Loss, Mess, and Perspective

Yesterday started off with such promise for good things.... and promptly took a nosedive. It was the first morning of a new project that unfortunately required us to leave by 7:30 AM. If you have read my blog or know me in any way, then you may have noticed that leaving the house in the 7 o'clock hour is not something I like doing at all. In fact, I dislike it and make an effort to avoid making a habit of it. Mornings are my happy and quiet time when I prefer to be left in my own little bubble.

But, the kids had this good opportunity so we decided to go for it, and I was actually feeling positive at how well our morning was moving. Just as we were almost ready to head out the door, I asked my Boy Child to get the ice chest and some frozen water bottles, as I planned to do a little food shopping in town. He came back from the garage to tell me that there were no frozen bottles. No problem, I thought- I'll just buy ice, but then he mentioned that there was four inches of water on the bottom of the freezer. That is never a good sign.

 

 I went out to find tragedy. The entire contents of my huge freezer had thawed and were ruined. This was not just food that I bought at the store either. My Girl Child and I had spent hours and hours laboring this summer to make soups, sauces and broths with the bountiful summer veggies and herbs. I had never done anything like that before- filled my freezer with food I had made from scratch- and I was feeling so proud and Ma Ingalls like for having put away all that home made goodness to feed my family healthy food all winter.

Baffled, I looked around as to why on earth my food was no longer frozen. The plug was in. The circuit breaker was on. Then, I came to the on / off / temperature control knob on the outside of the freezer. It had a skateboard crammed up against it, and was turned all the way off.

Now I know that nobody turned the freezer off on purpose, but I think the owner of the skateboard- the one who crammed it there- might have some responsibility in this matter. I called him to look at the evidence. Immediately, he went to denial and shifting the blame which only made me more annoyed and angry.

We had to leave to get the kids to their obligation, and were supposed to be spending the next 12 hours in town. There was no way I was going to come home to face that mess after that long of a day, so I made the executive decision that we would cancel our afternoon plans, including guitar and band practice. Here came Round 2 of annoying responses as the Suspect semi- complained that he would have rather skipped the morning obligation- which is harder, longer and requires a lot more thinking, but also allows me to go to a yoga class and sauna while they are busy. Guitar practice is not long enough for me to do much besides a quick grocery run. Since we were supposed to be at Activity 1 in less than a half hour, and I felt that I needed yoga more than a grocery store trip, I basically told him to cork it, and my plan won.

I dropped the kids off, still stewing and deepening the crease in my forehead, and headed to my class. I had a few minutes and decided to call my Dad back. He shared with his own tale of woe about a faucet that leaked and flooded his laundry room, the office on the other side of the wall, and probably damaged some shared walls in his condo requiring the ripping out of walls, carpets and other massive efforts. OK, I realized I'm not the only one with troubles.

My yoga class started and was taught by a lovely woman who just radiated relaxation, while softly encouraging you to hold near painful positions for long periods of time. All the deep breathing and stretching was helping, but I still couldn't help an occasional snarl when I thought of the loss of time, money, food, and effort and the big mess still waiting for me. I thought of how most of the contents were in expensive glass jars so I couldn't even just throw them away, I had to wash them, and how I dislike doing dishes about as much as I dislike going places early mornings. I breathed deeper and tried to listen to the calming voice of the instructor.

 The class was nearly over when a woman with swollen, red eyes appeared in the doorway and waved to the woman on the mat next to me to come out of the class. She quickly headed for the door, and before it could close, we heard the words "Your brother is dead."

My tense jaw dropped, my breath stopped and everyone on that side of the room froze for a moment, not sure we had heard correctly. Sadly, we had heard correctly, and while I don't know these women or the details of what happened, my heart felt for them so much at that moment. I recognized the look of shock and pain on the mother's face, and I remembered the feeling of hearing that my child, my first son, had died so many years ago. The foggy brain, the disbelief, the details of hallways and paintings and faces of hospital staff-  those things are burned into my brain forever.

 For the rest of the day- in the sauna, while picking up my kids, and even while cleaning up the freezer mess- those women were in my heart, and I felt like I was grieving with them. The loss of my freezer contents was a bummer, but just isn't that big of a deal in perspective.

