Family – Page 7 – The Monica Chronicles

April 16, 2012

Does the Bear Poop In The Woods?

Last week a small band of hearty Virginians, in the spirit and tradition of other great explorers like Lewis and Clark, piled into a Honda Odyssey minivan in search of adventure. After taking on provisions at McDonald’s, the group headed west on US 33 bound for the Skyline Drive.

The day was clear but cool in the Piedmont and the road dry. An air of uneasiness filled the back seats as the minivan climbed the curving mountainside and ears began to pop. “How high are we going?” one anxious explorer asked, “I’m afraid of heights.”

Upon reaching the park entrance, a friendly ranger greeted them and provided some suggestions and good hiking trails. Thanking him for his kindness, the van headed north in search of clear trails and a bolder or two to climb on.

Impressed by the expansive vistas, the explorers remarked to each other about the beauty of it all. One of the boys, the youngest of the group, was still fearful of the elevation until his trusted older companion explained he was looking down, he was looking across. After mulling on that for a moment he exclaimed, “I’ve overcome my fears!” to which the older members of the expedition quietly chuckled.

As they drove up the trail, one of the leaders of the group noticed that the temperature was dropping. “It’s 35!” she exclaimed. They knew it would be cooler on the the mountaintop and had brought along extra sweatshirts and jackets but this was a bit colder than expected. “Is that snow?” asked the driver.

“It’s not snow.” declared a veteran explorer from the back seat. “It’s probably just pollen.”

“It looks like snow.” the driver asserted, not giving an inch.

Seth Skyline Drive 4 2012 comp

Soon, a camping area appeared on the right. The boys were antsy from riding and in need of stretching their legs so they pulled over for a short while to look around. It was a quaint camping area dotted with rustic duplex cabins. It was very cold; much colder than they had expected. The extra sweatshirts provided little protection from the strong wind and blowing snow. The decision was made to cut this walk short so they all piled back into the warm van to see what other adventures were in store for them. As they drove further north, there was no denying that the white bits floating into the windshield were indeed snowflakes and not pollen. The temperature began to drop below freezing and fearing for icy roads and poor visibility, the decision was made to turn around and head south. The road into the icy north..

Heading south of the park entrance at Swifts Run Gap, the weather improved. The sun shined warmly on the road and the temperature shot into the high 40’s. Finding a promising spot to pull over, the group again piled out of the van and this time headed into the back country in search of adventure.

Unfortunately, not long after hitting the trail, one of the boys tripped and fell hitting his knee on a large rock. After taking a moment to assess the extent of his injury, he took a deep breath and let out a blood curdling scream that was sure to protect the group from any and all wildlife that may have been lurking in the woods. Once he was steady on his feet, the explorers decided to return to the van and drive on to a less rocky .

The second back country path was a steep climb up a mountainside. Having survived the snow of the north and the dangers of the rocky path, the seasoned hikers climber higher and higher up the twisting trail all the while noting the signs of the wildlife along the way. There were several piles of skat* (poop) and trees that looked as though they’d been used as scratching posts with tufts of black fur nearby. The leaders of the group grew worried that they were wondering into dangerous bear territory and called a halt to the hike just before reaching a pile of boulders. Again, the hearty troop headed back to the minivan.

*Although previously thought to be bear skat, further research on the Internet revealed that it was coyote skat which, according to the experts, is often found on trails marking territory. So while indeed bears do poop in the woods, it was not bear poop observed on this trip.

April 11, 2012

Frequent Flyer

Last night, about an hour and a half past our regular bedtime, we picked Andy up at the Charlottesville Airport – CHO. He was returning from a job interview at the University of Southern Mississippi, an opportunity to become an assistant professor – a tenured position. He looked tired but happy to be home as he walked through the gate in his tan silk sports coat, his tie loosened. We were happy to see him (although we all hope he will be hired and move out in the near future.)

Planes and schools seem to be a recurring theme in Andy’s life. When he was just a couple of months old, I flew with both he and Maggie to spend the Christmas holidays in Syracuse with my folks while Dave was deployed. They both flew for free if they sat on a lap so I flew my Mom down to fly back with us. The flight up was uneventful but coming back we were challenged by both bad weather delays and the slipperiness of the kids’ nylon snowsuits that seemed to slide down our bodies when we tried to plop them on a hip.

