Cool Blue

Parker was fixing himself an after-school snack.
As he waited for the water to boil for his three hot dogs, he commented on how "cool" the water looked.  I think his exact words were "That is the COOLEST boiling water EVER!"
I just kept folding laundry...unimpressed because he uses that sentence a lot.  Substitute the words "boiling water" with "car" "hat" "shoe" "spider" "scar"...you get the idea.
But he didn't stop there.
"I wonder what would happen if I put food coloring in there?" he mused, more to himself than to me.
To which I replied, "Do it and find out.  It won't hurt your food."
He broke into a broad grin and before you could say "experiment" he had my stash of food coloring out on the counter.  After a short debate with himself he chose blue and....voila!

I have to admit it WAS pretty cool.

The water was blue.  The hot dogs were not.  Photo not available as I couldn't find a way to take a picture of a hot dog without it being obscene.

Parker has always been a bit of a scientist.  This experiment reminded me of a similar one he performed 10 years ago when he boiled dandelions to see if the water would turn yellow.  He is always taking things apart, observing minute details, asking questions.  And I love it.  I could be the know-it-all who answers all his questions...but I'm not that kind of mom.  I would much rather watch him test things and find the answer for himself.  Plus, (and I'm loathe to admit this) I really DON'T know it all. So if he's willing to do the work, I'm willing to give him the time and tools.  

Who knows...he may grow up to be the COOLEST scientist EVER! 

Lost and Found

The specter of loss has been hovering in the air for the last few weeks.
The anniversary of a local teenage girl killed in a bus accident last year.
The death of a dear friend which left his wife (also my dear friend and Soul Sister) trying to comprehend the reality that in the morning her husband was there, and in the afternoon he was not.
And of course, all the remembering of September 11...the images, the sounds, the feelings all rushing back as though they never abated.
On a quiet Sunday evening, all this loss makes me pensive.
But it makes me do other things too.
It makes me aware of what I have.  It makes me take time for "I love you" even when I'm running late.  It makes me appreciate Hillary's art and music.  It makes me text Parker from the front seat to the back on the way home from family reunion to say "I'm so glad you were with us this weekend."  It makes me realize what a gift it is to have both children along on a grocery shopping trip...laughing at their mother and throwing Zebra cakes and cheesy hot dogs in the cart..creating more chaos than they ever did as toddlers.
It makes me more patient with my husband when he wants to talk in the morning.  And when we are at a social gathering and he catches me looking at him across the room and he gives me a little wink, it makes me say in my heart "Thank you God for a good man who loves me.  Thank you that I had this day...this wink."
And when Parker returns home at night after "driving around" with his newly licensed friend and comes in my room to let me see that he is all in one piece, it makes me breathe in his scent of four-wheeler and firework and memorize the feel of his hug and the sound of his voice.
The realization that these things could be lost makes them infinitely more valuable.
If I look closely, there are plenty of blessings to be found.

In Tune

A chill in the air...a pep assembly...a boy in uniform...

It all adds up to one thing...

Marching Band season!!

With a little football sprinkled between songs, of course ;)

I spent my Friday night cheering for my favorite trumpet player.

I sat dangerously close to the roped-off "band only" section of the bleachers...like any good groupie. And if you think that embarrasses my boy you'd be wrong.

He's part ham.

From his father's side, of course!

They played the National Anthem, and then short bursts of song during every timeout and touchdown.  With a few minutes left in the first quarter, Parker leaned over to me and said, "Check the weather on your phone.  I want to know if it's gonna rain." I assured him it would be fine, but he continued, "No, I WANT it to rain...preferably before halftime!"

I guess he wasn't too confident in their halftime show.

The much loved band director Parker has had since junior high left at the end of last year and the new girl is ambitious.  

But it didn't rain.

And they sounded great!

Hillary had to work, so I sent her play-by-play texts on how it was going.  And I sat by the girl who Drum Majored with Hillary during her senior year and we commiserated Hillary's absence.  

All in all it was a great first night on the Field.

And then halftime is over...which means I get to go home!

