Back-to-School Supply Shopping

It starts innocently enough--your child gets a cheery letter from his kindergarten teacher with a list of things he'll need for the school year: a nap mat, some crayons, a couple of pencils, a pair of safety scissors, and maybe a box of Kleenex to contribute to the classroom community.  Add a lunchbox and a backpack, and you're done with back-to-school supply shopping--no sweat. But each year the list of supplies your child needs gets longer; soon you're buying colored pencils, markers, highlighters, erasers, composition notebooks, index cards, Post-it notes, notebook paper, folders, and three-ring binders.  Plus, if you have more than one child in school, you're juggling multiple lists, tastes, and preferences, and back-to-school shopping is starting to feel a little bit stressful.  By the time your kids get to high school and they still need all of the above plus graphing calculators, the stress and expense mount.  But all of that is nothing compared to when they leave for college, and in addition to all the usual school supplies, you're searching online for cheaper-than-bookstore-priced textbooks, as well as all the things they need for their dorm rooms: wastebaskets, lamps, mini fridges, fans, under-the-bed storage boxes, closet organizers, laundry bags, shower caddies, extra-long twin bed sheets, laptop computers, printers, surge protectors, and ethernet cables.  Then a couple of years later when they move to a townhouse or an off-campus apartment, they need pots and pans, mixing bowls, dishes, vacuum cleaners, extra furniture, cleaning supplies, and shower curtains.  You think back to your first child's kindergarten supply list and realize the only thing worse than all the back-to-school supply shopping is going to be the first year you don't have to do it anymore . . . .

Bandanas for Ben

When my son Ben was little, he drooled . . . a lot.  At first, I snapped little terry cloth bibs around his neck to help protect his outfits, but he outgrew the bibs before he stopped drooling, and his little shirts and the bibs of his overalls were always soaking wet.  So one day, on a whim, I tied a navy blue bandana around his neck to catch the drool.
 

 He didn't mind wearing it, and it was easier to change the bandana than the shirt, so for the next two and a half years, he almost always had a bandana tied around his neck.  We collected bandanas in all the colors we could find, and I usually tried to match the bandana to his outfit.

Sometime around Ben's third birthday, he gradually stopped needing the bandanas.  Our second son used them for a little while during his first year, and our daughter didn't use them at all.  So when kindergarten rolled around for Ben, I used some of the bandanas to make his kindergarten nap mat. Long after kindergarten, Ben and the rest of us used his bandana blanket to wrap up in on cold days.  It's now stained and thin in spots, but I can't imagine getting rid of it or of the rest of the bandanas that are stacked neatly in the corner of my top dresser drawer.

Inn at the Peak

Peek'n Peak is best known for its ski slopes, but oddly, I've never been there in the winter.  In fact I've only ever been there in mid-August.  Thirty years ago Steve and I spent our wedding night at the Inn.  Twenty years ago, on our tenth anniversary, we stayed at there with newborn Emily (the boys spent the night with Grandma and Grandpa).  And this week, we returned to the Inn at the Peak to celebrate thirty years of marriage.  Much of it looked the way we remembered it: the lobby and dining room with their grand chandeliers, the great stone fireplaces, the  shadowy indoor pool, and the grassy hills and motionless chair lifts waiting patiently for snow.  We felt the same, too: excited, hopeful, happy to be someplace special and beautiful together with no worries and nothing to do but relax and enjoy ourselves.  Of course, the inn has changed some over the years, too.  There are computers in the lobby, wi-fi in the rooms, a sunny coffee shop that sells cappuccinos and lattes, and a very fun water slide in the outdoor pool.  Yet, at the same time, it's showing its age in places: the carpets are thin in spots, the staircase to the pool area sags and slopes more than it used to, and the tennis courts are shabby and worn.  Steve and I have changed some over the years, too: we're more sure of each other, more comfortable together; we have wonderful grown-up kids now, two of whom joined us the second night and made us laugh and treated us to dinner; and we have real jobs, a house, and health insurance.  But we also have creaky knees that ache after two sets of tennis; bodies that sag a little more in places; and neither of us can order off a menu without reading glasses.  In the end, though, the Inn at the Peak was all we'd hoped it would be and more; and when I look back over the past thirty years, I would say the same is true about our life together.  Here's to decade #4 and another visit to Peek'n Peak!

