It's a beautiful fall-ish day here, sunny and just cool and breezy enough to be autumnal. A friend gave me a fresh apple today. Our yard is full of the smell of fermenting grapes. (Sure, Cook made some juice, but there are still a LOT on the vines.) The girls have a month of school behind them and are settling in. 

We haven't yet figured out where all our stuff goes now in the new house configuration, so things still feel a bit unsettled here. We're also still getting used to having Duchess gone. We're glad she's out there in the world, as she should be, and she seems to be thriving (if grumpy about Midwestern humidity), but we also haven't quite shaken out into the new triangular normal. 

I've also apparently entered a stage of life where I keep being surprised by how much time has passed. Cook and I have now been married for 22 years, which means that our marriage is probably graduating from college and getting a job. We've lived in our house for 12 years. Somebody at work recently referred to a mild local political kerfuffle that happened a decade ago, and I realized that while I will never be a full-fledged Portlander,* I've logged nearly 17 years of my adulthood here. Somehow. And somehow I have friends here whom I've known for a decade or more. I recognize that this is how time actually works, but it still boggles my mind.

* This requires at least being born here yourself, and ideally having at least one parent born here as well. 

Winding down the school year

 Time has passed! It was relentlessly cold and rainy here for a long time, and then very terribly hot for a week, and now we're back to a normal late spring, and everything is so green and flowering and lovely. A lot of things have happened. 

Duchess is wallowing in intense sentiment as she wraps up her high school experience. She chose a college, had a great time at prom, finished up debate season, ran at a fancy track meet in the fancy Eugene stadium that apparently runners care a lot about, walked the Wildwood Trail in a day, published her last edition of the school newspaper, picked up her graduation gown... all the things. 

Meanwhile, Skipper was busy hating track, playing ultimate frisbee, turning 14, and going on a long-awaited 2-week school trip to Osaka (where she loved the orderliness, the built environment, the rice for breakfast, and the vending machines, and disliked the lack of fresh green produce). True to form, she returned from Japan with piles of candy to share with us, but no photos of herself, so you'll have to settle for a photo that she took in Japan.

Here are miscellaneous photos of my smirky girls.

 

Stockholm

I went to Sweden! I had to pick up Skipper from camp, and I did some touristing on my own in Stockholm and also got to visit some family and friends as a wonderful bonus. 

I really enjoyed poking around Stockholm on my own and with Skipper. The transit (including ferries!) is fantastic, the public spaces are abundant and delightful (if short on public bathrooms), the bike and pedestrian infrastructure is good, and the cardamom buns are delicious. Skipper declared that Stockholm has "cool old stuff and nice new stuff" and she's not wrong.

I stayed part of the time in a hostel in a former prison in Södermalm. 

Katarina kyrka

City Hall

Bonkers statue of St George and the dragon in Storkyrka. I loved this dragon, which was carved in the 15th century and has spikes made of antlers and generally is extremely cool.

Gamla Stan

The rest of Stockholm.

I got to visit museums, wander around on my own, eat a million cardamom buns, and spend time with family and friends I haven't seen in over twenty years, and that was all wonderful. 

The days are not long enough...

So we had a wonderful trip - four days in Iceland, three days in London, and eight days in Scotland. Nothing terrible happened (in spite of my fears, some of which were very lurid - I am very good at fears), and everything went very smoothly. We saw SO MANY beautiful places and things; I felt like the vision part of my brain started exploding when we got off the plane in Iceland and never really stopped lighting up with fireworks at any point.  We ate new things, learned new words, and learned a bunch of history. The two things I ended up really taking away from it, though, were surprising to me.

