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Memory is like this: you take it out, fiddle around with it a little, and put it back. Each time you take it out you alter it enough so that in the end your memories are still true to you but they are not accurate. My husband has memories of canoeing in Carbondale that have been fiddled with in a sincerely utopist manner and then put back to be pulled out on occasions such as our maiden voyage in our canoe, which was not at all perfect. Not. At. All. For proof let me offer Exhibit A: The Pitz Family’s Story of Their First Outing In the “New” Canoe.
First, it needs to be known that we purchased our canoe for Ian approximately a year ago for his 41st birthday. We were all excited. We brought it home and made plans to take it out for a family spin. Everywhere we went if a body of water was spotted be it a lake or a retention pond in the grassy area of an off ramp on I-494 Alban would declare, “WE COULD CANOE THERE!!” Which was met with differing levels of enthusiasm given the body of water. Sadly, shortly after we purchased our canoe and before we had a chance to take it out for a swim, Ian participated in the annual Parkcrest Basketball Tournament and promptly broke his arm. He fractured his left arm at his radius thus receiving a weight lifting restriction of ten pounds for the rest of the summer. Our beautiful canoe sat patiently and waited for its family to come and take it somewhere more exciting than the side of the house. Even a retention pond off of the interstate was sounding good.
But the side of our home was where the canoe sat until today. Today we put the green canoe on top of our green mini-van and set off to have an epic adventure. The boys and I planned an adventure for Ian because tomorrow is his birthday. We initially planned on going for a hike out at Devils Lake and then taking Ian to get paddles and off we would all go for a quick cruise of Lake Wingra. Simple. Fun. Active. All good. Due to our inability to rise the birthday boy before a reasonable hour, we combined our canoe ride and our hike into one trip. We were headed for Devils Lake where we would portage and canoe. We had a few things standing in our way first, like a lack of life vests for the adults and paddles, but we handled those drawbacks with skill and a credit card. We were all packed up and ready to go!
Before we made it out of the neighborhood the canoe decided maybe it didn’t want to go in the cold water of early May and it appeared to try to make a break for it. Luckily it only managed to shift approximately 8 inches to the right but it did succeed in scaring the crap out of the novices in the min-van. I decided we needed to enlist the help of a man we both admire for his can-do attitude and ability to maneuver his way through any home improvement project with skill and ease. Jamie is a combination of Norm Abram and Kevin O’Connor. He knows his stuff, he looks good, and he explains everything to you with enthusiasm. We stopped by his home and he patiently checked out our precariously perched canoe, gave us a few pointers, asked if we had sunscreen with us, and sent us on our way.
We arrived at the sporting goods store pleased that the canoe seemed resigned to its fate. We chose some paddles, warded off any and all requests for toys, fishing poles and whatever else the kids thought they could get out of us, purchased some sunscreen and headed back to the van. The canoe was still majestically tethered to our vehicle and we hopped in and drove off.
We made it to the highway without much trouble. Once on the divided highway we were nervous about increasing our speed. Ian decided that 50 mph was enough for him. I made an off-hand comment that we should just get behind the large tractor with the plow attachment plodding along at 20 mph and hope that it was going to Baraboo. Ian must have assumed I was joking because he cursed and struggled his way around the tractor and headed back toward a cruising speed of 50. I started to bunch up in a fetal position telling myself that my anxiety was unreasonable, that I needed to channel my inner carefree and reckless 20-year-old self, and that soon my anxiety would send Ian’s anxiety and foul mood soaring if I didn’t get my shit together. I snuck a peek at Ian and it looked as though the deer had taken over the driving and my husband was off somewhere in the headlights. Here we were, two people with anxiety issues driving a mini-van down a divided highway with a canoe we have never used haphazardly tethered to our luggage rack on a windy day with whining, demanding children in the back. It could only get worse.
