Another week closer to summer . . .

Another week and another weekend have come and gone. How do they pass so quickly?? This week found us enjoying beautiful spring weather in the backyard. It is amazing what a difference the sod has made! Not only is it significantly prettier out back now that we have grass instead of dirt, but we find ourselves spending a lot more time out there. This weekend Lola planted her very own little garden full of basil (for pesto!) and flowers. We played with friends, ran screaming after the ice cream truck and ate ice cream before dinner, attended our first Sand Gnats game of the season, and helped set a world record for the most simultaneous hopscotch games! Not a bad weekend, I’d say.

 

I know what six looks like

Last Friday morning I almost didn’t kiss Fletcher goodbye. I was sitting in the kitchen with my coffee and a headache, and he ran happily out the door. I almost didn’t get up and go after him.

And then Friday happened. And as I sat glued to the tv in horror, I kept replaying that moment over and over in my head. What if I hadn’t gone after him for that kiss? What if this had happened at our school?

I met the kids at school that day instead of letting them walk home on their own. I just couldn’t get my arms around them fast enough. And in the days since, that hasn’t changed. I physically ache for them when they aren’t with me. It’s crazy. I know it is crazy. And yet I can’t let go of the thought that those children who didn’t come home Friday, they were my kids. They were just like my kids. And it is simply too much to bear.

It has been a week now, but these overwhelming feelings of grief have not subsided. I’m feeling particularly protective of my sweet first grader, Lola. Silly little things bring me to tears . . .  watching her dance in the Nutcracker Saturday night, the gifts made of paper and tape and sea shells she carefully places under our Christmas tree, the love note she brought home from a sweet boy in her class, the curve of her cheek still holding onto it’s baby fat, the way she sucks her thumb in her sleep . . . I can not imagine my world without her. I can not comprehend the kind of evil that would direct itself  towards a class full of sweet children just like her.

Every morning when they climb into bed with me, I am so, incredibly grateful for another day with my babies. And so painfully heartbroken for the family who will never again have the chance for sleepy morning snuggles. I think about those families all the time.

Earlier in the week I saw a blog post entitled “I Know What Six Looks Like” and it summed these feelings up perfectly. Beautifully.  You can find the original post, written by Jennifer Walters, on her blog here or reposted on the Huffington Post. Please read it. Please remember it. Something has got to change. Because six really is the whole world.

 . . . since I first started to understand the magnitude of what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School on Friday morning, I have cried a lot. I cried when I heard the terrible news. I cried when I went to pick my son up early from school. I cried when I told my husband what had happened. I cried when I talked to my girlfriends about it. I cried at church when we prayed for each victim by name. Off and on for going on three days now, I have cried. And this is despite going out of my way to not watch anything about it on TV or read too much about it online. I’m actively trying to avoid it, but I still find myself crying more than usual.

I mentioned this to a friend last night and she said that she couldn’t seem to stop crying either. When I asked her why she thought that was, her answer was, for me, a revelation. She said, “I think it’s because we know what six looks like. We see it every day . . . in all its glory.” And she was right. Because, you see, this friend and I both have a six year old child. I, a six year old son. She, a six year old daughter. Both are in first grade. Both, I imagine, so heart-breakingly similar to those twenty kids who were so brutally and senselessly killed on Friday morning. And we do, indeed, know what six looks like. We do see it every day. In all its glory. We see the good, the bad, and the ugly. The beautiful and the infuriating. It’s in our face. We live it and breathe it.

We know what six looks like. We know what it smells like. How it can go from the fresh scent of shampoo and soap to the musky aroma of “dirty child” in what seems like minutes. How it resists getting in the bathtub . . . and then resists getting out half an hour later. How sweet its hair and skin and clean jammies smell when it sits on your lap and asks you to read it a bedtime story. We know the unmistakeable fragrance of the occasional accident in the middle of the night caused by too much milk and no last-thing-before-bed visit to the toilet.

We know what six looks like. We know what it sounds like. How it cries and whines. How it sings and laughs. How clever it is and how much more clever it grows every day. How it sounds out words on signs as we drive past in the car and how happy it is when it gets them right. How annoying it sounds when it teases its little sister and how kind it sounds when it soothes her when she falls down and hurts herself. We know how lovely the words “Mommy” and “Daddy” and “I Love You” sound in its six-year-old voice.