It's Your Story, Pass It On

My mom will be eighty in September, and my mother-in-law recently turned ninety.  We don't see either one of them nearly as often as we used to, but this summer we've had visits with both of them.  During each visit, I noticed something: our moms were eager to tell stories from the past to their children and grandchildren.  They are both getting a bit forgetful about the bits and pieces of daily life, but their memories of long ago seem crisp and clear.  Last night after dinner, Steve's mom told the group of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren gathered around the table all about having her first child alone while Steve's dad was in the navy during World War II and didn't even know his son had been born.  When my mom was here, she told story after story about her favorite teacher (Mrs. Oliver) and things her parents used to say ("If I had a rope around his neck, if I wouldn't yank it!").  Listening to them talk got me thinking about how important it is for all of us to tell our stories to the people we love, especially our kids; we want them to know who we are, where we came from, and what mattered to us.  So tell your kids the things your parents used to say and do; write down memories from your childhood; and when you look at old photo albums with people, fill in the details behind the pictures.   Your stories matter--pass them on.

Facing Forward

I've been spending a good bit of time looking back over my shoulder during the last week or so.  The first thing that happened was that the calendar turned from July to August, and I had to face the fact that my daughter's summer at home was winding down, so I was looking back to the recent past when we still had the whole summer  stretching out ahead of us.   The next thing was that I noticed that a couple of our old photo albums were falling apart.  The new albums I ordered arrived this week, so I've  been transferring the old pictures to the new albums.  Our oldest child was just six months old at the beginning of the first tattered album.  So I was looking farther back to when we still had our whole parenting adventure ahead of us.  The final thing hasn't actually happened yet, but next week my husband and I will be celebrating our thirtieth wedding anniversary, so I've been looking back to the summer of 1982 when we still had our whole marriage ahead of us.  All this looking back has made me nostalgic for those sweet beginnings.  I don't think there's anything wrong with glancing back into the past from time to time, but you've got to be careful.  If you get into a habit of constantly looking back over your shoulder, you miss all the things that are happening right in front of you--things like having grown-up kids who are now your friends, not just your children; and having a husband you know much better now than you did thirty years ago; and even saying good-bye to your sweet college-age daughter at the end of the summer because even though you're going to miss her, you're just as excited for each new chapter of her life as she is.  So in the days to come, I may peek over my shoulder occasionally, but for the most part, I'm going to do my best to face forward and keep my eyes wide open--I don't want to miss a thing!

We Love Lucy

My son Ben's fascination with classic TV reaches way to his childhood.  One of the happiest days of his young life was when we finally got cable TV, and he could watch Nick at Night.  He gobbled up  biographies, autobiographies, and other TV books by and about sitcom legends like Dick Van Dyke, Mary Tyler Moore, Bob Newhart, and especially Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz.  Every Christmas and birthday included requests for VHS tapes or DVDs of classic sitcom episodes and seasons.  I think it all started with I Love Lucy.  He and I used to watch the show together occasionally when he was quite young, and he's been a big Lucy fan ever since.  He knows all about Desi's use of the three-camera technique in filming I Love Lucy, which made the rerun possible.  He knows the details of Lucy and Desi's stormy relationship, as well as all kinds of trivia about the Ricardos and Mertzes--in fact, if you give him an episode number he can tell you the title of the I Love Lucy episode.  When it was a lot more expensive than it is now, he bought the entire I Love Lucy series on DVD.  We all watch Ben's Lucy DVDs, and every time there's an I Love Lucy marathon on TV, we tune in.  We have favorite lines and episodes that we never tire of hearing and seeing.  My daughter Em is almost as big a Lucy fan as Ben is, so Saturday night, at her suggestion, we drove to Jamestown for the Lucy Fest.  The museum was closed when we got there, but we had fun walking around town listening to "Cuban Pete" and other signature Desi Arnaz/Ricky Ricardo songs being broadcast on loudspeakers and watching two I Love Lucy episodes being shown under the stars with other Lucy fans.  Happy 101st birthday, Lucy--thanks for all the laughter and good memories!

Ben's Room

Before

During

After

My oldest son's first apartment was tiny, so when he moved out last summer, his old room stayed much the same as it was all through his college years.  When he moved into his new, much larger place in May, he was still teaching and taking grad classes, so he didn't get around to moving all of the non-essential items out of his old room until last night.  Now, I know it was gradual, and I know I should be glad to have the extra space, but it's still not easy walking past that empty room today.  The previous owners used this little room as an indoor greenhouse.  In our early years here, it was the kids' playroom.  I'm not sure what it will be next.  Just a guest room?  A little office?  A playroom again when there are grandchildren?  Whatever else it becomes, it will always have its door open for Ben to spend the night any time he wants to.