Our next flight together was when we flew as a family out to Hawaii – twenty years ago this summer. That flight was loooonnnnggggg. While stationed on Oahu, we took at least one family vacation to a neighboring island each year. They were short hops on prop planes that took us to tiny airports. The smallest of these was on Moloka’i, where a tractor towed our luggage from the plane on a cart and our bags were set on a wooden table for pick-up in an open aired pole barn. When our three years were over, we flew back to the mainland – a much longer flight than the first because we were leaving a place we loved deeply.

Andy’s next flight was to Duke for an interview for the University Scholars program. He left was some anxiety but I’ll never forget his triumphant return; smiling from ear to ear with a Blue Devils ballcap atop his head. “I’m going!” He declared – and he did.

The summer following his junior year at Duke, Andy grabbed at the opportunity to study in London. Instead of departing from the Norfolk Airport, we had to take him up to Dulles. Even though he was twenty, it was still difficult for me to drop him off at such an enourmous airport and just drive off in those early days of post 911. He was so excited, I was the anxious one.

Since then he has taken many flights. As part of his graduate progarm at UC San Diego, he has travelled all over the country, presenting papers and attending conferences. So much so that as I was fussing with him as he prepared for this trip to Mississippi, he finally reminded me that he has had much more experience in air travel than I have and I should “stop mothering” him. Point taken, I backed off, but as all mothers know, there is just no going back on the mothering bit, we can only throttle it back a bit.

So now he’s back. He thought the trip went well and seems to be contented to just wait. While he was away he also learned that UCSD has a teaching job for him in the fall semester so if nothing else comes up, he’ll at least be employed again.

Where ever he ends up, he will always be the baby in my arms on the plane , the young boy I kept entertained on long trans Pacific flights and the young man I’ve sent off into the world. In my mind’s eye, he’ll always be my Andy, with his name pinned on his shirt, as I sent him off for his first day of kindergarten, my son.

April 4, 2012

Babe in Arms

Yesterday afternoon at choir practice (yes, I went to choir practice) I had the pleasure of holding a four week old baby girl while her grandmother played the keyboard.

When I arrived, she was sitting in her car seat, sort of awake and a little fussy. It was pretty warm in the church and she was dressed in a terry sleeper and covered with a receiving blanket. My first thought was that she was uncomfortable in her seat so I uncovered her and began to rock her seat.

That worked for a while until she began to wiggle and really fuss so I seized the opportunity – carpe diem – and picked her up. After all, we couldn’t have her disturbing her grandmother while she was accompanying the choir in Triduum and Easter music prep now could we?

I admit I am a known baby lover. If there is an infant anywhere near me, my attention will hone in like radar. I love talking to them and watching their tiny faces scrunch in thoughtful contemplation of my voice. They are great listeners – when they are not crying.

This baby, Lydia, was special. The shape of her face and the mop of dark hair reminded me so much of Maggie when she was that age. At four weeks her body had not yet full unfolded, with her knees tucked in semi fetal position. She was a solid child, with good muscle control. I felt such peace as I rocked her, looking into her little face and watching her designer print NUK move up and down and she worked it. I could have held the dozing baby in my arms indefinitely.

After about half and hour or so her mother arrived. I dutifully handed her over and gave a full report of why I had her since she didn’t know me. Once in her mother’s arms, she stirred slowly and lazily opened her eyes. Her mother cooed and recognizing the voice, Lydia cooed back in a special intimate way. I’d forgotten that detail from my own babies’ lives; how they would react with special sounds reserved only for me when I’d pick them up.

I thanked Lydia’s mommy for letting me spend the time with her. It was so special to revisit my own days of early motherhood. Those days were precious even with the sleep deprivation and piles of laundry. I’m not saying I’d care to go back, or God forbid raise another child, but to just have the chance to feel the familiar bundle in my arms and see the face of a sleeping infant was a treasure I’ll not soon forget.

February 16, 2012

Anchor and Chain

Last weekend I saw “The Vow” . I’d not heard of the film before coming down to Florida. Partly because Dave and I almost never go out to the movies anymore and partly because we watch the vast majority of our yet television from our DVR, we just don’t hear about films unless they are heavily promoted.

