Kaylie and Sam Dancing the Night Away

Sam and I went to Seattle for Chauntelle and Eric's wedding. We had so much fun. Unfortunately I don't have a lot of pictures of the event because I was busy having fun, but I did take a short video of Fred and Ginger, I mean Sam and Kaylie. OK...I should admit because you'll see for yourself, Kaylie has the moves and Sam dances like the white boy that he is. Not to worry, he's taking dance class with Ava so he'll be ready to impress the ladies very soon.

Sam in Seattle Revisited

Eight years ago this month, I moved to Buffalo by way of my Aunt Julie offering me a plane ticket and then I didn’t use the return portion. It was a move by impulse or maybe it was the first link in a chain.

The decision not to return led to my brother moving to Buffalo, which led to buying the Golf Club, which led to me working there, which led to meeting Dave, which led to Sam. One missed return trip and I got the life I always wanted.

I’ve wondered if destiny looks like impulse but is truly part of a greater plan (this would mean of course that all those Snickers bars have divine purpose); or alternatively if a bunch of random choices are put into play at once, the motion forward just looks like destiny.

But in the background of destiny or coincidence unfolding, I’ve harbored a secret resentment against Seattle. I never wanted to move away but the last few years I lived there, I felt pushed out by the expense and traffic and the worst of it—no matter how hard I tried I could not realize my dreams. When you live in the midst of Microsoft Millionaires realizing their dreams every other Tuesday and 2x on Friday…I became peevish.

But seeing Seattle with Sam--well, the boy has a powerful effect on his Mama’s perception. This trip I focused on Sam. Mostly we did stuff that I never did when I lived there or if I did do, it could not be more different with a toddler in tow. Instead of catering out at the Aquarium, Sam and I watched jellyfish swim and parachute around a tube. We stayed with my brother in Sammamish and attended Eric and Chauntelle’s wedding in Maple Valley—places I barely heard of. We made new friends—Lucas and his moms rather than seeing a lot of my old pals (next time). I did get to enjoy a couple nights in Seattle old style—Phyllis treated us to a night at the Wild Ginger/Triple Door. Nothing like Curried Catfish and Coconut Martinis to remind a girl what she loved about Seattle. Sam stayed with a certified Nanny at the Kryzell house. It was a high end evening for us both.

After this trip, I’m thinking that maybe my life isn’t unfolding by destiny or coincidence but rather biology or what passes for biology in my brain. For years my father has tried to teach me how ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny: In the embryo, supposedly the fetus develops through evolutionary history. Here is the magical realism version of it: Maybe when I was an embryo I stalled in the salmon stage of evolution. It wasn’t coincidence or destiny that brought me to Buffalo, I just needed to swim up my home river to spawn. And because this is magical realism biology, maybe someday the shrimp and his kipper (and his mom) will get to go back out to sea together. I do so miss my fellow fish.

Sam's Peops: Summer and Autumn

We’ve had a busy summer and autumn. Summer was spent fixing the never ending remodel of our home so that this autumn I could paint trim and Dave could start nursing school. On Dave’s first night of school, he packed his bag full of books: Beginning Anatomy, Beginning Psychology and Goodnight Gorilla. Sam insisted. And the next night Sam packed Elmo Loves You into his dad’s book bag. You never know when I Want to Be Your Personal Penguin will be a necessary reference.

Just Sam 08

I don’t get the whole “terrible 2” phenomenon. If anything it should be the terrible 22 months (hitting, yelling, toppling, it’s a tough age). I know every mother says every ages is the best (except for 15), but 2 has been a blast and I only have a few more months of it. He’s so spunky and chatty and full of his own self. He says things like, “How ‘bout you? Wanna play?” and “No Way, Mama” and "That's not nice". He breaks up time into "today" which is when all good things happen and "tomorrow" which is when he wants to brush his teeth. On his walks he picks for me a bouquet of leaves and he requests hugs and kisses. He pretends to be a tiger and roars and chases who ever will be chased. He threatens to “Eat You Up” like Max from Where the Wild Things Are. He and Dave make robots out of legos and they play “GaGa and Grampa come for a visit.” Our friend Mary says that Sam is a “happy go lucky kid”. He totally is.

The Peops (and a Flower) Photoshopped

I usually take an Adobe class at CEPA Gallery to keep my brain from turning into Mommy Glue. And then my brother gave me a subscription to Photoshop User. I've obviously been using the online/magazine tutorials and all the fun stuff I've learned in my classes in Sam's blog. This time around, I'm taking Abraham's Children: Primal Narratives of Islam, Judaism and Christianity at Trinity. Cam Miller the rector at Trinity is teaching it and he's smart and interesting but I don't think this class will play out as well in the blog. Maybe later on in the quarter, Sam and I will burn a bush and post it.

Exponential Petticoat Junction

Summer has begun and the windows in our neighborhood are open. Sam awakes in the morning to the random giggles and cries of the girls next door. He climbs out of his crib, runs to the window and in his best Marlon Brando circa Street Car Named Desire yells, “E-l-l-l-l-l-l-l--a.” He screams for her as if this is the very acme of his adventure and in order to get the girl (who actually is the “girl next door”), he must divulge the depths of his love and despair. And then he repeats this performance after his nap.

