder ...". She couldn't say the word.

When Jesse and I got there, a rescue squad vehicle was out front, and a paramedic was with Meredith. She said that it sounded like a TIA -- a mini-stroke -- to her, and that Meredith needed to see a doctor. The ambulance arrived and took Meredith to the hospital. I took Jesse home, called Grandma Sylvia, rooted through Meredith's file cabinet for her insurance information, and headed for the hospital. When I got there, Charity and Joseph were already there and said that Mer had been taken for a CAT scan.

A few hours later, Meredith was released with a referral to a neurologist. We've seen neurologists before, gone through tests and MRIs and hospital stays several years ago, when she was having simple-partial seizures, but she hasn't had an episode in seven years. And she said that this experience was different. What a day for me to have found Colin's blog. I tried not to let that mess with my head.

So, that's the latest. This morning, we had to be in court to testify in a case where Meredith's credit card was stolen and her account cleaned out this past February. There's more to THAT story, as some of you know.

She came through the last 24 hours doing pretty well. Glad to have the court case over with, glad that she had the option to carry her health insurance from her job at World Market with her when she quit working there, glad to put on pajamas and have a peaceful evening at home, with Joseph coming a bit later.

We'll deal with the neurologist stuff next week. We'll figure out how to get her car home from the parking lot at work. Mark talked to her on the phone last night, and he really wanted to be here. He's driving home Saturday and will be home for a week. Meredith told him that we were looking through recipes to find good things to prepare for Thanksgiving. It's fun to fix food when Mark is home. :)

So, the day is winding down. It's comfortable, the lamps are lit against the darkness. (Heh heh -- I just threw that in because it sounded so corny. Hey! Jesse! Go turn on that lamp!) This afternoon, I won two tickets to any upcoming Virginia Opera performance by posting a story -- just a paragraph -- to their fan page about how three-year-old Meredith used to sing "Musetta's Waltz" while she fingerpainted. When I was notified that I won, I yelled upstairs, "I'M A WIENER!" And Meredith yelled back down, "That's AWESOME!"

All is well.

Soft, still, quiet, happy

Centered.

This is a wonderful quote from Sandra Dodd, by way of Alexandra. (Thanks, Alex.)

"Here's what your children need you to do, and what all our children need us to do. Pay attention to your children the way you wish your sister and sister in law and cousin and neighbor would pay attention to theirs. Do for your child what you wish had been done for you. Indignation doesn't make a person soft or thoughtful. It just makes a person indignant, and pissed off, and self-righteous, and absent.

You can't be with your child while the inside of you is railing at
Nestle or Disney or Japanese fishermen or the Spanish Inquisition.

Of course things aren't always wonderful. Rather than becoming one of
the things that's not wonderful, be a wonderful thing. Be a soft, still, quiet, happy attentive mother.

We can't fix all the lives in the world. If we're not careful we can
screw up our own and our families'.

Each moment you have a choice between better and worse, warm and cold,
focused or scattered."

Sandra Dodd

Here is a link for ordering Sandra's book.

Mindful Parenting Thought for the Day and Assignment

This is less a blogpost, than it is a Thought for the Day. :)

I was corresponding with a friend, and it got me to thinking about the idea that, as parents, we are often the mirror that reflects our child's image back to him or her Self. It seems like a good idea to take a minute and think about what we are reflecting back to them:

How do I want my children to see themselves? As flawed and damaged and in need of "fixing" and medicating OR as whole and perfect and loved and capable of exploring life and the world? Reflect the latter back to them, show them the pleasure you take in their company, and watch how they respond, and unfold/blossom. It's just beautiful.

How would my life change if I felt whole and perfect and loved and capable? Don't I want that life for my child?


So, today, try biting your tongue about the dirty socks left on the floor, or the gobs of toothpaste around the bathroom sink, every niggling little criticism and reminder and complaint -- squelch them before you open your mouth. Notice only the positive things about your child, and reflect those things back to him or her. Take joy in your child today. See what it does for your relationship.

Tomorrow: Repeat. :)

Slow Down, You Move Too Fast ...

Today is a day for s-l-o-w-t-i-m-e, for steeping in the feeling of being home on a beautiful fall day, with no plans and no obligations. There are six pounds of Granny Smith apples in the bowl on the counter, waiting to be peeled and made into an enormous apple crisp, and I'll manage to get them all peeled, but there is no rush. Today there is no rush to do anything. So come hang out and take a nap on the couch in the sunny bay window or in the hammock on the porch. Have a bowl of soup or a cup of coffee, or give in to Hector's pleading eyes and take him for walk on the leaf-covered trail.