First, I enjoyed spending time with my family. We were pretty much together continually for the whole trip, which is not a normal situation for us, but it worked. The kids are old enough to carry a lot of their own logistical and emotional weight, and even though they whined a lot and were super-annoying a lot, they were also good travel companions. They were curious and excited and had things to say, and when we had to slog, they slogged. We all mostly enjoyed each other's company. (Duchess said "Mom, I forgot that you and Daddy can be fun!" which was broadly insulting but I took it as a compliment. Duchess also, much to our amusement, wrote about London in a postcard to a friend: "I have to sleep on a pull-out couch, and there's no wi-fi, but it's worth it.") I was afraid that we'd come home utterly sick of each other, but we didn't. Well, at least I didn't. I feel grateful for all three of them.

Second, I thought a LOT on this trip about mortality. Apparently, the combination of spectacular grand-scale scenery, visits to historical sites focused on the lives of people who lived their little lives hundreds or thousands of years ago, and doing things that I'm sure in the moment will kill me (like flying on a plane, or driving in rural Scotland) makes me think about death. Not sad thoughts, mostly, but I just ended up thinking a lot about how brief life is, and how our lives are both really poignant and totally meaningless. I felt very small. I also wanted to hold onto EVERY SECOND.

This ad was shown at my staff meeting this morning (because it's women's history month!) and it made me cry.

It's an indicator of my mental state...

... that I just sat alone, weeping, in a darkened room, for 38 minutes, watching Barack Obama presenting the Presidential Medal of Freedom to Joe Biden. Wait till you get to the bit where Biden says he has never doubted Obama's judgement in even the most difficult decisions.

Dental sentiment

You guys, Duchess only has six baby teeth left, crowded in among the new, comically giant choppers. The orthodontist thinks they'll be gone within nine months.* I felt unexpectedly stricken by this news. In some deep part of my brain, I feel that when she loses that last bony vestige of babyhood, she will officially Not Be My Baby Any More. This is a ridiculous notion, and I really can't even pretend that I'm enthusiastic about infancy in general,* so it's silly that I'm pining for it in any way. It's surely more complicated than that - grief for my own looming death, probably, plus my anxiety about my girls growing up in the world. She's got a big adult life ahead of her, and those old tiny teeth were obviously not up to the job.

* Skipper has always been dentally precocious, losing her first tooth (the natural way, I mean - she knocked one out at age two) at age four. She is still in the normal range, though. And, as you may recall, that's pretty much my parenting goal - keep things within the normal range.
**It's not that I dislike babies. It's just not my favorite part of people's lives. 

Went on Vacation

When I was a kid, my family used to sail out to Catalina Island pretty regularly, on an ancient wooden boat that has (now) been in my family for a hundred years. At the time, I had no idea how lucky I was. Last week, Cook, Skipper, Duchess, and I went to California and went out to Catalina. It was a great trip, entailing sailing a large boat, swimming, rowing, sailing a small boat, napping, participating in a piratical scavenger hunt, catching hermit crabs, snorkeling, playing cards, and more. We are very lucky.

Nest-Leaving, Part One

We took Duchess to the drop-off site for her camp today. (We insisted she shower before she leave, which is why she looks so damp in these photos.) She had everything on the camp packing list jammed into one bag, which we hope somebody else will carry for her. We checked her in and stood around with her for a while until all the kids piled onto a couple of buses. Duchess met one of her cabin-mates while we were waiting, and on the bus she sat next to her new acquaintance; we could see them chatting in their seat while the other kids got on. Duchess smiled and waved and made silly faces at us, and then the bus drove away. Skipper started wailing. 

When I do my subconscious child inventory (all parents do this, I believe, though I suspect when you have more than four or five kids you might just give up), I keep jolting with mild alarm when my brain can't immediately identify where Duchess is. And I won't hear anything from her until next Saturday, when we retrieve her. That's kind of awesome, and kind of tough on my poor subconscious. Cook and I are both enjoying having only one kid to tend to, and the absence of territorial battles. Skipper, once she recuperated from the initial shock of her sister's departure, quickly got used to being an only child. Tonight, after playing by herself for a while, she said gleefully "I want Duchess to stay away!"

But we really don't.