The story was of a young couple who lived an artsy lifestyle. She had cut all ties with her family, he had none but her. One night they were in a horrible car accident where she suffered severe head trauma resulting in amnesia. The last four years of her life, including her entire relationship with her husband were wiped from her memory. Her husband, refusing to lose the only family he had, spent months trying to help her remember him and their life together.

I won’t give away the rest of the story, the movie was worth seeing. The reason I’m writing about it is because since seeing this film, I’ve been thinking a good deal about love and commitment.

Falling in love is easy. We do it all the time. We visit a new restaurant, try a new recipe, read a good book, meet a new friend or even see a good movie and we say we “love” them all. Making the commitment to be with any of these things for the rest of our lives is another story.

During the course of any marriage we all tend to suffer from amnesia. At times we forget what it was that made us fall in love with our partners. They seem so different or we are different (or so we think). Without commitment to the relationship there is nothing to keep us from running off to find someone new to fall in love with.

Men often joke about their wives, referring to them as “the old ball end chain”. I’d hate to think of myself in that way. Instead, I think of my commitment to Dave as an anchor and chain, securing him, as he does me, when seas are rough. (Navy wife imagery). We work hard to help each other remember why we fell in love in the first place.

We have had our share of white caps, but for the most part have enjoyed fair winds and following seas. Either one of us walking away during a rough spot would have only made a bad situation worse.

So, on this second day after St. Valentines Day, four months away from our 32nd wedding anniversary, I’m thinking I’m pretty lucky to have found someone not only to commit to but to commit to me as well.
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January 6, 2012

Unpacking the Holidays

Yesterday afternoon,while meeting with my Bible study gals, when it was my turn to share my “highs and lows” of the Christmas holiday, I began to unpack and take a good look at my one real low – not going to Mass on Christmas Eve.

In past years, the thought never would have crossed our minds. Our routine was set in stone. After the final preparations were made, we’d clean up the kitchen, shower and then Dave would drive off to pick up what has become our traditional Christmas Eve dinner – Kentucky Fried Chicken. I know KFC seems an unusual holiday meal, but for so many years when Dave and the kids were in different choirs singing at different Masses, the quickest way to get a warm meal was to go through the drive thru and pick up a bucket of chicken and fixings on the way home from the first Mass. Since we don’t eat fried chicken on a regular basis, it was a treat and the tradition stuck. No matter where we lived from Virginia to Hawaii, it was KFC on Christmas Eve.

After our finger lickin’ good dinner we would get dressed and head to Mass where we would join our St Mark’s church family to celebrated Christ’s incarnation. Even after Maggie and Andy had moved out on their own and seemed to only enter churches for weddings, Christmas was a time for their homecoming. It was a time to be welcomed back into the warm arms of a church community that had know them most of their lives. It was my way of positively reinforcing church for them, albeit once a year.

This year, our first year away from St Mark’s, there wasn’t a warm Catholic community waiting to welcome Dave and I, let alone our children. My friends at Peace Lutheran have been lovingly urging me to join them at their services but up until the afternoon of Christmas Eve, I assumed we would attend Mass, just because we always do.

As the time grew closer to the chicken run, Dave asked , “Do you want to go to Mass or not?” Now I’ve known this man long enough to know the tone of his question implied that he was putting the decision totally on my shoulders. Like the kids, he wasn’t feeling any strong reason to take time out of our Christmas Eve to go to Mass. I don’t know if it was because I was tired, or had a weak moment, but I told him that if no one else wanted to go, we could just stay home.

Until that moment, I had been mostly happy, with very little thought about our being in our new home and away from all our traditions and friends and community. Choosing to opt out of God because I didn’t feel a connection in our new parish left me feeling sad and alone for the very first time since our move.

So yesterday, as I shared my story with my friends, I was reminded my one of them that the empty spot I felt where my church experience should have been was something I should remember – to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I wonder now if what I felt was not only my longing for God or God’s longing for me. Just as I missed my time with God on Christmas, God missed spending time with me.

I had passed up an open invitation from the almighty. What a maroon! I certainly won’t let that happen again.

December 19, 2011

Tick…Tick…Tick

The last week until Christmas is upon us and clock is ticking. I can actually hear it. It’s the loudest clock I’ve ever had. It’s our Island Fresh Milk clock featuring “Lani Moo” that we “bought” by redeeming milk carton tops in Hawaii so I don’t have the heart to part with it. Tick…tick….tick… Lani marks the passage of time night and day.