I hope that family is being loved and supported as they go through the next hard days and weeks. I know I'll be thinking about them, and sending prayers their way. I also know that no matter how annoyed I am with my own kids, I'll be hugging them a lot anyway.

September 11th

I was curled up in bed in a nest of books with my little ones around me when my mother called. Living in a tiny cabin without electricity in the mountain, this was how we usually started our days- without television or news or internet, but with stories.

"You'd better turn on your generator or whatever you need to do to see what's happening on TV!" I had no idea what she was talking about, what was behind the fear in her voice. Something about planes and buildings. I didn't know what it had to do with me in my happy little world, but she was upset, so I obliged.

The TV usually only came on with the generator for an hour or so every few days- timed so I could run laundry while one kid napped, another one watched PBS kids and I tried to get online. I was never a fan of watching news and the negativity it brings into my home even when I had an unlimited supply of electricity. I certainly wouldn't choose to endure starting a loud, gas guzzling generator that was older than me just to feel I was up to date in the world. But with the urgency of her voice that day, I did.


My Boy Child was still a baby, oblivious and happily playing. My Girl Child was not even three herself, but had always been a thoughtful child tuned in to others around her. Sensing something was wrong, she stayed attentive and close.We both stared at the tiny screen in shock as the video replayed a plane crashing into a smoking skyscraper. The announcer rambled something about the number of people working in the building. It was astronomical- the number of people that were in that building was higher than the population of the entire county we lived in.

She only had one question. "Mama, were there any children in that building?"

All I could say was that I hoped not. This was the exact reason I chose not to normally watch TV. Now, at the young age of two and a half, my girl had this image in her mind.

When the buildings fell, I expected that the death toll would be in the tens of thousands, and could hardly believe that it was less than 3000. Of course that is still huge and tragic, but I couldn't help but be in awe, and I still am, at the massive coordinated effort it must have taken to evacuate and save so many people.

I've never been to New York city, but its reputation doesn't generally make one think of words like "friendly," "neighborly," or "kind." That's what makes it even more striking to me. Even in big cities full of strangers and terror, the world is full of very good people. It gives me hope.

Ten years later, my kids don't remember the day the Twin Towers fell, but in looking back, I hope they too will have that sense of amazement, not just horror at the atrocity, but wonder in the bravery of their fellow humans. Goodness is everywhere and it will shine, even when things look bleak.


We were all touched by this video and these unsung heroes, everyday people who literally helped save the day. I thought it was well worth watching, and I hope you do too.
 

The Fire Drill

It's been such an unbelievably mild summer in northern California, I haven't even thought about fire season. Until now. Suddenly, it's oppressively hot, and to top off the misery of melting in front of my swamp cooler, the wind is blowing so fiercely that it woke me this morning sounding like a motorcycle speeding on the freeway. The grass is bone dry, the plants and trees have shriveled, and something in the air just seems like trouble brewing . It feels like fire season.

I don't want to freak out my kids, but I do want them to be prepared, to know what to do just in case. So, I ask them to start thinking about it. We've been through this before, of course, which is probably why I did end up freaking them out anyway. My kids may have never had a school fire drill- they've never been to school, but living in the mountains, they have had the real thing more than once. No alarms and orderly exits, just smoke, wind and quickly trying to evaluate what is important enough to save and how to move so many animals.

It's a strange feeling to think about what you actually want to take with you. During our first wildfire scare, we had the luxury of a day to think hard about just that. The fire started a few miles away, but the wind was blowing in our direction, and the only thing in between were pine trees and manzanita bushes. Even before the call from the sheriffs office warning us to start packing, it didn't take a genius to figure out that we should be doing just that.

Of course living things came first, and we have a lot of them around here. Thank God for wonderful friends who came and picked up everything from our cats and dogs to our goats, chickens and ducks and housed them temporarily at their homes, even though they were not set up for such things.

Next came pictures and then as we still had a few hours before we had to be out, we packed our favorite clothes, books, art and toys. I let each kid pick for themselves what would go in their suitcase because you never really know what's special to another person. Some of our helpers couldn't understand why my Girl Child was choosing a doll made from a pancake syrup bottle over an expensive porcelain doll, and seemed upset about it. I think they expected me to be the voice of reason. Well, I reasoned that since Girl Child was the one who played with the things, she could probably decide what was actually important for herself. Mrs Butterworths made the cut.

