Confessions of a Bag Lady

I think I've become a bit of a bag lady this summer. My efforts to be organized and keep things simple led me to brilliantly decide I needed a different bag for every activity in my life. I visualized myself being amazingly organized and prepared for any event on my busy calendar, grabbing a bag and punctually dashing out of the house at a moment's notice. It hasn't worked out exactly as expected, but I think the system has promise.

First, I have a baseball bag, a cute little tote with a sports print that I keep all the handy essentials for traveling to ball games. From bug repellant to m&ms, sun screen and an extra sweatshirt, that bag stayed packed and ready for life at the ballpark.

Next, I need my church bag. It carries my bible, hard candy, water bottle, pens, and other necessary items. Right now it probably also has about 3 months worth of old church bulletins in it.

I also need my school bag. The problem is, school work this summer varies between grad school classes and teaching summer school to little ones. Repacking this tote bag each time I left the house seemed a bit too straightforward and logical so I needed to add another bag to my collection. My dad picked up on the fact that I was becoming a bag lady and he has an abundance of freebie tote bags from continuing ed conferences, so he offered me a couple of blue DMACC bags. I couldn't decide which one I liked best, so it made perfect sense to me to use both of them.

Life as a bag lady has it's ups and downs, though. I have run out of door handles to hang all the bags I need. Remembering which dark blue bag has my flash drive in the bottom causes me some frantic last minute searches. The bag of m&ms I discretely reach for during a long Viterbo class sometimes eludes me because it's actually in the baseball bag. There have also been some close calls when I'm headed to my educational research class and grab the bag that contains picture books and phonics games. It appears that my system has a few glitches, but with a little refining, I can be really organized and prepared. Last night I was browsing online at some cool Kavu tote bags. I think having one of those might be just exactly what I need....

The Final Week

When you think of my son Ben, sports automatically come to mind. He has had a ball in his hand since he was a toddler, and team sports have played a huge role in his life since he was old enough to sign up. His idea of fun has always been competing on a field somewhere. Over the years, we have spent a LOT of time on bleachers watching him play.

This week marks the last chapter in his high school career. His senior baseball season has been a great one and his team was thrilled to qualify for the state tournament. This is exciting for our whole town because it's been 23 years since Boone has gone to state. Playing at Principal Park is a life long goal for Ben and he's never lost sight of that. I have to pinch myself when I realize this dream has actually become a reality for this group of boys. God has blessed them with talent and He has provided this amazing opportunity for them. What a way to end a season and high school career.

I think the town of Boone must have closed down for a few hours yesterday! I was so touched as I looked around the stadium at the sea of red and black and saw how many people showed up to cheer for the boys. I know it meant a lot to the team to have so much support. The team played well, won big and are now setting their sights on the next game. We are having a blast being a part of this.

Perry and I will definitely miss watching Ben play baseball next year. The families of the other players have become close friends. We've spent hours together on the bleachers and have made great memories traveling together to tournaments over the years.

I know the boys will miss playing ball together. They have been a team since they were nine years old. In a few days, most of them will put down their bats and gloves for good. A few weeks from now they will leave home for college and begin an exciting new chapter in life.

I know they will look back on this final season with no regrets. And that's a wonderful thing.

A Different Kind of Summer

The little purple flowers in this hanging basket are so unforgiving. They don't realize it's been a different kind of summer. I've gone back to school to get my masters degree, so my usual summer vacation activities have gone by the wayside. In my rush to get out the door by 7AM for class, I sometimes (often) forgot to water my flowers. I would make a mental note to turn on the hose when I had some time, but apparently part of the flowers didn't appreciate my IOU of water.

My family, on the other hand, is very understanding and supportive of my new schedule. Sam is a great sport when I am in Des Moines for class all day. He's content to stay home alone, and Ben is very self sufficient-even washing his baseball uniform when needed. My parents are more than happy to have Sam and the dogs at their house, to make sure they are eating what they are supposed to, along with getting some exercise and fresh air. Perry has been so encouraging as I take on this new challenge in my life. Even though writing reflection papers is a foreign concept to him, he understands the time involved with my classwork and picks up the slack around the house.

