The Art of The Longest Shortest Time

Ahhhh, the end of summer.  It brings an abundance of zucchini, cooler evenings, and change.   Kids, strapped in huge backpacks, are going off to Kindergarten.  Recent grads are moving into dorms.  Teens are comparing their schedules with their friends' schedules.  Moms are snapping "First Day of School" pics to share on Facebook.  

Get in that school and start practicing!  Do you have any idea how much it costs to rent a wooden clarinet?  Do you want to make me sad?

I have known for years that Gus, my middle child, would someday attend middle school.  Well.  Some day has arrived.  

Monday I drove Gus to his middle school Band Booster class. I pulled up to door number 7, which was propped open with a binder.  Not super safe, but I get it.  I explained to Gus how he would walk down the hallway and turn right at the second hallway.  We argued for a bit about how a hallway can merge with another hallway.  Then, like some kind of monster, I let him leave.  I watched him walk to the door and disappear into the building.  I sat in the van and cried.  He had officially entered the developmental stage of caring more about his peers than his mom.  Wah.   

Here is some context for my breakdown.  When Gus was a baby I carried him everywhere.  People told me I was creating a spoiled brat.  I didn't care one bit.  I knew, from my first kid, you only get to carry them around for a short amount of time.  When your kids are between the ages of zero to five years old, you will be experiencing the longest shortest time of your life.  I know this because I have experienced it three times.      

My reality is that the longest shortest time has ended and now time is flying.  My oldest currently solves all my computer and phone issues.  (Though it would be more helpful if he would figure out why the downstairs toilet won't stop running.)  I can ask Gus to grill burgers for dinner and he just does it.  My youngest writes comprehensive packing lists for trips.  They want money, not Lego sets, for their birthdays.  They don't trick or treat anymore, rather they stay home and eat the candy they should be passing out.  No more ducky pajamas, songs before bedtime, or Mo Willems books.  I often go to bed before they do.

Many days I want things to go back to how they used to be.  I want "the band" to get back together.  Days at the zoo.  Excitement about parades.  Afternoon naps.  Sesame Street.  It was fun and safe and predictable.  I can no longer generate parade excitement or control who their friends are.   I am sad my relationship with my kids is changing because tweens and teenagers are scary.  I have never had a kid in high school, a kid in middle school, and a kid in elementary school. Sigh.  But, seasons end so new seasons can begin. 

I have decided to grieve for a bit before embracing the new season.  Tonight's plans involve a plate of nachos and leafing through some photo albums.  Tomorrow I will embrace the new season.

Prairie Eydie  

The Art of Enjoying Aging

I turned 50 in February.  I was too sick on my birthday to either celebrate or lament.  I  don't really mind being 50, but I would love to travel towards embracing 50.  There is absolutely no reason not to. 

Things I Enjoy About Aging  

Wearing the cloak of invisibility.  People stop noticing you as you age.  If I want to run to Target in my jammies and a hoodie, I can because I melt into the background.  The younger crowd can worry about skinny jeans and spotlights.  

This summer's tome clocks in at a startling 759 pages.  No ordinary time indeed.

Enhanced curiosity.  I can read books about history and enjoy them.  The world outside of myself is very interesting to me now.  Of course, it would be nice if these books weren't all TOMES.  I am averaging about one book a year.  As I read the books, I often stop and reflect if I learned the information in school.  It seemed my history classes never made it past WWII.  

(Last summer, per Prairie Pa's recommendation, I read the book Moscow Nights by Nigel Cliff.  It was hard to focus on Van Cliburn's life because I was focused on rereading Anne of Green Gables.  If you missed last summer's drama, follow the link to catch up: The Art of Talking to Your Dad - Part 2 )  



Knowing the same people for a long time.  I have known many of my friends for over 30 years.  I LOVE that!  They know my history because they lived it with me.  We stir up the old stories, yet always leave room to mix in new memories.    

Freedom from repeating (some) mistakes.  I am starting to actually learn the lessons that I have been taught over the past 50 years.  For example:  I am believing people when they show me who they are.   If someone is acting self-centered, chances are they are a self-centered person.  No need to give them 10,000 chances to shape-up.  Accept who they are and move on.

This was my first album.  

This was the back of the album.  I spent a lot of time cobbling together what his album concept really meant.  

Being Prairie Eydie.  I no longer pretend to enjoy things that I don't enjoy.  Age gives you the opportunity to be you.  Just so you know, I don't like festivals, Halloween, or wearing shorts.  But I DO love Billy Joel, Christmas, and skirts.  

What do you enjoy about aging?  

Prairie Eydie  





    

Epilogue: The Art of Conversation

Already, so much good has come from my "The Art of Conversation" post.  (Here is the link if you happened to miss it:  The Art of Conversation)

My dad, Prairie Pa, sent pictures of the chicken coop he lived in over 50 years ago with my mother.  

This is NOT what I expected the chicken coop's innards to look like.  My parents never mentioned it was a McMansion Coop.  The coop is now being used as a storage shed.  I am guessing because it isn't up to code. 

Prairie Pa and the chicken coop's owner.  Maybe HGTV would like to feature the coop on an upcoming episode of "Fixer Upper." 

WARNING for those of you planning to ask your family deeper questions.  It takes time to build up to asking meaningful questions and I do not recommend springing them out of nowhere.  I know this from experience.

Earlier this summer, I asked Prairie Pa what he most enjoyed about being a father.  I thought he'd say either "Watching his three beautiful children grow into outstanding citizens" or "Knowing his competent daughter could make a top notch cup of coffee."  Here is how the conversation went:

Me:  Dad, what do you most enjoy about being a father?