We still laugh about that, and we'll probably still have that syrup bottle to give my grandkids. Our neighborhood was evacuated for a few days, but fortunately untouched by the fire.

Our next scare came a few years later. This time, we were in town, and noticed a huge plume of smoke in the east. Since it looked like it could be near our house, and fires moves quickly in the foothills, we skipped the rest of our errands and headed towards home. As we drove the 20 miles, the kids began to freak out about our elderly dog being stranded and unable to escape. I tried to calmly reassure them that we would be home in time.

Well, I looked like a big idiot a few minutes later when we found the road to our property blocked by the worlds grumpiest police man. He had no compassion whatsoever as he dryly told my crying kids that we could not get in, no matter what. A man with a press pass went in, but we couldn't. My Girl Child wanted me to just hit the gas and floor it past the cop, but he seemed like the type that would shoot out my tire and then drag me out of the car and taser me in front of my kids, so I opted not to. But, I was furious. Unfortunately, Officer Meanie made just about the worst first impression my kids could have ever had of the police force with his complete lack of kindness, respect or empathy.

Cars full of equally angry neighbors lined up, all of whom were being told no, you cannot go save your horses, your dogs, anything. One woman was near hysterics as her teenage son was home alone with no car to get out, but she was told to just wait while they did their jobs. I imagined the press man in there taking pictures of our burning things while we were supposed to sit there and wait.

Thankfully the fire fighters did their jobs very well. No homes, animals or people were harmed, and we very much appreciated their hard work. We went home and planned what would we do if it happened again. Things were a little more organized "in case of emergency" for a while, but of course life goes on. We can't live with all of our important things packed and ready all the time. They are out everywhere all over the house being looked at, used, played with and enjoyed.

But today when I woke up to hazy air and dry leaves rustling in the hot wind, I realized it's that time again- we need to think along those lines of being prepared. I mentally located my favorite picture albums while I told my kids to at least know where their most prized things are, just in case. I stepped out for a bit and came back to find my kids had packed bags, cat carriers and dog leashes ready to go. I'm very proud of them for thinking and planning, but I hadn't really meant for them to take it that far. I'm pretty sure I scared them and think if I had been gone too long, they might have started taking the pictures off the walls.

I let them know that it's looking like the haze in the air is coming from fires that are far away enough to the north that we aren't at risk from them. It's still the season and we're not out of the woods yet, but we don't have to pack up everything into boxes just so it's ready "in case." Just knowing where things are, and what our priorities are will have to be good enough. Maybe we'll attempt a rain dance as well.

Organizing the "School Year"

Just when I've been trying to hold on to summer and ignore the cooler nights and the bombardment of activities that fall brings, I remember the charter school will want me to start keeping track of what my kids are learning again. It's actually a small price for all the enriching things our family gets access too, but it can put a damper on my eternal summer lounging dreams.

I figured that getting organized for our "school year" will be helpful for me in getting in the swing of things. I really have trouble with the "school year" concept because learning seems to occur fairly naturally and year round when I don't push it, and a part of me just has an inherent resistance to outside forces that want me to do things at certain times "just because." But, rather than being ruffled over my inability to conform easily, and the silliness of it all, I'm focusing on the fact that external forces aside- this place is a mess, and a little organization could benefit us all.

So, I started with some book shelves that we keep a lot of "educational" things on. About midway through I began to question what on earth I had started.

First, the incredible quantity of dust hit me. Literally. In the face. So, now I have itchy eyes and am sneezing and amazed at what can hide on the back side of bookshelves. It's not like we don't dust either. I mean, I pay my kids to do it weekly, but this is the behind the scenes action, and it's not pretty. I am convinced it would not be this bad if there were pavement withing a quarter mile of my house, but who knows. It might be anyway. We're really not that great at housework.

Anyway, next, I was taken aback by the sheer volume of stuff. Where did all this stuff come from, and why do I have it? Some of it's good, and has just been hidden. It's like a surprise holiday with presents. Some of it consists of things we just never got around to doing and probably never will. Some is stuff that I can't imagine why I hung on to in the first place. I pulled it all off the shelves, sneezing and whining and making a huge and overwhelming mess. I was tempted at this point to just head out to the pool with my book and a glass of wine, but had a sneaking suspicion that this disaster would still be waiting for me when I returned. On rare occasions, one of my children will spontaneously clean something up, but this calamity was beyond their skill level.

