Livin' in the 21st Century

Sometimes I wonder what it must have been like to live in the "olden days," when life was so much simpler.  When salt and pepper were considered a delicacy.  When you had to speak with the telephone operator to place a call; or better yet, communicate by telegram. When kids could play outside from dawn to dusk, without having to worry about "stranger danger."  I'm a big fan of simplicity, but honestly, it's doubtful I'd last a full day.  There are some products of the 20th and 21st century that give me the warm and fuzzies.  Here is a short list:

*Digital cameras, (and good old 35mm cameras too, for that matter).

*Mr. Clean Magic Erasers.  These things are made of pure magic, and are a godsend to parents of toddlers.

*Pandora

*Red Lipstick

*Facebook.  (I'm beyond help at this point.  Straight up addicted).

*The Supermarket! I think it's pretty awesome that I can get everything I need to feed my family and clean my house in one store.  I do prefer to buy all of my fruits n' veggies at the local fruit stand, but everything else...one stop shopping!

*Web MD

*Peanut Butter Cap'n Cruch

*The Debit Card.  How did people function without this?!?!  Not sure, just glad I don't have to.

*My iPhone... I flat out rejected cell phones until last month, when the Hubby bought me this ridiculous gadget. I didn't like the idea of people calling me whenever they felt like it.  I would misplace it for days at a time, occasionally even weeks, and it didn't bother me one bit.  However for the last month, my phone and I have been inseperable.  FB anytime?  Angry Birds?  Words With Friends?  Facetime!?!  Siri!  Brilliant!

Obviously, nothing on this list is a necessity. I would live a long and healthy life if any one of these things were taken away from me, but thankfully, trying that out isn't necessary!  What are a few of your favorite must-haves?  

Hope is the thing with feathers

When I was sixteen I found a very old book of poetry that belonged to my great-grandmother, Doris Eklund.  She was also a published poet, and a very intriguing woman.  It was a quiet and rainy day, so I took the book into bed with me, and dove right in.  I think that this was the day that my love affair with poetry, literature, and collecting texts began.  It was a gift that my long-deceased great-grandmother Doris gave me; and one of the greatest gifts I have ever received.

This is the poem that started it all for me:

"Hope" is the thing with feathers --
That perches in the soul --
And sings the tune without the words --
And never stops -- at all --

And sweetest -- in the Gale -- is heard --
And sore must be the storm --
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm --

I've heard it in the chillest land --
And on the strangest Sea --
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb -- of Me.

Fifth Grade Camp

After following a very, very long road, I was so excited to see this sign.

Old Dining Hall- home to our epic food fight.

The new dining hall- they hope to get funding to refurbish the original.

The stage where we performed our skits.

Where we sat around the campfire- so much smaller than I remember.

My Cabin.  The un-lucky #13.

As I dropped Haley off at school this morning, I couldn't help but notice the throngs of fifth graders huddled around the flagpole, with their sleeping bags at their feet. There was an obvious excitement in the air, but if you looked hard enough, you could also see the nervous tension beneath their little smiles. They were finally getting to go off to fifth grade camp, just as they had watched all of the other "big kids" do in the years before. The fact that it was thirty-two degrees outside likely did not phase them; but it definitely got me to thinking: how exciting that adventure was! First time away from home for more than a day or two. All of your friends are with you. The idea of "roughing it" for a week, meaning that Mom or Dad wasn't going to be there to bug you about taking a stupid shower.

I remember the morning we all squeezed into the auditorium. We brought our sleeping bags, a pillow, and a small duffle bag with all of the necessities (and likely not enough clean underwear). Ah, the taste of independence! Our mothers kissed us goodbye, swearing they didn't know what they'd do without us for five days; when in retrospect, it was probably the beginning of an ever-so-needed vacation for each of them. We all wore our handmade Camp Loma Mar sweatshirts, and sat excitedly next to our partner on those smelly and humid yellow buses. We stopped in the East Bay for a sack lunch, and marveled at the goofy Junipero Serra statue. Before finally arriving at camp, we got to run around Bean Hollow Beach in Pescadero (at least I think that was the beach after driving past it today).