As for preparations here, we are in good shape. Saturday we decorated the tree and as always, it is a beauty. Yesterday we wrapped presents, reclaiming the top of the dining room table. The baking is just about done. My Hello Dollies are in the oven and the dough for the Meltaways is in the frig ready for rolling. The stollen will wait until Friday.

Now I need to plan for what we’ll eat besides baked goods and treats. I seem to have misplaced my talent for meal planning. Whenever I sit down to even think about a grocery list I’ll peek out the back window as if pondering the scenery will help me inventory the pantry. Instead I am distracted by the large number of Bluejays we have at the feeders this morning – I’ve counted eight so far. It’s not easy to count them either, since they keep moving about the yard.

I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity to get caught up this year. It will be nice to have the next few days to relax before the kids arrive and the celebration begins. Of course this is just an illusion. There is still plenty of the everyday stuff to do this week; bathroom cleaning, floor mopping, vacuuming and laundry and I still have a couple knitting projects to finish up. Speaking of which, I guess I’d better get moving. I only have half an hour before I head to the gym for my “training”. Ho Ho Ho.

December 14, 2011

Ten Days and Counting

Only ten days to go before Christmas Eve and my baking is not done but ingredients sit on the kitchen counter in readiness should the mood strike me. My cards are scattered in separate piles on the family room couch. Some are ready for stamps, some need addresses. All need address labels and newsletters inserted – neither have been printed yet.

Our tree stands undecorated in place in the living room. We thought it would be a good idea to put it up and let our new kitten, Purrl, get accustomed to it before we added the extra enticement of sparkling dangling things. Except for once incident of attempted bulb chewing, she hasn’t attempted to climb the tree as of yet.

My shopping is done (I’m pretty sure) but there is much wrapping to be done. The gifts are stacked on the bed in the guest room in piles by recipient so I can easily guage that the stacks are even. The dining room table looks like we’ve had a party in there. Candy canes, ribbons and boxes cover the surface.

Tomorrow I’ll go to the Post Office. Once I know where my parents will be on Christmas Day, I’ll be able to send them all out.

So, with all this left to do, I’ll bet you’re wondering why I’m taking precious time to write it down and post it for the world to see. Well, it is my gift to you – whoever reads this.

My gift is my assurance that despite where you are in your preparations, in ten days, Christmas will happen. It will happen without decorations, without cookies, without presents or cards.

We put so much pressure on ourselves to create “the perfect Christmas” for other people. Why not create the same for yourself? Instead of approaching the season with a list of everything you have to do, why not look at it is what you’d like to do? Making your preparations a choice instead of a chore makes a big difference. Give yourself the gift of peace. Give yourself the gift of time.

If you’re a Christian, you believe God has already given us the greatest gift possible, His son. Why would you want to try to top that? If you’re not a Christian, why are you putting yourself through the whole thing in the first place? Then it really is much ado about nothing.

Take my gift and enjoy. Make yourself a cup of

tea. Put your feet up and relax for a while. Make time for yourself. You have ten days! God only had seven when He created the world!

November 30, 2011

To B&B or Not to B&B

There have been times in the past when Dave and I have fantacized about opening a B&B in the mountains. We imagined it would be a quiet life, welcoming travelers to our home, offering an oasis of peace and serenity from the world.

Well, that part of the deal is rewarding as well as a lot of fun. The flip-side is that there is also a great deal of work involved! This past Thanksgiving weekend provides a case in point.

Because we are beginning new traditions in our new home, we invited Maggie’s boyfriend, Jan’s family to join us in our Thanksgiving celebration. Invitations accepted, menus determined and the “who’s bring what” negotiated, our guests arrived last Wednesday evening. There were Jan’s parents; Arwed and Teresa, his sister, Isolde, Maggie and Jan and their two cats; Rupert and Ivan. Total in the household – seven adults, four cats.

The holiday celebration was awesome. The weather was unexpectedly warm. We spent most of Thanksgiving Day sitting in the backyard listening to the birds and watching Izzie and Rupert explore. Rupert discovered tree climbing in a big way. Izzie was just delighted to have a playmate to share the outdoors with.

The relaxed atmosphere took me a bit off course in terms of meal planning so we ate dinner several hours later than planned. In retrospect, I am happy to report that instead of spending hours in the kitchen to produce a perfect meal, I spent a relaxing day with family and friends and produced an acceptable meal. The nourishment of the soul was so much more rewarding.