So, I buckled down and got to work. I sat for what felt like days, but was probably hours, creating piles around me- to keep, to give away, to recycle, to throw out. The keeping stuff got further broken down- science, math, history, art. It all was shelved neatly, arranged by subject, then within that, arranged aesthetically by size and shape. I'm quite proud of my effort, and excited about all the fun things we have to choose from. We are blessed indeed.

The give away pile got further sorted as well- stuff that goes to friends and stuff that goes to the thrift store. So far, it's only made it to the garage, but I'll be glad to see it go for good. The mini mountains of trash and recycling have been hauled away.

There was also a decent sized pile at the end consisting of stuff I didn't quite know what to do with. For now, its sitting on the other side of the room so it doesn't ugly up the view of the pretty shelves I have carefully organized. I guess the job isn't completely finished, but I don't really have it in me to deal with that last bit today, and why not celebrate what I did accomplish?

I wonder how long this will last though? Maintenance is a trick unto itself. Do any of you well organized people have secrets about keeping things orderly? I am just not naturally inclined that way, but I really do appreciate the beauty of it.

For now, I think I've earned my poolside lounging. I'm even bringing a few books I found during my hard work with me.

Bitter Sweet

In the midst of a crazy surge of fall decluttering, I'm taking down pictures off the walls and moving stacks of old drawings and notebooks, and it hits me- how much my kids have grown. It hits me when I look at the photos of tiny people who were perpetually attached to me, in arms, in a sling, in my lap, for years, and it hits me again when I see the crayon drawing of a curvy stick woman with a fancy feathered hat and labeled "mama."

It's a bittersweet moment of motherhood. My kids are not so little anymore. Sure, they still look small and young when I look at them next to the big teens, but as they sprout up what seems like inches every week, and I watch their interests and comprehension of the world blossom on newer and more mature levels, I realize that the days of fairy wings and super hero capes and doll houses are gone. And part of me wants to cry.

Of course these days have their beauty, and I love being able to spend them with my kids. The conversations are deeper, the things they are able to help with and do are wonderful. I am honored to be a part of this process- to watch, guide and just be along for the ride with these cool people. I love who my children are and who they are becoming, but I will miss the sweet and innocent days- the gnomes and magic and glitter, the tiny little hands in mine, the silly jokes, and cuddles and snuggles.

But time passes and people grow and things change, probably faster than many of us would like. Part of me wants to add more little kids to our family to prolong the wonder of those little kid days, but that is easier said than done, and who knows, I may just be being nostalgic and unrealistic. The whole thing was probably a lot harder and more work than I am remembering as I look at all of the drawings and pictures of days gone by.

What I do know for sure is that time isn't going to stop here, and while I could sit here all day sniffing over yesterday being gone, today is ticking away. So, I'm off the computer and on to enjoy these awesome people for who they are today. One of them even made me coffee :-)

I Guess It's Fall

Even though the calendar and the weather both indicate it's still summer, the rest of the world is acting like it's fall. Since my kids don't go to school, and they tend to read, explore and learn year round, "back to school time" really doesn't change much.

OK, a few things change. No matter how much I resist it, the pace of life picks up right before the weather starts cooling down, and it signals the end of our wonderfully lazy summer.

The fliers and registrations and sign ups start coming in filling my email and actual mail boxes. All of the fun classes that I love to expose my kids to and they love to be involved in will start up again in a few weeks. We don't exactly live in an urban mecca, but somehow we are blessed with lots of options to choose from- drama, art, band, science classes, internships, dance, volunteer work, sports, horseback riding, geography club, book club,- the list of activities for this un-socialized homeschooling family goes on and on.

That's kind of a problem though- the list just keeps going. There are so many wonderful opportunities. They all require driving and time, and as fun as they all sound, every one of us in my house gets cranky and irritable when we are constantly on the run.

So, we have to choose. Since it's their life, I try to give my kids a lot of say in what we do. Sometimes I wonder if I give them too many choices though. Like me, when given way too many choices, they sometimes get that deer in headlights look- frozen in indecision and bordering on panic.I know how they feel because I feel the same way.

