empty house

empty house, originally uploaded by edenacadia.

It Comes at the Strangest Times

We've finished (I really have nothing else to say about it. it was exhausting and it's over. our stuff is currently sitting in Newburgh waiting to head for Chicago).

To celebrate, I went out to my favorite theater last night to see that movie with multiple vignettes about Paris (a little background, my sister went to see Wilco last night. I was a little sad, but it really was impossible for me to go, so I just ignored it the whole thing). When I got out I had two messages, but I was so tired, I didn't listen to them.

Today I decided it would be best to clean out my purse before heading on vacation. I have been throwing so many random found treasures in there while cleaning up, it was quite huge and unmanageable.

I dumped out my purse on the kitchen island and remembered I had messages to listen to. I put it on speaker phone. There was one from a family member, one from a friend, but the third one was a garbly scratchy one. It took me a while to remember, but usually when my sister goes to see a show I like, she calls me during a favorite song. I didn't quite catch this one, I could make out "i love ... I love" but that was all (What song was it Lauren? It's on the tip of my tounge). Anyway, this is really about the fourth message.

Phone: Next message, Thursday - [garbly, garbly, scratch, scratch] I want to lay a heavy head tonight [garbly] On a bed of California Stars [garble]...

I start to sniffle, Tim enters the kitchen, my eyes are fountains.

T: What is that noise? [his strange contorted face says please turn it off!]

Me: It's a song. sniffle [turn head to avoid eye contact with him]

T: It's a what? That's some crappy quality!

Me: It's a song, ok, it's just a song.

T: Are you crying? what's Wrong?

Me: It's the SONG!

T: OOOHHHH, did your sister leave you that message?

Me: YES [sniffle, sniffle, gasp]

I Won't Use the Word Nightmare, But...

At this moment in time we aren't really sure where Panny is. This is the ONE THING I should have been on top of. I mean, of all things. We could misplace a few sheets, some dining ware, it would be ok. I would leave furniture to know where she is.

She was last seen around 6 last night on the couch, we were checking out the x-ray radiology took of her when Eden couldn't breathe one night and we had to go to the ER. After that, the kids went across the street for a movie night. Eden is sure she didn't bring her because i made her take the package of Double Stuff Oreos (if left here, i would have eaten them all, with a little help from tim). I told Eden sometimes Panny is tucked under her arm and she doesn't even know. We are waiting for the neighbors to wake up. Please hope for us that she is over there, because if she is not, then she is in that big truck, and there will be three weeks of crying to sleep every night...

Sometimes nosey works.

Yesterday the truck showed up. We didn't have help planned until later today. I was so antsy about getting the piano onto the truck (for the record, i like the piano, but i don't LOVE it, it was just our biggest challenge) that Tim barely got me down to Uhaul for a doly and some blankets before I made him tackle it. He and Charlie rocked that thing, and it was in there safe and sound in no time (did i mention we might not have gotten a ramp? Random, you may get one, you may not, right now I'm feeling like the Moving Gods are with us.)

The rest of Tim's family helped us get the few larger items that we have onto the truck. A couple dressers and our bed. While this was going on, there were cars driving by with necks craning to see what was going on (we live on a dead end street so most everyone why drives by lives here). We went out to dinner to let the humid summertime air cool down a bit and revel in some crisp AC then headed back to the truck.

When we arrived back there were a host neighbors hanging out to see what kind of help we needed. In a flash there were about 15 or 20 people in and out of our front door, in and out of the truck. From a distance we looked like leaf ants taking care of a really great branch. People brought over snacks for the kids. Others labeled and taped with me. I can't believe where we are right now, totally ahead of schedule. To my disbelief, there are so many things still to be boxed, but we will be done tonight, for sure. And if this perfect moving fantasy continues to go my way, we will put in the last box, close up the truck, and the thunder storm will roll through just as we take our first gulp of icy cold beer. Exit truck.

the boys are pooped

the boys are pooped, originally uploaded by edenacadia.

begin the begin

begin the begin, originally uploaded by edenacadia.