About 3 miles later the canoe tried to escape again. I thought I was going to vomit. Ian pulled over and we checked out the straps. The buckles seemed to work. We appeared to have buckled them tightly and correctly. When stopped the canoe was on the van nice and tight. What was its problem? Couldn’t we manage this one family outing without a blanket of dread and impending doom? This was to be the start of a great birthday weekend. Back in the van we went nervously determined to reach our destination. Determined until the canoe once again made its move. I badgered Ian into turning around. I decided we needed to go to the small pub at the side of the road. There we would get something to eat for our very hungry fellow travelers, reassess our goals, and move forward.
Ian acquiesced. I looked into going to a closer, more reasonably located lake, ate a burger, watched some of the Derby coverage with the boys, and managed to clam my frazzled nerves enough to try again. Once on Highway 12 the canoe reared its ugly head and I pulled the plug on staying on any divided anything. We needed city streets, 30 mph, and easy access to alcoholic beverages. We must turn around and go to Lake Wingra. It would be fun. It was small. It was accessible. It was in the city. It was near a bar. I needed to have all of my security blankets close at hand.
The birthday boy was not happy. He agreed that highway was causing us much pain and suffering. But he didn’t know why we would want to go to some crappy lake in the middle of the city. What was the point of having a canoe if we could not go out of the city and into the rough beauty of Devils Lake? I offered that maybe we had over-reached for our first trip out with the canoe. Maybe we fancied ourselves able naturalists but in fact we were city people who could afford REI gear and there it ended. Let’s just go to Wingra and give it a try. Once again the harried and beaten down husband agreed.
We arrived at the small lake in the heart of the city with eager boys and broken hearts. We untied the canoe and managed to get it off the van and onto the ground without injuring ourselves or others. One small victory. Ian parked the van and I rallied the troops. Foot race? Run. Life vests? On. Paddles? In the canoe. We scrambled in the green boat and pushed off. So far so good. The boys were experimenting with buoyancy, canoe stability and water trajectory. Oscar came close to experiencing a variation on Newton’s Third Law by almost smacking me in the back of the head several times with his paddle. We zigged, we zagged, we nagged, we complained. “Why can’t I steer this boat?” “Why can’t I have my paddle?” “Choose a side!!” “Don’t lean over the side of the boat!” “Put those paddles down!” “Oscar is getting me all wet.” “Why did you buy us paddles if you won’t let us use them?” “When can we go home?” “This is boring.”
And then in the midst of our family togetherness we spotted a Sandhill Crane perched on its nest. In that moment it seemed worth it. Our boat grew quiet. I took out the camera. We talked about the bird and how beautiful it was. It looked back at us. I looked into its eyes and it seemed to ask me for parenting advice, it had that nervous “first time parent” look in its eyes. I thought about our trip to the sporting goods store when Alban quietly took my hand to go down on the escalator. It surprised me and I looked at my little boy, so small, so wonderful, perfectly mine. I had squeezed his hand and he smiled up at me and I felt as if my heart would explode. It will all be worth it, I whispered to the Crane.
Sitting in the canoe I looked around and saw the beauty of our small city lake. I looked at my boys and wondered what they would remember of this day. I thought about how soon we would not fit in our green canoe, our boys would be too big, their egos and legs would not stand for a ride with us. All of a sudden we all seemed so small, even our worries and complaints seemed to disappear.
And then the nagging and the complaining and the fighting took over again. We zigged and zagged back to shore. We struggled to get the canoe back on the van. We were smacked down by a master boater about when and where we were to put our canoe on our van. On the way home I asked Alban for his opinion on the boat trip. He responded in the most dejected monotone voice I have ever heard, “Yeah. I liked it.”
I ushered the family into the house and then I went to REI and purchased a Yakima rack for our van. We will take some paddling lessons as a couple, we will have the proper means to transport our canoe without fear or aggression, and we will try again. That’s the great thing about my family, we always try again.
And who knows how we will remember this day? We will each have our own story, a memory that we will take out and mess around with and put back. Much like out canoe.
I vividly remember Snow Days as a child. They were days filled with magic. And it didn’t matter if I could go outside and sled, or if my mom spent the day amusing me, or if I spent it snuggled up with a book or if I got extra T.V. time; it all was under the glow of the power of a Snow Day and so it was GREAT! Today I have the opportunity to share that magic with my two boys.
