Mommy Mind – Page 23 – The Hillhouse

Peepers Piping

April 9, 2013April 9, 2013 Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Birding, Mommy Mind3 Comments

Small signs of spring are beginning to appear in Greenfield these days; robins on the lawn, small patches of green along the roadside, and the very breeze itself now smells different… fresh, warm and clean…. and full of that sort of hope that really only comes with the promise of Spring. And last night, another important resident returned to confirm for us that winter was over. We even saw them with our own eyes as we drove back from the airport; they were crossing the road in the blackness as a light rain fell, coaxing them to move once again. When we got home and got out of the car, there they were. Only twenty four hours before, the night air had been completely silent, but tonight the neighborhood peepers in the swamp at the bottom of our hill had begun their chorus. Just like that. Absent one day, present the next. It’s a constant, high-pitched trilling sound, almost like a flock of chirping birds or maybe like a swarm of crickets… (I can remember some warm Spring nights in past years even being a little annoyed by them for their relentless performance!) The return of the peepers is to us as exciting and life-affirming as the return of the woodcock in the field just beyond our house. Irrefutable evidence that nature does continue to exist, in spite of the evidence being so hard to witness in our black-topped, fast-paced, I-padded world.

Torpor. What a word, huh? What a process, too. That’s the term for the kind of hybernation the little frogs in the swamp go through each winter. (Hummingbirds go into torpor each night.) The frogs hunker down into the mud and their metabolism, heart rate and body temperature drop to amazingly low rates. This is incredibly hard to get – I myself find my mind blown each and every Spring with the return of all sorts of creatures. In the middle of winter, the ground covered in white, I scan the landscape trying to imagine the thousands upon thousands of tiny creatures in just such a state, only inches from the surface. Alive, but somehow dead as well. It’s hard to wrap one’s brain around. And so very astounding when you see it in action. No bugs, then lots of bugs. No frogs, then, well, thousands of em. And all at once. I can hardly fathom it.

O thank you little peepers for adding yet another dimension to the changing of seasons. Your songs echo throughout the hilly woods and give us some reassurance that things are as they should be.

T Minus 29

April 8, 2013April 8, 2013 Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Mommy Mind5 Comments

I know I’m making far too big a deal of this. My fiftieth birthday is one month from yesterday. Most of my friends have already been there, done that and most likely can’t get too worked up yet again about another person’s 50th. For those who’ve passed the mark, it’s simply their reality. It’s history, old news. Some like to tell you to ‘get over it’ or admonish ‘it’s just a number’… But it’s not so easy for me. I’m getting sentimental about it; I’m missing an era in my life that is quite definitely over.

To be more specific, there are two main reasons I’m ticking away the moments of my final forty-something year with a mild sense of ill ease: one is, of course the obvious; the irrefutable evidence that my body has passed its aesthetic prime. It’s a for-sure thing now. There’s no going back. Like Nora Ephron, I too have begun to hate my neck. I pinch the skin under my chin and rather than see it spring back to its resting form, it stays pinched. This is quite shocking to me. This is the crepe-y sort of skin that belongs to an ‘older woman’ – my mother, or one of her peers… but certainly not me. This new discovery isn’t making me feel very good ‘in my skin’ as they say. It feels like someone else’s neck is on my body. It’s a new phenomenon, it’s disturbing, and I don’t see it getting any better with time. That’s sadly the truth.

The second reason for my ill ease: I’m not in Chicago at the time of this event. Rather, I’m here in Greenfield, where I simply haven’t got a whole lot of friends with whom to mark the day. I’d like to throw out a post on Facebook and have my Chicago peeps meet me at Dave’s Italian Kitchen and call it a day. The way I did when Fareed and I had our rehearsal dinner. The way we did when our son was born. The way we did for my fortieth. And so many other celebrations throughout our lives… Yeah. I wish I felt that I was home for this big one. But I suppose in a way, I am.

It is of course because of my parents that I’m even here to celebrate. And they’re just next door. So maybe I’ll just call the few friends I do have here and have em over to my parents. My dad never gets out, he might enjoy it. Mom’s a natural host with few opportunities to do so these days… It’s worth considering I suppose. I just feel like the date’s coming closer and closer and I have made no preparations – none mental, emotional nor logistic. (It’s my son’s 10th birthday on April 28th which takes priority!)

