Hairy Potter

I really would have expected the photo of the day to be a traditional 4th of July type picture - Emerson in his annual tee, some of the delicious roasted tomatoes I made (thanks to having read the divine My Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg), or of Emerson swimming at Tia and Scott's (an annual tradition). But when all was said and done, it was this picture that took the top prize.

And, because I can't resist. Here's the best of the rest...


Emerson sportin' Harry Potter specs and Bozo Nose (Thanks Gramma Kathy!)



A boy and his dog




These slow-roasted tomatoes were AMAZING (Kudos to Molly Wizenberg for providing the delish recipe in her book My Homemade Life)



CANNONBALL!

A Spontaneous Splash on a Hot Summer Day

A day off that started with a long sit at the car dealership while my oil was changed and the technicians were checking into the squeak and moan of my steering wheel and the declining power in my keyless remote. Emerson asked no less than 20 times if he could have one of the doughnuts in the waiting area and an attractive guy struck up a conversation and directed us to the healthier fruit tray around the corner. We made our way out after a two hour wait and headed to the store for some fresh produce and ingredients for a homemade lunch.

The planned highlight of this day free of work and summer school was meeting up with some friends to see Ice Age 3 in 3D. En route to the theater, we literally ran into Tia Claudia... what are the chances?... and met up with Deejah and Alexandra in front of the box office. The kids couldn't wait to put on their 3D glasses and were willing to actually share a kids pack of popcorn and candy. Emerson certainly doesn't get his willingness to share food from me.

Third row seats kept their eyes glued to the screen and a number of unfortunate spills by previous patrons kept our feet sticky-stuck to the floor. The movie was good (even though or especially because it afforded me a 15 minute nap). On our way out we couldn't detour past the video games but were successful in not doling out cash for tokens. We parted and headed to the car, the sun beating down on our skin. Man, it was hot.

As we approached the outdoor fountain, we heard squealing children and laughing parents. It wasn't long before Emerson looked up and said, "It's hot mommy. Can I go in the fountain?"

Normally, I would say no. He's fully clad in street clothes and it's going to be impossible to get him out of it once I open that proverbial door.

But, I went against the grain and said, "Sure honey. But only for 10 minutes. Promise?"

"Promise!" he gleamed.

He was cautious at first. The denim shorts and t-shirt had to be a slight deterrent. He stood near the water sprays as they shot up from the ground.

"Go on, get soaked!" I hollered.

With that confirmed approval, he jumped right in.

It was a completely impromptu moment. One that brought unadulterated fun into our day, not to mention a perfect smile... a perfect laugh... a perfect moment.

And, a perfect picture.

Late Start

I shouldn't be starting my day after 7, but that's the rut I am in right now.

Half-Assed is Still a Big Deal

So there's this fun, cool, intense, creative online photo project known as Project 365, where you take a picture every day of the year and upload to a place like Flickr and share your photowares in an online community. I have been intrigued by this project for a couple of years and made myself promise I would do this in 2009. Then 2009 came in with the usual uneventful fanfare of another year and I realized on January 12 that I missed the start. As friends and family can attest, I am a stickler for rules and process and formality and all that crap, so I let the notion pass. Plus, while cool, there's a big commitment to it and one for which I have obviously vacillated. But then I had an idea. An idea that would work in my rules-based head.

I could do this project for half the year.

It would be half the commitment and perhaps half-assed in the minds of the die-hard, repeat offender Project 365-ers. But more my style considering I have competed in in two half marathons which I enjoyed and one full which I abhorred. So, half-time, half-assed seemed wholly perfect.

I googled "What day is the exact middle day of the year?" And the answer was July 2, in a non-leap year. And then the challenge started to sink in and I started thinking.

Thinking about how busy life feels. How I am not sure I can manage all that I have chosen, or what has chosen me. And yet, this daily commitment to picture taking, selecting a single image to represent the day and subsequent blogging seems like an opportunity to slow down, an opportunity to capture the every day moments that when not paying attention can feel mundane or routine and are, in actuality, the sum total of this life.

That realization resonated with me in a way that was equal parts calming and disquieting. Contemplation continued. I posted the idea on my Facebook wall and got a lot of positive feedback (including a willing partner in Deejah), and I found myself making a commitment to both my friend and myself.

I am not entirely sure I need any more challenges right now, however, I do know that I need to create something. I have the urge to capture perspective and catalog the journey I am on. And for those reasons it feels like a good thing to do.

Here I go...

Practice Meet - An Exercise in Controlled Chaos

There had to be 200 children there tonight. The pool was absolutely teeming with people and Emerson was thrilled I brought his swim shirt.

"I am not sure if the place hosting the meet is outdoors, and I don't want you to get sunburned."

"But even if it's indoor Mommy it's okay for me to wear my swim shirt." He acknowledged with a tinge of comfort.

I took a deep breath and we worked our way through the crowd. My purse, camera bag and Emerson's tote bumped the heads of many a child as we navigated the compact area. I was apparently the only working mother in the lot, or the only one not smart enough to leave work more than an hour early to change for the outdoor meet and bring my own chair.

Emerson was eager to jump in the pool, but I hesitated. I wanted more information and to get my bearings. Fortunately, right at the moment Emerson might have broken down after his 49th request to get in the pool, the swim school owner spoke to the crowd. He explained the under sixers would warm up and then the adults would head into the gym for an info meeting. It was all a little overwhelming and yet contained. Somehow.

Emerson warmed up with the others and joined me for the meeting while the 7 and olders did their warm ups. The swim team would work like an actual swim team, children would ribbon, based on time, but were not required to go to meets or stay at them for their entirety - especially the younger ones - realizing that the experience is long and a bit intense.

Relief.