We know what six looks like. We know how it feels. How big it’s getting. How fast it outgrows its clothes and how it’s no longer a baby, but not quite yet a big kid. We know the weight of six in our arms. How we can barely carry it anymore, but try anyway because we can’t quite bring ourselves to accept the truth. We know how easily six gets its feelings hurt if someone says just the wrong thing or if this friend or that one doesn’t want to play with it or it gets in trouble at school. We know the velvety softness of six’s skin. We know the still-silkiness of its hair.

Yes, we know what six looks like. We know six’s gap-toothed smile and its gangly arms and legs. We see how it jumps and dances. How it twirls and runs. We know how funny six is. How absolutely charming it can be. We know six’s terrible jokes. We know how obsessed it is with “Minecraft.” We know its crooked “S” and its backwards “3.” We see how it teeters on the cusp of the world of books and all the joys of reading, but how it’s not quite ready to fall in yet. We see how six can’t decide if it wants us to stand beside it or not. We watch it take two steps towards independence and one step back towards us every day. We know how sturdy and strong six is . . . and yet how frail and fragile.

We know what six looks like. How beautiful it is. How precious. How brightly it shines with promise. How much it looks towards the future . . . toward seven, eight, nine, . . . How much it looks like forever.

We know what six looks like and can only in our worst nightmares imagine how devastating its loss in this senseless and evil way would be.  We can only barely imagine the wreckage and the despair and the utter hopelessness that would be left if six were brutally and suddenly taken from us. We know we couldn’t bear life without it.

Yes, we know what six looks like. And we know that, to us–like it must be for those other mothers and fathers in Connecticut–six is the whole world.

My little Polichinelle

Holiday concert

The kids had their winter concert at this week’s PTA meeting, and for the first time both Fletcher and Lola Gray played violin. The whole thing was a disorganized mess, as usual, but the kids sounded great. I was particularly proud of Lo, who performed with the 2nd and 3rd graders, while Fletcher played with the 4th and 5th graders.

A Week of Halloween!

The Halloween fun, which began with our Cub Scout trip to Poppell Farms,  continued full force through the end of October. The school PAWrade and carnival, which I organized for PTA, was Saturday and was a very full day of fun and games and cute pets in costumes. Since Raymond and I were both working the event, poor Pepper did not get to attend this year, but I think it is time to pass the carnival torch, so hopefully we will get to bring him next year.

A new addition to this year’s carnival was a pumpkin decorating contest! Lola made an adorable Medusa pumpkin and won 3rd place in the “Scariest” category. Fletcher made a Pokeball with a tiny pseudo-Pokemon (which I made) inside – and he won 1st place for “Most Creative”! He was really excited – even more so when they announced the winners again on Monday and his whole class cheered for him.

 

The fun continued when Grandmama arrived Saturday afternoon to spend a few days hanging with the kiddos so Raymond and I could attend the Savannah Film Festival – thank you, Grandmama! The kids loved spending so much time with her, and the lead-up to Halloween made it even better.

On Sunday, Lola Gray was an acolyte at church for the first time. She did a great job, but was a little overwhelmed by the experience and burst into tears once she was safely back in the pew with us. During the service the 3rd graders were given their first Bibles, and each read a short passage. I just can’t believe how quickly my babies are growing up! Grandmama treated us to lunch at the Pirate’s House to celebrate.

Wednesday brought a more low-key Halloween than past years. We just were not up to hosting our big Halloween bash this year, but honestly, I didn’t miss it a bit. We were able to hit the streets earlier, accompanied by the Rabbs, Heidels and Normans – 3 of my favorite families ever. Lola the unicorn and Fletcher the fencer scored mass quantities of candy, and everyone headed home tired and happy.

And now, suddenly it is November! Full speed ahead towards Thanksgiving!

 

Struggling through September . . .

I have to be honest. I took the end of summer hard this year. After so much amazing summer travel, it was a little depressing to just be home – with laundry to do and dishes to wash and all the humdrum everyday-ness of it all. And if I’m being really honest, I’ll tell you that nothing lately has really seemed to go smoothly, none of it has been easy. We have totally over scheduled, and even though we swore we would never be that family, I find that our week is a blur of lessons and activities and everything is happening in a rush. And the homework! Ugh. There are simply not enough hours in the day.

But slowly, slowly we are settling into a routine again.

Lola Gray has finally started swim lessons, something she has asked to do for years but I never got my act together in time. Twice a week now we head to the local aquatic center for lessons, and each time I am blown away by her determination. She wants this and is determined that after a year of lessons she will be good enough to join the swim team. She’s my little fish, but she is having to work very hard at this – and she is very hard on herself when she struggles. My heart aches for her each time she gets frustrated, but I keep telling myself she is going to overcome these little obstacles and will be so much stronger for them in the long run.