Happy

Dutch is happy. Both Cook and I have remarked on it lately. She throws many tantrums and sulks, and she's got plenty of mean in her, but she also has this surprisingly cheerful and open approach to her life that's delightful to see. She dives into her academic and social activities with tremendous gusto and pleasure. Things have gone smoothly for her this year, for the most part, so she's building confidence in her own competence, and she's excited about every new challenge. Also, she's loud. Really, really loud. She's developed this loud, ridiculously over the top laugh - "HAr HAr HAr!" and everything she says is at top volume. This is consistent with the sheer enormity of everything about the kid, from her tangled mass of hair down to her tremendous feet. There's just a lot of Dutch, and it's right THERE, in your face, talking really loudly, asking you questions, listening  to every single thing you say except if it means her having to do anything, telling you terrible jokes, repeating the terrible jokes, singing, LAUGHING REALLY LOUDLY, shrieking with exaggerated delight or dismay, wailing in despair, galumphing around like a baby elephant or possibly a wolfhound, etc.

I find it all a little overwhelming and of course it frequently drives me crazy. But I am also so happy to see her so happy. I hope that she holds on to this at least a little bit for all her life, her goofy, galumphing, haw-hawing spirit.*

*I used to worry that Dutch would be a popular girl, and mean to other kids, in her middle school years. Now I feel some comfort in the thought that she increasingly looks likely to be a band dork, or something else along those lines. She has recently rededicated her future career plans to acting, so maybe a theater dork. 

Seven!

So, Dutch. My girl. Dutch is a lot of things, and when I start listing adjectives to describe her, the list gets long and very contradictory. Today I went to her parent-teacher conference. Her teacher has nothing but good things to say about her - she's on track to exceed benchmarks in reading and writing, and meet them in math. She's nice to her classmates and doesn't brag. She comes to class ready to learn every day.

Dutch is interested in everything, but only shallowly. She often picks up books, declares she loves them. reads 100 pages, and ditches them.* She's interested in things that are Important - today Cook came home to find her and the babysitter setting up a "church" in the living room, and she asked him to be the priest. She loves knowing stuff, and condescending to people who she believes are less knowledgeable.

Dutch hates being wrong, and making mistakes. She's been brainwashed a little that Practice Makes Improvement (all the teachers I've met at her school are totally on board with the praising-of-effort-rather-than-achievement, which is excellent), and Everybody Makes Mistakes, and Mistakes Help You Learn What You Need To Work On, etc., and that helps, but she still hates it.

Dutch's social life is deeply important to her, in a way that is unfamiliar to me and to Cook. She has no best friend, and she plays with a lot of different kids. She is admirably open to playing with every single kid in her school and seems to see everybody as a potential playmate; she never dismisses anybody based on their appearance, past behavior, or reputation. This can be bad, as she seems to continue playing with kids who have treated her badly in the past, but we're not really sure what the real story is on those episodes anyway. But I think it's probably overall a good thing. The other kids seem to like her, because she likes them, and she's up for anything (again, possibly a bad thing in some ways), and enthusiastic about lots of different activities.**

But what I really wanted to say is that Dutch is really different than I thought she was. Some of you gave me flak about my conviction that she was introverted way back when she was two, and you were right.  Maybe she was, but she sure as hell isn't now - she's a classic extravert. She needs down time, like most anybody, and she's not super-high energy, but she is definitely energized by social interactions, and thrives on new experiences and situations that require quick responses. (Skipper shows a lot more signs of introversion, but I've learned my lesson, and I'm not going to categorize her any time soon.)

So, Dutch. I love that kid.


*"Pride and Prejudice is a dumb book," she announced the other day. "So this guy needs to get married?"


**I have some fear about what adolescence holds for a kid who cares deeply about social cues and likes trying new things. Hopefully the desire to please authority and not to make mistakes will mitigate any potentially dangerous impulses...

Two things you need to know about me.

1) I really, really want to watch the Footloose remake.
2) I really, really love the original Footloose.

