The Sans Writing Experiment

 A night alone gave way to introspection about my writing. While I stepped away from the laptop to work my evening job, then return home, eat, and watch a movie, without other family distractions and goals, though I did not set out for this to occur, it happened: I came to the realization that this writing gig is work.

Of course I knew that. Perhaps I didn't really know it at six, when I told my father I wanted to write books. But I certainly realized it in my twenties, when I wrote my first novel.

But I didn't know that this career goal of becoming a full-time novelist was a job. A JOB. I've had many, and mostly just as a way to support myself and my family. I suppose I thought writing would be fun, because sentence structure, grammar, punctuation, and imagination come naturally to me.

But it's more than that.

Like I always say, as human beings, we never really know how we will react or what we will do until we are in the moment. I watched "The Stanford Prison Experiment" this morning. Those young men didn't know what they would do until they did it. Would they succumb to the "prison guards'" wishes? Would the "prison guards" act humanely? Even Dr. Phil Zimbardo had no idea, admittedly.

It wasn't until this last round for me, with my most recent novel, PENNY'S SONG, that I realized this writing thing is REAL. It can get real real. Really fast. And it's more than putting ideas to paper and more than structuring a sentence. IT'S A LIFESTYLE. One that requires dedication, focus, determination, courage, a thick skin, a sense of humor, and time. Lots of time.

Nearly four months ago I embarked on the final editing journey for PS. It was brutal. I repeatedly acted like a prison guard to my own writing, cruelly taking out well-loved phrases and putting filter words in "the hole." And walking away at the end of the day, feeling badly, not just for having "killed" some characters or watching idly as other guards, my critique partners, did, but having killed certain scenes and replaced them with others. That one scene was always a nice guy.

It was a trying three months.

Then came perfecting the draft query letter. I had about ten versions. Yes, they got better over time. Yes, the new "pitch" received validation from a literary agent at a virtual conference this month. Yes, I began querying earlier this month, receiving five rejections. Six, if you include the agent who wrote me two separate rejection emails. Yes, another agent who rejected my manuscript lauded my query letter.

But the kudos did come with a price. Not the conference fee, or the webinar fee, the fee for the excellent query review, the charge for the editors to look at my first four chapters, or the writing group monthly charge. A mental price.

I never missed a work shift in my life. Last Monday, my supervisor called me twenty minutes into my shift, concerned about my whereabouts. I had failed to put the shift in my calendar. And the next day, I frantically drove my daughter to gymnastics "early," to find her session starts at 5:30 on Tuesdays in the summer, something I had known for weeks and had done correctly until then when I dropped her off an hour and a half too early.

In all fairness to writing, I also have been readying my son for college and planned two parties, one for him and one for my daughter's birthday. But I missed my daughter's piñata and water balloon fight to participate in a live pitch, one that though positive, resulted in the "double rejection" I mentioned. And prepping for the virtual writing conference, though helpful, also was stressful. I don't take anything lightly.

Just like Michael Angarano in "Stanford."

Am I saying I'm quitting? No, I'm not saying that. All I am saying is that while I knew and fully expected writing to present some challenges, and I was still prepared and willing to embark on this path, I now also see what I can become in the throes of this career.

It's not just a job I can leave behind at five pm. It's not even one that gives me a paycheck...yet. In fact, I pay to do this work and do it well. It feels more like having a child. Except this child is never going to leave home. Even when I'm gone, these children, "The Supplier," "The End of September," "Harley's Eclipse," "Vacation," and "Penny's Song," along with my future children, will carry on.

Is it worth it, knowing my voice will continue long after I depart this earth?

I wonder what Dr. Phil Zimbardo would have to say about that?

The Only Gift I Could Ever Want, I Have

Six months ago I was upset at how my daughter's gymnastics coach did not elevate her to the next level. Now, I sit looking at photos of her at her very first meet a week ago, in trampoline and tumbling, at which she won a gold medal in her age group for tumbling, and fourth place in trampoline.

Sometimes things seem awful or sad, but truly, to everything there is a purpose. If she had remained in regular gymnastics, this might not have occurred. Her new coach, Melissa, is a magnificent and charming young lady, and an exceptional trampoline and tumbling coach. She herself has won many medals in competition.

Melissa introduced our gym to "TNT" and my six-year-old daughter is in their very first group along with Alaina, Natalie, Zophia, Pasqualina, Addie and Bella, other six, seven and eight-year olds. Bella is the baby, just turning five. Natalie is everyone's "mom", at 10 years old.

Every cross country meet I attend, I stand with bated breath, waiting to see my son. So excitedly, I zoom in for that perfect shot or video, and you can always hear my loud mouth cheering him on. I make no excuse as I am from NYC!

Cross country meets are a sight to behold. When I was in sixth or seventh grade my teacher asked us to write an account from the perspective of an alien viewing us on earth. If an alien could see a cross country meet, they would be very confused to say the least, and consider us to be quite ridiculous.