This year, we tried a rating system- looking at our options and rating them #1 being most important and so on. Then we looked at the calendar and tried to see what things would neatly line up for us. Since most activities are a good 30 minutes away from our home, it makes the most sense for us to try to a few things on the same day to make the drive more worth while.

But, we don't want too many things in one day or to have them too spread out or we would be pulling off 14 hour days on a regular basis. I know lots of kids do that, but it sounds really tiring and sucky to me so I'm trying to avoid it if at all possible for my family.

It's always tricky finding the balance. We're very social people, but we also like our down time. We do our best creative work and connect better as a family when we have down time. It's also when we just get together and play with friends, enjoy our home and explore the world. So, as beneficial as all of the activities are, at some point, I feel like they'd be damaging if we didn't keep some free time.

After a lot of thought and what feels like a few new wrinkles in my forehead, I think we have a plan of activities that we can all live with. We aren't going to do everything, but that's OK. We'll be doing plenty, and most importantly, we'll have a few free days every week to do whatever we please, which includes acting like it's still summer- no matter what the rest of the world says.

It's Not About The Paper

UCLA has this Writing Program that I've been eyeballing for months. It offers all kinds of writing classes in all kinds of genres and many are available online which is especially important since my goats and chickens are probably not meant to live in the city. What hooked me was that many of the classes are hands on- as in, you don't just learn about the theory of writing and study writing, you actually write, re-write, and here's the kicker..... you have real pieces that you submit to real markets.

The problem... it's a bit pricey for a gal who practically quit her job and only gets paid for the few nights a month she works now. Then, I saw a scholarship opportunity and figured it was a major long shot, but what the heck....why not try?

Well, I got it, and have been literally doing a happy dance for days! Fortunately, you don't have to witness my dancing, as it is not one of my more impressive skills, and my family members who have witnessed it firsthand have suggested it may be a tad frightening.

Anyway, I've naturally been sharing the news with anyone who cares to listen, and even a few people who don't care. Everyone is super happy for me and congratulatory and all, but I also keep hearing the same question.

"So, is this for your Masters Degree?"

Ummm, no. Actually, I don't even have my Bachelors Degree, although I have more than enough units. Unfortunately, no one seems to offer a Bachelors in Lots of Artsy Electives with very little general ed.

The thing is, and this seems to be a wacky concept based on the blank stares I get...... I am learning for the sake of learning. You know, just because I find it interesting.  

It's not about the piece of paper.

With this endeavor through UCLA, I'm definitely hoping to gain some useful skills as well. In the end I'd like to publish in larger (and higher paying) markets.

Nothing against getting a Masters Degree. I just don't want to spend several hard years and thousands of dollars on the theory of writing right now. I just want to write.

When I say things like "It's not about the piece of paper" I sometimes get lectures about the value of higher education and a corresponding college degree. It's not like I'm coming from a place of "We don't need no fancy book learnin." I'm just saying that what I value the most is the education, not the degree.

Writing is one of many creative endeavors that brings me joy, and it's also one I've actually managed to make a tiny bit of money on. So, when I started trying to clear space in life to focus on what I love, writing was high on the list of things I wanted to work on.



Like Chris Guillebeau of The Art of Non-Conformity, I don't want to write a dissertation paper that will be read by four people. I want to write things that will actually be read by a bundle of people, and to be honest, I'd like to get paid too.

I really have no idea what percentage of  best selling authors or people who write for big time magazines have a masters degree in writing, but I would bet that more important than their educational credentials is that they write and actually send their work out into the world.

Maybe someday an opportunity will come my way to get that Masters Degree (preferably without having to take any more painful math classes or accruing any debt) but in the mean time, I'm just in it to learn.

Time 4 Learning

 Good grief....it's only the first week in August and the back to school enthusiasts are at it. What happened to summer? Since our family leans more towards a learning all the time style than a formal school year, the calendar doesn't have a huge impact on what do, but it would be pretty hard not to have the seasons effect us in some way or another. There are actually a few things I really do like about this time of year.

1) I can get my fill of ridiculously cheap school supplies. As much as I try to reduce clutter and stop buying things I don't need, I simply cannot resist $1 packs of Sharpies, or 50 cent notebooks and glue sticks.