During the long winters in the upper Midwest it is sometimes difficult to see the magic and beauty of cold mostly dark winter days. Especially since our winter lasts longer than most. But on days like today with over 3 inches of fresh new snow and it is still falling, you have to smile. This is the magic, the joy and wonder of winter. Everything is quiet. We are insulated under a new blanket of snow making everything look new and exciting.
Although we will need to stay in for a while this morning (the wind chill is at 12 degrees and that does not make for a Fun Mommy outside) we will be out and about once the sun comes up and tries to slightly warm our newly blanketed plain. For now, I will enjoy the quiet and my cup of tea and start planning crafts and other activities. Today I am staying home with my boys.
I took the boys to get their haircuts because it was well beyond the point in which one was needed. Oscar wants a Mohawk so very bad. There is a large part of me that thinks, “Well. If you can’t have a Mohawk at 6, then when can you have one?” But then I think about what one looks like and I just can’t do that to his hair. So today I think that we came up with a good compromise.
It is supposed to be a little messier on top and not so hawkish. I have decided to leave all of that to my nephew Jason. Not only will he know how to acheive that 20-something look, but Oscar will actually listen to what he has to say about it and follow his instructions. Jason tends to be Oscar’s entire world when they are together. Check him out:
Wouldn’t you feel the same way if you had him to look up to at six? Anyway, they boys finally got haircut and all is well with the world.
Now I can add “Put product into your hair” on Oscar’s morning checklist. What a life.
We have been hit by another virus or bacteria or bug or some sort of microscopic being that moves from person to person and makes life miserable for about 12-15 hours. I tried to use my meditation techniques and give my cramps ’space’ and have a beginners mind toward vomiting. It didn’t work out that well. I hope not to have an opportunity for that type of practice soon.
I think that Alban brought ”IT” home with him on Thursday and shared it not only with our family, but also with our dear friends the Greens. First I was down with it and then my friend Liz called and said, “I am sick, too!” after receiving my early morning “I can’t walk” email. Now Ian is recovering from a night of pain and suffering and Alban is up in the tub soaking ….
On the bright side of life, the sun is out and after a few days of showers our land is green and getting more so by the minute. What a relief for us here in Wisconsin. The boys and I will be outside today searching for all types of signs of spring.
Last Wednesday Oscar and I went to Aldo Leopold Nature Center and searched for frogs. We could hear the chorus frogs but we didn’t see any. Too small to find, we think. But Oscar did catch a Johnny Darter, which is basically a large minnow. Our big find was a gall which we brought home with permission from the naturalist. We took it over to the Greens on Thursday night (see above paragraph) to open it up and take a look at it under their microscope. Their microscope was too powerful but we did warm the brown fly larva up with the light on under the scope and it came out to greet us. Not having any premature fly life saving techniques up our sleeve the little guy died. So it is with the circle of life.
Here are some pictures from our big night of Muireka!, the Science Fair at our elementary school. I tried to post them last Tuesday but the computer was not my friend that night. The science fair was awesome. Oscar’s kindergarten class did a “From Trash To Treasure” exhibit where they took recycle-ables and made ‘treasures’. They measured how much trash their class manufactured in a day and I had a son who came home every night for a week and questioned why I didn’t compost more, told me where we could ‘reuse’ a little more, and in general was very talkative about ’saving the earth’. It was great. We will miss his Kindergarten teacher immensely.
Since Oscar’s class did a project together Oscar chose not to make a pop-up book as a science project which was his original plan. He decided that we needed to ‘Buy A Cake’ at the cake auction which is also held at the science fair to raise money for science education in the school. I think we excelled at the cake purchasing, don’t you?
Operation Muffin Top is underway here at the Pitz home. I am tired of looking in the mirror and not recognizing the body that goes along with the face. I am tired of giving up on exercise and I am wanting to feel and look better than I do. Two years until 40, I keep telling myself. It is now or never. There is also a lack of energy to be physically active with my kids that I find incredibly embarrassing. Not the parent that I want to be, not the person that I need to be, time to get active and keep the movement going.