There hasn't been time for scrapbooking, home decorating projects or planting a vegetable garden this summer. My priority is to complete my 10 credits of classwork, go to Ben's baseball games, spend time with Sam, and maybe even put away the stuff from Ben's graduation party. I haven't trimmed the dead flowers from the hanging basket yet, but it's on a list somewhere. It's just a different kind of summer.

The Flamingos

Sam's youth group at church has been doing a fundraiser to raise money for a trip this summer. You may have heard of something like this... a flock of plastic flamingos are secretly placed in a person's yard with a note. For a donation to the youth group, the flamingos will be removed. For a slightly bigger donation, they can choose the next yard for the flamingos to go.

My son Sam was enthusiastic about this project, so he volunteered to be in charge of transporting the huge group of flamingos from yard to yard. Problem is, the flockmaster can't drive and needed a car to haul the 16 large plastic birds. Perry and I became involved in this project by default, so we have been on too many late-night-stealth-bird-placing-missions.

One night Perry was busy, so Sam and I packed the trunk and I dressed in black for the newest job. We had the address of the next targeted victim, a yard on a quiet street in town. I crept slowly down the street, straining to see the address numbers. Pausing in front of one house, I felt sure I'd found the correct place. It was curious to see the garage door open and outside lights on. Before I could park I was horrified to see the owner of this house, an older gentleman who used to be our town's mayor, a few yards away walking his dog and probably wondering what in the world we were up to.

With heart pounding, I drove off. Since it was a dead end street, of course I had to turn around and pass him again. That way he got an even better look at the shady characters in the suspicious looking blue Focus. (He was probably making a mental note of my license plate numbers and getting ready to call his friends at the police department.)

Sam and I laughed nervously as we waited a few more minutes before going back, hoping the lights would be off and we could get the job done. I longed for my other life back at home, where I lived innocently as an upstanding citizen who doesn't sneak around in the dark.

About a half hour later, we returned to the scene of the crime. I trolled nearly silently down the street with headlights off (I saw that in a spy movie once) and I parked in a neighbor's driveway. Trying to be quiet in the dark magnifies even the softest noises. I cringed at the click of the car door and the clank of the flamingos as we dodged behind bushes to set them up in the targeted yard. I kept my eyes on the house, straining to see a face in the window. I expected the lights to come on at any moment, the door would open and an accusing voice would boom across the yard as I died of embarrassment on the spot.

With relief, we poked the last flamingo in the grass, ran back to the car and escaped the scene without being noticed. Speeding back home, I felt more than ready to hand over the flock to another pre-teen's family in our youth group. They can live on the dark side now. I'll even give them my black face mask. I'm retiring from this shady lifestyle.

Packing Up

My school district is going through a big year of changes....closing one of the oldest school buildings, building on to the newer schools in town and shuffling the grades and attendance centers around. It kind of feels like a game of "Musical Teachers". As the numbers enrolled from grade to grade fluctuates a lot, it seems like the teachers are required to migrate around from building to building and grade to grade. Many teachers got bumped to another grade level. I was one of the fortunate ones that only got bumped to another building.

I felt lucky...until I started to pack up my classroom. Having taught in this room for three years, I had no idea how much stuff I was accumulating. Not junk, but stuff that little people need in order to learn to spell, do math and understand science.  The more I sorted and boxed, the more there seemed to be. It reminded me of one of those giant salads I order at a restaurant that seems to grow bigger as I eat.

Several days after school got out for the summer, my packing was complete and my bright and cheerful little classroom has been reduced to piles of boxes in the middle of the classroom. It's sad for me to say goodbye to Page. I feel sentimental because it's where I attended elementary school, plus all three of my children went there. This room was actually my old first grade classroom. I will miss seeing my Page friends on a daily basis. 