I just finished watching a movie called “Melancholia” in which a planet collides with Earth and ends everything. It was stunning how the film created that reality… one moment the planet looks like a benign second moon lighting the sky, the next day it’s a huge orb taking up half the horizon… And it sorta feels like my fiftieth birthday is that rogue planet, looming closer… nothing much one can do to prepare. But at least it might be worth having a really good party. Right?

Sleepy Saturday

April 6, 2013April 6, 2013 Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Mommy MindLeave a comment

The house is clean, right angles have been restored and things are all put away. (We won’t mention the ‘to file’ boxes that sit on my office floor, taunting me…) I’ve reached that seldom-visited place where nothing urgent needs to be tended to, nothing needs to be washed, folded or put away, no one needs to be fed, nothing needs fixing. Elihu is in Chicago and the house is quiet. This is not a place I visit often, and although I spend much of my regular waking life wishing I could get to it, now that I’m actually here, I’m at a loss. What to do? Don’t get me wrong – there is always something to do – to declare otherwise would not be accurate – but the point I think I’m going for here is that without urgency driving me, I feel rather untethered. Aimless, sort of. And while I know I need not feel this way, I do: I feel guilty. I know it’s crazy, it’s a waste of energy. I know, but yet…

I can’t feel all that pointless, for I’ve just spend an hour proofreading a friend’s teaching method book, and inspired by that spent another hour tweaking my own. So it’s not as if I’m sitting entirely idle. I await a call from an old friend who may stop by later today with her granddaughter. It is a sunny, almost mild Saturday afternoon. All should seem well with the world. And all is well. It’s just that in all this space and freedom, I’m feeling like I’m not doing something I should be. Where on earth does this come from? Do you feel this way too when faced with a commitment-free day? Ah, but perhaps you never do have such a day! So. There it is. I have free time, something very few have. This might be why I feel guilty.

My family never once in all my life took a vacation. My ex husband and I never did for that matter. Perhaps this is at the root of my discomfort. Not sure. I’m feeling just so ambivalent about my free afternoon. And for some reason I have a mild headache too… I feel the need for a nap. But again, how can I justify a nap? I’ve waited months for this oasis of personal time in which to do nothing – shall I now sleep through it?

Yes. I think I shall. I’ll take one more walk through the tidy rooms of my house, turn the heat up just a teensy bit, and I’ll lie down. One more day of quiet before I’m needed again. I’ve contemplated enough. May as well sink into a sleepy Saturday…

El-Ih-Who?

April 4, 2013April 28, 2023 Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Mommy MindLeave a comment

Yes, I realize that I have given my son a name that requires a little bit of splainin. And I admit, that even after I’d chosen it, I myself didn’t know how it was spelled, or where exactly it came from… Apart from the basic phonetics and the fact that it was a Yaley name that had lived in the lore of my family as long as I could remember (dad both graduated from and taught at the school – class of ’48) – apart from those two things, I really didn’t know the full implications of the name or its history until much later. To set the record straight – my son’s name is pronounced “EL ih hyoo”. Try as we have to come up with clever rhymes to help remember his name, there aren’t any good ones. “Tell a few” is one. “Smell a pew” is another (yeeps!). And I realize this pronunciation isn’t very intuitive. I myself might guess it to be “el I hoo” if I didn’t know otherwise. And if you speak another language (as Elihu’s grandpa Riaz and grandma Nelly), then you’ll likely never say it the same way we native English speakers from North America do. The diphthong of the ‘hyoo’ sound isn’t easy for some. So much for a low-maintenance, internationally-friendly name.

I’ve never been too comfortable with name choices that called attention to themselves too strongly, but I think I’ve kinda blown it there. I had hoped to subtly distinguish myself from the fashionable, mildly radical choices that began to appear ten years ago… girls named Poppy, Scarlet or Ruby, or boys with names all ending in some sort of ‘un‘ sound, a phenomenon which makes a first name sound more like a sur name; Cason, Mason, Braden, Bryson… I was skittish around Skylars and Ravens, Tuckers and Morgans… Naming a child is a difficult business; you must figure out how to stay ahead of the curve, how to offer your child something that will serve him both as well on the playground as in the boardroom… My personal goal was to set my child apart from the flock yet somehow stay within the wider scope of what would be culturally accepted. A tall order. I simply did not have the solution ’til over a week after my son was born.