And, while there was some competition, this was supposed to be fun. The coaches were committed to it and the parents should be too. The owner even said his kids used to swim so they could get every ribbon. Some meets, the goal was actually 5th place.

Relief, part two.

By the time the info meeting was over, it was time for the under sixers to swim their first practice meet. Girls went first and Emerson left his lane line up and cut through the crowd to get to me.

"Mommy, I don't think I can do this."

"Oh, Emerson, sweetie, of course you can! I watched you in practice last night and you were great!"

"I just don't think I can do it."

"Can you try just one race? I don't care if you win your race - I just want you to have fun and try your best. That's all I want you to do. Can we try one?"

Hesitation.

"What if I come over and stand with you and your teammates until it's time for you to swim. Would you like that?"

He nodded and grabbed my hand. Back we went, fighting the crowd, fighting to find our place. I engaged his lead coach for some support and she did a great job encouraging him. She also found a spot for me where I could watch him and he could see me when it was his turn. After what seemed like forever, he was pushing off the side of the pool and tackling his first freestyle race.

Try his best, he did! He was steady and straight and made it to the end. Fifth place for a first timer, who was swimming against some 6 year olds on their second swim team, made this mama more than proud and I even got a smile out of the kiddo.

He agreed to go back into the line and await his next race while I stood in a different line to get his ribbon. It was so much to take in. Especially when he decided he was done before the next race, but he couldn't find me. Scared and tear stained, I felt him tug at my leg as I was just about to sit down and look for him. After a number of hugs and kisses and "It's alright... I was here the whole time," we decided to scoot out before the second race.

We celebrated his success over Subway sandwiches and some good bedtime stories. He's ready to try practice again tomorrow; but, we may go easy on the meets.

And that's just fine with me.

Self Consciousness: The Early Years

Tonight, Emerson started his first-ever swim team.

The schedule had me tired at registration: Three nights per week, from 7:30 to 8:30 p.m. and meets on Thursdays at 6.

He's five. And, while I don't want to push him, the exercise, camaraderie, teamwork and individual effort are good things to start instilling. An opportunity to give him a taste of success, commitment and follow through and the heartbreak of defeat. Unlike T-Ball, not everyone will win.

Tonight was the first practice. Kids ranged in age from 5 - 13. There were relaxed faces of veterans (one girl was starting her fourth summer swim team), excited looks from eager, unsuspecting ones and looks of discomfort from some, including my little guy who stood in line for the pool with his hand squarely covering his tummy tube.

I called him over and asked him what was wrong, why was he covering his tube.

"Because I don't like having it, Mommy."

Wow.

This is big. Bigger than first-time swim team.

He's had his G-Tube since he can remember and was never bothered by it. He thought it was cool when Mommy, Daddy or Gramma Kathy had to come to school to give him a drink. Now, at 5, it's a cause for concern, embarrassment, anxiety.

"Honey, there's nothing wrong with you having a tube. It's just something that makes you different, and it's perfectly okay for you to be different. That's what makes us special."

"I wish you would have brought my swim shirt." He said, his head drooping.

I have to admit; I wasn't prepared for this. Not now. Not this soon. I mumbled something about him being okay and that he would have a great practice and encouraged him to scoot along to his lane.

He was great during practice and perked up a little.

His freestyle has improved a lot over the recent months and Coach Sean worked with the under sixers on their glide into the back stroke. There was a lot of "Go... Go... Go... Keep moving... Keep moving... Good job!... Good job!" echoing throughout the swim school and I could only help but be a little sad. Nostalgic for the time when things just were and there wasn't a value or judgment placed on being different.

The hour of practice went by fast and we found ourselves cleaning him up in the common area.

"Can we go into one of the locker rooms to dress, Mommy?"

"Why sweetie?"

"I don't want anyone to see my tube."

This time, I was a little more prepared.

"Emerson, your tube is fine. Did you know that I actually think that having a tube is pretty cool?"

"Why, Mommy?"

"Because you can drink water faster than anyone I know! And when you do it? It goes straight into your tummy! While everyone else's drink has to go in their mouths, down their throats, through the esophagus and then into the tummy. With you, it's a straight shot!"

"Oh."

"So, what are the names of some of your swim team friends?" An attempt at diversion.

"I don't know."

"Maybe next time you can ask one of them their names."

"I don't want to Mommy."

"Okay. Let's get dressed and get you home. It's 8:30 and it's late."

He became enamored with the coaches and their process of covering the pool lanes and closing down shop. I struggled a bit to pull him away and sweep him away into the night and home to sweet dreams.

We walked to the car.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, honey?"

"I can drink really fast. Faster than anyone because I have a tube."

"That's right, baby. Faster than anyone else."

To be continued...

Hopes and Dreams

Sunday night, after days and days of Emerson saying, "Mommy, mommy! We have to write my hopes and dreams for school." and me saying, "Honey, I think it is supposed to be the parents writing their hopes and dreams for the children." followed by a whine and, "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo. It's my hopes and dreams, Mommy. Mine. MYHOPESANDDREAMSMOMMMMMMMMMMMY.... MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE."

I acquiesced.

Emerson thought very seriously of all he ever wants out of his life and carefully chose his words. This is what I captured, verbatim:

"When I am a grown up, I want to be a baseball player. On my birthday, I want my mommy and daddy to get me a good present. I want my mommy to get a good night sleep tonight. I love my mommy and daddy. Those are my hopes and dreams."

I am so glad this kid knows at such a young age how important sleep is for his mama.

Oh, and the post-it note on his sign out sheet Monday afternoon said:

"Thank you for turning in Emerson's hopes and dreams, but we need the submission to be what the parents want for their children."

Didn't I just say that?