Exactly as it should be

I am now 35 years old.* This is the age I have always felt myself to be, and now I am at exactly the right age. This is it! This is my year. I think I'm just going to stay 35 forever.

Last night, I sat in the dining room in the dark while Cook and Skipper and Dutch lit the candles on my cake. Cook said "Skipper, don't blow the candle out," and then he lit a candle and she immediately blew it out. They finally got the candles lit, and they came out singing. Dutch may be totally tone deaf, and Skipper doesn't actually know how to sing  the Happy Birthday song, so it was a little hard to tell what they were singing, but it was beautiful. My family, in the dark, with candles, singing.** I got a little weepy.

Which is not to say that the whining and tantrums are in any way diminished, but they feel okay today. Tomorrow... we'll see.


* I thought twice about writing this, in case you suddenly feel that you need to send me presents or apologies for forgetting my birthday. If you're feeling that way, you should stop, because I neither need presents nor ever remember other people's birthdays. I'm sure I'll forget yours, and have forgotten it repeatedly in the past. So do NOT feel guilty, because then I'll have to feel guilty, and that's a terrible thing to do to somebody on their birthday.


** "Singing"

It's Friday NIGHT!

Here's what I've been doing lately, not necessarily in this order:

1) Listening to this song (but not watching the video). What, you don't like the song? You find the subject matter creepy? I don't care.
2) Wishing that our summer weather had happened IN THE SUMMER, instead of waiting until September to do its thing.
3) Having more bike conversion experiences. Today, you guys, I biked ALL THE WAY DOWNTOWN!! I biked across the goddamn bridge. I am SO BRAVE! I actually chanted inspirational things to myself for the last half of the trip - "Look at you! You're crossing the bridge! You're biking DOWNTOWN! You're crossing the bridge!" - while dozens of other bicyclists and joggers (!) whizzed past me.
4) Doing laundry. Bike conversion experiences involve a lot of sweating.
5) Deciding that if traffic speed was cut down to a 20 mph maximum everywhere except for limited-access highways, basically everything would be better. Seriously, everything.
6) Wondering how to make Dutch happier, or nicer, or something. I think she's pretty fried from the effort of going to school, which doesn't help, but in general right now, she's just awful. The other night she freaked out at dinner, and stomped out the front door. Skipper immediately started howling, and shrieked "No, Dutch, don't run away!" but Cook and I looked at each other a little dreamily. Then she came back in and was incredibly nice and helpful and cheerful the rest of the evening. We thought maybe she'd been body-snatched, but she went back to being kind of an asshole the next day, so that theory was busted.
7) Watching TV while washing dishes.
8) Obsessively combing Ebay in search of more shoes with lemurs on them.
9) Trying to teach Skipper that it's GOOD to wash your body occasionally.
10) Working.
11) Thinking of ways to prepare and eat tomatoes.
12) Trying to avoid having to explain September 11th to Dutch.

Today a random guy with lots of missing teeth and a strong odor of alcohol helped me fix my bike on my way home from work. (And he really helped me - I would have taken much, much longer to solve the problem he diagnosed and fixed in about 12 seconds, and he was super-nice about my complete mechanical idiocy.) That was a lovely thing.

Tin, aluminum, and diamonds

Cook and I are approaching our tenth anniversary. Last night, while Cook was trying to fall asleep, I recounted half an episode of the Daily Show (an OLD episode) while wearing my nightguard. "And den he was prutehding to be Johje Boosh and he was like 'heh heh heh deh room has to smell like ciddamon!'"And Cook, good person that he is,* said nothing until I finally noticed that I was being insane, and then he gently confirmed that yes, I was.

Cook and I are very different, and he is a very private person,** so all I'm going to say about this whole married-for-a-decade thing is that it's been good, and it's been bad, and here we are!

*Also being mostly asleep.

** You can imagine how he feels about having stories about him posted on the internet. He's pretty gracious about that, too.