A group of people running and crowds, comprised of 10 times as many people, cheering them on, for just a few moments at a time, until the runners reappear once again.

Cheers, then sudden silence. You might see runners up or down a hill, or hear someone cheer as they notice them across a lawn or parking lot. This continues for a mere 20-30 minutes (or in the teens for the fast ones), save for perhaps the slower runners; and then everyone can be seen under various tents, or heading to their vehicles, headed home.

That's it. A football game, soccer game, basketball game, baseball game or swim meet takes hours. Cross country, a few moments. Most of the time it takes longer to get to the venue than the event itself! We have traveled a half hour, and we have traveled two to four hours one way. Of course the athletes might stay behind to wait and cheer on the rest of the crew and take the school bus home, but often the onlookers only remain for about an hour in total, and that is if they arrive early to settle in.

The season begins with sweltering Indian summer scorches and ends with layered jerseys and for some, beanies. I am giddy as I observe my son, dripping in sweat regardless of the weather, waving us away, unable to speak, and the other runners, some of whom show facial distress, tumbling to the ground, grabbing water, or perhaps throwing up. I understand this sport, given I also am a runner.

But these kids train from August to November here, Monday through Friday after a long school day, jogging, running, squatting, lifting. They prepare, practicing tempo runs and sprint intervals. Likely, the coaches urge them to keep breathing and never give up, as a metaphor for life, as these sports make us durable.

They run three miles a day, and then there are meets every Wednesday and Saturday. Truly inspiring.

I only run a few times a week, and not always three miles each time.

And they get to do it all over again from November to March, with indoor track and field. My son runs the 800 and 1,000 meters and relays usually but last time did a 1,400. Look at the face of the runner as Logan tries passing. Logan may or may not have passed him, but he made him nervous!

In spring it's tennis. A shout-out to all the coaches over the years: Andy, Jeff, Wally, Carmen, Chris, Nicole. Wonderful work! And all his great running mates: Dom, Mike, Christian, Julie, Violet, Sam, Zoey, and Jenna. Many are graduating this year. Congratulations! They all have become friends.

I feel proud when I participate in local races with my son, who of course finishes in half the time it takes me to do a 5K, at usually 20-23 minutes. In the last race in September, he came back to the sidelines after finishing to cheer me on. He rather looked like he was being sarcastic, clapping slowly, or at least that is how this feeble body felt. "I didn't stop. I didn't walk," I said to him, as if he were a coach, judging. I want to be like him. I feel he is thinking, "It's about time, Mom." But maybe he is thinking, "I can't believe she is doing this at sixty." If he is not thinking that, he damn well should!

I was never a tumbler or gymnast. When I get on the trampoline I have difficulty with my bladder, though it is quite fun. But when I drop and I can't get back up I laugh, and my daughter takes my hand, smiling. She recognizes that getting back up is what it is all about (in life, too)!

I strive to be like my kids. At least I try! Not a bad thing. Funny that one might think they struggle to be like their parents.

It is now the holidays again. I hug my girl, I send my son text messages with hearts that I know he will not return, at least not while he is sixteen.

I proudly display their medals and trophies. I take the pins off my son's race bibs, sticking my fingers along the way. I include the lovely encouraging notes from Carmen that she wrote to all the athletes.

I lick my finger, gently placing the pins in a plastic container; the container is full. The container shows me he has been busy running. I dedicate these efforts to my late brother Fred, who ran every day until Multiple Sclerosis had different plans for him.

All I want for Christmas, I already have. My kids.

Happy Holidays to all!

XO

It's Not the End of the World, We Still Have Phlox

I hope this mini blog serves as an inspiration for all the hard-working parents out there who struggle with bills, work, neighbors, the weather, their kids’ safety, health, and happiness. Part of our happiness in this group is getting and staying fit. Is our fitness just for health, and to outlast our parents? Is it so we are not fat anymore, as we were as kids, when we were teased? Or is it more than that? Is it for self-esteem?

I have been working out, outside of school “gym” class, since a teen, but have not been truly consistent. I have been very consistent since 2014. Last year I discovered Aaptiv. As a part of this wonderful Aaptiv family, through all the changes that upset so many, and all the wonderful support as well, I have seen other parents struggle. Perhaps they have a sick child, or an overweight one, or one struggling with bullying or school work. For me, it’s not any of those things, and I know I am very lucky.

I could not have kids of my own. I was and am (I hope) a good stepparent. I was blessed with two wonderful children who I adopted later in life. I have a fantastic, smart, loving and extremely strong and athletic 16-year-old son and a friendly, creative, funny, beautiful fit and bouncy nearly six-year-old daughter. Both have served, along with Aaptiv, to inspire me physically, particularly in the past two years.