Lo has also started taking piano lessons at school on Saturday mornings. Raymond is going with her, and learning along side her. I love that they will have this Daddy-daughter time together, and I love that now there is even more music in the house.

Fletcher, meanwhile, will not put the violin down. Every time he walks through the living room, he picks it up and fiddles for a while. I actually find myself telling him to put. it. down multiple times a day, which I never thought would happen! I feel like we are walking a fine line, trying to encourage him to practice and improve but not pushing too hard. I want this to be his choice, his passion leading the way. So far, so good. Orchestra has started again, and while he was less than thrilled about the early Saturday mornings, I really think he is happy to be back at  it.

So, summer is really over and it’s time for me to accept it. October is right around the corner, and with it will come cooler weather. By then, hopefully, we will all be in the full swing of Fall, ready for pumpkin patches and apple butter, evening picnics in the park and trick-or-treating with friends.

 

 

Fiddle Camp!!

Fletcher has been wanting to go to fiddle camp for a while now. Ok, maybe I planted the seed a year or so ago, but that seed has been quietly growing in his mind along with his love of the violin. And it just so happens that the most amazing violin player in America, Mark O’Connor, has a kids violin camp right up the road from us in Charleston, South Carolina. We couldn’t not go, right?

Our week in Charleston was intense to say the least. I knew Fletcher would do great, though he struggled a bit the first few days with being a little fish in a crazy talented pond. He said to me, after that first day of camp, that in Savannah he was one of the best violin players he knows . . . but in Charleston he thought he was one of the worst. Worst is never a word I would use to describe that kid – especially when it comes to violin. He did start at a bit of a disadvantage since he had less experience with the songs in the O’Connor Method book, but he made up for that pretty quickly, learning a half dozen new songs in less than 4 days time!

For Lola Gray, things were a bit harder. Prior to camp she had only had 3 fifteen minute lessons, so the whole violin thing is still really new for her! We assumed her classmates would be brand new beginners as well, but though all of the children were between the ages of 5 and 7, all save Lola and one other had been playing for at least a year or more. Her group teacher did a great job of balancing such a varied skill set, but Lo was frustrated that she couldn’t keep up with the other kids. I was really worried that it was all just too much for her, but on the last day of camp, after the incredible final concert, Lola burst into tears and said she didn’t want camp to be over and couldn’t we please just stay and do it all again!

Each of the kids had a 1 hour group lesson each day as well as a 1 hour Master class. Lola also had a class called Music & Movement, which was by far her favorite part of the day and Fletcher had 2 electives, mandolin and ‘write your own tune.’ The electives didn’t work out so well – I think he was just totally overloaded trying to keep up and honestly, I was too. Next year we will have a better idea of which electives to pick and things will go more smoothly.

The video above is the kids playing Appalachia Waltz on the street in downtown Charleston. The one below is them playing Amazing Grace in the Charleston church where it was first performed in the 1700s.

Being surrounded by so many incredible musicians was incredibly inspiring, but incredibly exhausting! After each full day of classes there were nightly ‘recitals’ where anyone who wanted could sign up to play on stage. One thing that I really love about the camp, and about the O’Connor Method, is that they encourage collaboration and creativity even at the earliest levels. They talked to the kids a lot about learning the music and then finding ways to make it their own, and all week long kids were making little ‘bands’ and performing their own arrangements on stage in front of an audience. Fletcher performed one night with his new friend Van (and Van’s dad) and Lola Gray performed a solo another night! I was soooooooo proud of them for getting up on that stage in front of all those people (probably 100 each night.)

After the recitals there was a nightly jam session, where the instructors and students all sat around just playing. Sadly, we never made it to a jam session though. After all that music what the kids really wanted (and needed) was to blow off steam in the hotel pool!

The biggest success of the week, in my opinion, was the relationship Fletcher formed with his incredible Master Class teacher, Ellen Lee. Miss Ellen just seemed to get Fletcher. She knew how to speak his language and she could see through the fidgety, crazy 8 year old boy-ness that frustrates so many teachers. She focused on helping him refine his ear, playing without use of the book which was uncomfortable for him. Early in the week she talked to him about improvising and putting his own twist on the songs, and he told her flat out that he would never do that – he likes to play the notes that are printed in the book. Fine. No problem. But then on the last day of class while the 2 of them were playing Old Joe Clark together, Fletcher started to improvise! I think it caught everyone totally off guard! Both of them were nearly giddy when the song was over!

