Tag Archives: nature

How our flock is surviving summer

Jack, Adam and I have been watching a group of goslings that live near our apartment. At the start of June, the goslings’ fuzzy yellow feathers began turning light gray. Whenever we’d pass them on the dog walk, their mama would stare menacingly at us, and if anyone got too close, she’d hiss. 

“Why is she hissing, Mom?” eight-year-old Jack asked. 

“Well, the mother wants to make sure her babies are safe,” I said, giving her a knowing nod. “She’s warning us not to mess around with her goslings… or else.”

“Or else what?” he pressed.

“Or else mother goose will fight us,” I chuckled, guiding us forward. We had an afternoon snack and an hour of screentime to look forward to, maybe a trip to the pool afterwards. Now mother goose was in protector mode, but I wondered if she ever felt exhausted by a barrage of snack requests, or even perplexed by how to entertain her brood. And, what did she look like when she was at peace?

Recently, the boys and I were walking our dog and we encountered the goslings again. I think. Honestly, they looked so large, they passed for geese. Closer inspection revealed their shortened tails and beaks, but, my, my, they’d changed. Astonishingly, their mother seemed nonplussed by their growth and our presence.

So it is with my boys, who, in the course of six weeks, have grown longer limbs and extra bumps and bruises and daily look as if they’re about to take flight. Unlike mother goose, I have zero chill about this reality and luckily, several summers before they leave home. Like our gosling friends, we’ve fallen into a summer rhythm with increased independence. Here are ten things that are helping us survive these long, hot weeks of change and growth.

Baseball: This was Jack’s second year of youth baseball, and while it wasn’t my favorite due to a cool, wet spring, I still enjoyed watching him play. Jack’s catching and throwing improved a lot this past season, and three-year-old Adam even made a buddy on the sidelines. Interestingly, my favorite part of this season hasn’t been the formal games at all, it’s been practicing with Jack and our family. We’ll either meet at a park I love or play ball in the yard at my folks’ house, where my sons’ grandparents, uncle and cousins can join in. Some of our sweetest moments happened with a wiffle ball and plastic bat, racing barefoot around imaginary bases. 

My parents: Since school let out, we’ve been traveling to and from Chicago’s western suburbs in search of a new home. As anyone who’s searching for a house knows, the market is moving quickly and if a house comes up that you like, you need to see it ASAP. Bringing kids to showings is… not ideal. Thankfully, my folks have stepped in to watch Jack and Adam while my husband and I visit homes. They are saints for being ready to host the boys, including special treats and trips to the comic store for baseball cards, and I’ve loved seeing their relationships deepen. Grandparents to the rescue!  

Summer skincare: As an aging millennial on the cusp of 40, daily facial sunscreen is a must: I use this SPF 50 tinted one on average days and this glowy version when I’m feeling fancy. I’m all about protecting my sons’ fair skin as well. When I’m out in the sun with the boys, we slather on this Unseen Sunscreen dupe I found at Trader Joe’s in June (sadly, this product is no longer available) or waterproof sunscreen from Target.

Simple breakfast: With warmer weather here, I’ve set aside my usual scrambled eggs for breakfast in favor of cool, creamy yogurt. I recently discovered Ratio yogurt, which is low in sugar, high in protein and my new go-to quick breakfast, paired with homemade peanut butter energy balls or fruit. My favorite flavor is vanilla. The boys enjoy Chobani flips (their favorites include mint chip, key lime pie and cookie dough). We’ve also been stocking up on juicy watermelon, which they both eat nonstop.

Library pick up: Lately, we’ve been on the run so often that we aren’t able to spend time lingering at the library. Enter: library hold pick up. Instead of browsing the shelves, I’ll sit with the boys and ask them what they’d like to read, then request those books using my library app. A few days later, I’ll receive a notification email to visit the library. We’ll breeze inside to drop off old books and collect our holds, then go on our way. This is my new favorite thing and it’s helping my boys conquer their respective literary canons (for Jack, the Captain Underpants series and Adam, the Berenstain Bears). As for me, I’m enjoying plenty of poetry and working my way through the School for Good and Evil (YA fantasy) series.

book

My writing group: I adore the women in my writing group. This year, we leveled up and now have an official Voxer thread in addition to our Slack group and text thread. We swap recipes, drop book recs, celebrate life wins, discuss how we are occupying our kids, ask “Is it just me or… ?” and, oh yes, we also chat about writing. They’ve been my summer lifeline as we all navigate the delight and challenges of parenting in the summer.

