I remember perfectly the day I left home. I was nineteen, and I was heading to Switzerland to be an au pair for a year. My parents, grandparents and my aunt and uncle all took me to the airport for the big send off, waving goodbye to their intrepid voyager. My grandparents cried, my aunt and uncle both hugged me tight (and both slipped a $20 in my pocket, woo hoo!), my step dad went quiet and a little abrupt - a telltale sign for him that things were getting mushy. And my Mom - well, she was heartbroken. I can still see her tear-stained yet somehow streak free face like it was yesterday. For my part, I cried hysterically throughout the entire seven hour flight to Zurich (other than during meal time - Swiss Air really does a lovely on-flight meal). Yes I was frightened and alone, but at the same time part of me felt strangely liberated. This was going to be my year. I was going to see things none of us had seen. Sure I didn’t speak the language, knew exactly one person in the entire country and was about to live with some strange foreign family for a year. But it felt incredibly brave to me, and I had always wanted so badly to be brave.
Now I’m back, obviously, and settled so deep into my small town that I will probably never leave. And this time it’s my Mother who will be waving goodbye. My parents are moving to California, about two hours outside San Francisco. They have lived within two hours of me my entire adult life - not to mention all of the times I’ve moved back home for a brief respite. I like to refer to that as my ‘homing pigeon’ phase. As everyone knows, having parents who live close by can sometimes feel like a mixed blessing. They’re always within shouting distance if there’s a problem which can often mean that it’s difficult to stand on your own two feet. Plus, they don’t really have to give you enough notice to clean your house before their visit, which means that they see where you live in all manners of ill-repair. And when you mess things up royally and you’d rather they didn’t know - they know. Believe me, they ALWAYS know.
But, on the whole, we’ve grown into a pretty familiar existence my parents and I. One that I’m just now realizing is going to end. Every Christmas is spent together, in their house or mine (and that’s always a tricky decision because their house is much bigger but I bring a bit of a population increase, what with the kids and the pets). Every year my Mom and I shop for back-to-school things for my sons, which invariably means that they are outfitted much better than I could ever do on my own. As my Mom says - Old Navy is where the parents have to shop, Gap is where the grandparents get to shop. She’s great for all the extras, my mom. She gets them the cool backpacks, the nicer running shoes, good jewelry (she really wants the boys to have a bit of bling, which means they all have necklaces). And I get to buy the school supplies and lunchables. Because that’s the stuff I can afford.
It’s more than the financial stuff though. My parents are often my company. When winter hits along with a major case of the doldrums, I always head to my parents house and hang out with my step dad. The great thing about him is that he allows me to be as sloth-like as I choose. We watch HGTV almost 24-7, and when we tire of that we watch romantic comedies. His favorite is the Wedding Date - pretty funny considering he’s a big macho electrician who also loves ‘the Nascar’. We eat lots of chocolate and just hang in our sweats letting the full depression of February wash over us. It may not sound fun, but it is fun. As for my Mom - she’s always with me. And she’s the only other person out there who gets jazzed to hear every single waking detail of my kid’s lives. Believe me, no one else is that interested. She likes to be here for everything - Hallowe’en, first day of school, last day of school, Christmas concerts, everything. And I am just now realizing that, as of three weeks, I’ll be doing these completely solo.
There is a plus side to their move. The kids and I are heading down there for a much-needed vacation in October, which will be wonderful. And my parents will get to explore a different part of the world, check out wine country and all of that. I suppose I’m heading into the unknown as well, a world I’ve thought I’ve been part of for a long time but am just now fully entering. The world of really doing it on my own. And I feel - brave again.
I’d love to hear from you! Email me at jrmmcguire@yahoo.ca or visit my website at jrmmcguire.blogspot.com. Cheers - and good luck Mom and Dad!