I look up to my kids. My son Logan, who just started cross country last fall and completed his second year at indoor track this winter, plays tennis in the spring and summer. Is he the best? No. Does he let it get to him? I don’t see it so much. He very maturely keeps it in, unlike some professional athletes. He gets mad at his father and I but that’s ok. He is cool, calm and collected, and he ran third in his age group in the 5 K in which we both participated last February. I participated to compete with him, not to beat him, but to share with him his new love of running, my lifelong desire, a way to follow in my late brother’s footsteps. I adored Fred. He ran 10 miles a day before MS took him. The day he told me about the MS I went out to run.

My daughter has sampled tennis and dabbled in soccer and T-ball. But her main course is gymnastics. I can’t even walk without tripping on my own two feet, so the fact that now I can complete an Ackeem running routine and say, “That’s it? It’s DONE?” is because of my kids.

My kids and my brother inspire me. You too, Ackeem!

So when the gymnastics coach advised me yesterday, that despite three years of the sport, my daughter is not going to advance, I was stunned. They suggested she take trampoline and tumbling, which would mean no more bar, which she loves. I cried. They said tumbling and jumping are her strengths. She does not know what they are talking about. She is five. I had to run to the bathroom to get tissues and was surrounded by parents, who I did not want to notice me sobbing like a baby. So I stained my new top, pretending and hoping no one noticed and if they did, that they thought it was allergies.

My friend text me back. “Michael Jordan was kicked off his high school team.” Yes, and I know, Einstein was labeled learning disabled. “It’s rejection/fear of not being liked/good enough/not being acknowledged for hard work,” she continued. She experienced similar things. Her daughter was not invited to another child’s birthday party, and her daughter did not mind. She told her mom she barely knew this child. But her mother’s feelings were hurt. She said she moved on and bit her tongue but wanted to slap the mother who had left her daughter out.

I’m not gonna slap anyone, don’t worry. But last night, I sure as heck felt like I needed to.

My friend said the T & T looks interesting. She also said, couching her reply with “I’m not a therapist, but…” that this is about me.

Of course it is. I know that. It’s about not being liked. It’s about comparisons. It’s all wrong. It’s just me. I have never been truly confident. I want my kids to win. I know my daughter wants to win. Not so much my son, who is more laid back about sports. Reese wants to succeed.

We call her the “best gymnast in the world”. She lives and breathes gymnastics. She is moving and jumping and climbing from the second she wakes up to the second she goes to sleep, and she is still moving in her sleep. She’s been like this since infancy.

But I guess she is not the best gymnast in the world, or even the best gymnast in my town, and not the best gymnast at XX Gymnastics. I intentionally leave off the name to be professional about it.

The coach was clear: Reese still is not holding her arms right, her legs, not doing things consistently. Perhaps she is not flexible enough. They said her shoulders are tight. In my mind she is saying Reese will never be a good gymnast, and they are sloughing her off on T & T so as not to upset us and not to lose a customer.

I admit my lack of knowledge of gymnastics to say whether any of this is the case, and I must defer to the coach. My thought is to contact her manager and ask for an additional evaluation. Or to return to a previous center. But the coaching there was not as good. So I am torn.

This mini blog is not about how to deal with this, however, even though I welcome suggestions; it’s about turning to other parents to perhaps gain perspective, or to teach them. I have done many things for a living and find parenting to be the hardest job out there. Parenting is harder than an Ackeem workout! 😊

As I write this, Reese is doing cartwheels. To me they seem perfect; I guess they are not. To quote my friend, “If I had to do cartwheels to save my life you’d be singing Amazing Grace at the service!”

After my One Step is All it Takes with Ackeem this morning, I picked some wild phlox for Reese.

She accepts them with so much joy, and I place them in water. I love how flox smell even though they shed everywhere. A bit of symbolism perhaps? LOL.

Reese is all smiles, always willing to work out in her very own gymnastics room which we gifted her last Christmas. She has improved.

So have I. I did not lose it with the gymnastics coach. And after all, I could not believe 28 minutes with Ackeem went by that fast.

All love.

It's Different This Year

A week ago I celebrated Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday with a day off from work, one of the perks I'm thankful to have. And the week ended with the inauguration of Donald Trump as president.

Like many, I have been thinking a lot, worrying much, stuck in between wanting to live my life and make plans and feeling the need to hold onto what I have even more fervently than in the past. Feeling like I need to make my kids stronger, both emotionally and physically, to stand against what might be. I want to be with them more, protect them more, ensure their futures are not soiled.

We hang onto what we can; it's my conversation with a co-worker of Mexican decent whose mother never learned English, for whom he translated as a young child. Exactly what happened to me with an Italian mom. Making peace with what we have, trying to get along.

While I have tried to accept that some of the people I like voted for him, and I talk with them, about everyday things like coffee and the weather, our children and grandchildren, ideals I know we have in common, I still cannot understand what they were thinking November 8. I talk with them, all the while feeling like I know their "dirty little secret" and can't utter a word, as though I notice a booger on their face and am not brave enough to tell them about it.