Parker hugged me goodbye, took my last two dollars, and went to hang with the other SuperCool Band Geeks.  Hubby kissed me bye and headed off to work the "chain gang".  And as I drove home, it started to rain.  I laughed out loud and texted Parker.  He got his rain, just a little late.

Now as I sit with my popcorn and think about the four of us in different places, but still connected, I smile.  It's good to be in tune.

Overtime

I am not a morning person.  And that's understating it.
But now that I am working in the same district where we live, I get an extra 15 min of sleep...and a chauffeur.  Parker, unlike his father, understands my need for silence in the morning and drives without any cheery chat or country music.  When we arrive, he carries in my ubiquitous school bag, gives me a quick hug, and he's off down the hall toward the high school.
But by 3:00 when he comes back down that same hallway, he's a different boy.  There's a pep in his step and he feels like TALKING.  Details of his day come flying at me in no logical order as he messes with my SmartBoard and rattles the "helper" sticks in their bucket and rolls around in my chair before adjusting the height up and down a bunch of times. So I give him jobs to do.  He grades papers, hangs up student work in the halls, cleans the whiteboard, and straightens desks.  And I listen with half my brain as I try to make sure things are prepared for the next day so I can get the heck outta there.
Yesterday, he didn't show up.  I vaguely wondered where he was, but figured he had decided to pester his dad for a change.  Then I got a text informing me he was hanging out in another teacher's classroom with her one-year-younger daughter. I smiled and texted him back that I was ready to GO and to meet me in the car in no more than 5 minutes.
This morning on the way to school, I reminded him that we had to pack and be ready to leave town when Dad got home from basketball try-outs, so I would be ready to leave school early and he better get down to my room right away.  His face fell a bit.
"Is there something you need to do after school?" I asked.
He shrugged.  "Me and Cute Girl (name has been changed to protect the innocent) were gonna hang out in your room after school."
I sighed.
And that's how I ended up staying 15 min later than I wanted to at work today.  My plans were all done, my copies all made.  I was ready to leave...but I shuffled papers and checked my email one more time so Boy and Girl could play a kiddie game on my SmartBoard, giggling and showing off and being teenagers.
Maybe it's because I launched into parenting before I was done being a kid myself, but I can't NOT remember how it feels to be a teenager.  How exciting it is to be with someone who thinks you're cute.  How you want to just hang out forever doing nothing.
As much as I may hate every minute spent at work, I love every minute spent watching my kid be happy.  Even if it means working overtime.

Heels to Toes

Hillary is always doing crazy stuff for her college art classes...hanging mirrors from the ceiling...popping paint-filled balloons with darts...forcing me to frolic through a cotton field while she takes film shots of "movement". But this week she came home with an assignment that had her head over heels.

She was supposed to make a shoe out of paper. 

It had to "represent" her personality.

She couldn't use any tape, glue, or other adhesive.

She had to be able to WALK ACROSS THE ROOM in them.

It sounded impossible to me, but Hillary was undaunted.  She took to the challenge like a true Disney heroine, optimistically declaring that she would make a high heel shoe which would impress her teacher and be the envy of all the other lazy students making moccasins by wrapping brown paper bag around their feet.  I'm pretty sure there were bluebirds flying around with ribbon in their beaks and mice marching behind her armed with needles and thread.

She set about cutting her Cosmo into strips and rolling coils of paper into a sturdy sole.

She spent hours over the next several days, curling and coiling, planning and pleating, trying and tweaking, only to find it wasn't working and start all over again.

Her spirits flagged, but only a bit.

Like any good American, she believed with enough determination and hard work, she could spin straw into gold...or at least bend this paper to her will.

 But the due date loomed and she still had nothing but a shabby sole.

I've gotta tell ya, by this point I would have been cheating.  A little glue...a staple here and there...or maybe I would have used envelopes and claimed it wasn't MY fault if they already had glue on them and they accidentally got wet while I was cobbling and helped my shoe stick together.

But, ever obedient, Hillary hobbled on, determined to finish the assignment.  

Eventually she did prevail and made it to class with these...

I don't think Jimmy Choo is calling anytime soon.