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Thursday, July 5, 2007
I’m bored. What are we doing today? There’s nothing to do. Barbequed burgers AGAIN? Ah, the sounds of summer. If you have a preteen, these sounds of sulky boredom are about as familiar to summer as the sounds of lawnmowers or grasshoppers. I now have two ‘preteen‘ sons - actually, one is now a real teen but I‘ve decided not to accept this, so there you go - and my goodness, life is boring, isn‘t it? Hiking is boring, their brothers are boring, I believe I may even secretly be boring. In the beginning, it seems like a clean slate. The first few days of summer are pretty giddy for them, they stay up late doing nothing, wake up late, eat and then skateboard around looking depressed. I mean, really, what could be more fun than that? But shockingly, the sweet taste of freedom turns sour. For all of us. I want them to be ‘stand-up’ citizens and do some volunteering of their time, maybe pushing the elderly infirm around in wheelchairs or playing checkers with some old men in hats, that sort of thing. They want to hang out in their room and ‘jam’ with their guitar and drums. The same song over, and over, and over again. But it’s a really good song, guys, don’t get me wrong! Or hang out with their friends so that they can all look incredibly sophisticated and bored together (while drinking juice boxes, mind you).
The thing is, they don’t know what’s coming, the poor souls. They don’t know that in the next few years their lives are going to change, their friends will change, we will change. There are going to be a lot of decisions to be made for them in coming years about futures, girls, drinking, drugs. Right now is that magical time between. When they’re still just boys with little or no facial hair and voices that crackle a bit when they’re excited (sorry guys, it’s true). So my mission this summer, besides finding one of those really cool looking retro bikes with a basket on the front (let me know if you see one!), is to make it count. I’m going to force these boys to enjoy every last ounce of their childhood if it kills me! So I’ve come up with a sort of list to give me a hand - nothing fancy, nothing expensive, nothing difficult (except for #2 which might require a working knowledge of drills and such). So if you’re feeling a little stuck, go right ahead and rip off some of these ideas. And great good luck to us all!
1. Head to the beach just after dinner on a windy night. Let yourselves fall backwards into gigantic waves. Don’t care how you look while doing this one, and for Pete’s sake, don’t let anyone take a picture!
2. Build Your Own Go-Kart. Or at least hire someone to build it according to your specs. Or even better, let them do it with their friends while you bring them lemonade and cookies. Yes, I’ve always wanted to be a little like June Cleaver.
3. Sleep under the stars with astrology charts, flash lights and mounds of junk food. Bring bug spray and earplugs (so you don’t hear all of the little animals scurrying up to you in the night)
4. Go for a midnight hike. Actually try to stay quiet and listen to the sounds of nature at your feet, even if you’re really scared of owls (not that I am, naturally.)
5. Head to the library, each of you pick out your favourite book - or one you think the other person would love - and swap. Don’t complain if you have to read Captain Underpants - don’t punish him with a Danielle Steel.
6. Stay in bed on a rainy day with popcorn, movies, a journal and some drawing paper. Hang out in your jammies with no expectations, nowhere else to be, and no one else you’d rather be with. Just be.
7. Each of you choose a favourite hobby - gardening for you? Skateboarding for him? - and try your level best to learn as much as you can. Because all you’re really trying to do is ‘know’ each other beyond, Mom-cries-at-movies and Son-hates-to-bathe. You may be surprised.
8. Pick somewhere on the map you’ve never been within an hour’s drive and explore, explore, explore. Take your own food, your own water etc. and be a backpacker for the day.
9. Make a movie. Write your own script, make costumes, make backdrops completely commit yourself to the project. Accept that your part in the movie will be small, and that you may be killed off quite gruesomely by Act 2.
10. Lay in the grass, looking up at the sky, and remember what those last few breaths of childhood felt like. Make him remember too.
The thing is, they don’t know what’s coming, the poor souls. They don’t know that in the next few years their lives are going to change, their friends will change, we will change. There are going to be a lot of decisions to be made for them in coming years about futures, girls, drinking, drugs. Right now is that magical time between. When they’re still just boys with little or no facial hair and voices that crackle a bit when they’re excited (sorry guys, it’s true). So my mission this summer, besides finding one of those really cool looking retro bikes with a basket on the front (let me know if you see one!), is to make it count. I’m going to force these boys to enjoy every last ounce of their childhood if it kills me! So I’ve come up with a sort of list to give me a hand - nothing fancy, nothing expensive, nothing difficult (except for #2 which might require a working knowledge of drills and such). So if you’re feeling a little stuck, go right ahead and rip off some of these ideas. And great good luck to us all!