I recall bits and pieces of that week. I was in cabin 13, which I was told was very bad luck. Someone had been killed in there before! Rumors spread about so-and-so, who wet their bed on the first night there. We sang Kumbaya around the campfire, and performed little skits with our cabin mates. We fell in love for the first time, with the dreamy Matt Fisher...remember him ladies?!? He couldn't have been more than sixteen years old, but at the time, he was a real man! We foraged for banana slugs, and ate handmade "hobo-bundles," (potatoes, carrots, and who knows what else)- wrapped in tin foil and cooked over the fire. We started a food fight in the dining hall.... and it was totally worth it. We visited the little store where we could buy granola bars, candy and postcards...if our parents were generous enough to send us with cash. The most awkward portion of camp......wait for it.......shower time. Oh, dread! We, ten year old girls, actually put on our swimsuits to go take showers. God forbid we see each other naked!!! The camp counselors had shed their girlish modesty years before, and all of us little prepubescent girls must have been quite the site: staring, with jaws dropped, at the real, live boobs. (I had already gotten my first training-bra at this point, but let's be honest, it was only because my mom felt bad for me).

All of these memories, hiding somewhere in the back of my mind for the last twenty years; set free as I dropped of my daughter at school today. I had an open schedule for the afternoon, and decided to drive up the coast with my camera. I found Camp Loma Mar, only thirty miles North; and as I walked along the dirt path toward the camp, it was pretty surreal. The old dining hall was still there, although closed. Cabin thirteen was the first cabin on the right, and I could see little sleeping bags through the rectangular windows. I walked through some of the old trees at Memorial Park, and I sat down for a minute on the wooden benches that surrounded the fire pit. It was so tiny! I remember it being so much larger! Little voices screamed with excitement in the background, and it made me think of all of my friends, many of whom I'm still friends with today; and how twenty years has gone by so very quickly. Haley will be going to fifth grade camp in four years....what a trip!

A silly little rant, I know; but it was pretty fun to relive such a fun memory from my childhood in such a tangible way. I have a suggestion for all of you class reunion planners....I say we get together up in the redwoods. Forget Bud's! Let's bring our tents, our Kumba-ya's, and make some hobo-bundles. Maybe even a case of Natty-Lights, just for old times sake. Agreed?

What do you remember from your fifth grade camp? Something you'd rather forget? Let's hear it! :)

Operation: Normalcy

It dawned on me recently that as a mother, I have made it past the "survival mode" period. Sleep and I have become great friends again. "Reunited and it feels so goo-ood." If the kids want or need something (there is a difference), they can use their words and we communicate. We are out of those wretched diapers, although I still wipe a bum now and then. I no longer think to myself, how am I going to make it through this day with my sanity intact? I am in the clear, as long as I don't have another baby, (an entirely different beast I've been grappling with lately... I am thinking it's time for a pet).

With the exception of the inevitable communicative virus and the occasional nightmare, I'm sleeping again, which makes me a pretty normal functioning human being. The times of waking six times per night and getting three short hours of interrupted sleep are over. . . Hallelujah!

Phase one: complete.

Phase two: Enjoy.

The ages of three and six are pretty darn enjoyable. The boy is cuddly, compassionate and he sure does love his mama! Big sister is still completely innocent, but on the cusp of becoming a "big kid." Sure, they fight like cats and dogs (I literally just stepped away from the keyboard to break up a kitty-puppy fight), but deep down it is clear that they enjoy each other's company. Life is pretty swell in the Robertson household. (I think I may have just jinxed myself).

There was a frightening period when the husband and I would attempt to go on a date, and all we seemed to be able to talk about was the kids. That was terribly scary. Had we become those people? I am happy to say, no, we hadn't. Just like every other stage of parenting, that too was just a phase. I seem to have regained my self-identity, and am not only a mother. He never really lost his. . . he's solid like that.

The kids are working on a puzzle, and I have a little bit of time to type out my thoughts on my attentive keyboard. Today will be busy: auction meeting to raise money for Haley's school at ten, and a play date with a new friend at noon. I may get to go to the gym for an hour or two before we the sitter arrives so that we can go celebrate a friend's birthday at the wine bar. We'll be home by eight, at which time I'll crawl into bed with a book before dozing off for the night. It's not exactly what I envisioned for myself before we had children, but honestly, if I had something else envisioned I do not remember it.

It's smooth sailing from here. . . or at least until we hit the tweens; something I'd rather not think about at all until I am absolutely forced to.

i am a little teapot

my contents are on the edge of boiling

i hum softly- blending in with the sounds

the pressure builds too fast

and so loudly, without warning, i scream

there are no words

to take the place of the water

which has gotten so hot

that it changes form

i need a new form.

I am thinking of....

I am thinking of changing the title of my blog, although I have always thought it would be a clever title. I don't want to be a misanthrope-- not even occasionally. I think that for someone to lack faith in humanity as a whole, they must have a lot of hurt buried deep in their hearts. I don't want to be that person.

