momtourage

Road Race

Woolypear's Olympics post made me think about a 1 mile fun run the kids and I recently took part in. It is the second year in a row we have done this - and loved it mind you. BUT the reason we did it in the first place is that I feel like I don't push any of us enough to do physical things. My instinctive default is to take them to a museum or for a quiet stroll in nature, not to play a 'real' sport - organized or random.

When I was in school I chose the solitary sports - cross country running and skiing. I didn't really excel at either but I am proud to say that Anna Willard, a graduate of my high school in Bethel, Maine, did and will be competing in the steeplechase in Beijing - today I think. When I went to the local grocery store there was a big encouraging sign outside. It's funny to think of a world class athlete trucking along the same forest trails that I meandered along when I was at school. I say - Go Anna! I would be watching your race if we had a TV, that's for sure.

And I am also proud of Sam's performance in his race. He has won first prize in the under 6 category two years in a row. I can't deny that somewhere at the back of my mind I wonder if he will excel at a sport that has brought me not victories but a lot of peace in the past.

My Aunt is a National Treasure

Are you lucky enough to have a friend or relative in your life who is dependable, available, and a whole lot of fun to be around? Mine is called Aunt Pam and she has stepped in to help big time ever since the boys were born. Now, having two boys 1 year apart is a recipe for lots of noise and hijinks. Does that deter Aunt Pam from planning beach and farm excursions galore? Nope. Does she ever criticize my parenting skills and make me feel (even in a mildly insinuating way) that a I am doing a poor job - even when they are having meltdowns in the grocery store or being so whiney that I want to hide under a rock? Nope. I don't know how I lucked out like this, but I am so very thankful. A 75-year old powerhouse - that's what she is. I only hope I can return the favor when I am her age.

Bicycle

Is there some kind of time line for learning to ride a bike - some sort of What to Expect style stage thing that says 'by age x baby should be..'? Sam is 5 and is fine with training wheels - a strong rider who probably could go off of them but doesn't feel ready. Hank, well at 4 he still hasn't grasped the concept of pedalling in one direction. He is constantly surprised that backwards means braking.

Should I be concerned about this?

Mom vs. Nature

My how times change. I grew up running barefoot through the woods, slogging through the neighboring cow field, (I dare you to touch the electric fence - ouch!) and skirting poison ivy wearing only a tank top and those awful, terrycloth short shorts so popular in the 1970s. As long as I made it home alive my parents could care less. Sure there were those all those stories about the broken down trucker over in Erroll (or Upton, Rangeley Plantation, East B Township etc.) who was chased down by coydogs on a cold winter's night. But that only made lone hiking just a little bit more exciting. Strap on those snowshoes.

And then I became a mom. There are moments like this - the gentle search for life in a tidepool.

Then sadly there are other, less bucolic moments. Even though I grew up fearless in Maine's Great North Woods, I now consider nature to be a trickster, a worthy adversary to keep an eye on, a great furious force ready to be unleashed at any moment. My children are its imagined targets. Oh no - nature is no longer the trusted friend of my youth.

It all started last year when a bat got into 4 year old Sam's room in the middle of the night. Before kids I would have shooed it out and promptly forgotten the incident. But I am a mom! I called the animal control hotline in a panic and was told that I needed to trap the bat and have it tested for rabies. (Negative, thankfully.) And it just continues from there. So far this year we have battled with leeches, studiously avoided several flash floods, and dealt with Lyme Disease. As I write, Sam is completing his last day of an intense course of antibiotics because I found a bullseye rash on his foot.  And this happened even though I do a thorough tick check on both of my sons once a day.

I never considered myself a fearful person, but being a mom is turning me into one. There is much more responsibility involved than I had imagined. At my worst, I feel that I am the sole defender keeping danger at bay. But what can I do? Make them wear long sleeves and pants on a 90 degree day? Stay away from the local (somewhat leechy) pond? Tell them to never, ever, under any circumstances, go barefoot? I want my sons to know the freedom, the wildness, the kinship with nature that I grew up taking for granted. And I also want them to be safe. 

Adventures in Gardening

This is a photo of my vegetable garden at the beginning of the summer. Sadly, things have not progressed as I would have liked. Constant, unprecedented levels of rain (5 inches in one day!!!) here in Western Maine have swamped it. The tomatoes are rotting on the vine. The sugar snaps yeilded about 2 handfuls, and the basil plants are still too tiny to make churn into one decent batch of pesto. The weeds, of course, are thriving. At this point I am just hoping that next year's harvest will be a little better.

But there are other bright spots to focus on. Our annual town celebration happened yesterday with no rain. Sam won 'best of show' for under 10s with his rope photo, took 1st place in the mile race (a little over 10 minutes) and can not stop admiring his ribbons. And Hank is proud and satisfied too. He caught a lot of candy during the parade.

Stupid and Dangerous

Ah the beauty of nature! Gentle breezes, happy flowers etc etc.

