Taking Time To Relax:

Up until today, I’ve been so busy that I’ve hardly had time to miss my girls.  Most likely strategic on my part as I’ve organized some event or said yes to every invitation imaginable.  So after a lovely morning enjoying coffe and a visit with a dear friend, I came home to an empty house.  It was also a clean house.  And a quiet house. What was I to do? 

Honestly, I was at a loss.  Poking around in the yard in 90 degree heat lasted about 2 minutes.  Ok, I’ll prepare for dinner early.  Marinating the salmon took 5 minutes.  I finished my book, done in 10.   The orchids needed attention.  Lab reports needed correcting. Finding chores for chores sake was becoming downright silly.

Then it hit me, stop fighting it.  Be comfortable with being uncomfortable.  So that is what I did.  I sat in the well worn, but comfy recliner, under the fan and just reveled in the boredom.  Was tempted to text daughters, but held back.  Thought of starting a new book, but decided to wait a bit longer.  Torture. 

I forced myself to just be still. When was the last time I did that as a working mom? I did notice something unusual, my mind did start to settle down.  My heart rate slowed and I cooled off.  Sounds like meditating and my eyes weren’t even closed. 

The seconds ticked by and became minutes.  I think I remained in this inert state for around 30 minutes, a lifetime in the life of an insect!  I did it though. 

Next weekend, chores.

Gift-Wrap

When the kids were little, they sold gift-wrap for their elementary school.  Our family bought it, our neighbors bought it, our friends bought it and we bought it.  I didn’t need gift-wrap then and I don’t need it now.  Partly we bought it to support the schools.  But mostly we bought it to support them and watch the excitement that each new order generated. 

Our school secretary, Mary was our best customer.  Never did she wince when we came around with the order form. She’d happily leaf through the selections, carefully selecting pretty paper for the holidays.  After years of this, she’d sometimes ask us, "shouldn’t the girls be selling the gift-wrap by now?"  The girls were thrilled with her orders as she usually put them over the next tier of “prizes” they could accumulate.  “Prizes” that we’d end up recycling before the years end. 

Thursday our doorbell rings.  It is our little neighbor coming around selling paper for the same school our kids attended.  I thought of Mary and her unconditional support.  He came in and the two of us sat under the family room fan looking through the paper that probably is not environmentally friendly, but nevertheless beautiful.  How could I say no?

After getting an update on the status of the teachers at the school and visiting with this little 4^th grader, I placed my order.  Watching him mentally calculate the prizes with this new order brought back sweet memories of my girls. 

It will be years before this little neighbor and his brother stop coming by to sell gift-wrap.  And, it will be years that delight me as I go back in time to revisit these sweet memories of the innocence of youth.  Thursday, I was Mary.

Giants

Our family loves the Giants.  We’re obsessed.  Well, they’re obsessed.  When the kids were at home, Gary use to alternate taking the girls to the games, so I would attend about every 3^rd one.  The routine was similar each time.  If it was a night game, dinner was enjoyed at Delancy Street before the first pitch.  Our seats, down right field line and up about 4 rows provided the perfect view of the alternating teams relief pitchers.  It was frowned upon to leave before the top of the ninth inning.  And the post game show with Kruk and Kuip was a must.

When the Giants were away the game was enjoyed on a sizable flat screen TV, while one or both daughters would enjoy the “massage deal”.  Daughter gets 10 minutes; dad gets 10 minutes, repeat.  Sometimes I would hear shouting from the other room.  Shouting at the Giants, railing against the opposing team or arguing about the merits of a certain player.  Crushes on players, fights about who was or wasn’t on steroids and the status of Barry Bonds when he playing was always a topic of disagreement in this house of ours.

So, now that it’s just the two of us, it is me filling in the space opened up with both kids gone.  I’m the one who is going to the games.  I’m the one who insists upon listening to the post game show.  I am sitting here right now watching Lincecum pitch after some time off.  It’s fun.  And what I’m really enjoying on the nights we don’t have tickets, the “massage deal”.  Yeah, I guess we’re all obsessed after all.

Juice!