For many others, the hatred that apparently was hidden is showing. I've had many African American friends, many female, tell me that racism exists. I see it. I feel it, as a female. But as one of my friends once told me, I will never understand what it is like to be African American. She was right. She said that I could pretend to be someone else while she could not even if she tried.

We've come a long way since then, and I was encouraged with the Obamas in the White House. It was not just the presidency: it was Michelle's fight for children, for healthy eating and exercise, for introducing me to J. Crew, it was having the same dress she owned but in a different color. It was belonging. It was Barack fooling around with the young children who visited the White House, shooting hoops, singing and dropping the mic. Being on "Ellen". It was US. It did not matter that we are different colors; I once dreamt they came over to my house for dinner. They are the people next door, with a little girl around my son's age.

It is not shocking to hear that some of my co-workers voted for Trump. It is shocking to hear my son tell me that one of his classmates called Martin Luther King Jr. day, "White Supremacy Day". It is shocking that my three-year-old daughter does not yet understand what is going on, and what will I say when she asks me why the president hated cats?

When I was her age, JFK was president. When I was her age, civil rights were coming of age. Black Power, the Women's Movement.

And as one of the signs of one of the marchers at the Seneca Falls Women March Jan. 21 said, "I'm 71 and I can't believe I still have to protest this f-in s-!"

The conversations, the heated moments, among friends and family. "Why didn't you march when you were at the forefront of all this in the sixties?" I ask my husband. He felt he was sheltered, did not know he could make a difference. But it's never too late.

I would look out the window of our tiny Greenwich Village apartment and see protesters, hear music, listen to speeches. Washington Square Park, not far from our apartment, filled with Vietnam War protesters, civil rights and women's rights activists.

Why haven't we come that far? I thought we were making progress, to the point where my friend did not have to consider pretending to be something she isn't?

Where is that moment? What happened that it slipped away?

What kind of future will my 13-year-old son and 3-year-old girl have? What happened that I feel like turning in my Sophie Theallet Michelle Obama dress for self defense lessons?

Why do I feel like I should be even more protective of my children at the times when they should be spreading their wings?

It's the embarrassment I felt when an African American man in an inner city store the other day did not hold the door for me. I was sure it was because he assumed since I am white and I was dressed well and employed (work ID tag gave me away) that I voted for HIM. I wanted to say something, but what? I resisted the urge to shout, "I'm one of YOU!" Why do I feel so defensive?

Why do I have to worry about my peers feeling defensive when I stand up for our rights, all our rights, African American, Hispanic, Jewish, Muslim, disabled, gay, lesbian, transgender and bisexual, short, tall, thin and heavy, blue eyed, hazel eyed, brown eyed, blonde, both natural and bottle, curly haired, straight haired, morning people, night people, cat people, dog people, coffee lovers, tea lovers, fast food lovers, vegans, homeowners, tiny house owners, campers, renters, staycationers, frequent flyers, ...oh, and aren't we all different? Why can't we just celebrate our differences?

Why do we have to feel afraid of being different, and if a woman is outspoken she automatically must be on her period or be called "nasty"?

And it's NOT normal to have temperatures in the high fifties in January in Central New York, followed by a snowstorm!

Why are we so divided? Where are we headed?

 

As Time Moves On

I just found this. Written at the start of September 2015. Never published.

It has been nearly a year since my last post. I think back on the year as though today is New Year's Eve. So much has happened, so much has changed in less than a year.

There were so many fine things this year and there will be new and better things on the horizon. However, I also think back with sadness and grief, for this is the year I lost two dogs; moved offices twice; and soon will be moving from my home on the river to a new home.

My children grew so right before my eyes. But I regret the inability to be with them more often to see the changes on a daily basis. Soon I hopefully will be able to adopt one of my babies, but the long, drawn-out process has taken its toll.

It is hard to always remember the good times because they have gone. I know full well that there will be more good things in the future, and perhaps even better than I can now imagine, but bad memories plague my thoughts.

As I sit at work, still at the job that only provides me with income and benefits and nothing else, I try to envision a future free of stress and worry. I know that is not realistic! I also know I've been quite lucky in many ways.

In January we had to give up Rosie, one of our Labradoodles, as crate training just was not working out. She was returned to the home of her momma. Trying to shake this winter cold, started using zinc.

In February, my family and I took a beautiful two and a half week trip to Florida, visiting the Keys and Disney. Jimmy, our Labradoodle (Rosie's dad), stayed behind with Tommy, our neighbor/dog sitter. We managed to avoid some of the season's worst snow storms. It seemed none of us wanted to return and secretly dreamed of living in Key Largo. Maggie had just had her second lumpectomy and seemingly was doing better and better, even barking at another dog on our trip (which surprised Reese, who had never witnessed that side of Maggie!)