That evening we built a fire in the yard and sat around it, watching it blaze, our stomachs pleasantly full. When the fire died down, we retreated to the family room where we huddled around the TV, the modern “fire” and watched a very odd movie. It was all very cozy, the way Thanksgiving evening should be.

The rest of the weekend followed in step. We were all very relaxed with each other and enjoyed the absence of any type of schedule or itinerary.

So you’re wondering, where’s the work? It sounds like a vacation, doesn’t it?

Well, it is if you’re not the person responsible for making the coffee, taking out the trash, cooking, loading and unloading the dishwasher and keeping the bathrooms stocked with TP. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t that bad, but it was work. Then there are the mountains of sheets and towels to wash and beds to remake. The truth be told, although I enjoy a clean home, I don’t really enjoy cleaning my home – at least not to the level I like it to be when guests arrive.

So, I guess I’m going to scratch the whole B&B idea off my list – at least owning one. I would love to do some travelling and stay at one, or two….

Oh, there goes the buzzer on the dryer, gotta go!

October 26, 2011

Exercising With Mom

I had my second session with Lorenzo, my personal trainer this morning. He’s a pleasant man with a nice smile and positive coaching style but he finds the most challenging things for me to do! So far his most effective means of torture has been this elastic band that I have to step into and strap around my ankles and then walk sideways up and back the length of the gym, all the while maintaining tension on the band. Sounds easy enough huh? It is a killer! About one quarter of the way through my paces, my legs begin to burn. It’s difficult to say just where it hurts the most because the pain is almost everywhere from my waist down.

This morning, as I was “feeling the burn” I thought of my Mom. She had her second knee replacement surgery yesterday. I spoke to her a bit this morning. She was groggy and in pain. We chatted for a short time and she compared the pain to what she experienced last year when she had her first surgery and remarked that it seemed much worse. When I thought about the pain she is currently experiencing and the kind of PT she’ll be dealing with in the next four weeks or so, I thought that maybe during my next few weeks with Lorenzo as exercising with Mom. Maybe I can’t take on her pain for her, but I can certainly stop the whine on mine.

October 12, 2011

I Got Rhythm….

Today is the first rainy day we’ve had in a while. The rain in steadily falling filling the house with a faint hissing sound. I have the windows open just a crack to let in the clean fall air. As I sit here writing, I’m delighting in watching water bead up on the deck outside the window. We just finished sealing it on Monday.

It was a three day process to actually complete the job but it seemed like it took months of planning and preparation. “When do you want to do it?” “I don’t know.” This was how the conversation went. Then, Saturday morning we decided we would go to Lowe’s and get everything we needed to complete the job.

Unlike other projects, where we assemble the required items and leave them stashed in the garage for several months, we set upon this task immediately. In no time we were clearing the outdoor furnishing down to the lawn and Dave began to spray on the deck cleaner from our new handy dandy pump sprayer. It didn’t take long to realize that we were going to need more than we bought. I was a little annoyed since I wanted to buy the big bottle in the first place but, grabbed my keys and headed back to Lowe’s before the conversation of “Do you want to go, or do you want me to go?” progressed any further. In half an hour I was back and the cleaning continued.

Sunday we decided we would go on a mini “date” before hitting the deck again. So, after Mass, we headed over to Green Hills to hit a few buckets of balls on the driving range and then grab a sandwich at the clubhouse grill. It was a glorious day! The sun was out, the sky was blue and the temperature was just right. Taking the time to stop and enjoy the day before working was a wonderful idea. If we’d tried to work first, we never would have made it to the driving range and would have grumped about it all week. Instead, we went home, rested a bit and got back to work on the deck.

I have to say I enjoyed sealing the deck with Dave almost as much as enjoyed our time on the driving range. Working together towards a common goal, our hands rhythmically guiding our brushes back and forth, provided a kind of intimate sharing. Sometimes we chatted, others we were quiet in our own thoughts. But all the while, we were together, working, sharing and just being.

We have come to know just how special our life here has become. Aside from the house, the neighborhood and the spectacular views, our new life here has given us more undistracted time to be “us”. We have fallen in to a rhythm here that is pleasing and easy to follow. Anyone want to sing along?