Later, Hillary was telling her dad and me about the other student's shoes.  No one else had even attempted anything other than a flat piece of paper held on to their feet by a couple of stringy strips.  They explained it by saying things like, "I made a sandal.  It's open because I'm such an open person."

These are the kind of people who go into politics.

"And the lesson learned today is...?" I prompted.  To which Hillary replied, "Don't be an overachiever?"

"Exactly!  Sometimes you just do what it takes to get by and BS the rest until it works!" 

She laughed.  Which was kind of the point.
While I am proud of her ambition, I also know that she (like her mother) has a tendency to set impossible goals for herself, hoping to impress her teachers/friends/the world.
We both know how to make things way harder than they have to be. Sometimes pouring all your energy into the wrong thing makes your high-heel dreams turn out to be more like a ratty house slipper.
Lesson learned...
Heels or no, this college thing is keeping us both on our toes!

Good Talk

When your kids are little, it's easy to check off the developmental milestones.
Crawling...check.
First steps...check.
Potty training...check.
First lost tooth...check.
But as they get older, the changes are more subtle.  And more embarrassing to talk about.  It would be easy to just let it go and pray that the kid who still occasionally calls me "mommy" will magically avoid the complicated desires of young adulthood and keep his innocence even as his body morphs into Man.  But "easy" very rarely coincides with "parenting".
And so I found myself opening a conversation with Parker as he was standing in the kitchen waiting on his pizza to finish baking.
"I'd like to talk to you about some stuff.  And it's probably going to be embarrassing, but its important."
A light flush of pink began to creep up his neck, but he said ok.
I kept my eyes on my popcorn so as not to be intimidating, and asked him about his thoughts on facing certain temptations, and if he had a plan on how he might handle them.
To his credit, he took a deep breath...and answered me.
His blush went away and my eyes found their way back to his face and we had a nice conversation about the things he believes about himself and others...goals in life...hopes and dreams...and the very practical steps it would take to help him live out his beliefs and reach his goals.  The oven timer went off, but the conversation didn't end.  And over pizza we chatted about everything from sex to alcohol to peer pressure to relationships. The boy who answers texts with one-letter responses had a lot of surprisingly grown-up things to say.
When all that was left was pizza crumbs and a few popcorn kernels, Parker stood up and stretched.  But before he sauntered off to watch tv, he gave me a quick hug and said, "Good talk, Mom."
And it was.
This isn't the first time we've talked about things like sex and drugs.  And it won't be the last.  And that's the point...I want my children to be able to talk to me about whatever is happening in their lives, without giving any particular topic so much tight-lipped weight that it can't be lifted into words, silently crushing us before we acknowledge it.
So I'll listen.  And occasionally I'll bring it up.  And every talk may not be easy.
But any talk is Good.

Picture This

No better friend.  No greater enemy.
That's the only way to describe the relationship between my children.
Publicly they get along fine.  They know how to play the role of Good Children.
Sometimes they even fool me.

They go on Happy Hour runs to Sonic together.  They share new music with each other.  They laugh together...mostly while making fun of their dad's clothes or my attempts at Pilates in the living room.
But sprinkled generously between bouts of goodwill are sparks of annoyance that occasionally produce wildfires that require me to do some stomping out.
They fight over who sits where in the car...in the living room...even in church.
They blame each other for eating all the cookies.  (Even though in reality, it was probably their dad)
They almost come to blows over who is going to do really hard chores around the house (like turn the light off in the kitchen).
So when I catch them in a moment like this... I have to document it.

Photography is one area where they ALWAYS get along.  Hillary loves taking pictures and Parker just happens to love looking cool.  She tells him what to do...and he does it.  She gets to practice doing something she loves...and he gets tons of cool facebook profile pics.  They spent lots of time doing this when we were in Memphis last weekend.

And when we were walking back to the car, I turned around to catch this moment...

It didn't last long...(I didn't get a picture of them glaring and whisper-fighting over who had to sit in the back seat when we got back to the car)...but it was real and spontaneous and lovely.  And I choose to believe that as they get older, the friendly moments will outweigh the fights.
But until then...I think I'll stand between them!