Change is hard, but I know change can be good. It's time to go make some new memories and Bloom where I am Planted.

No More Pilates

Perry's hobby is smoking. Smoking meat that is. When he is preparing pork loin on the smoker, he is ALL business. There is an urgency about his mannerisms and tone of voice when he is smoking meat. Preparing pork loin in great quantities for Ben's graduation party only magnified this quirky trait of his. He has quite a collection of tools that he dramatically arranges around him for meat preparation...Trays, rolls of foil, assortments of rubs, spices, and even a scary looking syringe for injecting marinade into the meat. In fact, his tone of voice even resembles that of a surgeon when he is at work. "Scapel!... Paper towels!....Foil pan!.... Stat!" 

Ok, I'm exaggerating, but only a little.

He also loves nothing more than the ceremony of the meat cutting. He has a fancy meat slicer and generally likes to have a committee of helpers around him while he operates the slicer...someone to catch the slices, someone to hold the tray, and help him sample the scraps, I suspect.

The afternoon of the graduation party, he and the meat-slicing-committee were in the garage while I put up decorations in the backyard. I heard him yelling my name again with his clipped surgeon-like tone and I rolled my eyes, wondering what he needed next. "The meat slicer keeps sliding on the table. I need something to put under it to keep it from slipping." Seconds later he followed, "I found a roll of some tan stuff that would work. Can I use that?" I happily waved and nodded, thrilled that he was able to find the Rubbermaid shelf liner. Proud of my husband for being so resourceful and marveling at his sudden ability to find household supplies, I went back to the decorations. 

A few moments later, Sam ran across the backyard with a confused look on his face. "Did you tell Dad he could cut up your Pilates mat to use under the meat slicer?" 

Sigh. I knew Perry's burst of resourcefulness was too good to be true.

Even though summer break is here and I am working out at the Y again, I can't go back to Pilates class with a 2 foot section hacked off the end of my mat. It would be too humiliating.

Preparing to Let Go

I've spent the last few weeks doing what many mothers do before graduation...sorting through pictures and memorabilia of their child. Having pictures to display at a graduation party adds a nice personal touch to the celebration. I always enjoy looking at the photographs and memories that families have set out to display.

It's fun to see friends laughing at old pictures of themselves and re-living memories from middle school, the elementary years, and even preschool. Having photos displayed on boards gives the guests a chance to see an overview of the graduate's growing-up years. It's neat to see the chubby toddler and baby grins, which are later replaced by the first self conscious school picture smiles.  Later the pictures feature more toothless grins and the lopsided, permanent-teeth-are-too-big-for-their-face-years. By middle school, the pictures show a sweet kind of awkwardness as their budding fashion sense is revealed. The high school pictures give visitors a chance to see photos from many high school activities as well as a glimpse of the future adult that is evolving.

As I poured over baby pictures of Ben, I remembered what an easy going infant he was. He grew into a shy toddler who never wanted to be away from my side. I remember him chasing me down the hall after I'd dropped him off at preschool asking for "one mo hug and kiss! " As I held some pictures in my hand, I could almost hear his little voice as he often whispered in my ear, "Yo my best friend, mommy."

While I continued sorting, it became clear to me that I needed to do a whole picture board of baseball photos.  It was a central part of his childhood and his primary passion for many years. I truly believe we watched that child grow up from behind chain link fence. It was so much fun to locate pictures from the t-shirt league and contrast them with the high school action shots. I remembered all the miles we traveled to tournaments and the time we spent on bleachers and dugouts. Ben's biggest joys and defining moments of maturity happened on the ball field and we were so privileged to be a part of it.

Now that the boards are done and it's nearly time for his graduation celebration, I realize that it doesn't matter a bit if anyone looks at these pictures tomorrow. The reason for putting them together has nothing to do with party guests and everything to do with me. My child is about to make a huge life transition and will leave for college. It's also a life transition for me and part of it requires me to relive the memories of where he's been, so we can celebrate with him as he moves on in his life. I am preparing to let go.