Simply Blown Away

WOW

 

I remember the first time I met Pat.  I had mooched an invitation from Lynn to join her on a Girl Scout trip to Ringing Rocks in Bucks County.  I was still in the part of my life when I didn't feel like I had the good good friends that I wanted.  So much of having small children and staying home with them is comprised of joining play groups and talking to mothers and fathers and hoping to get a connection but sometimes that connection is only made up of the tenuous strings of both of you having small children.  

I was so hoping for some real friends.

So we got to Ringing Rocks when everyone from her troop was already there.  I had a vague recollection that the tow-headed girl with the Dutch boy haircut was little Caroline Ytsma because Lynn's daughter was in kindergarten with her.  I climbed over towards her and heard her talking to "Pat," the man next to her with the same-colored hair.

"Pat!  Look at what this rock looks like!  

Pat!  Listen to what this rock sounds like when I bash it in!  

Pat!  LOOK!!"

I asked Lynn who "Pat" was.  "That's  Caroline's father.  She calls him Pat."  

I considered myself open-minded, hip, even mildly sophisticated in my early 30's.  But it would never ever cross my mind to "allow" a child to call their father by his first name, thinking it seemed....disrespectful somehow.  Once I got to know Pat, I understood Judy's reasoning for "allowing" it.  

"There is no question of who the children's father is and how they respect him.  

They just call him Pat."

And she 's right.  Pat is one of the best fathers I know.  Pat's children had the best of him---teaching, snuggling, teasing, loving.  That first meeting was an indication of the level of involvement, genuine liking of his children and his wife that Pat had.   In a sea of Girl Scouts that first time we met, he was the one dad banging on those rocks with his girl. 

And loving every minute of it.

Dying from the Cuteness

I've become a knitter!

Raveled here

Oh My God a Post!

This woman is smiling because her house is clean and she had nothing to do with it.

Becoming a grad student after working for 16 years in a completely different field as well as having two babies and raising them up was, in two words, an adjustment.  For the first time in a long long time, I began to focus on myself.  That sounds like a good thing—a relief—to someone who isn’t a mom and, in a lot of ways, it was.  But the guilt is never far behind when a mom gives a few brain cells over to things other than house and home. 

But, after wrestling with all the child-related what if’s and getting over the fear that I would be the oldest person in the room—including the professor—I began to have an amazing time as a student again.   And the guilt began to fade away as I saw my husband (always a great father but a man with a full time job) take the reins with all the little tasks that make up a day in a family with children.  The kids began to look to him for help with things when in the past, no matter what I was doing (making dinner, taking a shower!), they would ask me even if he was sitting there, doing nothing.   He began to know their schedule probably better than I ever did, helping them with homework, signing permission forms, etc., while I could devote myself to reading for class and working on papers.   

He even CLEANED THE HOUSE.

So, nearing the end of a three-year grad program, I’m now not only more educated and (hopefully!) a better candidate for a better job, I’m also a woman in a better marriage.  I never imagined that would be one of the perks of going back to school.  And while I still have some guilt that I don’t remember when my son’s history paper is due (or, honestly, what his History teacher’s name is), my kids have  learned two things from their mom putting them second for the first time ever: education, at any age, is important (and do-able!) and a good marriage truly is a partnership.   

Sometimes it’s 50/50.  Most of the time it’s not.

Corners of My Home

I can't be the only one 

who is looking forward to the house not being 

so full of humans 

all day.

Nine more days...

*Vermont, It Is

Diners that serve eggs from their own chickens

Supermarkets that sell all the necessities

Cool enough temperatures to enjoy a drink by the fire

 Time to enjoy it

Cool college towns

Even cooler dogs

Delicious factory tours

So many places to swim

 And cute places  to window shop

Beautiful wildflowers

 Once internet friends, now friends IRL

And lakeside, wood-canopied lanes

*Thank goodness there were no Bigfoot sightings. I was hoping for some moose though.

Finally

Greetings from overcast, sunny, humid, cool, beautiful Vermont.  It's a complex state and I love it. I've always loved New England.  Although, truth be told,  I'm not known for being objective--I tend to want to move to every place I've ever vacationed and Vermont is no exception.

Quechee Gorge

However, I think that this vacation is especially sweet because we've waited so long for it.  Three years without a vacation may not sound like so much to loads of hard working people who are just happy to make enough money to pay the bills but because of The Economy (for a word with seven letters, it sure feels like a 4-letter one), these past three years have been a real challenge.

Only The Girl thought to bring her bathing suit

HH has always worked hard.  He's always worked like every job was the most important one he's ever had.  Getting laid off twice from two separate jobs in the past two summers has sucked way more than I could have imagined.  Like many men, he took it personally, and I think, measured his personal worth by it.  Which isn't fair at all.

The Boy, more animated than usual!

HH has also always lived by the clock.  It takes a looooooong time for him to relax.  He's always looking at what time it is to measure how long he has at a certain task until he gets to the next one. And that includes when he's having fun!  So this vacation has been a real gift.  Time to spend with his kids.  Time to take pictures.  Time to just be.

pretty

I want to thank HH right here for making it possible.  He works so hard and all I can do (until I graduate and get a JOB) is try to make the off times good for him.

Homemade root beer, black cherry soda, and eggs from their own chickens.  We recommend the Chelsea Royal Diner in West Brattleboro.  So does Road Food.