We live next door to three of the prettiest little girls—Cassidy, Ella and Sophia. Next door to them live three more girls.

Not to dismiss the girls' merits, but as a Once-Upon-a-Time-English-Major I can’t help but notice that we are living in the classic fairy tale plot of the three sisters. They are challenged by beasts, enchanted forests, and their other sisters to meet their true love. I just didn't think this sort of fairy tale behavior would start so early.

The other day, I caught him trying to climb the fence.

Dave insists that the girls are encouraging him. He says he saw Ella swing open their side door, look up to our 2nd story window and in a hushed voice repeat, “Sam” until he ran to greet her. But who wouldn’t want a boy yelling your name over the rooftops?

And Ella, What a gal! She’s three and sassy and full of her own self--a regular heroine in the making.

This morning (7/31) I woke up to Sam talking out his bedroom window to Ella. She was in her bathroom. They happily chatted through the screens. I joined them. Ella preceded to show and tell the contents of her purse, piece by piece and mostly to me. In response, Sam reached up to my face, put his hand on my cheek and said ever so gently, "Mom, Go away."

There are four new posts so keep on scrollin'

Activities

There are certain things you tell yourself before you become a parent that you absolutely won’t do when you become a parent but all of which you will inevitably do. You promise that you won’t discuss the frequency, color, and texture of your baby’s excrement with the same erudition as you might say about Abstract Expressionism. You promise yourself that you will ask about other people’s lives before you unleash the minutia of Life with Baby. You promise yourself that in ear shot of innocent ears that you will at least spell rather than say expletives. Then you hear your toddler say, “Shit Shit Shit” for no apparent reason other than you just said it and didn’t realize it. If you had spelled it and then he had spelled, you could claim he was a genius.

One of my many promises to my pre-parent-self was to keep my job title as Mommy from becoming Chauffer. I don’t like being in the car or driving cars and part of me has been secretly awaiting the grand finale of our oil obsessed nation. Added to my aversion to internal combustion engine is the necessity of strapping children down as if it were a moon launch. You don’t get to BE anywhere, because you are always GOING everywhere.

Well, all I can say, is “Shit Shit Shit” one more promise out the freakin’ car window. The pictures speak for themselves.

Sam's Peop: Missing One

We say a fond farewell to Grandma. Joyce moved to Virginia Beach this month. She was very busy the last few months she was here: getting hitched, selling her house, taking care of the Palinski kids and moving home and hearth down South. She was a real asset around these parts—sewing curtains and changing diapers and making endless pots of coffee for Aunt Mary and her neighbor Jean Zipp. To say farewell, she took the grandkids to Caz Park for one last celebratory picnic and the adults took her and Joe out to dinner. No matter how busy she was, she always found time to bend her bad knees down on the floor to play with grandbaby #10 Sam. As a little nudge, she gave Sam his first pair of underwear (note to self: do not overly blog about potty training). She's the best. We hope she enjoys the comforts of her beautiful new home, her Virginia Beach grandchildren, boating with Joe, a happy retirement and frequent visits to her Buffalo Family. We love you Grandma/Mom/Joyce.

Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends. ~Virginia Woolf

Phyllis and Shannon made yet another trip to Buffalo. I’m sure when they’re considering their vacation agendas; they hope I move. But they always come. This year we went to Toronto and Detroit for Baseball and back to Buffalo for some Gardening. They’re really good friends.

I’m doing this post with some internal turmoil. One of the reasons I like writing and pictures is because I enjoy looking at life from the outside in. I feel more comfortable standing back a few paces and checking out the scene. I realize with my friends that I never want to take their pictures and part of me is annoyed that I’m writing about them. With them, I’m on the inside I don’t want to know how outside looks.

In his sermons Cam our resident priest often says that the sacred is something that is set aside. It’s almost ironic the intention of the original definition and what sacred seems to mean now. You’d think I rhapsodize about the sacred as it pertains to Sam, but I won’t. He is front and center and everyday and the intensity and the worry would make me crazy if I were inside of it all the time. Obviously I have no problem writing about and talking pictures of him. Because my friends are set aside, I can just be.

I want Sam to feel about Shannon and Phyllis like I’ve felt about Karen and my mom’s friendship. Wherever they are, we have found a measure of goodness.

I miss them. They have given us gifts whether it’s Conor’s mitt that Shannon handed down to Sam or Phyllis’s Christmas gift of a barrel full of Monkeys that I hang arm and arm in different places around the house as little surprise finds. And whenever he discovers one of their gifts, I get to hear Sam says, “Conor’s glove” or “Phyllis monkey.” Little bread crumbs that lead us back to them.

An Addendum--Phyllis climbed Mt. Rainer. Wow. That's all I can say. I'm so glad I can tell Sam all about it so that he knows when our friends succeed they start the way for our adventures.

