Limbo

This week is weird.

We dropped Princess off at camp on Sunday, but Banana Girl still has school. Camp drop-off didn’t feel like camp drop-off—it wasn’t crazy, there were no first-timers trying to figure out what to do and I didn’t insist on keeping my 10-minute unpacking and leaving record. We didn’t come home to an empty house and dinner was chosen by our remaining child. That hasn’t happened in years.

Today is the first day of summer, even though in my head that occurs on the 21^st.

This should be the first day of my “summer vacation,” but in fact, Banana Girl will be home at 11:45 for the next two days. So my freedom is restrained. We don’t have the bustle of school, but we do have the craziness of studying for finals and last-minute camp packing.

She said goodbye to most of her friends this weekend at a BBQ, yet she’s still seeing them this week (and I'm still carpooling and transporting and schlepping). I still have to get up early to get her off to school, but I don’t have to pack anyone’s lunch.

She’s not filled with insane anxiety about packing, although she’s packing enough clothes for four people—maybe there’s nothing to be anxious about when you pack every piece of clothing you own? This year she’s finally adopting the T-shirt and crappy clothing for camp philosophy, although she insisted on purchasing new makeup (she doesn’t wear it during the year).

Princess is allowed to use her phone, so she texts me. I’m trying not to contact her, since I want her to have this time away, but it’s weird seeing her location active in a place it usually isn’t. Of course, she’s using her phone to send me lists of everything she needs, so the novelty is going to get old really quick.

And in the meantime, I’m hovering in that limbo area of waiting for everything to start, even though it all sort of has.

Like I said, this week is weird.

The Ropes Course

This is what happens when I let my husband plan family outings.

One day while driving somewhere (we’re the parents of two teens with lots of local family—we’re always driving somewhere), we passed some people flying through the trees. Since this isn’t an ordinary sight, we paused, and realized they were swinging through a ropes course.

“That looks fun,” my husband said.

I agreed, which means I’d either not had enough sleep, was agreeing with him at the time so I could soften him up to argue with him later, or just wasn’t paying attention.

He decided it would be a great Father’s Day activity. Well, our Father’s Days are spent with both sets of grandparents, so clearly, this was not something we were going to do on any actual Father’s Day. We’d make plans to do it on a weekend close to the holiday, but due to school schedules, camp preparation and other life craziness, we never found time to get to it.

This year, he put it on the calendar. As soon as I heard my daughter’s exam schedules and departure days for sleep away camp, and realized we’ve done no preparation at all for packing, labeling or anything else, I gave him the look—the look that says, “I don’t want to tell you we’re not going to do something, but we’re not doing something.”

And he gave me his disappointed look. So I caved and suggested we go yesterday. Hey, I was being spontaneous, something that hasn’t happened since approximately 1998.

Oldest child flat out refused to go with us. She’d already been with youth group and claimed to have barely survived. She’s a little dramatic, so we ignored her warnings and told her to start packing.

I should have listened to oldest.

I thought I was being prepared by bringing bug spray. I mean, we’re in trees, there’s bugs, what else could I possibly need?

People tell you to conquer your fear. They tell you to not show that fear to your children. They tell you not to give up. My husband says, “You’ll be proud of yourself when you finish.”

In the future, I’m not listening to “people.” As for my husband, well, the jury’s still out on that one.

Because it was most definitely the scariest thing I’ve ever done. I thought my biggest problem would be a fear of heights. No, my biggest problem was fear of landing. Because even though I was attached to a harness, it didn’t matter whether I was close to the ground or really, really high off the ground. As I tipped and shook and got blown by the wind and cursed my way across the different challenges, my biggest fear was that if this stupid harness breaks and I land on the ground, it is really, really going to hurt.

I made it through Course #1, barely. When I saw the guide, I asked him if Course #2 was the same skill level and I should have taken more seriously the way he avoided my question. Course #2 almost killed me. There was even less to hold onto, the wind was blowing harder, and I got stuck 1/3 of the way through. A random mom on the kiddie course below me tried to shout encouragement to me. Sweet really, but I’d have preferred her to give me a ladder. Eventually, I made it to the zip line—I could have just done that and been perfectly happy. 

In the past, I’ve complained that I’m always the one who has to plan things. It’s annoying and stressful and not always fun. But it’s not life threatening. In the future, I’m going to happily accept the annoyance, the stress and the lack of fun. And if my older one refuses to do something, I may just decide to listen to her.

I Work

Banana Girl defended me to her friends this weekend. They seem to have a negative opinion about whether working from home is really “work,” and Banana Girl tried to set them straight.

While I’m not a big fan of her feeling the need to defend me, I’m glad I’ve instilled in her the understanding that what I do is work. Sure, it’s not going to an office every day, reporting to a boss and requesting time off, but it’s work. I have deadlines, I have to-do lists and I get paid.

But more than that, I work even when I don’t get paid and my time is just as valuable as anyone else’s. In fact sometimes, I work harder for no money than I do for money.

My job as a mom is as important as anything else I do. I’m raising a responsible human, for goodness’ sake! And if you don’t believe that’s important, look around at all the irresponsible, horrible people out there. I want better for the world and I expect better of myself and my children.