2) The local lakes and parks will soon be much less crowded. I do feel kind of bad for all the kids who will be stuck in classrooms while we are out exploring, but since I really can't do anything about that, I might as well go out and enjoy.

We've started thinking about our next "school year." Those who know us know that we are not the "schooliest" of homeschoolers, but I do love the freshness that a new school year brings with it. Planning, dreaming and scheming is all very exciting.

We're always on the lookout for fun ways of learning, and on that note:

*** I've been invited to try Time4Learning for one month in exchange for a candid review. Time4Learning can be used for homeschool, afterschool and summer skill sharpening. Be sure to come back and read about my experience. ***

Stitches

Sometimes you just think something seems like a bad idea. You just get a little feeling that whatever is happening is probably not going to work out for the best, and maybe you ought to stop and go with your instincts.

But then, you might think you're just being overprotective and worrying too much, and that everything will be fine, and besides if you just let it alone, you might get a moment of peace and quiet- a chance to relax while the young ones do their thing.

Actually, I might recommend plan A, because sometimes plan B backfires and your child ends up with a big bloody wound full of sand on their face, and that does not result in any peace and quiet, none at all.

Such was the case on a recent trip to the coast with my children's youth group. I am generally happy to be the spare adult / chaperone / driver etc on these deals because:
1) You get to go to fun places, and I love going to fun places, and
2) I enjoy kids and find them quite entertaining.

So, I am along on this adventure as the extra driver, happy as can be in my rental PT Cruiser full of dancing giggling kids (within the confines of their seat belts, of course) and trying to keep up with our convoy in Bay Area traffic. We camped and hiked in the redwoods and played on the beach everyday. I'm pretty sure that the redwoods and the ocean are two of the best things in the world for a person, and I was in the company of good people as well, so all in all it was a splendid trip.

Then, things went slightly amiss. We were on a beach in Capitola, gathering driftwood for our beach fire when we came across a lovely, and very hard wooden burl in the shape of a baseball. The males amongst us had the idea to fashion a bat by whacking another piece of driftwood into shape so they play a game. Being a non-male, this did not seem like the best idea to me at the time.

In fact, I distinctly remember thinking, "Oh, this ought to work out well...." in the usual sarcastic voice in my head. I could sort of picture the bat in process flying back in someone's face and giving them a painful lump, but I can tend to have a slightly dramatic imagination on occasion, and they seemed to have it under control. The bat was fashioned without incident or injury, so I didn't pay too much more attention to that feeling.

My Boy Child was running with the big kids, and the fire, a blanket and my book were just sitting there calling me towards a moment of solitude. I settled in cozily with the sounds of laughter, waves and gulls in the background. It was lovely.

My moment lasted about a minute and a half. Then, I heard the crack of the bat and the wooden ball colliding, a whoosh, a thud, a collective gasp and a muffled scream. My head whipped around to see my Boy Child face down in the sand with his hands over his mouth and large quantities of blood streaming from between his fingers. As I rushed towards him from behind, his sister came towards from the front. She saw his face before I did and looked up in horror gasping something about his teeth being missing.

It's funny how the mind works. I had a brief second of panic where my eyes literally felt like saucers, before something kicked in and my mind calmly decided that no matter what I would buy my boy new teeth if I needed too, no matter the cost. I would drive my old Volvo for another 5 years if I had to, because even in the little mountain town we call home, having your teeth is important after the age of 10 or so.

A few more steps and a deep breath, and I reached him. Thanks be to God, his teeth were still attached, albeit 3 permanent ones were loose. He had a small, but gaping wound on his upper lip which was filthy with beach grit and bleeding like crazy. Once we got the bleeding to stop, it looked like he might need stitches. It was also obvious that there was no way I was the best person to clean out that sandy gross wound. There are people who are good at doing that kind of thing without contorting their own faces into looks of shock and disgust, gagging and muttering prayers. I am not one of those people. Those people go to medical school and make lots of money sewing up people like us, and we needed to find one of those people.

Teenagers and their smart phones are handy to have when you need to find a doctor in a strange town after 6 pm. Twelve members of our party crowded the waiting room while I watched my boy's face be flushed out and stitched up. What a good group of kids to wait for their friend, hungry, sandy and wet without complaint.