Everything is Better in Oregon

This slogan Everything is Better in Oregon originated with my friends Shannon and Peter and while I’m sure this refers to the nonexistent sales tax, gas station attendants, and the coast line, I mean it quite literally. Once upon a time my perspective on Oregon was so different; during my high school years, I used to frequent the Ashland bus station and obsessively scroll through the list of destinations and departure times that would get me as far away from Oregon as I could get for $24.00. As a family friend Jimmy Giancarlo aptly put it “This town is a nap.” Funny, how one kid can wake a place up.

I've tried to learn a few lessons on parenting from my own childhood. I realized after our trip to Oregon that when it comes to Sam I’ve tended to look at those lessons in the negative. The old, “I want to give my child better than what I had.” Not that I viewed my childhood as bad, I simply hoped to push the parenting evolution forward not backward.

In the pursuit of giving Sam a more secure family life than the one I had—two parents in attendance, mother at home more and at work less, limited family drama—I forgot to include the Ashland stuff into Sam’s childhood. Visiting Ashalnd on High St. with the Nollenburgers brought all that stuff I haven’t included into clear view. The Nollenburgers live cattycorner to my old elementary school. Not even five minutes after our arrival, Sam spotted the playground equipment and within ten minutes he was climbing and sliding and swinging. I half expected to hear a bell signaling the end of recess.

Growing up, I walked to school…hell, I walked everywhere. As my mother drove through town in a big gold Scout with a tendency to talk to herself (gesturing along the way), walking wasn’t a bad option. Ahhh, she was a single mother, she needed someone with whom to talk things over.

I so thoroughly scoured that town; I owned it. Maybe that’s why I was so ready to move on from it.

Karen Nollenburger says that our job as parents is to make that job obsolete. We give our children security so they can venture forth without us.

I recently watched a documentary on the suburbs; they talked about how children no longer develop a sense of personal sovereignty. They are constantly chaperoned and not encouraged to go off exploring, so they never develop ownership of their neighborhood.

I think of it like this—what happens when in a novel, an author traps a character in limited settings—living room, car and gym—then shuttles him/her between those places? What sort of character would emerge? How self reliant would this character become? How able would they be to navigate the bigger world? How willing?

The website version: http://freerangekids.wordpress.com/

I was thinking about this as Sam was on Briscoe's playground, climbing this ridiculously high ladder that led to a ridiculously long and curvaceous slide all the while I’m trying to breath through my anxiety. Maybe only parents can plant their feet on the ground and still experience vertigo.

Sometimes it's almost impossible to distinguish between what’s truly dangerous and what just scares me. In both instances the feeling is the same. Obviously at 2 years Sam isn’t ready for un-chaperoned exploration but I still need to develop an ability to distinguish.

I know that I didn’t have some magical childhood in Ashland, Oregon that I can bestow upon my child. Or if it was magical, it was the same kind of childhood a lot of people experienced. Dave had a free range childhood here in South Buffalo. What is so different now from back then? If you look at the statistics the world isn’t anymore dangerous. Maybe my mother knew how to do something that I’m just learning to do: talk myself through the anxiety and let Sam be free. Now where do I get another Scout…

Sam and His Peops:

One of the good things about being an older mother or as the doctor refers to me; “Of advanced maternal age” is that I had long full adult years prior to Sam’s birth. And there is no better place to be reminded of those years than in Seattle. I started my vacation 3 days earlier than Dave and Sam. For the first time since Sam’s birth, I struck out on my own and did all the stuff I used to do—watched a Mariner’s game, took a bike ride, went out to breakfast 5 Spot with Phyllis, BBQed with the East side gang, noshed beer and apps with Menace and Mike, and drank WAY too much in Shannon’s backyard.

It was fantastic. Good for me. And I figured I could make it up to Sam…Right?

When I got back home, Sam’s Aunt Lisa gave me some pictures of Sam hanging with his cousins. I was struck by the life my son has without me—wagon and wheelbarrow rides, sleepovers and hockey dress up. And then at the Science Center, a woman I didn’t know ushered Sam into the room, pulled off his coat, and said, “Oh Sam I know how much you like the bubbles.” Obviously there was nothing to make up to him. He’s been having long full toddler years with and without his mommy.

Seattle Sam

Life with Ma

While we were in Seattle Peter told me about this moment in Internet History. Back in 1994 (I think) AOL connected all their users to the Internet for the first time. Before this moment, the Internet was used by the military and computer peops. AOL launched millions of users onto the Internet and so the .com boom was born. I was hooked up to AOL back then (OK, Phyllis and my brother were). While I didn't understand the difference between AOL and the greater territory of the Internet, this is my way of explaining why I'm a bit sentimental when it comes to AOL. I know AOL was once the reigning Evil Empire but they made the Internet accessible for the likes of me and so I'm a wee bit sad to jump Sam's blog to Blogger but AOL is all faded glory and this Picasa program is nice.

If for whatever reason you aren't able to see the slideshow, click on the blank space and you will routed to the Picasa site to view the slideshow there.

I wonder what technological advancement will happen in Sam's 20s. And even though I'm committed to understanding technology as much as I can as we go, I'm sure I'll need the AOL version for whatever it is.

And I've left the other blog up and running if you want to view previous entries--http://journals.aol.com/lollily/SamuelHawk/