Upon our return we spent many evenings at water aerobics at the Cato Rec Center; Rich playing pickle ball regularly there and around town, and continuing through summer with Logan tagging along.

Spring brought with it tons of rain, a new RV, one camping trip, and starting a summer-long hunt for a new home that began with discovering the sale of a nearby house. Even before that process started I had decided to do a lot of cleanup around our house and property: shed, garage, entryway, laundry room, hallway. I guess I was lucky to have been inspired to do all that cleanup! We had one major adoption court session in April.

Memorial Day weekend brought another camping trip, Taste of Syracuse twice, once with Dariel, Logan's friend, then summer. Two weeks later I discovered another lump on Maggie and she started breathing hard and hacking constantly. Another camping trip for Father's Day weekend. That was Maggie's last trip with us. We made the decision to let her go, June 30.

A wedding shower in June followed by a wedding in July.

Another camping trip, this time adding on two weekdays, in July. We managed to visit nearby Gilley Lake twice; Green Lakes once; and Sylvan Beach once. Logan's friends Ryan and Luke spent several weekends individually. Local restaurants. Checking out two car shows. And then there was a play and two movies, along with the Sterling Renaissance Festival. And, most of June and July, regular house cleanings, house showings, and house hunting. Started packing. And another court session.

Due to the high water level (still on the 4th of July) we did not get to swim in our river until July 18; but we did get in lots more swimming than the previous couple of years (about eight times thus far) since we were home this summer. Hopefully this week we can take some late summer dips as the weather is expected to be hot. The weather has not been as hot this summer as typically. And we also developed sinus colds as a result! Back to the zinc!

In August, we attended a breakfast barbeque, Logan's friend Luke's birthday party at a water park, visited a nearby farm where Logan and Reese rode ponies; and stayed overnight one Saturday at a hotel with an indoor water park, in Batavia. We had brunch in Cazenovia with Richie and Ploy and afterward took a dip in Cazenovia Lake. And last Saturday, stayed overnight at the Doubletree in Henrietta, enjoying the pool and Reese perfecting her jumps. We joined the new YMCA in Baldwinsville last weekend and visited that day and yesterday, loving the "lazy river". We can't wait to try the other offerings!

Earlier in the month I took two days off to hang out with Logan. He attempted to take me on a jet ski ride up the river to the playground, but that did not pan out as we planned. We made it as far as Cooper's Marina and the jet ski appeared to smoke and stall. The jet ski now is sold, along with our boats over the years, four wheelers, and motorcycles. For now we still have our kayaks; Logan and I took those out a couple of times. I see friends' social networking posts about their vacations and boat trips, and I watch boats go by outside, and I miss those days. I also recall how stressful those trips often were, however! And expensive! I do recall our great February Florida trip, though, when all these people were here freezing and plowing snow!

August also brought another wedding shower and upcoming rehearsal dinner and wedding. Some shopping. And part two of the adoption trial. It is a termination of parental rights trial but I prefer to call it by something positive!

I tell people I don't know where July and August went, but I have to give myself credit for having done so much. This probably is the first summer where we actually did enjoy "staycations". And next week, back to school for Logan. Thankfully Labor Day is later this year!

But as I mentioned in my book Vacation, it is funny that the past couple of years I really miss Summer as it departs and I sort of lament the arrival of Fall. I really think this started happening once I began to live on the river.

This week we will be moving to a new home, where I believe I will truly enjoy Fall. It is a "Fall" kind of home! The apple orchard we visit is just two miles away; the dog park only four miles away. There is a ravine, a creek and lots of woods surrounding the home, and the beautiful Seneca River, which brought me comfort through all the losses (my brother Fred; yellow Lab Gracie; father-in-law Dick; and Maggie), is still only a half-mile or mile, walking distance, away.

This week we also will hear the verdict on our foster baby, the culmination of the July-Aug. trial. Little Reese, as we call her, now is a pre-schooler and no longer a "worm" of a newborn or toddler.

The move and the adoption have been out of our control as far as reaching completion. We sit and wait.

I feel my busy summer work schedule, though at times stressful, was good for me, as it helped me occupy my mind.

Now, beginning with work, things seem to be winding down, with each leaf that turns and falls, and the evenings darker with each passing day. I look at our deck, which Rich and Logan updated just a year ago. I see the sunset, which occurs earlier and earlier each day. Soon I will not see this sunset from my home.

Tomorrow is September.

In another week new things will happen.

Stay tuned to see how I will feel!

October

As October, my favorite month, neared, I made myself a promise that I’d enjoy each day as though it would be my final. I knew from experience that the month would fly by, and thus, I wanted to create memories. I did not expect extraordinary events; I just wanted to remember the little things, as I felt the weather cool down and the leaves turn and fall.

I feel my plan worked. I jotted down my daily activities the first nine days of October, but then I just lost track. I have photos I can reference and recall the fun times. And I remember the more significant outings, and when they took place.