I have a bumper sticker on my car that says “You must be the change you wish to see in the world” which is a wonderful quote by Gandhi, but I have been quite the hypocrite. I have not been the change. I have not embraced any change. I wake up much later than I need to, I spend a day that is active but does not involve any exercise or time for reflection and the I end the day by sitting down and reading or watching T.V. (I am really into the HBO series ‘In Treatment’ ) and eating about a half a pound of chocolate berating myself the entire time. Not a great place for the world to be in if I am ‘the change’. Of course I am not part of the evil administration that is systematically destroying all that is good in the world, but comparing myself to the lowest common denominator really isn’t great for change either.
So off I go on an endeavor of change. Not the first time that I have tried to do this. But, as I learned over 10 years ago when I quite smoking, the more I try the better I get at it. I could give my Clintonesque ten point plan, but I think that for now I will just keep that to myself. Maybe if I stick to the plan I will share with my millions of readers in about a month or two. But for now I am trying to embrace hunger and pat myself on the back for getting on our new elliptical machine. I almost made it through two episodes of ‘In Treatment’ but I needed to get off the machine and attend to my sick child and get him to take a nap. It was a start, none-the-less.
Speaking of said child, we will not be able to go to the Obama rally tonight. It would not be fair to ask my husband to leave work super early to spend an evening with an ornery kid, and I do not want to lie to Oscar about my evening plans. If he knew that I was going to see Senator Obama speak he would be so incredibly sad that he could not go. Not only is he getting over some sort of nasty virus, but it is 16 degrees outside dropping down to 2 degrees with an expected 6 inches of snow. Not the kind of night for a 5-year-old to be standing outside waiting in line for over an hour. We will spend the night safe and warm playing Webkinz while I refrain from eating sweets.
Off I go to embrace my hunger.
I have decided to support, unequivocally, Barack Obama for President. Not since Paul Wellstone have I felt this excited and inspired by a candidate. It was a difficult decision for me, but watching him over the past two weeks solidified my desire to not only win in December, but to have him lead our country.
I really like Hillary Clinton. I think she is one of the smartest, savviest and capable politicians of our time. Articulate, thoughtful and driven not only for her own personal success but, I believe, she is driven by and truly has our country’s best interest at heart. And I like her policies and approach to international issues. Not only that, but she is a woman and for better or for worse that factors into my decision. I want a woman to be president and soon.
But … (and this is the most important factor for me) I don’t think she can incite the type of excitement or the support of Independents that this campaign needs. I am still not convinced that she would lose in November. I think she could pull it off. But I don’t think she would pull it off in the type of campaign that would pull our young people into action and that would pull our country together.
Obama’s message of hope is what, I believe, our country needs. His message will take us through the financially difficult times I think that we will face in the next few years and I think that he will gain a groundswell of populace support that will carry him through the first two years of his presidency, at least, and garner legislation that lifts us out of the many mistakes that have occurred in the past 8 years.
This nation is coming to understand how much the current administration truly sucks. Every day more and more information about them surfaces and it is casting a dark shadow of mistrust among the populace never before experienced. Obama’s positive message and amazing oratorical abilities will, I believe, lift peoples spirits and move them to action.
His message is honest. He will not fix this nation with policies and programs, but WE will. He cannot carry us through this difficult time alone, but together we can do it. That is what we all need. A big kick in the ass telling us that consuming goods is not enough to make this country whole again. It is up to us to come together and work together to make it happen. And how does that actually work? By inspiring the young, the 20-somethings and the teens, to get involved in community action.
If anyone can do that he can. I want him to win so badly that it hurts. So here I go, getting involved in yet another campaign. Unlike the last two elections, however, my time, effort and money will be well spent.
If you are interested in a more eloquent an intelligent essay on the abilities of Obama, check out this letter to the editor in the Jamaica Gleaner News.