The poor kid that had wielded the bat looked like he felt awful. I tried to convince him that we didn't blame him, but he still looked miserable. I think my jokes about him having a future in lip piercing or orthodontia baffled him more than comforted him, but the thing is, sometimes you have to either find a way to laugh about something or you'll start crying about it, and as a supposed adult in charge, I figured bad jokes were better than the hysterics. 

The stitches are out now, and the scar is pretty small. The loose teeth, thankfully firmed up, and are actually straighter than they were before, straighter than the ones on other side of his mouth too. If it had been more centered, perhaps we could have saved a ton on braces in a few years, although I don't really recommend filthy pieces of wood as a means of straightening teeth.

Of course it would have been nice if this little incident never happened, but since it did, I actually feel really lucky that it hit where it did. The whole thing could have been so very much worse. Lost teeth, broken nose, eye socket, concussion. Yikes. In gives me a horrible feeling in my stomach to think about it.

So, that's why I'm thinking that listening to that little voice is a good idea. When you feel a little skeptical, like something probably is not the best idea, you might just be right.

Pool Side Lessons

Learning really does happen all the time, summer included. Recently, we've had more pool side life lessons than I can count, none of them involving curriculum, but all of them things I'm hoping my kids take note of, as they will probably make life a whole lot easier.

Lesson 1:  Neglect: If you love something, or even if you just want to have it around a while, you might want to actually take care of it. When you neglect things, they are generally much more work to fix than if you had just maintained them in the first place.
We had some trouble with our pool filter at the end of last summer and not to name names, but a certain man that I am married to neglected to add chemicals or run it at all while I was out of town for 5 days. It was about 100 degrees and the pool had a solar cover on it, so we came home to a big, warm swamp. Honestly, it was beyond overwhelming, and since the weather started to cool off, we just left it covered and forgot about it all winter.
Fast forward to this spring... it was hideous. The weather was getting hot and we had 12,000 gallons of stinking, nasty water to clean up. We couldn't just drain it and start over for a couple of reasons- namely, my well will not easily give up 12,000 gallons of water, and even if we did have that much water, the liner is not meant to dry out once it's been installed, and where on earth could I dump all that salt water anyway?
We vowed not to neglect it in such an extreme way again, but in the mean time, we had to clean it up. Let me tell you, it was SO MUCH WORK, which leads me to my next lesson.

Lesson 2: Persistence and Hard Work - it often pays off, at least in this case it did, but I'm not kidding when I say it was hard. I am not exactly an expert at manual labor, and dismantling and scrubbing filters 4 times a day or more was really physically exhausting. Since the kids are big swimmers and love playing in the pool, I made them help too. There were tears, complaints and fits of bad behavior, and that was just me. There were times I wanted to give up, to just smash the pool with a bulldozer and move someplace else where a pool boy handled all of the work. But, we kept at it. We had to vacuum out hundreds of gallons of gross stuff off the bottom, and since the water had salt in it, the kids had to haul it in buckets away from all of our trees. By this point, I was over the fact that this was hard, and had to squelch the bickering and complaints, lest I lose my mind.
After weeks of work, and it just in time for the temperatures to reach triple digits, we hopped in our sparkling blue water. I was so happy, I thought I could cry. If it were possible to hug water, I would have. We all agree, it was worth it.

Lesson 3: Perspective on Cost: A couple of years ago, we acquired this 24 foot diameter hard side Dough Boy pool with wrap around deck from an estate sale for a ridiculously low price. And by ridiculously low, I mean $50. It was in really good shape and a similar new model was selling for around $4500 at the pool store. Of course, by the time we added a new liner, yards of sand to go under it and several water trucks driving way out to our place in the sticks to fill it, it cost a whole lot more. We were lucky enough to have a friend with a tractor who leveled the ground for us and more friends who help us set it up. The $50 bargain pool ended up being more like $1000 to set up, and that didn't even include the new filter and the salt water generator and the ongoing chemical costs. Factoring in all the work involved makes it even higher, but when you live in a place as hot as we do, sometimes it's worth it to eat beans and rice as long as you can swim.


As I mentioned, we learned countless other lessons from the pool. It's been like one big metaphor. But, since I want to go out and enjoy it right now, the last lesson I'll share is this:

Lesson 4: Summer doesn't last forever. So, get out there, soak up some sun and have fun while you can.