But the point is, and actually I have two: one, I had so much fun that I had no time to document things daily; two, I actually did not fear going into November, because I can continue this strategy!

What am I referring to? Why, just simple morning walks with my kids Logan and Angel, and dogs, Maggie, Jimmy and Rose, breathing in the fresh “fallen leaf” scent, enjoying a day off or leaving work early and…most importantly, catering more to my kids and myself than rushing to get to work on time.

Yes, I was late for work quite a bit in October, and I had to leave early sometimes due to family doctor appointments or illness, but even so, I did not go crazy trying to make up the time. I used to have a plaque that stated something like, “My house is a mess but I have more time for my kids.” That was me in October, and to this day.

So I’m out of personal time, but I am not upset; I feel complete, relieved, renewed. Yes, I do have to clean up and straighten my kitchen, and yes, I could have done more some of the days I took off or left work early recently. But the point is, I did what I could, and I did what mattered most and felt right. What mattered most was spending more quality time with my loved ones, mostly spontaneously. And those chores will get done! In retrospect, I do much better with housework than most of my younger peers considering!

I did not focus on rushing to different places with my loves, but rather, just sitting and enjoying them. I did not plan and stick rigidly to schedules; if Logan did not want to take a walk, I watched him play video games and asked him questions about them.

We went on a brief out-of-town excursion Columbus Day weekend, to Old Forge. We may make this a tradition, as we went to Old Forget last year the same weekend. We intended on staying in our camper at Singing Waters Campground but instead happened upon some cabins in White Lake. This was Angel’s first experience camping and/or staying anywhere away from home since she began to walk! We have not even stayed in a hotel since last January.

We ate dinner at Buffalo Head Restaurant in Forestport. Rich and Logan stopped into the Station Country Store that has lollipops with bugs in them. Two years ago they bought me one with a scorpion and this year I got a meal worm. Yum! We rode the Adirondack Train from Thendara the next day.

On Columbus Day, my October day off from work, I had plans to take Logan and Angel to the zoo and pumpkin picking. We only did the latter because somehow I knew my Angel needed her rest. Being in tune to her needs was more important than rushing to the zoo. And later in the day we took them and my young grandkids to the mall to ride the carousel and eat dinner, something we had not planned in advance.

My free-form style, new to me, actually worked when it came to enjoying my children. Did I still want to go to the zoo? Yes, and we went when I had off for Veteran’s Day! And luckily we caught another beautiful weather day.

I’m amazed how this all worked out. Simple strategy, but sometimes complex to stick to.

And in keeping with my typical style, yes, I will outline the highlights of the month of October.

Goodbye old friend October, and I’ll see you again in roughly 10 months!

 

The first day of October I found myself accompanying Rich, my husband, to his knee surgery appointment. We’d planned on this and took the day off. Everything went off without a hitch, and I later made a trip to purchase some bandages and such. I also walked my dog Jimmy. I find that even if the reason for taking a day off is less than pleasant, that it beats the alternative.

Yes, I find my job boring. I make no bones about it, sorry for the pun!

The second day of October I brought Angel to her biological parents’ visit, but beforehand I brought her for a walk. She in her stroller, I in my running outfit, we viewed the geese flying south, or flying wherever they believe they should be going. Angel is fascinated by geese!

The next day I decided to go home and baby Rich. Not that he really needed me to dote on him, but the weather had been really nice. I love Indian summer and of course autumn, and I’d made myself a promise that I would try to enjoy as much of the weather as I could. And I can’t enjoy it sitting in a cramped room full of people. You see, we are in a temporary office location at work currently, and it’s less than ideal. So catering to a post-surgical person was better than, again, the alternative! Plus I got to take a walk. Logan’s friend Ryan stayed over that evening.

The following day, Saturday, we attended an annual event in Tully, hosted by a fellow band member of my son-in-law, Shaggy. It is a family event, replete with games, food, and music. No Excuse, Shaggy’s acapella group, performed. It was a rainy and nippy day but we had fun regardless. We’d attended this event two years ago, and, like then, we invited Logan’s friend Dariel as well.

We visited my mother-in-law Erna the following day, and then back home for a scheduled dinner with friends Carol and Raelynn, her granddaughter whom we’ve known from birth. Logan was very shy around her, but by evening, they were playing video games and chit-chatting like old friends that they actually are. On Halloween, the two of them flirted endlessly!

The next day we had my oldest stepdaughter Candace and son Cameron, partner Jennifer, and her parents Jack and Pat over for dinner. Somehow I thought we’d get to kayak, as the weather continued to be nice. But, alas, we did not. We dined al fresco, showing off our newly redone deck.

As I got dinner ready I noticed a huge lump the size of a tennis ball on Maggie’s right side. I remembered she’d fallen off the bed earlier and hoped it was a bruise, since it developed so very quickly.

The next morning the bump was smaller, and it continued getting smaller as time went on. This certainly was a relief; this girl has been through so much in her 15 years on this planet!