This will be a short post, but to the point. I wonder if it's possible to just let it all go. Let go of all the hurt, pain and memories that have caused me to be an occasional misanthrope. "They" say that you can forgive, but you can never forget and I wholeheartedly believe that. The problem is: I have a ridiculously good memory, and there are some things that just need forgetting.

For me, this week has been one of the toughest and one of the most enlightening; and today I am going to try to let go of it all. I thought I had coined a new term when I came up with "debilitating nostalgia;" --memories that flat out knock me down and out, refusing to let me move forward. A smell, a sight, any trigger--and I was overcome. Then I read an essay by Freud on Melancholia. My term has already been coined- and by Freud himself. I am not an absolute Freudian. I disagree with many of his theories; but when I read this essay, I think he really hit the nail on the head. Anyway, my point is that there is a lot of hurt, and it is so insanely deep. I have lost something and I don't know what. I don't want to feel that way anymore--so I am letting it all go. I think that many people feel similar feelings, otherwise I wouldn't share such a personal story.

I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

A life without moderation

This September our children turned six and three years old, respectively. I tend to get carried away when planning birthday parties, (a subject that deserves it's own blog post), so this year I made a conscious effort to keep things simple. In some ways I succeeded, and in some I failed. I wanted to celebrate their lives, rather than getting caught up in all of the hoopla that accompanies a child's birthday party.

Haley's favorite pastime is hanging out at the beach. Toss some friends into the mix, add a bonfire, throw in the ingredients for s'mores and you've got Haley's utopia. I didn't bother with a BBQ, because that would have been a lot of work. Instead we played games, danced to some awful (oops, I mean fun, music), and hung around the fire roasting marshmallows with our closest family and friends. It sounds simple enough, but it was enough to give me an anxiety attack.....so many little details involved in making her birthday just right. We didn't go overboard with gifts, for once. We stuck to our guns and got her one nice gift, rather than many gifts.

Same thing for Sam. He got to plan his own party this year. His specific requests were: family only, mac'n'cheese, watermelon and a sword-fight. We stuck to his plan, and it was honestly the best party ever. He got to do all of the things a three-year old boy likes to do, and I didn't have the stress of supervising a bunch of kids or entertaining their parents. We also bought Sam a few of his favorite things for his gift: two matchbox cars, a few bags of marbles, and some plastic dinosaurs and bugs. We kept his gift under $30 total, and he didn't know the difference. More isn't always better.

It is so nice of everyone to get the kids thoughtful gifts, but this year it was a little out of control. They received so much stuff that they couldn't even keep track of who got them what. I am not complaining about people's generosity and thoughtfulness at all; but what I am saying is that maybe tons of gifts aren't necessary. On the same tip, were aren't even into October yet, and there is already talk of Santa Claus and more presents. I do not want to raise children who think they need possessions in order to be happy. I want them to appreciate the people who come to their parties more than the gifts that arrive with them.

I think the overabundance of gifts this year was a good thing in a sense, because it really pushed me to have a talk with Haley about how fortunate she is to have what she does. The day after her birthday, we were laying in bed talking about all of her nice things she got, and I suggested that for Christmas, maybe we should only ask for half of the amount of stuff we normally do- and the other half, we should wish for a less fortunate child to get instead. I really wasn't sure how she'd react; I mean, she is six after all, and what six-year old doesn't like to have lots and lots of new toys??? We discussed the local Toys For Tots program, the international program "Smile Train," and "World Vision." Haley decided she wanted her "big gift" this year to be a sponsorship to World Vision, so we decided to look into it further.

When we sat down together in front of the computer and looked up World Vision, we got really excited. She got to pick whether she wanted to sponsor a boy or girl, what age, and factor in similar interests between herself and her new friend. She chose a little girl who was born on her birthday, and who likes to draw and do math. She thinks it's amazing that there is a little girl somewhere across the world, with the same interests, same birthday, whose favorite subject is also math! Each profile comes with a description of the child, their family, and their living and health conditions. Researching the children opened up a dialogue about what it means to live in poverty, what those children have to live without, (things we all take for granted everyday), and what our small monthly donation would give them.

We noticed that half of the kids from that program don't attend school because it's not available and/or they can't afford it. Many of them do not have clean drinking water. Lots of them have dirt floors in their houses. We live such a cooshy life over here in the U. S. of A.; taking for granted our clean water, never having to listen to hungry tummies, and we are disappointed when the last of our 25 gifts have been opened, and there aren't any more. I am really hoping that Haley, our kind and sweet and empathetic Haley, loves this experience. I hope that as a family we can start to live more moderately, and without the need for more, more, more.

Maybe this is a start.