Today and tomorrow will be in the high 90's. I say bring it on.

breakfast this morning.

breakfast this morning., originally uploaded by edenacadia.

Tim was nice enough to ask if i would prefer the pink flamingo fork or the brown dear fork.

It's the end.

It's the last day of school (and i haven't been blogging because i have been putting things in boxes during my free time, and if not that then making sure all the good people who teach my children will know they are appreciated, if not that then the dishes, and if not that than the laundry. I've convinced myself that if I don't continue this pattern and instead sit down to do something else, I will fall to pieces completely. There are tiny little bits of OCD in me, and nothing I can do about it.)

Rewind to last night. Or perhaps a week ago. Eden's very best friend of just this year REALLY wanted a play date, and I REALLY wanted them to have one too. Her mother and I have talked on occasion, and very early on I identified her as someone who I really like talking to outside of school. We had dinner at their house last night.

She has four children, and her husband is getting his Phd. Her daughter is in Eden's class and her son is in Eamon's. The other two are boys and both younger. They moved here from Hungary four years ago(with only 4 suitcases!) in order for her husband to go to school. They lived in a suburb nearby for three years (a suburb which many people here are moving to to "get out of the City"). They decided this suburb school wasn't what they wanted for their kids, and moved last October.

We have really connected over discussions about relocating. She told me how she recognizes things in me that she herself did when she moved. She reminded me about how the first month(or more) of any change is the hardest, and never represents what will ultimately be. She told me that her daughter would draw herself in boxes when they first moved because she could not talk to anyone, she didn't know english. This would cause my friend to weep every night about what she thought she had done to her children (this daughter is now reading 4th and 5th grade chapter books in the second grade!). We talked about why she moved from the Suburbs, and i was stunned to find out that she sometimes would park the car far far away from where she would pick up the kids because she was embarrassed by it (she is strong, and in no way self conscious about the woman she is). These are the things that caused them to think about moving, the pressure of the Suburban Dream.

Because it's the end of school, and we are leaving something comfortable, I begin to worry. I will have to weave my way through the PTA madness once again. I will have to know families of children that my kids hang out with, i will have to learn about the school and the teachers without having a friend who's child has already gone through it. I am sick to my stomach because what if it's just not me? What if i find myself amongst many incredibly well groomed children and well groomed parents who "know people". What if my kids don't find any friends right away? What if i find myself in the same situation as my friend, and think "oh god, this is not for me"?

After dinner we went for a walk around the neighborhood. It was dusk and it had just rained, there was stream coming up from the road and we spotted fireflies all over the place. While the kids caught fireflies and made them crawl around on their shirts, we talked about how she rode a greyhound around the United States after working in NY for a summer, the National Park that Eden is named after, how her husband loved her because she would always eat more than him and her dream that he find a university job in Brussels or Portugal. I made a wish on a firefly that, even though there are people I love in LA, I find one mom at the kids school that I like talking to at pickup time.

On the Island

These chairs sit on a porch in a street not too far from the best coffee and Thai in Maine. You can't quite see the beach from there, but you can smell it, and you can smell Lauren cooking on the grill. You can hear children milling about the house getting ready for a trip to the National Park, maybe a hike atop Bee Hive or perhaps a bike ride that will bring us to the Jordon Pond House were we will sit on the lawn and have a popover with butter and strawberry jam. These chairs are what make it possible for me to brave the zoo with many 8 year olds, attend a graduation, violin recital and multiple Father's Day events, and finish packing the entire house while Tim is away and i have strep without loosing my mind completely. It's because soon, I will be sitting on one of these chairs with a glass of white wine and a crustacean boiling in a pot inside. God I love Maine.

For Tim on Father's Day

Here it is, she did great, i didn't sense a lick of nerves. There were about 75 people watching her. I could tell she was really happy with it when she finished. We love you, Happy Father's Day!

Have You heard...

that the Patriot Act is counting how many times you buy sudafed? Seriously, it's true, today I was looking for a little relief from the strep before the antibiotics kicked in, and I picked up a pack of Sudafed Cold & Cough. When the cashier rung it up, the computer wouldn't let her sell it to me unless she also rang in my driver's license.

