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.

Everyone to the Table

That’s what my mother always hollered right before “Dinner is ready.” There was never any discussion, you got to the table; like it or not, and that went for the meal and the conversation.

I received a call from a Cutco Cutlery representative the other day and immediately flashed back to my brother standing in the kitchen wearing suit and bowtie as he set out for his first job. By the end of that summer every mom in town had a new set of steak knives on her table. I couldn’t believe the company still existed (60 year anniversary if you check out the site) so I said “yes” to a demonstration and a potential trip down memory lane.

A few days later, I opened the door to a young man looking like he had just come from surfing. No suit or bowtie, just a laid back expression and a bag of knives over his shoulder. I let go of nostalgia as he laid out his knives at my table and turned on autopilot.

“Do you own a set of knives, Mrs. Wilson?” “Yes, I do.”

“How often do you use them?” “Daily.”

“How often do you sharpen them?” “Rarely,” I said.

“I bet you like to barbecue on a day like today.” “I love to barbecue anyday.”

“What’s your favorite meat?” “I’m a vegetarian.”

He faltered momentarily then plugged a paring knife for my veggies before switching to autopilot again. The demonstration started to feel like the dull knives I apparently had in my drawers; that’s until he cut into something I can get fired up about. 

“How many meals do you prepare in a week?” 

“That’s a good question,” I replied.  “I’d say 14 or so.”

Silence, then “A week?”

“Yes, that’s right, at the table with napkins in lap.”

He stared stunned and I wondered if he was envisioning my entire kitchen being decked out by Cutco, or if he was imagining that many moments at the table with family.

The Annenberg Center for the Digital Future at the University of Southern California reports the average family spends about 18 hours a month together. From TV to technology, distractions are cutting into dinner and family time. But I’m not ready to scrap mealtime for computer time. I’ll take the occasional arguments and grumblings over the meal, or who got more ketchup. It’s the sharing of daily activities, jokes, and planning of weekend hikes that helps us circle our wagon to keep tabs on each other. It is both grounding and comforting, and expected now by our children even at a young age.

So while my Cutco representative frantically flipped through the pages looking for the bigger knife block to sell me, I sat contentedly knowing I get flustered about a lot of things throughout the day but not getting the meal to the table – even if it means breakfast for dinner.

Olly Olly Oxen Free

Too many kids, the neighbor’s dogs …and the first sticky patch of floor presented itself today. With a goal to break from work mid-afternoon through dinner to embrace the roll of active parent I rolled my eyes wondering if school had let out early for summer this year. The warm weather kept my girls and their friends outdoors, and I thought their moment of “independent play” would actually allow me to sneak in a few emails. “Mom, will you count?” my five year old hollered out. Hmmm, I thought. “Sure, I’ll count to 100.” There back to the email.

“Mom, did you count?” I looked over trying to hide my guilt. “65, 66 …” she dashed away squealing “Everybody hide!” Finishing the email, I closed my laptop and recommitted to my goal of “turning off” so I could tune in to my girls until their bedtime.

Looking from bush-to-bush, behind the trees, and around the house I hollered out everyone’s names and delighted in the giggles coming from kids I pretended not to see. Before I knew it, dinner was upon us and I was thankful my mother had taught me that meatballs are always better the second day. With the bowl of strawberries and blueberries Callie had picked from the front yard, I turned to the table and welcomed the sound of extra feet scrambling to the table with an enthusiastic “yes! I love your mom’s meatballs.” Cones, cups, and a little bit of whip cream solidified my standing as coolest mom for the day.

With the sun setting and the air cooling quickly I know summer is still a few weeks away but this little wink of what the school break will bring made me smile that a few longer nights at the desk are worth time spent hollering out, “olly, olly, oxen, free.”

This Day Rocks!

Though spring is officially more than a month away, the early time change and a welcomed break in the rainy weather seemed to lighten everyone’s mood today. Even after a wrong turn and no Garmen to show me how to get home, I chose to just go with the road while my girls kept worrying out loud over our predicament. That is until we came upon the most incredible playground alongside a marsh we’d never explored.

With dog in tow we took the path for a while hoping to see some of the birds mentioned on the welcome sign. Accompanied by Mallards and Mud Hens in the water, with incredible shape-shifting marshmallow clouds above, we followed the meandering path until we reached the far end of the playground. The girls immediately raced to this incredible apparatus, worthy of an Outward Bound course, full of kids swinging and dangling trying to get to the center of what looked like a spider’s web. One child hollered out “Como estas hombres” and I laughed at Avery questioning if the three year old had just called her a boy.

Dropping to the ground, Callie dashed to a section of the playground that seemed to be calling her name. She was immediately joined by another girl and I smiled at her mother, also pondering the instant connection. The girls, undeterred by the language barrier, simultaneously started digging. Callie suddenly screamed and lifted up her arm; her hand clenched tight in a fist. She raced over to me and opened up her wet, sandy hands. “It’s the most beautiful rock in the world,” she exclaimed. Frankly, it looked like a snail that had been crushed and rolled in sand and I cautiously touched it hoping I was wrong. I was.

Callie sat with her rock marveling at the “specialness” of it. Setting it on my bag, she dashed back to her new friend and knelt down to resume scooping. I cleaned up the rock and the few more that Callie brought with pleas of keeping them all. I sat next to the family of rocks so thoughtfully lined up and smiled at what looked like my Pet Rock collection from a craze that took over the country when I was a child. How ironic: my younger self had stormed like so many other kids to the stores searching for the same treasures my daughter had just uncovered in the sand, and in the company of a new friend.

This great serendipitous moment was not lost on my girls who proclaimed: “this day rocked” as we walked the path back to the car where my phone sat blinking with a text message from my husband wondering if we had found our way home.

Puzzled By 2009

It started with a 36-piece then moved to a hundred and finally a thousand tiny little obscure shapes covered the table as we made our way through the holidays. The hallway to the girl’s bedroom was covered, a wonderful landscape became the front door Welcome mat and the girls keep going.

The idea of sitting around a table with friends and family to do a puzzle isn’t new but I certainly hadn’t seen it for a while. And when I brought one out after Thanksgiving dinner I got “puzzled” stares until both my father-in-law and step-mother helped rally everyone to the table. It was hours of political and social conversation, family memories and jest as my father-in-law persevered to get a piece in: “If you push hard enough, it will eventually fit” I believe is what my brother-in-law kept saying. It continued through the holidays and we’ve just stocked up for winter.

 I did a little research and discovered that the “cutting” of puzzles goes back to the 1760s when a London mapmaker glued a map of Europe to a piece of wood and sawed around the nations. The popularity grew and, in America, it was the great depression that took puzzles mainstream as it was the most economical form of entertainment.

So with 2009 upon us I say let go of complaining about the economy, eliminate the confusion for what’s to come, dismiss the notion that there are still “Jones’” out there to keep up with and celebrate what Norman Rockwell captured so eloquently in his illustration “Freedom from Want”. Family and friends are clearly the most important “goods” in our lives for 2009. And if you’re so inclined, it’s available as a 1000 piece puzzle.