“Isn’t that illegal?” people would ask in a surprised tone when I told them my newborn son had no name. At first I hesitated. I didn’t think so, but was it? I hadn’t ever heard of an unnamed baby before… But then I remembered once hearing about some native Americans that didn’t name a baby until weeks after the child was born – not until the baby’s emerging personality became evident. And some Indonesian people waited to name their newborns too (plus these folks didn’t allow the baby to even touch the floor for the first few months of its life)… There were clearly many ways to do this. And certainly this was no small matter. The name we gave our son would help to define him to the world. I was not going to allow myself to be rushed in such an important matter.

So why didn’t I have a name ready for him? Because, of course, I was positive that I was having a girl! Fareed and I opted for a surprise, and surprised we were. When Fareed announced it was a boy, I told him that that was impossible; after all, we didn’t have a boy’s name picked out! Elihu was to have been Eva, with the classic, European pronunciation of “Ava”. International, good for traveling and would require very little explanation. We had wanted a name that would work well in either of Fareed’s parent’s cultures. So when Elihu arrived, I was completely stumped. A boy?? So not my plan.

Surprisingly, I had not been worried about finding a name for our son. I just kept whispering to my infant child over and over “You’ll let us know when it’s the right one, I know you will”… and I just simply waited. It was a warm May morning and I was in bed nursing him when it came to me. “Eli” popped into my head, but I knew that still wasn’t quite it. I remembered mom and dad referencing ‘old Eli’ – the nickname for Elihu Yale, the philanthropist whose gift made possible the first structure of the campus – and I remembered that Eli had been short for something… what was it again? I’d heard it many times but hadn’t paid much attention. But I remember it had sounded elegant, old-world like… I called my mother at once, learned the name from her, and in my heart, it was settled. I had no idea how the name was spelled, but I loved the sound. EL ih hyoo…

It sounded like a Lord, like a Knight, like a gallant young man… And he could be an Eli. Yes. That was an easy name! That might travel as easily as Eva. Yet he would have a fine, proper name to fall back on should he wish. I called Fareed immediately with my idea, but he thought Eli sounded like something from the Beverly Hillbillies. I had to agree with him. Our culture didn’t wholly support Elis yet. No Eli Mannings then. Instead, Eli was still an elderly Jewish widower who lived in the apartment building across the street. But I was willing. After all, our names would share the biblical root of “El”. My father would have a legacy to honor his beloved alma mater, and our son could dress the name up or down as he chose. What was not to like? When Fareed asked me what the full name was and I told him, he liked it instantly. Yes, he really liked it. This was exciting. Did our child really have a name? Only five minutes before he had been my dearest baby boy (this is what I called him that first week of his life), and now here he was. He was Elihu. (I remember whispering to him again that I knew he’d tell us; I hadn’t been worried).

While I made up nursery songs for my son using his proper name, I called him Eli most of the time, and certainly out in public. I was always terribly self-conscious about his name being so different, so strangely spelled, so unusual. People have always been timid about repeating it after I tell them, and frankly I don’t blame them. It is a weird name. I knew a woman whose grandfather was named Elihu and that brought me some relief. Finally, one person to whom I owed no explanation. If only we’d lived a couple hundred years ago it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. But using ‘Eli’ helped. Made it easier, for sure.

When Elihu was around four, shortly after we left Evanston, he told me that his name was not Eli, but Elihu. I was taken aback at how matter-of-factly he’d told me. He really and truly meant it. And honestly, it made me feel better to hear it from him. Somehow it gave me better resolve to use his proper name with less concern for the comfort of others. So he became a full-time Elihu at the age of four. (He’s still Eli to some family and friends, but that’s fine too.)

I don’t mean to belabor the story of my son’s name, but I find these related stories of great wonder…

First, there is the story of settler Elihu Conant. He was a gentleman farmer, originally from a town here in upstate New York, just ten miles up the road from the very house from which I now write. In the mid 1800s this other Elihu Conant moved to Dekalb, Illinois. Dekalb is where my own Elihu and I moved from to come here. Can you believe this? I mean, really? I have googled up and down and never found another Elihu Conant aside from this man. And this other Elihu Conant made the exact same cross-country move that we did, only in reverse, some 150 years later. Is this not amazing?