The following morning after Candace and company came for dinner I enjoyed a great jog. I’ve been walking and/or jogging daily with few skips, since July 23. And I’m seeing and feeling the benefits! I’m so proud! And I’m trying to eat better, too. I have more energy and I don’t feel like napping after picking up and carrying Angel!

The next morning I walked with Jimmy around the corner from my house, back in the woods. Well, while I attempted a selfie, he inadvertently tripped me and I fell on my ankle. I was fine but later walked over a twig wearing heels. Ironically, that did hurt! But I was fine.

As I took my morning walk October 9 I took in the beauty that is my property and neighborhood. I pondered the question, “Who needs to go away when one lives in a place like this?” Truly magnificent! As I said earlier, the weather was on our side, unless you prefer the cold and snow. My favorite temperatures are 50-70 degrees, and that’s what we had this autumn. We even had temperatures in the 80s a couple of days; that’s too much for me!

Angel wore her animal print dress; I accompanied Logan, equipped with scooter, to his bus stop. The mornings were still dark, as we awaited daylight savings time to end. This year, it was not until the first Sunday in November.  But now, the afternoons are darker and it is not so pleasant leaving work. Rich brought Angel to her parental visit and learned her baby brother was born the first week in October.

Speaking of trying to notice things, what's up with this huge pup? Rose, Jimmy's daughter, is growing so fast. She is more than half the size of her dad but was just born July 19. She also is difficult to photograph as she's so dark. She has absolutely no fur markings either.

Columbus Day this year fell a little later, October 13. Rich worked in the morning so I hung out with the kids. Originally we’d discussed going to the zoo. When Rich returned home for a brief stop, we went pumpkin picking across the river and later, for an unplanned fun trip, to the mall to let Logan and Angel and our grandkids Zari and Xav ride the carousel and eat at Pizzeria Uno.

Thursday, October 16, Rich and I attended a parent-teacher conference with Logan’s team of teachers. They said he has some difficulties focusing, which is no surprise; but I’m happy that like most of his past teachers, they apparently have recognized his fantastic abilities and intellect.

We convinced Logan, per invitation by his school, to join Junior Café Scientifique through The Technology Alliance of Central New York, and we attended our first event Saturday morning, the 18^th. A scientist demonstrated “spooky” science, such as fog making, and other eerie scientific experiments. We all attended and brought Angel, who was very bored and just wanted to cruise as all relatively new walkers do. It was a nice event, replete with Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and bagels. On the way home Rich and I got our impromptu flu shots at Walgreens. Logan, Angel and I attended the November event on Dinosaurs; Rich was working. Logan thought the lecture was over his head, and from what I could hear I agree. But Angel enjoyed checking out the museum exhibits and dinosaur room. She was totally unafraid of the sights and sounds!

The following Monday, the 20^th, my dear late brother Fred would have been 64. It also marked 10 years since Logan came to our household! We’d planned to take him out to a surprise dinner. I, too, received a surprise that morning. I found Angel would need a new daycare as Marlene was losing a staff person. We took Logan to Bville Diner and ironically saw one of the staff members of Angel’s former care provider!

I had planned on taking Friday the 24^th off to ready for our annual Halloween bash. Instead, I had to take off Wednesday the 22^nd, off due to Angel being sick with a cough and low-grade fever. Rich was working for part of the day. Once he and Logan arrived home, we all went to Enhance for Angel’s previously scheduled well visit. There, she attempted to follow strangers out the door! The doctor said she was just fighting a cold, and she was still able to receive her shots.

I left work early on Friday the 24^th, so Logan and I could shop for Halloween. Later we picked up the baby, went to Whiskey Hollow to fill up some gallons of spring water, and then picked up Rich and went to Child Time, her new daycare, to check it out.

The following day was our annual Halloween party. This year I did not invite too many people. And as a result, we had a slim turnout. Most of Logan’s friends had other plans but Luke was able to come. I did not invite work friends because I got the impression that last year some people felt left out. So much for trying to introduce my work friends’ kids to my son! So I did not want to put them through this anguish this year.

Yes, it was sad, and it at times also was overwhelming, as  we discussed how or if to do apple bobbing; some of the kids got loud; one guest came late; some family could not come due to being ill. Rich said we probably should stop hosting. I’m on the fence. I really enjoy Halloween, my favorite holiday, and we can make it work. But we will have to strategize the varying age groups and somehow accommodate, nay, force, more parents who simply drop off their kids and go, to stay. I think many of them would rather have alone time or drink.

Considering the cessation of our Halloween tradition also reminds me that Logan is growing up; he seemed much less interested. Part of that is that he can see his friends any time. In fact, Ryan came to stay over that evening when he arrived back home from his Boy Scout trip. Luke had planned on staying over aw ell. Maybe we can change the party format somehow.