1. Head to the beach just after dinner on a windy night. Let yourselves fall backwards into gigantic waves. Don’t care how you look while doing this one, and for Pete’s sake, don’t let anyone take a picture!
2. Build Your Own Go-Kart. Or at least hire someone to build it according to your specs. Or even better, let them do it with their friends while you bring them lemonade and cookies. Yes, I’ve always wanted to be a little like June Cleaver.
3. Sleep under the stars with astrology charts, flash lights and mounds of junk food. Bring bug spray and earplugs (so you don’t hear all of the little animals scurrying up to you in the night)
4. Go for a midnight hike. Actually try to stay quiet and listen to the sounds of nature at your feet, even if you’re really scared of owls (not that I am, naturally.)
5. Head to the library, each of you pick out your favourite book - or one you think the other person would love - and swap. Don’t complain if you have to read Captain Underpants - don’t punish him with a Danielle Steel.
6. Stay in bed on a rainy day with popcorn, movies, a journal and some drawing paper. Hang out in your jammies with no expectations, nowhere else to be, and no one else you’d rather be with. Just be.
7. Each of you choose a favourite hobby - gardening for you? Skateboarding for him? - and try your level best to learn as much as you can. Because all you’re really trying to do is ‘know’ each other beyond, Mom-cries-at-movies and Son-hates-to-bathe. You may be surprised.
8. Pick somewhere on the map you’ve never been within an hour’s drive and explore, explore, explore. Take your own food, your own water etc. and be a backpacker for the day.
9. Make a movie. Write your own script, make costumes, make backdrops completely commit yourself to the project. Accept that your part in the movie will be small, and that you may be killed off quite gruesomely by Act 2.
10. Lay in the grass, looking up at the sky, and remember what those last few breaths of childhood felt like. Make him remember too.
The other day I began a pros and cons list to help me decide if I do, indeed, like summer. I feel like I like summer. Every year I get pretty excited about the arrival of summer, I become full of plans and paint my toenails and such. Outings to the beach - heavenly! Picnics by the river - glorious! Warm pies cooling on the windowsill while the children paint out of doors - oh wondrous joy! And, on the pros side, I really enjoy the eating habits of summer. The little bits of this and that and everything - like potato salad, corn bread, barbeque chicken, peach pie - instead of a structured meal. Because I have recently discovered that I cannot commit to anything, even the idea of one particular meal. Plus, people tend to be drinking outside a little more, and I’m always a fan of that.
But the cons side, if I’m to be honest, is beginning to snowball on me. For instance - I am just not a gardener. Heck, I’m not even a mower of lawns. And somewhere inside me is this intrepid spirit of a gardener begging to be let loose, putting on her big floppy hat and sliding into her crocs with hedge trimmers at the ready. This gardener inside me is a bit of a nag. And has a British accent for whatever reason. She wants me to get up earlier in the morning, trim things and turn dirt and wave at the early morning joggers, sharing a smug little satisfied smile at our industrious natures. How hard could it be, she’ll ask me. Maybe it’s sort of like breastfeeding - people talk about it like it’s brain surgery, it scares you off, then you do it and it’s the most natural thing in the world. Give it a try… Unfortunately, she’s just never going to win out against the other me, the one snoring in bed and hitting the snooze button until the last possible minute. That would also be the ‘me’ who tells herself that those white lacy weeds running amok all over her yard are Mother Nature’s masterpiece. Who are we to call them weeds?
Another con - every year around this time I start to remember the promises I made to myself last year around this time, start remembering the fantasies I had about the woman I would be. In my white sundress or cute capris and t-shirt, with thinner legs, longer hair and fewer lines. And every year I realize that isn’t going to happen. I’m still the same woman who drives as far as possible down the beach so no unsuspecting onlooker will be subjected to visions of me frog jumping through the waves in my ill-fitting black maillot. Because I’m not giving up the jumping in the waves with the boys bit- that definitely goes on the pro side.