Yeah.

So while my sister was waiting in line for coffee I asked her, "has this happened to you?" and explained. An employee who was listening behind me said that, in fact it is a result of the Patriot Act that anyone who purchases Sudafed or anything containing (pseudophedrine, but that wasn't in the Sudafed that I bought, because mine was sudafed PE) must have ID with them (because people have been making Meth out of it). The info is sent to the government and placed in a little Sudafed buying database.

So. We should all feel a little safer from terrorism today because our government knows I bought Sudafed.

EDIT: So I was a little off, the actual ingredient in question is pseudophedrine, but I got the "safer" Sudafed, the PE version (with phenylephrine). So the question now is why did they have to card me?

Photo Flashback Friday

This little guy is graduating from Kindergarten today! Yay Eamon.

It's not the kids, I'm allergic to Tim being out of town.

update on the update: last night after we pulled into school (thank GOD- I know there is an exit that brings you right to the Bronx zoo from the highway. Our bus driver decided to show us the "back way" through the Bronx, past Fordham University. During rush hour traffic. Thank you, sir.) we went directly home and ate some pasta and then went to sleep. All of us. At 8:45 PM. I woke up with a tremendous sore throat, and a headache still. The bus probably seemed so terrible because the migraine was from what looks to be strep so the noise seemed somewhat exaggerated.

This is the second time I have gotten sick while Tim is out of town. I must be allergic.

Update on the bronx zoo trip

Update on the bronx zoo trip, originally uploaded by edenacadia.

The zoo was fun but i want off this bus with 30 second graders who just ate too much candy. I think this is what hell may be like, but that could just be the migrane talking.

on our way to the bronx zoo!

on our way to the bronx zoo!, originally uploaded by edenacadia.

(Annika, can we pick anything up for you?)

The Dinner Mystery

From my perspective:
From Eamon's:
I guess if I felt my fork were bigger than my head, I would have a hard time eating dinner too.

Reaction Time

We've gotten to the point in this move where the news has become very public and people we don't even know are putting their two cents in. I know about virtual strangers putting their two cents in, I've been pregnant twice and brought my babies into grocery stores often. You get more advice then you ever need. But now these reactions have become a looking glass into such stranger's personalities more than anything else. Mostly because people have incredibly strong opinions about LA. I know I did. At least I knew that I would always be a northeast girl, but that was because moving was such an unbelievable fantasy. Now that I've accepted the West Coast as a possibility, the things that I choose before to be a con don't really matter anymore.

For example, at the soccer game, a mom of significant affluence in our particular district had this reaction: "oh (sad face), well that is interesting. I moved here from Culver City when I was 13 and it was the best move I ever made in my life. I hope they are making it worth your while. Oh my god, the smog!"

Instead of thinking "OMG, have we made a terrible mistake?" I think "well, clearly this woman hasn't been to LA since the late seventies so she has no idea what she is talking about." I also think, "please don't' let this be the type of mom I run into regularly at the kid's new school" and "well it sounds like your parent's made the move for you, chicka."

Others are excited. Some others are sad. The most common reaction (of the parent's of Eden's classmates) is something like "well, do it while you're young! Heaven knows you can't do it later." (Red the milkman is the exception to this story. I love Red, and he has chosen to wake up before there is even light every morning and deliver hormone free milk, so he can say whatever the hell he likes.)

While lately I have been feeling pretty old, I don't think I would ever get to the point where I would turn down a big exciting change in life because of my age. I know that we had Eden young, and Tim has his hands in projects all over the country, but still. I would, of course, talk with over with the children and see how they felt about the change. But for the most part, people are adaptable and children learn more from experience than protection. This is how I feel right now about it anyway. Ask me again in October.

My Daughter is the Poster Child for Meadowbrook Dairy

Or, this is why we call it Smallbany.