The day after we took our daughter to college, we hosted a card party here for 12 people.  That meant cleaning the house, tidying the yard, preparing the food for the 6:30 arrival of our guest.  Having company was a wonderful distraction on our first day home without kids.  All went well.  The weather was warm, dinner was wonderful, the competition intense as we complained of bad cards, crazy bids and strategic faux pas’.  The laughter was cathartic.  Only minutes after the last guest left, off went the electricity!  For some unknown reason, it went out in the entire neighborhood.  Feeling completely spent and without juice, both figuratively and literally, off we went out doors.  Quilt on ground, bodies on quilt, we stargazed and said little, each absorbed in our own private thoughts and I’m sure silent prayers.  Forty-five minutes later, on came the electricity and restored energy for both of us.  The symbolism did not get by us as we began to prepare for the second night alone.

Going, going, gone!

Our last night together was sweet. We packed the car, ate dinner together, and watched the Giants in what was the most boring game of the year.  Giants lost. Before bed, in an uncharacteristic show of emotion, we heard how her dad’s humor was what she’ll keep close to her heart while away.  She actually said, “close to my heart”. Wow! For me, it was my kindness.  I like that.  Upon exiting our room, she turns and tells us that we have been very fair in our parenting.  Well, that was good to hear. It was a sweet night and it made it even harder to pass her along.  As our bedroom door closed, the tears came. I slept well.

The next morning the drive was uneventful, although back to her true nature she proclaimed we were not to take photos once at the dorms. Entire family in tow, we moved her in, helped her unpack, set her up, hooked up all necessary equipment and spent the day getting things done, including shopping for cords and a pillow that she forgot to pack. Arg! We walked for what seemed to be miles on campus in search of the bookstore and gym. 

By the time we said goodbye, we were too tired for any kind of sentimental goodbyes.  A solid hug and kiss and several I love yous would have to sustain us for the time being.  The drive home was quiet. 

Our first night by ourselves, we heated a frozen pizza, made a drink and watched the Giants.  Giants won.  It was a sweet first night.

Roommates!

The roommate has been selected.  Let the texting begin.  Quite different from the college days of yesteryear when one didn’t find out who would be sharing living space until move in day.  So far the girls seem excited and appear to have a lot in common.  Who will bring the frig and who will bring the microwave got cleared up early on.  The conversations have progressed naturally from high school, to sports, to boyfriends. 

What thrills me is the potential.  Will these two who were thrown rather randomly together get along?  Will they build memories? Will they be there for each other in times of distress? Will this young woman become a life long friend of my daughter’s?  I hope so as I just spent the weekend with my college roommates and friends.  From boyfriends, to careers, marriages, children and now the illnesses or deaths of our own parents, we are here for each other.  We’ve soothed, counseled, cried and laughed with each other.  We’ve grown up together and it’s lovely.   I can’t imagine life without them. 

Time will tell if this new relationship for my daughter will endure.  The anticipation for that first meeting is exciting.  The possibilities for the future are profound.

What is in a name?

O E F as in frank , I N G E R.  This is what we say EVERY time we are asked to spell our last name.  Took me some getting used to, as my maiden name is Curtis, easy, simple,  very common but not too interesting either.  We have been called O finger, F finger, D finger, and an often very difficult to understand mumbling pronunciation from well meaning Safeway clerks.  It never annoyed me when the name was mispronounced.  It has, however, annoyed our daughter.  It has annoyed her to the point of her informing us years ago that she would change it when she was 18.  Whenever possible she would intercept a teacher before her name was called on the first day of school instructing them on the correct pronunciation.  In fact, one teacher could never get his head around the silent E in the OE combination and during roll call simply called….Alyssa, while the other students were on the last name basis. We would argue with her about this silly insecurity.  We even sought therapy around it concerned if it was a deep seeded need to not claim us as family?  She pleaded with us not to over analyze.  She loved us.  She loved our family. She simply did not want to go through life constantly correcting people.  The conversations around this were exhausting.  Finally, we gave up.  Told her if she wanted to do it, she was on her own.  We would not invest one cent or one minute of time into this name thing change.

 Good to her word, come 18^th birthday, she began the process.  She saved her money, researched, called, emailed, then applied for the change, spoke to her college, informed her high school of the change, DMV, social security, bank, friends, family and others.  It was not an easy process and she did do it all on her own, knowing better than to ask us for help.  Today it’s official this new last name of hers. Thankfully, she only changed 2 letters, perhaps in an effort to temper her mom and dads insecurities.  So, I can look at it as rebellious.  I can look at it as silly.  I can look at it as an insult to our family.  Or, I can look for the truth, a strong, fiercely independent young woman who knows what she wants and will go after it.  These latter qualities will serve her well.