I located a first-hand account of Elihu Conant’s story and personal misfortune from the Lee County Historical Society files. In the laws of the time a property owner himself was guilty of crimes committed on his lands if no evidence existed to prove otherwise. High drama between tenants resulted in a shooting and death, and Elihu as landowner was subsequently jailed for six years. After researching all I could, locating the spot of his ancient farm and finally visiting it myself (my own Elihu napping unawares in the back seat) my heart was deeply saddened to find nothing left…. nothing at all. On the very spot where once stood his home, and presumably trees, a well, some barns and outbuildings… not a one of these things remained. All that was left was an enormous, undulating field of soy bean plants stretching off into the distance. Ah well. His witness lives on in me, and now in all of you. And anyway, that particular Elihu is certainly long past his misery here…

There is another Elihu of some significance to us who once lived in here in Greenfield, too. Martha’s fine old country home was built in the early 1800s by settler Elihu Wing. Did you get that? Elihu Wing. It almost seems there was a cosmic mix up and my son got the wrong last name. That I’ve known Elihu Wing’s home all of my life – and that my son has too – it just gives the house an even greater significance in our lives.

Then there’s the Elihu of ancient times, the young man in the book of Job who sits and patiently listens to the old timers complain that while they’ve made all the requisite sacrifices God has asked of them, they’re beginning to doubt such a God exists as He’s not responded in kind. Finally, Elihu, the youngest member present, speaks. He cites miracles of nature, the perfect organization of the seasons, the relationships between all creatures and more… all this, must be, Elihu pours from his heart, irrefutable evidence of an all-knowing, all-loving God. Suffice to say, he’s the kid at the party, and yet he’s the one with the line to the truth. Right on. I like that story.

There have been a handful of distinguished men over the past several hundred years named Elihu. Each a successful, intelligent contributor to his work. One ran for Vice President, one designed Boston’s first municipal electrical grid, one served as peace activist who opposed the slavery of his time, and one was an Italian educated artist whose works hang in the Smithsonian. For a sleeper of a name that almost no one’s ever heard of, it’s got a lot of impressive history behind it which hopefully portends the bright and happy future of one nine year old boy who, like those great men before, also answers to the name of Elihu.

Earliest Spring Pics

April 2, 2013April 3, 2013 Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Birding, Farm Life, Mommy Mind, Pics1 Comment

the biggest egg we’ve had yet, a double yoker, of course

a ‘fairy egg’ on the left. Wow. !

found this bottle in the old dump on a walk in the woods. A ready-made terrarium growing in the snow!

Easter morning sunrise

the Easter basket

some Easter smooching

a fine morning walk down the field on Easter morning…

a view of Braim road from our hillside woods

so this is where the fox lives!

a lightening strike burned out the inside of this tree

so Elihu gets an idea…

he made a little rock wall by the tree

kinda sweet, huh?

mommy and son rocks

painting a plane model he got in his basket

watching a pair of brown headed cowbirds at the kitchen feeder

a little DS before supper

mom carves the Easter ham

Mom worked hard on Easter dinner all day. It was delicious, of course, and especially enjoyable because we sure don’t get meals like this too often. A fine end to a fine day.

Bunny Belief

March 30, 2013March 31, 2013 Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Farm Life, Low Vision Life, Mommy Mind1 Comment

We’re at that time when I can’t be sure if the holiday magic will hold any longer, if my son will truly believe, one more time, that gifts have been magically delivered as he slept… My son is so thorough in his thinking, in his reasoning and internal deliberations, that it seems impossible to me that he can truly still believe. And yet he does. Yesterday, as we sat cuddled on the couch, I made the mistake of telling him not to get his hopes up for anything big on Easter. (My goal was to plant some doubt so that the appearance of the Easter bunny would have even more of an impact. Not a good choice.) He burst into tears and told me not to say such a thing. “I want to have hope, mommy. I’m just nine years old, don’t take away my hope!” he told me. I was instantly very sorry I’d said anything at all. I was also struck by how much his comment seemed to imply; there seemed some foreshadowing in his remark of the adult reality that lay just around the corner. He must know, I thought to myself, but he’s still holding on…