Mark flew in from Arkansas Thursday evening, and we've had a hectic schedule since then. It's been nice, but busybusybusy. Friday, Mark and the boys blew leaves and cleaned gutters and moved summer furniture up from the field to the front porch. The boys and I made a run to Party City and Kentucky Fried Chicken for, you know, a bucket. Any guesses as to Jesse's costume choice?

Saturday Mark took Jesse to the Harvest Run in Ashland, where Jesse won the 5k. After the race, they came straight to the ALS Walk in Bryan Park. The day was blustery and rainy, but the showers paused long enough for the walk, which was lovely. Mark's sister, Valerie, and her kids, Aaron and Morgan, were down from Pennsylvania for the walk, and we kidnapped Aaron, then came home to get costumes ready for the Halloween party at Dave and Samantha's. Meredith and Joseph, both dressed in kilts, stopped in after a morning at the Celtic Festival, to watch me boil up a batch of Karo syrup blood. Too pink? Too blue? To runny? Ahh, just right!

Joseph had, thoughtfully, borrowed his brother's black assassin's coat for Owen to wear to the party. He threw in his own ammo belt, and Mark provided black steel-toed boots and too many knives to count. If you hear lots of clanking and stomping, you probably have plenty of time to get away before Owen the Assassin shows up.

Charity arrived, and she and Meredith spent some time getting pretty, before sweeping back out with Joseph and piling into Charity's car for a trip to North Carolina for a friend's birthday party. The boys and I spent some time coming up with a spur-of-the-moment costume for Aaron, which ended up involving a pink Snuggi, candy cigarettes, and a large magazine photo of a baby's head. Yeah, don't ask. It was creepy, I assure you. The boys had already decided that Mark's yardwork outfit, a red sweatshirt under blue overalls, needed only a red cap to turn Mark into Mario, and I wore my flannel PJs and carried a teddy bear, adding a gruesome Karo syrup-slashed throat to transform me into the First Victim at the sleepover in a slasher movie. I was suitably gruesome, AND got to go to a party wearing flannel pajamas, most comfortable party outfit ever!

Dave and Samantha's Halloween Party was amazing, and deserves a post of its own. Madison was there, taking plenty of photos, so, with his permission, I'll post some soon.

But today is a good day to recover from the rush, to read a favorite book, fix another pot of coffee, listen to my favorite fall music, Bach's cello concertos, and to enjoy our family all being here, before Mark has to go back to Arkansas Tuesday morning. It will be a month before he's home again, so taking some time to appreciate his being here, to fix him an apple crisp and homemade chicken soup and to throw an extra afghan over him as he naps on the couch, feels special.

S-l-o-w-t-i-m-e and centering down restores us. Tomorrow and the rush and the fun and the plans and obligations will come around soon enough.

Clear a space and take some time to just be.

Early Saturday at Home

The woods-all-around are turning color. We don't have any curtains in our windows -- and we have a LOT of windows. The quality of light coming in through them changes with the seasons, and, right now, it still has a yellow-green cast to it, contrasting with the red walls in the big kitchen room where my computer is. Fall colors are slow this year, creeping in, a maple going yellow in the back yard, a dogwood turning red near the edge of the woods.

Hector and I walk to the pond and around the trail. Mist rises from the pond, and the Great Blue Heron that nests nearby takes off, flying low across the water as we approach. Hector is used to him, and barely notices, intent on snuffling deep in the wet leaves beside the gravel road. He comes up, shaking his ears vigorously a few times, then pulling ahead to the mailboxes at the end of the drive. We turn to go back and a group of Canada geese fly in above us, honking and landing with a series of splashes breaking the calm surface of the pond. This catches Hector's interest, and he stands alert, watching the noisy intruders. Oh! The kingfisher is back! He flits back and forth, from the dock to the fence, chittering noisily at us. So, Hector and I are the intruders, I guess.

Once we're back in our driveway, at the opening to the trail, Hector finds one of his old tennis balls. He has these stashed here and there throughout the woods, and he can find them whenever he chooses, with his amazing lab sense of smell. His father was Big Red, champion Master Hunter.