Tick tock. Tick tock. Nervous cough from Prairie Pa.  Crickets.  Crickets.

Me:  Dad?  Did you hear me?  

Prairie Pa:  I don't know.  I never really thought about it.

WHAT?!!?  He never thought about it?  Being a glutton for punishment I decided to ask my mom the same questions.

Me:  Mom, what do you most enjoy about being a mother?

L-O-N-G Pause

Prairie Ma:  I really liked it when you and Heidi threw me a surprise birthday party.  

My conclusion from these conversations is that I am taking motherhood way too seriously.  No need to ruminate on if I am spending enough quality time with my children or if I am creating a joyful home environment or if there are enough stimulating books on the shelves.  I am free.  Thanks mom and dad! 

Dear, dear children.  This is the cake I would like to be served at my surprise party.

I am off to visualize my ultimate surprise party.

Prairie Eydie

  

The Art of Conversation

The Ingalls family after Pa retold the story of how the bear he attacked was really a tree stump.

Why is it that families tell the same stories over and over?  I would guesstimate I have heard the story about my aunt sneaking along on my parent's movie date at least 75 times. (Once a year, for sure, and sometimes a bonus rerun.) 

The story goes like this.  My aunt hid in the back of my dad's car because she either felt left out or was going through a bratty stage.  She waited until my parents were 1/2 way to the movie theater before popping up in the back seat.  Surprise!  The story ends there.  

". . . and that concludes the exciting retelling of why I quit teaching in MPS."

I am certainly guilty of telling my stale stories over and over.  Like the old chestnut of how I decided to quit teaching in the Milwaukee Public Schools.  It was the day students set a dumpster fire while I was suffering through a staff meeting.  Even I have tired of hearing this story.  Everyone has heard it and I should probably wait until my far-in-the-future grandchildren ask me "Grandma, why did you quit teaching in Milwaukee?" before I tell it again. 

Move in ready!

If I want deeper family conversations, I could try asking questions.  Let's return to the familiar "Aunt Popping Up on Movie Date" story.  Here are some questions I could ask:
What were my parents talking about when they thought they were alone?  Did my aunt get in trouble?  What movie were they going to? And did my dad buy popcorn because he never bought us popcorn at the movies.  What was their favorite date?  (With this question I run the risk of hearing the familiar "We were living in a chicken coop and our date night consisted of buying the latest Snoopy comic book and reading it together."  Would you believe I have never asked them to describe what living in a chicken coop was like?  Or.  Was it common for people to live in chicken coops in Kentucky?  Or.  How much did it cost to rent and were chickens part of the deal?)

Best dysfunctional book ever.  Warning:  You will be stepping through countless f-bombs in this book.

I brainstormed some ways to get your family to talk about new topics.  I have no idea if they are effective because my family isn't very cooperative.

• Do different things to create new memories.  If you always take long naps on Thanksgiving, trying making a craft you found on Pinterest.   (Okay.  That sounds ridiculous, but you get the idea.  Do something different.)
• Suggest a family book club.  The first book pic should showcase a fun, dysfunctional Southern family.  Plan on your dad and brothers not participating.
• If the book club idea seems too advanced, ask your family members what their favorite book is and read it.    
• Make an effort to spend more time with your family.  Try not to spend this time napping or complaining about the state of your mother's spice cabinet. 

I am out of ideas.  How do you get your family to keep it real, new, and interesting?

Prairie Eydie

The Art of Nonnegotiables

This summer I am taking time to inspect my nonnegotiables.  You know - those things you swore you would absolutely never consider.  Sadly, sometimes what you resist is exactly what you need. 

Here is a short list of my nonnegotiable:

• I don't run.  It hurts my knees.  I haven't run anywhere since High School, except to chase and catch my cats when they sneak outside to binge and purge on grass.
• It don't camp.  I tried camping with my kids once and it was bananas - but in a bad way.  It was SO hot.  The kids were dripping sweat and bugs kept landing on them.  The thought of a campfire was more sickening than my whining about how hot it was.  
• I don't do any "lifestyle makeover" that restricts my coffee consumption.  I can't stand hearing about people replacing coffee with green tea or hot water and lemon.  (OH!  I just thought of another nonnegotiable, I don't hangout with people who replace coffee with green tea or hot water and lemon.  Who wants to meet for hot water and lemon?  These are probably the same people who list scones as their nonnegotiables.)
• I don't stay out past 9:00 PM, unless there is a really good reason.  Like Bruce Springsteen inviting me over for a nightcap.

In June, I took on the nonnegotiable of running.  My son needed to train for a Boy Scout fitness badge, so, on a whim, I joined him.  We would briskly walk to a nearby park and alternate between running and walking around a large field.  Surprise.  My knees didn't hurt and I enjoyed setting new goals; plus, my son would loudly hum the theme from Rocky.  

My son earned his fitness badge and lost interest in running with me, so I downloaded a running app (Couch to 5K) to my phone.  It is a nine week running program that gets you ready for a 5K.  Three weeks later, I am still on week one of the program and that is okay.  I will be ready to run my 5K in 27 weeks.

Prairie Eydie, every champion was once a contender who refused to give up.  Remember, Rocky is in your corner.    

Truth?  I recently went camping and it was bananas in a good way.  Just to be clear, giving up coffee and staying out past 9:00 PM are still definite nonnegotiables.   What are your nonnegotiables?

Prairie Eydie