Quiet time with screens: Yes, we use screens — with boundaries — as a tool to entertain our children. With a three-year-old who’s fighting his midday nap and a precocious eight-year-old, I need relief. This summer it’s available thanks to Let’s go Pikachu on Switch for Jack and Paw Patrol DVDs for Adam. My rule for the summer is no screens in the morning, so my kids usually spend an hour in their respective universes after lunch or before dinner, giving me an hour to catch up on chores, meal prep or my reading. 

Playdates: Without the regular rhythm of school pickup and drop off plus apartment living, my kiddos and I are missing interactions with our pals. They’re with me nearly all day every day, which is wonderful, but we need variety! Consequently, I’ve been intentional about setting playdates with children and moms we love. We’ll meet at the pool, a park or in someone’s home and let our kids run and play together. These connections are like a deep exhale for everyone.

My summer uniform: I’ve been living in these chino shorts (in army green and pink), paired with a cute tank top. To rest my hair from heat styling, I’ve been wearing it wet with a claw clip. These sandals (in almond) have been my go-to shoes for summer for three years running. They can be dressed up or down, and they’re incredibly comfy. As for my boys, they’re choosing comfy athletic shorts and shirts, paired with blue slide sandals.

Flexibility: At the end of every Orange Theory class, the head coach at my studio says stretching is the “secret sauce” to longevity. What works for the body can also work for the mind. Perhaps the biggest thing that has helped me this summer has been a flexible mindset. I’ve never been great at adjusting plans but since summer started, I’ve had to shift gears to address family obligations, child injuries (everyone is okay, but we did have one urgent care visit) and house hunting. Letting go of plans and expectations is a good exercise in humility for someone like me. Maybe by the end of the summer, I’ll be more chill? Maybe. (Hey coach, I’m certainly stretching!) Anyway, I do not pretend to know what’s in store for our little flock amid life’s many uncertainties, but one day soon, I hope we’ll stretch our wings and soar home. 

To read about more summer favorites, check out Kim’s “What’s Saving My Life” and Jessica’s “What’s Saving My Summer Life.”

Your turn: What’s helping you survive the summer? Leave a comment and let me know.

Reasons to wake early

To witness fuschia streak across the sky
and tangerine clouds outlined in gold
To notice sparrows singing
To savor hot coffee without interruption
To breathe
To untangle a thicket of thoughts on paper
before the day unfolds
To thank God for another spin
around the sun
To remember that, as the sky evolves,
I can too
To dwell in light — and possibility

What’s saving my life right now (or, some things that make this winter easier): 

{water} On Valentine’s Day, a pipe broke in our suburb causing our apartment complex and many other homes and businesses to lose access to clean water and plumbing.

This is embarrassing, but in my 39 years, I’ve rarely considered my dependence on water. It’s always been available. After using bottled water to brush teeth, wash hands, cook and more, plus coping with toilets that didn’t flush, I felt painfully aware of those privileges.

Cleaning up a particularly messy potty training incident without water made me crack. “That’s it, everyone,” I announced, surveying the damage. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m calling Grandma.” The kids cheered. Jay and I packed up our things and fled to my parents’ place in Chicago’s western suburbs to wait out the issue.

Meanwhile, an area hospital had to rely on bottled water and brought in temporary sinks to serve its patients. Other residents and businesses found ways to survive without running water. Everyone was humbled by this hurdle.

Two days later, the pipe was fixed and water was restored. Jay and I returned home to run faucets, clean toilets, change filters and empty out the icebox. We caught up on chores and laundry and, in the midst of our housework, we counted our blessings. Standing under my apartment showerhead, feeling hot, clean water rush over my shoulders, I practically cooed. The expression is true: Water is life.

{electric blanket} Each Christmas, my mother-in-law’s extended family hosts a white elephant gift exchange, and through a shrewd trade for a Hello Kitty mini fridge, we acquired an electric blanket. Though I’d never thought to buy one myself, this product is one I never knew I needed and this winter,  I can’t live without. My oldest fights me for it, but the biggest fan of the electric blanket, other than yours truly, is our pug, Gus, who at nine-years-old is becoming more and more like a cranky old man. Whether I’m warming my shoulders at my desk or snuggling underneath my electric blanket while watching TV, Gus is nearby, mooching valuable blanket real estate. I don’t mind sharing with him.