On most most holidays and school breaks Elihu stays with his father. This past year was my first Christmas here at home with Elihu, and tomorrow will only be my second Easter here with him. I had wondered about the Easter bunny’s visits to Dekalb. I want to have some consistency, and it seems that the Easter bunny keeps many different methods and traditions in different households, so as we made our weekly drive to deliver eggs yesterday I asked him about it. Seemed fairly similar to my experience growing up. There were some differences, but I was relieved to know the bunny wasn’t in the habit of delivering handsomely wrapped birthday-worthy gifts because the Greenfield bunny had made no such preparations. (The Greenfield bunny is quite satisfied with several finds; a hand-crafted, dark chocolate bunny from the local candy shop, some wooden airplane models and a small bird puppet. The eggs, on the other hand, proved challenging as Master Elihu knows his eggs by shape – each hen has her signature style – plus dying an already dark egg is tricky. I couldn’t use the few white eggs we have, as Cora’s eggs are also very distinctive. A dilemma. Ended up drawing designs with sharpie on the most generic-looking medium brown eggs I could find. Since Elihu sees no color at all this seemed a good choice.)

A little anxious that everything be in order, I arose early today and went to my secret hiding spot in the basement to do an Easter basket inventory. Because of Elihu’s vision, he’s not good at spotting things. I’m continually surprised at how quickly and easily visiting kids will see things that I’ve stashed ‘out of sight’. Because color offers Elihu no clues (bright green plastic grass for the basket, for example) and since things beyond ten feet don’t register much, my job is made much easier. As I retrieved my goodies I felt completely satisfied that it was all still perfectly secret. I was happily surprised to see that I’d saved a few more things in the months leading up to the holiday (when on a budget one must plan ahead) and was very satisfied to see that it made a tidy looking cache of loot. Pretty too. I even got myself a single hyacinth bulb and a nice new ceramic vase for it at the dollar store – just to show the bunny had something for me too. That would further support the case that I had nothing to do with it. Might be over thinking it, but it’s probably the last such time I’ll have to do so.

Yeah. He’ll be ten in a month. It’ll be over soon. At least it can’t last too much longer. So, as with Christmas this year, I approach Easter with the same emotions, the same tender nostalgia. I will savor it all. Every surprise, every laugh, every egg. And Elihu’s right, having hope is important – especially at this time of year. After all, isn’t that what Easter itself represents – apart from any religious significance? The renewed life of springtime and with it, hope… And belief, yes, that’s important too, cuz I know this Easter bunny sure is happy that one certain little boy still believes.

Chatterbox

March 27, 2013 Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Mommy MindLeave a comment

Elihu is home sick today. It’s where he should be, but might not sound it. He’s asthmatic and yesterday had a tummy thing. He slept a deep sleep for twelve hours last night, and this morning wasn’t quite back to health. And even while I can hear him snorting and wheezing from the next room, I also hear his intermittent narration of the things he’s doing, the things he’s thinking. He calls out to me every few minutes with a thought, an observation… If I were to take a step back and realize things won’t always be thus, I’d probably be charmed. It is sweet. But after a while… I wonder, where did he get this talking and talking thing? Then I realize. Oh. Yeah. Me.

I have a lot to do; re-certify for food stamps – for both me and my brother – get taxes done, finish the application for tuition assistance at Waldorf. All the grownup homework assignments are due now. March is the month of deadlines for me, and I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed. There’s also an Easter basket to fill on Sunday, and I’d counted on today in which to collect its little surprises. And now that Elihu’s home I have one less day to spend nose to the grindstone and chasing chocolate bunnies.

He’s fine without me, but he still calls out to me every few minutes. Not so much for soothing as for a witness to his play. Or his ideas… and they’re fairly nonstop. I find it hard to listen actively to him – and I don’t want to simply ‘mm-hmm’ my responses – so I find myself getting testy. Will have to retire to my office as soon as the house is picked up and spend some time in earnest at my desk. He’ll just have to do without my audience for a while.