So far the heat is a pro not a con, but who knows how long that will hold out? I don’t have air conditioning but I do have nature’s A.C. - lots of trees. They still do the trick pretty nicely. But soon the trees are going to give out on me, their branches are going to start drooping and pouting in the heat. They’re going to go on strike, and that’s when the fans will come out. You start hearing about it everywhere you go - everyone is talking about opening windows in the morning, closing them mid afternoon, opening again in the evening at the right time, fans in the windows, fans on the floors, fans in the bedrooms…It’s like Morse code for the sweaty.
When it comes right down to it, my problems with summer have nothing to do with summer and everything to do with becoming aware of my shortcomings. Sticky countertops that will never get smooth, approximately 8 more fruit flies buzzing about the kitchen than are socially acceptable, not enough lessons for the kids and too much ice cream for me. Then there’s all the shaving of parts, sunburns in incredibly awkward places, messier hair than usual. People on dates who look so happy that you can’t even silently heckle them - at least in the winter they’re holed up at home by the fire, most likely snuggling in private. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
But as many cons as there are, I have a good feeling they’ll never turn me completely. Especially since next year I plan to look incredible, I’m going to have lost some weight, grown my hair, I’ll have a fantastic tan….
But the cons side, if I’m to be honest, is beginning to snowball on me. For instance - I am just not a gardener. Heck, I’m not even a mower of lawns. And somewhere inside me is this intrepid spirit of a gardener begging to be let loose, putting on her big floppy hat and sliding into her crocs with hedge trimmers at the ready. This gardener inside me is a bit of a nag. And has a British accent for whatever reason. She wants me to get up earlier in the morning, trim things and turn dirt and wave at the early morning joggers, sharing a smug little satisfied smile at our industrious natures. How hard could it be, she’ll ask me. Maybe it’s sort of like breastfeeding - people talk about it like it’s brain surgery, it scares you off, then you do it and it’s the most natural thing in the world. Give it a try… Unfortunately, she’s just never going to win out against the other me, the one snoring in bed and hitting the snooze button until the last possible minute. That would also be the ‘me’ who tells herself that those white lacy weeds running amok all over her yard are Mother Nature’s masterpiece. Who are we to call them weeds?
Another con - every year around this time I start to remember the promises I made to myself last year around this time, start remembering the fantasies I had about the woman I would be. In my white sundress or cute capris and t-shirt, with thinner legs, longer hair and fewer lines. And every year I realize that isn’t going to happen. I’m still the same woman who drives as far as possible down the beach so no unsuspecting onlooker will be subjected to visions of me frog jumping through the waves in my ill-fitting black maillot. Because I’m not giving up the jumping in the waves with the boys bit- that definitely goes on the pro side.
So far the heat is a pro not a con, but who knows how long that will hold out? I don’t have air conditioning but I do have nature’s A.C. - lots of trees. They still do the trick pretty nicely. But soon the trees are going to give out on me, their branches are going to start drooping and pouting in the heat. They’re going to go on strike, and that’s when the fans will come out. You start hearing about it everywhere you go - everyone is talking about opening windows in the morning, closing them mid afternoon, opening again in the evening at the right time, fans in the windows, fans on the floors, fans in the bedrooms…It’s like Morse code for the sweaty.
When it comes right down to it, my problems with summer have nothing to do with summer and everything to do with becoming aware of my shortcomings. Sticky countertops that will never get smooth, approximately 8 more fruit flies buzzing about the kitchen than are socially acceptable, not enough lessons for the kids and too much ice cream for me. Then there’s all the shaving of parts, sunburns in incredibly awkward places, messier hair than usual. People on dates who look so happy that you can’t even silently heckle them - at least in the winter they’re holed up at home by the fire, most likely snuggling in private. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
But as many cons as there are, I have a good feeling they’ll never turn me completely. Especially since next year I plan to look incredible, I’m going to have lost some weight, grown my hair, I’ll have a fantastic tan….
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