{screen boundaries} Recently, Jay and I banned our oldest from using his iPad on weekdays. Weekend use was fine, for an allotted time. But we were done with weekdays. “You guys are no fun,” Jack huffed. “Why are you doing this?”

I could see one of his iPad games having an addictive effect on him because I’d felt that same pull myself, but with checking Instagram and Facebook. This past January, I fasted from social media for a month. I’ve done this before, often in the summer. Though I missed connecting with my friends there, what surprised me most about this fast was how free I felt without these social platforms, which are designed to be addictive. My mind felt clearer, and I wanted that for Jack.

“Too much time playing [addictive game redacted] isn’t great for your brain, the same way too much time on Instagram isn’t great for mine,” I told him. 

Did this go over well? Absolutely not. Nevertheless, he’s accepted our new boundary and it’s helped his mood stabilize. Meanwhile, I’m dipping my toes back into social media, trying to find a boundary that works for me. For now, I’ll try Fridays only to connect with friends and share stories and photos. I hope our new boundaries will disrupt the addictive nature of our screens while allowing some room for fun.

{notebooks everywhere} Though I write a lot on my phone and computer, my preferred method remains by hand. Writing guru Natalie Goldberg instilled in me the virtues of writing by hand as a means to free one’s inner thoughts and it’s my go-to practice for early drafts and late revisions. Something about moving my hand helps quiet my inner critic (after many years working as a magazine editor, this is crucial to my process as a writer). So how do you write by hand when you’re a busy mom on the go? Stash notebooks everywhere. I have one in my car, one in the kitchen, one on my desk and one on my nightstand. Each is filled with journal entries, stories and lists. “Keep your hand moving,” Goldberg instructs in her book, The True Secret of Writing. “If you say you will write for ten minutes, twenty, an hour, keep your hand going. Not frantically, clutching the pen. But don’t stop. This is your chance to break through to the wild mind, to the way you really think, see, and feel, rather than how you think you should think, see, and feel.” There’s just something about writing by hand. A multitude of notebooks makes it possible.

{the children’s museum} After we moved to the suburbs, I left behind our beloved neighborhood filled with friends we’d known for years for a brand new place where we knew absolutely no one. Though we lost proximity to friends, what we gained was closer access to the local children’s museum. After I sprung for the annual pass, my youngest and I found ourselves there often, reveling in pretend play. When we visit, Adam fixes sandwiches at a restaurant, changes tires at an auto shop, paints a house, drives a train and more. It’s where we celebrated his third birthday, and where we meet up with his buddy from our old neighborhood. This is Adam’s happy place and I’m here for it.

{redwoods} Real talk: this winter, I’ve been moving through the anniversary of a traumatic experience. Some days are steady and even hopeful. Others are shaky and especially tender. 

One thing that helped?

In early February, I traveled to San Francisco to spend time with my writing group. Fay, who lives in the Bay area, hosted. As part of our retreat, she drove us to Muir Woods, home of the ancient coast redwoods. I read in my brochure that redwoods have been in California for 150 million years, and those at Muir Woods are between 500 to 800 years old.

Entering the woods was like gaining access to a secret garden. 

Redwoods soared high. Emerald moss decked their reddish brown branches. Spring green ferns burst from the forest floor. Cool mist hovered around the woods, as if we were stepping inside a cloud. 

Fay, who has faced much adversity in the past year, paused on the path and gazed up at the towering trees. 

“You know, sometimes when I get discouraged by the news or my life, I think, whatever is happening out there, these redwoods have withstood it for hundreds of years, and they’ll still be standing afterwards,” she said. 

Spellbound, I nodded. Though we’d talked nonstop until this point, I’d run out of words. My brave and generous friend couldn’t have known how much her words meant to me. Here in this tree cathedral, I felt as if I’d received communion. I had a renewed sense that what had transpired last winter would not define me. Remember this moment, I thought. Remember her. 

I have thought of Fay’s wisdom a dozen times since we visited Muir Woods with our friends. The redwoods are still standing. We are, too.

// I wrote this post in collaboration with my writing group. To read more “What’s saving my life” lists, visit Kim’s post, Melissa’s post and Fay’s post.