I listen, I wait. He’s engrossed in something now, and his one-sided conversation has stopped. Maybe this is a good time to head downstairs. I’ll make sure he’s happily engaged before I depart. He’s a good kid, with a lot of ideas swirling around in his head. I want to be there to share them, but just not right now…

I make a promise to Elihu that when I’m finished with my homework I’ll come back and listen to everything he wants to tell me. My wheezy little chatterbox of a boy.

Class Play

March 22, 2013March 23, 2013 Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Mommy Mind, Pics, Waldorf Life1 Comment

Elihu’s fourth grade class has been studying Norse mythology, and so their class play this year was about the Three Trials of Thor. Tonight we went to the production they put on for the families. While it may have been an effort to get my dad to the show, I’m glad we did. We’d had to borrow Martha’s collapsible transport chair to get him there; without it he couldn’t have joined us. I felt lucky that mom, dad and even Andrew were all there for the play. It’s not often that we Conants are all together in one place. And these days I can’t help but wonder on the few times we do manage to pull it off, if this might not be the last such occasion. You never know… Elihu was beside himself all afternoon with sheer anticipation of the show itself, and when it came time to perform, it meant so much to him to have his family there. And later, surrounded by classmates and friends, with that frolicking post-show energy buzz all around, he was one extremely boisterous and joyful child.

This little production was more than charming, more than a cute class play… it was infused with love, intelligence and good humor too (and some pretty sophisticated, old-timey language!). And if I may say so, my son spoke his lines with a robust, un-hurried intentionality that is generally not too terribly characteristic of a nine year old kid. Yes, I think he was good. No, I know he was good. Others certainly were too, but Elihu, he had a certain thing… The pipes kinda run in the family. That he’s got em makes me smile to myself – but that he uses em and enjoys using his gift… that absolutely fills me with happiness and and a deep, maternal satisfaction.

I feel slightly self-conscious about posting so many photos – maybe even a little like an over-zealous stage mom, but hey, it’s part of my job, right? Surprisingly, I was the only person snapping pics of the kids as they got ready – and also as far as I know the only one sneaking a shot or two during the play. There will be professional photos and even a video of the play available at some time – but I’m not sure I’ll have the extra cash for them, and besides, if they don’t arrive for another week yet, it’ll be old news. The way our life chugs along, we’ll be onto a new adventure before long… Gotta post while the topic’s hot. !

But for now this is the adventure still dancing in our heads, and the songs that the children sang (beautiful rounds and three-part recorder pieces) will be ringing in our ears for a few more days yet…

costumes going on…

and more preparations backstage…

as the audience members read their own individual programs, each one was drawn by the family’s child

Ben (Thor), Sawyer and Elihu before the show

meet Utgartsloki, the King of the Giants

Abigail Reid welcomes everybody and introduces the play

Nora plays the recorder and sets a beautiful mood

Utgartsloki challenges Thor to Three Trials

the cast, at the end, singing their final song

a happy post-show visit with grandma and grandpa

This was one lovely night we shall never forget.

Mo Sno Photo

March 19, 2013March 19, 2013 Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Farm Life, Low Vision Life, Mommy Mind, Pics1 Comment

What fun we had today! Haven’t heard Elihu giggle and laugh like that in ages. And the best packing snow I remember in a long time… yay! Here’s a mini album of our afternoon outdoors. (The way I’m making such a big deal about it you’d think we don’t play outdoors much. Yes, sadly, that’s actually true. !) I’ve included a few extra shots in order to give folks a more complete vision of our property. In an unintentional nod to ‘Where’s Waldo?’ our goose Maximus makes a cameo in more than a few shots.

the view of the sledding hill from our piano

a closer look

Elihu, fittingly, is using a goose quill in place of a plastic stylus with his DS

the sledding hill is just beyond the pine trees to the SE

here’s our grand Beech tree

and here’s the king of the hill

and who’s this?

he can’t be all bad, he’s wearing red sunglasses and an aviator’s cap

smiley fellow

the run has been made, now to enjoy

movin now

picking up speed

and it’s a fine finish just shy of the pricker bushes!

it’s a long, long walk back up

the most enjoyable exercise I’ve had in years

going in now

coming around the South side of the house

beech tree to left

around the corner now on the West side of the house

on the front porch (facing North now), eating snow

the view from the kitchen window, our tiny bridge visible at the far left.