My responsibilities extend to more than just my family, and I take those responsibilities seriously. You may not see that; many people don’t. But responsibility also comes from within, and your inability to see it doesn’t mean it’s not worthy or that it doesn’t exist.

So the next time you’re tempted to belittle someone else’s time, take a moment to think. Banana Girl does, and that to me is worth more than the salary you earn.

Memorial Day

There seems to be a lot of confusion over Memorial Day.

Some people go around thanking veterans for their service. That’s a lovely thing to do, and should be done more often, but they’re confusing Memorial Day with Veteran’s Day.

Some people are busy wishing everyone “Happy Summer!” Thanks to the unofficial agreement of pool and beach operators everywhere, Memorial Day weekend is the first official opening of community pools and beaches. I’m a little surprised someone at Hallmark hasn’t created a “Happy Summer” card. In New Jersey, the highways leading down to the shore are crammed with the first of the beachgoers renting houses for weekends or simply taking a day or two to swim and lay in the sand. After a cold winter (or really, after any winter), everyone is dying to start absorbing vitamin D. It’s a fun thing to do (unless you’re married to someone who hates sand—sigh), but they’re confusing Memorial Day with warm weather and summer.

Some of us are hosting or going to barbeques. It’s a chance to get together with friends, kick back and relax and make way too much food (oh wait, I do that all the time). It’s a social thing to do, but they’re/we’re confusing Memorial Day with any warm day at dinnertime.

Some of us are taking advantage of sales and going shopping. Okay, this is not fun, especially if you’re the mother of two teen girls who somehow need everything even though I’d swear we just bought everything they needed last month.

No matter what you’re doing this Memorial Day weekend, or with whom you’re doing it, remember that Memorial Day honors our soldiers who died in battle. And at some point, in between the beach and the barbeque and the shopping, take a moment to stop and remember them.

Mondays

Mondays are usually my favorite day of the week. To me, they’re like New Year’s Day or the beginning of each season—they’re the start of a brand new week.

I get to start at the top of my to-do list. I get a do-over. I get to chart a new course. Was I a slug last week? I can change that and add oomph to my productivity. Was I cranky this past weekend? I can be extra nice, cook a special dinner, bake “please forgive me” cookies. Was last week particularly rough? I can take a deep breath and appreciate the fact that I made it through, knowing that this week has to be easier.

Anything can happen.

Sure, they’re also nice because everyone leaves for work and school, giving me a nice peaceful house, but that’s an added bonus. It’s nice to take in the quiet, reset my brain, feed the introvert in me before I have to smile and jump into the much-loved chaos of family.

Except this week, Monday is not my most favorite day. There are things I must do that I’ve been dreading, and Monday is not making me happy. This Monday is the end of the anticipation. After today, I’ll be done, I’ll have my answers, and I’ll be able to make a new plan.

So I’m going to look ahead to Tuesday. Tuesday is going to be my do-over day. Because after today, everything really will be brand new and different. And twenty-four hours can only last so long.

It's Passover

The Passover seders are over!

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t enjoy them, because I do. But they are exhausting and knowing they’re over lets me sit back and take a breath before I have to dive in and figure out what the heck my family is going to eat for the next week—especially lunches, which are the worst!

For an organized person, I was very disorganized in my approach to cleaning this year. It all got done in time, but it felt off. Add in meetings taking place when I needed to be cleaning my refrigerator, a dishwasher breaking and flooding my kitchen and all the last minute needs of family due to life taking place while prepping for Passover, and I was scattered.

Next year, I’m using an organization list my friend Lisa provided me. She’s Orthodox, so it’s more involved than I need, but it will help me immeasurably so that I don’t have the disorganized feeling anymore. It also has a breakdown, so if I want to combine my spring-cleaning with my Passover cleaning, I can. I used to do that a long time ago and decided it was too much work. But I was young and stupid then. I’m older and a super-clean house appeals to me, so I think it’s time to try it again. Besides, a mistake is never a mistake until I repeat it at least twice!

As usual, just as I finished the mega-cleaning, I had to jump right into cooking. And as usual, I made enough food for twice as many as I expected. Literally. We had 12 people and I cooked enough for 24, which meant I could bring the excess to the second seder. My own family didn’t particularly appreciate it, but the growing boys at the table (who I’m considering adopting since they like my cooking more than my own kids do) scoffed it up.

With all the rules surrounding Passover, I really wish there was one that stated, “She who cleans must not cook.” I think it totally fits with the “Don’t mix meat and milk” rule. “Someone” needs to get on that, stat.

Looking back on what worked and what didn’t, I’m not thrilled with the food I made (although I’m very thankful for the help with getting the chicken out on time—and COOKED), the Haggadot (books we use during the seder) were still not my favorite, and washing every single item by hand (thanks to my dishwasher) was, um, not fun. However, the company was good, the second night was pretty funny and it was lovely celebrating all together—the computerized baby doll my oldest had for the weekend, to simulate a newborn for her child development class, added to the fun.

For the rest of the holiday week I’ll be cleaning up matzah crumbs that never EVER seem to go away, serving cake for breakfast (my kids’ favorite part of the holiday), figuring out how to make Passover food for lunches and trying to plan ahead for next year.

Happy Passover!