The crazy thing is that while the whole week not a single person said a thing to him about his form, it has noticeably improved. He stands up straighter, he holds the violin better, he plays with more confidence, and he is having more fun with the music. Honestly, I could not have asked for more. Ellen told Fletcher she thinks he is going to be a famous musician one day. That alone made the crazy hectic week worth it all.

On the last night of camp the kids played a concert with Mark O’Connor himself. Incredible. First he played, which had everyone on the edge of their seats, then each class played a song in turn. At the end, there was an all-camp play-down where they went through the songs in the O’Connor Method books from hardest to easiest, and as they reached a song anyone who knew how to play it came up front and joined in. By the end there were 100 students plus all the teachers playing Boil ‘Em Cabbage Down, and the experience was unbelievably powerful. I was so proud of Fletcher and Lola, and so proud of the American musical tradition they are becoming a part of.

At the end of the concert, Mark gave every student 3 CDs and stuck around to meet everyone and sign autographs! It was a wonderful conclusion to a wonderful week – we are all ready to do it again next summer!

Plymouth Rock

With Plymouth just a hop, skip and jump away from Salem, we had to stop by and take a peek at that famous rock. Raymond was quick to remind that the whole story of Plymouth Rock is probably a myth, but whatever. It’s a symbol of the origins of our country and I wanted to see it.

It was a pretty big letdown though.

The rock is housed in a monument and visitors look down through a grate as the rock is washed by the tide. The monument itself is fine, but sadly the beach within the grate was horrifying. It was full of cigarette butts and trash – including a pair of boxer shorts! I mean, really? I took photos, but I won’t post them. Even the postcards of the rock had cigarette butts in the photo. I was disgusted.

Fortunately, Plimoth Plantation was more of a success. Plimoth Plantation is a Smithsonian Institute affiliate program with recreations of a 17th century Wampanoag homesite and English village. Add to that a lovely waterfront lunch and yet another rocky beach to explore, and our day in Plymouth can be called a success.

Another day, another Junior Ranger badge

On to Salem, Massachusetts! We expected to find campy witches galore (and our tour of the Witch Museum did not disappoint) but were pleasantly surprised to find much more than that. The Salem Maritime National Historic Site provided a beautiful, breezy way to pass the day – and the kids were able to earn another Junior Ranger badge to boot!

Late afternoon we drove along the coast a bit, visiting Marblehead and finding a perfect little beach. We climbed on rocks (Fletcher’s new favorite activity) and found fistfuls of colorful sea glass (which Lola Gray had been wanting to do for weeks) before heading back to downtown Salem for a lovely al fresco dinner.

Our campsite in Salem was the most unusual one yet – maybe the most unusual place I have ever stayed. Winter Island Park is owned by the City of Salem, and is just a stone’s throw from downtown, making it the perfect location for our very short stay. But we were surprised to discover that it’s waterfront ‘camp sites’ with the glorious views of the harbor (as evidenced in the photos below) are in reality a parking lot with electric hookups along one edge. Yes, literally a parking lot. It was weird to say the least, but once I got over the fact that it was a parking lot, it was actually really lovely. At night we listened to the waves slapping the rocky beach and the buoys gently ringing, and in the morning there was a beautiful sunrise behind the lighthouse. Fletcher bravely climbed the rocks almost all the way out to the lighthouse all by himself as Raymond and I packed the car and Lola slept. And then, we headed on to the next adventure!

Acadia National Park

Acadia National Park is almost too much beauty to process. Our 3 days there were filled with one breathtaking view after another, and then yet another. And we barely scratched the surface of the treasurers the park holds! Rock climbing was the biggest hit with the entire family (even Pepper!) so next time we visit we will have to take that on in a (mildly) more serious way. A close second for me was the foggy morning boat ride we took through Somes Sound with a visit to Little Cranberry Island. The fog made for a perfectly Maine experience, and we were able to see seals, porpoises, and more lobster buoys than we could count. And while the campsite was rustic (read: no showers!) we made up for it by eating very well – lobster rolls, lobster bisque, white fish in lobster sauce, and the amazing Jordan Pond popovers. If the best trips leave you wanting a bit more, then Acadia can definitely be put down on the list of the best. I have no doubt we will be back soon!