We love our little corner of Greenfield. And it’s just so pretty in the snow.

Mo Sno

March 19, 2013March 19, 2013 Posted in An Ongoing Journal..., Farm Life, Low Vision Life, Mommy Mind, PicsLeave a comment

Seriously? Yesterday the talk was all about the big storm headed our way. As I looked out over the barren, dry-mudded schoolyard from my new post as recess monitor, it just didn’t seem likely. Things were looking so hopeful, so almost spring. I scoured the perimeter of the fence looking for tiny pips of new growth to back up my case. Nothing yet. But still… I couldn’t bear to think of starting over. My son and his pals had even managed to chip away at the huge mound of surviving winter ice until it was a mere blip on the blacktop. Things were just now getting so close…

I checked the live radar images last thing before getting into bed. It showed us to be already covered in a great swath of front – but outside there was still nothing. I held out a tiny bit of hope. But I remembered that one of the teachers at school hadn’t taken soup orders for the next day as he was that convinced we’d have a snow day. And apparently this guy always knows. Hey, I myself understand that we’re not out of the woods. I know we’re fair game for snow here til the end of April at least. But I went to bed hoping against it anyway. I really do love the beauty of snow, and I think it’s kinda silly when folks who live here find such entertainment in grousing endlessly about how much they hate it, but just the same…

Up in the middle of the night, all I had to do was glance outside to see the expanse of garage and coop roofs glowing white in the dark to know it had come. And this morning, after a quick 6 a.m. check online to confirm the homebound day for myself – I went easily back to sleep and didn’t wake for another two hours until I heard the engine of Mike’s plow truck shoveling its way down our driveway. I got up and donned my apron, tall boots and farm jacket in time to wave him a thank you before going out to open the coop and shovel some ground space out for the birds. It is pretty, I think to myself as I look around. May as well enjoy it.

I’ve suggested to Elihu that we make use of our hill for some sledding. Can it really be two years since we’ve gone down the hill? Seems a bit much, but it’s true; Elihu doesn’t really like being out in the brightness, and I sure can’t blame him. So this is a major detractor from enjoying outdoor play in the snow. In fact, my best memories of playing in the snow are of at night, long after sundown. It’s only then that Elihu can finally relax and just enjoy himself. But tonight is a school night, and his school play dress rehearsal is tomorrow, so there’ll be no late night snow play today. I’m going to find his oversized wraparound sunglasses (broken though they are) and insist on going out. We’ve got a great swath of lawn that is so much fun to sled down, only problem is the patch of pricker bushes at the bottom (another ‘problem’ is that mom must first ‘carve’ out the path – a grueling job that can take a good sweaty and panting half hour. !). We call the run our ‘Calvin and Hobbes’ hill. You gotta bail just when you get to the bottom. It’s kind of a pain in the butt, but the comic element is strong and (almost) makes up for the inconvenience.

As I write this, Elihu is uncharacteristically engrossed in his recently rediscovered (as in a half an hour ago) Nintendo DS. He’d been so nonplussed with it this past year he agreed to trade it with a friend for his erector set. Fareed intervened, and there was a tiny bit of drama as the mother of the friend (who’d already surrendered his aforementioned erector set but had not yet received the DS ) got a bit upset with me. As she’s a friend, it was upsetting to me too. I’d just wanted to hand over the DS and be done with it. But Fareed insisted we keep it. Now I’m kinda glad he did. It’s a cute and fun little game. My son is not the type to succumb to a video game addiction (no, he’s already addicted to flight) so I don’t worry at this. In fact, it makes me happy to see him happy. Cute little soundtrack too. (It’s still new to me, might not be so cute in a month.)

So the snow day begins. By now, on a usual day, breakfast would be long over, the dishes would be washed and put away, the eggs cleaned and sorted, and I’d be at my desk busily knocking items off the never-ending to-do list. For some reason snow days just throw me completely off and I’m hard pressed to get anything done at all. So I’m letting myself off the hook today and I’m just gonna go with it. All the way down the hill.

The Hillhouse

The Journey of a Mother and Son

Category: Mommy Mind