The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow

Dashing to the car, to class, to the store, and through the front door soaking wet seems like the daily routine this winter. As much as we need it there is only so much singing in the rain one can do to make the best of a very wet season. During a recent break in yet another thunderstorm, and in that last hour of light; I grabbed my coat, collar, and baggies because the dog needed to get out before my youngest daughter came charging in from her play date.

With our newly rescued dog, who suffers from an uncanny obsession with windshield wipers (she hops like a pogo stick while barking incessantly), I made my way down the street to drop off a sleep-over bag for my older daughter. The fifteen minute walk was just what I needed; the reflection of the sun going down was like a spotlight across the clouds and I welcomed the cold breeze graciously …until I heard the honk, my younger daughter was home early. Thankfully my mom-friend caught my moment and offered to drop Callie at my destination. I picked up my pace.

With a quick drop-off and a scoop up of Callie I said good-night to my oldest daughter just as Callie realized she was now going to walk home. “Ahhhhh, mommmm I don’t want to walk.” “I’m tired.”

My kids love the outdoors and are enthusiastic hikers but the realization that one was walking while the other was playing just didn’t sit right. The tears began to roll as I strategized a distraction: “Look, the clouds are chasing the moon trying to cover it before it reaches the stars.” Callie looked up, tears turned to giggles. “Quick mom, let’s catch the moon before the clouds do and we get all wet.” The wind picked up with our pace and I could sense the rain was only moments away. Taking her lead and with Gracie, aka “Cracie,” we ran.

“I can still see the moon hurry up mom,” she said as the first few drops patted our faces. We raced and raced to the dog’s delight. The end of the path was near, three blocks to go. Callie rounded the corner and shouted: “Catch the moon, Mom. Catch the moon.” As I rounded the corner I could see Callie leaping through the air to catch the moon illuminating from the small cracks left in the clouds.

And then the rain came down like the roar of an audience begging for an encore. Callie stopped at the red light and belted out to the cars with their wipers now swishing swiftly: “The sun will come out tomorrow! Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there’ll be sun.” I caught up to her and smiled at the passersby not knowing if they were in awe of my little outdoor adventurer or Gracie now hopping like a pogo stick while barking at their wipers. Either way, we skipped the rest of the way home belting out the theme song from Annie while the rain showered down on us and the moon peaked out from behind the curtain of clouds.

Puddles …Pooches …and Parenting

Just a quick reminder that on a day when you might feel stressed from traffic, rain, and the daily chaos …the joy of being a parent is best celebrated one puddle at a time. Put on the boots, leash up the pooch and jump …jump …jump. Your kids will delight in the moment.

Don’t worry about the mess …just warm up some cocoa. Off we go!

Central to the Park

Sometimes what we’re looking for is at the end of our nose, right in front of us, or right outside our front door. So the saying goes.

I travel to New York more than a few times a year and, no matter what the occasion; I always take a stroll through Central Park. It amazes me:  lush, natural, an island in a sea of sidewalks and skyscrapers; it is the perfect setting from movies to marriages. Even with mountains just beyond my front door in Marin I always think how lucky New Yorkers are for having Central Park.

Recently I was presenting the Let’s Go Chipper!(tm) series during the New York Green Expo and a father mentioned how living in NY keeps his kids from experiencing nature. He happily purchased every product we had on display to the delight of his four year old flipping through the pages of “Out to Sea with Sally,” a recent book release. I mentioned that he had one of the most amazing open spaces in the country and, in fact, Central Park launched the urban parks movement in the mid 1800’s. Oh, the things that make you go “huh.”

“Central Park is for the tourists,” he replied. Needless to say I was up on my soap box, momentarily, to confirm with this father:  his responsibility to his children included the importance of connecting them with nature. Then I looked down at his daughter and asked if she wanted to see some turtles. She said “yes.” Then I asked had she ever chased squirrels, climbed sparkly rocks, or chased clouds. A shy “no,” was her reply.  Her dad raised a brow and shrugged I was a “tree hugger” but I could tell he was a dad who adored his little daughter.

I mentioned that in less than a New York minute he could go to www.centralparknyc.org and see why Central Park is such a landmark in the big apple. But to his daughter I whispered, “Or you could just tug your daddy’s arm when you leave the building and head left just a few blocks.” She giggled, I smiled, and daddy was on his way.

 

What's this about life in a New York minute?

Keeping Track…

Of shoes, socks, snacks, sunscreen.

Of lunches, backpacks, cleats, and …snacks.

Of classes, schedules, homework, and …play dates.

Of work meetings, teacher meetings, PTA meetings …and doctor’s appointments.

Of shopping lists, my “to do” lists, his “honey-do” lists, and …school supplies.

Of friends nearby, of friends moved away, and classmates …just seeming different.

Of the high points, of the low points, of the transitions life just brings.

Keep track of these moments.

Just One More Time

It seems to be the motto this summer and reminds me of my own summer days as a child. My mother used to take us to the local pool and we’d spend all day long playing “Marco/Polo,” diving for rings, practicing cannonballs, standing on our hands, and doing somersaults underwater. By the time we arrived home our eyes were as red as Twizzlers and we smelled like chlorine. The days were full of laughter until it was time to exit the pool.

“Just one more dive” … “Just one more cannonball” … “Just one more somersault” …and then the pranks of “oops, I fell back in.” …It was funny until my mom’s lips grew tense, her eyes fixed sternly on us and her voice dropped low but sharp: “Just one more time.”

My five year old is a natural when it comes to pool antics, she manages to pull out all the excuses and “oopsies” and still get away with a trip to the vending machine. It’s hard not to resist when you’re living life and trying to set ground rules yet reminiscing about childhood at the same time. I find myself trying to be stern but turning and cracking up in a towel. I just can’t pull off that low growl my mother could do so well; it still sends shivers up my spine. When I was a child, if you defied the count to three you really did get pulled out of the pool …and by your ponytail, and nobody flinched or “tsked.”

I can feel triumphant that a little one …two …three magic does work when I mention “no mint chocolate chip ice cream if you don’t get out of the pool,” but I have to say I secretly look forward to the giggles and screams of “just one more time!”

Just One More Time