October 31, Halloween. Angel’s final day at Marlene’s daycare.

Another very much cherished tradition, bringing the kids to the Village of Liverpool to trick-or-treat. Logan does not care about the candy, but this year he seemed to care more about Raelynn!

As I said, he’s growing up. He is changing, just as the seasons and weather change. We had lots of snow recently, and today, November 24th, it is beautiful and 62 degrees.

But tomorrow it will be cold and snowy again.

Hello, November. I plan on making each day count during this month, too. Fifteen degrees, snow and all.

Please Tell Me Crayons Are On This List

"Please don't forget your lunchbox," I reminded him. And his father noted that he now will have a locker. I'm not really worried about him remembering the combination or finding the lockers; I'm worried about him remembering to USE the locker.

I remember going to Logan's new school orientation last spring. He is at Ray Middle School now, as a sixth grader. I did not stop to think about the small changes that would upset him, uh, I mean, me. New location, new teachers, new principal, oh, and yes, new supplies and things like lockers.

Lockers. Aren't they for gyms...and high schoolers?

My mind flashes back to the Kindergarten orientation at Nate Perry in the spring of 2008. He was littler, his voice softer, and he was cuter (he's now "handsome"). And he still thought Dad and I were gods.

Today is his first day at Ray Middle School. Though it is hard for me to tell if he is nervous, as he doesn't show it (just like his mom), I wondered if it bugged him even just a little, to be in a new environment. He did complain about returning to school; this is nothing new. Was he hiding the fact that he was anxious about a new school? Memories of our January 2010 (mid-first grade) move flooded me.

"Don't worry; it'll be fun," I said last night as I frantically packed a lunch and helped him sort his multitude of supplies that we had only just purchased the day prior (Labor Day), as I had not time to do it sooner this year. "You'll see, once you get there and see your friends, you'll forget you were even concerned."

"I can take my iPad as long as it is kept locked," he said this morning.
"When did you find out?" I asked.
"At the orientation."
"They said nothing about that."
"No, at the one we attended with the school."

I'd forgotten that though he came with us to the parent orientation at Ray Middle last spring, that he was not invited. The school did a separate orientation for the students. "Oh. Well let's get dressed and eat," I said.

I literally wandered the first few rows at Wal-Mart Monday looking like a deer in headlights. "What the heck are folders with clasps?" Logan wondered. As a writer, I at least know this. But I could not find the rulers. Of course, I always avoided math. "Don't we have rulers?" my husband asked. "Yes." I said. That's it, yes. We have them. I don't know where they are, but we have them. Luckily they are cheap, and though I don't like Wal-Mart's employment policies they are cheap and did manage to have all the back-to-school stuff up front in one neat section, including fruit chews, and they did not have Halloween stuff out already. Well, yes, one costume. At least I think it was a costume. Maybe it was a goth back-to-school outfit. (They were starting to put out Halloween stuff when we got there late Monday afternoon.) Remind me to hug the social studies teacher for only requiring one item. People, this is supposed to be a paperless society!

It is easier to focus on iPads and stressing on supplies you can't find (I had other parents in the store pointing me in the direction of rulers and binders and I still forgot one binder) than to worry about the true things: My son is getting older, and he's almost a teen. He has muscles and his legs are longer than mine, though they probably were when he was six (I have stubby legs). He is exhibiting an attitude with sentences that always begin with a huff, sigh, and "Fine!" He is considered a tween and he now takes the earlier bus and will be in school with teens...yes...some of the 7th graders will be or are 13.

New bus and new driver. Will he drive safely? Will Logan be bored? He was wondering if he'd see any friends on the bus; I was wondering if I'd cry when the bus took off. Yes. Guess which question that answers?

"You're starting out earlier in the day, but you'll be home sooner!" I said, grasping at straws and knowing full well he'd fill that extra hour with additional homework. Shhhh.

Try to look alive, kids, not like prisoners on their way from the justice center.

As I saw him off, taking pictures of course and being annoying as I always am, I resigned myself to the fact that the summer season is done for 2014, though I will miss it. Memories of everything we did this summer flashed before my eyes like a TV sitcom flashback. The Pride and Scottish Festivals; vacationing near Atlantic City and at Wellesley Island; working on our deck "expansion"; Logan tarring the roof and tarring his body; swimming in our river; walking the neighborhood; barbecues; boating; kayaking; camping. Did we do enough? Did we do those things we did enough times? Why is it over already?

I love and always welcome Fall, but this year, somehow, I really did not want him to get on that bus. Maybe if he didn't board the bus, he would not grow up. There I go again.

I knew he'd be fine once he sat on Keith's bus, Route 35-1 in and 35-2 back home.

Would I be okay?

I ran back to my coffee mug that I'd left at the neighbor's so I could jog.

Why aren't crayons on his school shopping list anymore?

And someone please tell me what the heck a book sock is?

Happy new school year, parents. (I know the kids will be fine.)