Dad:

Hector wouldn't know what to do with a duck if one waddled up to him. Ducks are perfectly safe around Hector, son of Big Red. But Hector is a Master Tennis Ball Locator. So, huh.



The woods are still dark. We follow emerald moss trails. Trees drip overhead, deer prints are scattered here and there in the soft, black dirt.

Heading back to the house, I see lights in Jesse's bedroom window. Once inside, Hector gulps and slurps at his water bowl, and I can hear Jesse upstairs playing his acoustic guitar. When he's playing the electric guitar, I rarely hear him, because he plugs his headphones into the amp.

The guitar, the smell of fresh coffee, the warm wood floors all speak of home. We've lived here almost twenty years, now. There's a sense of place, a grounded, confident feeling that comes from knowing one place as home for this long. And, once having known that feeling, you carry it with you, wherever you go.

“Traveling is all very well if you can get home at night. I would be willing to go around the world if I came back in time to light the candles and set the table for supper." Gladys Taber

Back From Visiting Mark

Promenade overlooking Bathhouse Row.

I had a lovely trip to Hot Springs. Mark met me at the airport in Little Rock with flowers (which he knows I don't like, but he is sweet and couldn't help himself). My flight arrived three hours late, and he had made me a sandwich and packed it for the hour-long car ride to Hot Springs. Those of you who know me may be thinking that I don't deserve him, and, of course, you are right.


His condo was amazing. Built on a high ridge, it overlooks Lake Catherine with a view of the mountains (Ouachita) in the distance.








More touching than the flowers were the red and green and yellow hot peppers, piled onto a tray on the black marble countertop in Mark's kitchen. He knows that I do this -- group colorful vegetables and fruit on the black countertops at home. He set to work making a variety of things for dinner, while I sat at the counter and watched. He put out smoked salmon and crackers and cheeses and olives and shrimp and then he poured me a glass of wine and grilled a big fillet of salmon. Also? He wouldn't let me cook or clean up the whole time I was there. Wow. I was thinking that maybe I should have suggested he move into his own place years ago.

Okay -- just kidding, there. Mark misses the family and his kids, and the noise and dog hair and general clutter of home, but he'll get a good dose of that stuff when he gets home for a visit in about a week.

We hiked a bit at Quachita State Park, drove up West Mountain for the view of Hot Springs, looked at some houses, visited with some of his friends from running group in their beautiful turn-of-the-century house in the city. We walked the promenade that overlooks Bathhouse Row in Hot Springs. We sat and read and drank wine. He's reading the latest Dan Brown book, and I brought Sandra Dodd's Big Book of Unschooling along, and read that. (I want to buy a copy for everyone I know.)


I got home last night, and Meredith and Jesse were out at Trivium's Into the Mouth of Hell We Tour concert at The National. Mer bought tickets for Jesse's birthday last month. Whitechapel, Darkest Hour, and Dirge Within played, as well. I'm learning terms like "deathcore" heavy metal, thrash, and "black death metal". Well, now.







Jesse seemed really pleased when they got home. He had caught one of the drummer's gloves, which he said was "really sweaty". Eww. He grinned.


Owen and I stayed home and watched "Two and a Half Men" and "Big Bang Theory". We laughed big. He asked me to make him a dental appointment, because he think's he has an abscessed tooth. Someone online (World of Warcraft) told him that was what it sounded like to them. Heh.

I'm kind of looking forward to cleaning and putting the house in order some, today. Gotta get back in the routine. Tuesday, let's see, that's Super Happy Fun Day at the Hawes', Jesse's guitar lesson in Ashland, Jesse to track, swing by and pick up Owen. Call dentist. Check dates for Megadeth concert.

Repost, because it makes me happy.

I found this video that Jesse made when he was little, and I posted it last year, but I'm posting it again, because it makes me happy. He's SEVENTEEN, now. Time rushes by, but here, I can hold it for just a minute or two.

Posted last year:

... his hands are so small, his little boy voice is so sweet.

He's 16, now and has a man-voice and long, slim fingers, suited for playing his guitar. Oh, my gosh -- where did the time go?

He must have made this the year he got the little video camera and began producing his own movies. Very quietly. On the rug in his room. The first two installments of this -- the Big Battles -- are too long to post here, but this is the end and credits. Oh, you've got to watch it all the way to the end for the credits.

Yoda and Luke Skywalker. "You still need a lot to learn. I don't think this is the last we'll see of the emperor. Until next time." I just love this.