Sentimental Interlude

My friend is getting married this weekend. We won't be there when she gets married, so I'm not going to be able to stand up and give a toast, but I wish I was (though it's a barbecue-and-hammocks kind of wedding, so I'm not sure toasts are even an option). This friend was my first real friend, the first friend I chose, the first friend of my heart. I had friends before that (though not very many, as I have been socially awkward since my first breath), but they were mostly proximity-based - neighbors and family friends - or the sort of person who is kind to a socially-awkward classmate not so much because of any particular chemistry as because they are just kind people.*

This friend arrived in my life when I was miserable and mean and sad. She was smart and funny and weird and warm-hearted. She was generous and expressive and loving in a way that I was afraid to be myself, and she showed me that being open to happiness often requires making yourself vulnerable. She taught me that it was fine to be both cynical AND sentimental. She introduced me to the joys of crossword puzzles and trashy books. I think it's not too dramatic to say that her friendship changed me, and only for the better.

I wish for my daughters that they find friends like this, who open their hearts to joy. And for my friend, I wish joy.** And trashy books, and crosswords, and everything else that is good.

*And may I say how grateful I am to those people? Deanna whatever-your-name-was in fifth grade, I'm talking to you. Thank you.

**But this does not affect my opinion that Beaches is a terrible, terrible movie.

A conversation with Skipper

With great power...

Today Dutch and I biked to her soccer practice. It took forever, and I found it exhausting (I find many things exhausting, but it turns out that watching my child's vulnerable little body wobbling on her bike as a car passes her is particularly exhausting for me), but she was exhilarated and tremendously proud of herself.

For Dutch, riding her bike on the street is like getting a driver's license as a teenager. It represents both freedom and a step toward adulthood. For most Americans, riding a bike is a Kid Thing - you do it until you can drive, and it's not cool or useful. For Dutch, and many other kids growing up in inner Portland neighborhoods, riding a bike is an Adult Thing - you do it to get to grown-up places like work, and the grocery store. Many of the households she knows the best use bikes for much of their utilitarian travel, and she sees many more grownups on bikes than kids on bikes in the course of her day. (She is, of course, most impressed by the pretty grownups on pretty bikes, of which we have a steady supply in our neighborhood due to the Extremely Hip Coffee Shop around the corner.)

Anyway, I think that's pretty neat. I'm proud and delighted to be raising a kid for whom biking represents freedom, responsibility, and power. Even if she leaves the bike behind the moment she leaves home and buys an enormous SUV with 18 cup-holders, she'll have learned (at the very least) how to be a better car driver around bikes.

Also, she's just awesome. You should see her bopping along on her sparkly pink bike, her bony knees still flopping slightly out as she pedals, earnestly scanning her surroundings for delightful sightings (rainbows, tree houses, classmates) and possible dangers (cars, gravel, dogs, glass, CARS!). It'll make you laugh, and cringe, and go "awww!" and then be slightly impressed. (Or maybe that's just me.)

Come and visit! We can go for a ride!

Happy Mothers' Day! (Mother's Day?)

Dutch cleaned her room, made me popovers, picked flowers from the garden, gave me several gifts she had made at school, and we had a nice teatime together (while Skipper napped and Cook played frisbee). Now the girls are playing together, and I'm going to go plant some chard, quickly, before the rain starts again.

Happy day of mothers!

Two

Two years ago today!

Today. This is Skipper preparing to be sung to in the morning.

This is Skipper opening her cards and presents. She was perplexed; she kept saying suspiciously "Dis mine? Dis MY present?" I suspect that because she is a same-gender second kid, she doesn't really believe that anything is hers alone, because almost nothing is.

The sun was out much of the day - Dutch and Skipper had a picnic snack in the yard after school. Please note the variety of colors and patterns they managed to cram together in one photo.

Skipper got carrot cake with creamcheese frosting (no nuts, at her request) after dinner. She wolfed it down with impressive speed.

This is Dutch between bouts of sulking about the unfairness of Skipper getting presents and cake.