So I stopped Red the Milk Man this morning to tell him that the last week of June will be our last milk delivery. He was sad, and so are we. He's our favorite thing about Tuesday morning. His reaction to us moving to Los Angeles was the best I've gotten so far. It went something like this- "Well now, why are you going to go and do that? The fault line is about ready to give and there are fires out there every other week, why would you go and do that?" I smiled and said "For the job" and thought, and the weather, and the culture, and well, why wouldn't we? He is really a lovely man, i guess he just has an aversion to the west coast.

Anyway, we got to talking and I mentioned how we'll never find milk as good as his out there, and how he and his Swiss Cows will definitely be missed.

"Well, let me tell you a story" he says. "The other day I get a call from this woman who has five kids and wants to get a delivery, she lives on SM Boulevard, and I give her the details and ask her if she had ever had my milk before. She tells me that ,in fact, the other day a little friend was over for dinner and asked for milk to drink. The woman went to open the fridge and the little friend said "is it Meadowbrook Milk?' the woman said no and the little friend said 'I'll just have water, thank you.'
"Well let me tell you!" Red says, "that's all I need to get me going in the morning. Forget all the write ups in the paper and all deliveries here to Saratoga, A little girl who would rather have water than some other milk than mine is why I do this!"

He continues on his route and I think a little bit about the story he told. Wait a minute. Eden's friend Phoebe lives on SM Boulevard. They have five kids.

I do a little investigating.

When I check this story over with Eden, it seems that she indeed has been declining milk all over the city if it isn't Meadowbrook. I can't wait to tell Red who that little girl was.

Packing Tip # 254

Garbage acquired while sorting through children's rooms during the day while they are at school should be stored in BLACK bags or taken out of the house entirely before said children get back.
Heaven forbid you throw out his "very favorite blue visor" (that sits a little crooked and mostly falls off seconds after you put it on) and then he finds it and looks at you with hairy eyeballs for the rest of the night.

The importance of frogs.

The previous post was mobile blogged and I wanted to talk a little more about this frog thing.

A long time ago when we lived in Vermont and Eden was about 2 years old, she and I took a walk down to the river at the bottom of our road. We sat and enjoyed the water for a really long time. Then as I glanced to my right, I spotted a frog close enough to catch. I said to Eden "hey, check out that frog." and she looked at it, then she looked at me, and I froze. I realized that this was the moment when I was supposed to teach my daughter how to catch a frog.

But. I didn't know how to catch a frog, and part of me really didn't want to. I stood up and crept over to it real quiet and slow. I put my hands down, but intentionally too slow, and it took about one quick hop away from me. I said to myself, "be brave! Be BRAVE! you do not want your daughter to see you terrified of slimy frog catching!" So I tried again while attempting not to sound nervous while giggling and crying "Silly Frog!" to Eden. I couldn't get up the nerve to be quick enough to catch the bugger, and I walked back to the house feeling defeated and as though I had failed her.

I haven't thought about that moment in years and now here she is in her cousins pond with gianourmous wellies on, slowly creeping up to a slimy green froggy. I flash back to that moment of (what I thought was) poor parenting, and watch her in the present lurching forward and then falling waist deep into the thickest muck this side of Louisiana. She stands up holding her arms up and laughing her pants off.

Photo by Tim

I have to say that was one of my proudest mom moments ever. Proud that she didn't cry or scream (because I would have), and proud because (maybe) through the effort I made trying to catch that frog those 6 years ago, I gave her something to go by. (Of course it occurred to me that her getting into the pond may have had nothing to do with me, but now I know the sulking walk back the the Vermont house was a waste of time, and I didn't in fact scar her for life.)

frog catching.

frog catching., originally uploaded by edenacadia.

A few minutes after this, Eden's boot got stuck and she fell chest deep into the muck. Now she is determined to catch a frog.

Photo Flashback Friday.

Nell, Silver Bay 199? (you can see my profile behind her)
(Can this girl can pack a kitchen! She is a pro, plus she got Tim and I to tape our noses up and stuff our [well, my] bras and giggle like we were teenagers by then end of the night. Thanks Nell!)