It's easy to forget nature's fury, especially when there are blueberries at stake. A few days ago, my step mom and I climbed to the top of a local mountain known for its proliferation of blueberries. Man, was it loaded. There were two elderly ladies up there (surely into their 70s, with those rubber-tipped hiking sticks for ballast, wearing large, sensible sun hats) who pick annually and even they said they had never seen anything like it. I cannot describe how wonderful it is to forage for food atop a rock-topped mountain ringed by clouds and other mountains that sink into pleasant valleys covered in forest and dotted with the occasional farm. We picked all of our containers full in a matter of hours (including a last desperate attempt to gather the maximum amount of berries in our used sandwich bags) then vowed to return the very next morning. Well.

It was cloudy when we woke up and the forecast said 'chance of showers in the morning with chance of thunderstorms in the afternoon.' We disregarded it. After all, who minds getting a little damp in exchange for the sweetest, tastiest blueberries in the world? As we started up the trail, we heard a few distant rumbles of thunder. But even on a clear day, in the mountains, you may hear thunder-like activity and it never amounts to anything. So we continued. About 30 minutes into our hike, just as we were nearing the steep rock face you have to scale to reach the summit (yes, we kept wondering how those two elderly ladies managed that - and there seems to be no way to avoid it, worse on the way down than on the way up) the storm broke. I have rarely been so scared in my life. Lightening close by and torrential rain. My step mom has bad knees so I kept bolting down the trail, trying to remember everything I'd ever heard about how to be safe in such situations, then waiting for her to catch up while I crouched near a small stand of trees. At one point I thought I just have to get out of this alive for my kids. Dramatic yes, but not inappropriate, given the severity of the storm.

We were sober in the car, and quiet. We spoke of how glad we were not to have become a tragic news item, like the hikers who occasionally get into trouble by being too ambitious. You read these articles and think - what were they thinking, attempting that? Didn't they check the forecast or the map?

I will check the forecast. I will be prudent and safe. I have relearned the lesson I knew all along.

Cousins' Reunion

A couple of weekends ago, my sister kindly hosted a 'cousins' reunion' at her place in Vermont. We had all sort of drifted apart as we grew up. Some of us are in the Boston area, I am in Brooklyn and still others are as far as California. It was great (and a little surprising) that in spite of the time lapse and many life changes (6 kids and several spouses are now involved) we still maintain that old comfort around each other. Sure, we weren't toe wrestling or pulling hair as we had in our childhood, but there was a spirit of fun that was very - youthful! After all, we have known each other at our worst (blasting Yes  and even Styx albums) and best. Actually, I think the best is right now, watching my wonderful cousins interacting with their wonderful kids. We are planning to make it an annual event and maybe even doing a round robin at our various homes.

I have been reading a lot about 'staycations' and tucking in the belt on vacation spending. I highly recommend this variation. We had 4 tents set up and most people slept out in them. Sam camped out for the first time ever and loved it. Other cousins had s'mores for the first time. The older ones jumped off a big rock at a swimming hole. Sam got leeches for the first time at that same swimming hole. Lots of firsts!

We all collaborated on cooking simple, thrifty, yet satisfying meals (homemade pizza, a spaghetti feed)that also appealed to the greatest number of palates. (Along with the gourmet lamb sausage and onion topped pie there was also plain cheese.) But best of all, we just got to talk and hang out around a campfire while kids ranging in age from 4 to 14 played flashlight tag. It was true bliss.

Photo Exhibit

Every year our town has an event referred to as 'Olde Home Days.' It is a 3 day celebration/town fair in which there is a parade complete with people shooting muskets en route, (I have nothing against hunting for your own food but somehow this public display of arms never fails to horrify me.) a popular antique car show, a chicken barbeque, and a growing photography exhibit.
Here are two photos Sam is entering. (He is allowed 3 entries in the children's category.) Last year he won a red ribbon for a snapshot of his brother dressed in pirate garb. Perhaps these moodier choices will garner a ribbon too.

By the way - both photos were taken at the excellent Maine Maritime Museum in Bath. It is well worth a visit if you or a little one is interested in ships. There is even a pirate ship playground that just opened this year with lots of ropes and decks.

Knitting slowdown

I've only finished one knitting project since I've been up here in Maine - horrors! Luckily it was a nice warm, machine washable-wool sweater for Hank. Perfect for those surprisingly chilly evenings. I just used a dropped sleeve pattern from my beloved Ann Budd book. And some more of that seemingly endless supply of extra Lamb's Pride superwash. At least now I'm down to only enough left for striped projects.

Boy, it seems like I am always knitting up something painfully practical. Everytime I see something unusual I think perhaps I should be a little bit more creative. Maybe I'll do so when the kids stop outgrowing stuff every few months.

Born in the Oven

And to continue the obsessive exploration of my home state...

There's an old saying: "Just cause a cat has kittens in the oven, don't make 'em biscuits." In other words, just because you're born in the state of Maine, you are not automatically a Mainer. In my case, it doesn't matter that most of my family has been here since the 1700s. Sure, my grandfather's people were from up in Quebec and around Island Pond area quite some time back. But then they came to their senses and moved over to Gilead in the late 1800s. Phew! (By the way, if you ever want to make my dad or his siblings angry, pretend you think they were born over the New Hampshire border in Gorham.) And yes, I too was born in Maine, went to school here, and come back here every chance I can. But I am not a Mainer and never will be. My mother was born in Massachusetts and that, my friends, is the spoiler.

I guess I just have to sigh and accept it.