Also, Oscar went to his first political rabble-rousing meeting last night. More on that later. He is, however, PUMPED UP! Check out his morning art:
Barack Obama you are a star
There are days when parenting seems to me to be an insight into hell. There are moments, and possibly days, when parenting is the greatest joy I have ever experienced.
When Alban woke up this morning he took my face in both his hands and he said, ” I love being your kid.” Nothing in my life compares to that. Nothing.
On our way back from Alban’s ‘hockey lessons’ today he screamed “DON’T STOP!!” I explained that a young woman was crossing the street in front of the High School and that if I stopped we would run her over with the van. Not good. “I want to run her over! I said ‘ DON’T STOP!’” This was his whine for 1 mile. Then it turned into wanting a friend of Oscar’s to come over for a play-date (he is in school all day) and then it was a fit about not wanting to go to the bathroom “forever!”
I feel sometimes that my limits as an individual and as a parent have been tested to the point where all I can do is make one mistake after another and all I can feel is failure. My children are both going through a phase of complete and total limit testing. How far can I push mom until she turns into the dreaded “mean mommy”? Lately it hasn’t taken much.
And then there are moments like this morning and the look in Oscar’s eyes when he sees me on his way out of school every afternoon. There is the snuggling in bed at 5 a.m. and the birthday present of “I love you more than anyone on the planet earth. And daddy, and the dog. And … Alban.”
I hope there will always be that. But I cannot wait for the testing to end.
I like to think that I am a crafty person. The real truth is that I am not the least bit crafty or arty, but sometimes I can fudge it if I am lucky. Oscar may have more of a fighting chance in this regard.
We worked on an Advent Pocket Calendar together for a while and then it turned into a present for some special people. Both Oscar and Alban have decided that they love sewing. I think it appeals to their need for a sense of danger. There have been some poked finger tips and some frustrating thread tangles that have ended in some tugging and pulling. Oscar stuck with it without help for much longer than his brother.
To try to appeal to my need to become a better photographer/editor of photos I purchased a new photo program (mostly because I was completely frustrated with my “free” software on my laptop). So … Here is my first usage of Adobe Photoshop 5 without looking at the tutorial. Why bother with the tutorial when you can become incredibly frustrated?
P.S. Double click on the photo and you can view it at a reasonable size.
One could say FAILURE, but I beg to differ. I did set out to write a post every day for the month of November, and at that I certainly did fail. However, since I have absolutely no idea of who reads my blog or of how many of you are out there, I felt no real need to perform for anyone other than me. This led me to stay in a warm bed, get my kids off to school on time, sit and daydream about writing instead of writing, etc. I can let myself down, that has never been a problem, but I really do not like to let others down. So there it is. Now maybe if some of you left a comment or two, that would change things, but probably not.
On our way to MN for Thanksgiving we had a very Pitzian moment at a cheese shop. Before I go any further with this story it is important to know that we have been struggling with Oscar and Alban in the burping department. Oscar finds it incredibly humorous to burp. So funny, in fact, that he ‘fake burps’ a lot and that brings the hammer down here at the house. It is out of control and very age appropriate, unfortunately for us. So here is the Pitzian moment in the cheese shop in Tomah, WI:
Ian: Oscar! Stop scratching your bum with your lollipop!
Marsha (to Ian): You know, it was heartwarming moments like this that I dreamed about when we decided to have children. And now all my dreams have come true.
Ian (to Marsha): fake burp
Marsha and Ian: fits of laughter.
Oscar and Alban: What??? What??? Why are you laughing??
If someone asked me to sum up our family, I think I would send them that exchange. That is us to the core. And for that, I will always be thankful.
We are headed into the frenzy of getting ready for our trip to MN for Thanksgiving. I am looking forward to leaving for a few days and getting a new look on life and a new look at the world, or at viewing a different landscape.
I don’t know why leaving our house for a few days causes me so much anxiety, but, well there it is. I leave things for the last minute (a born procrastinator) and then run around the house in a manic state and then just sink into the passenger seat and relax until I realize we have forgotten something important and wait for the car to turn around and start the manic process all over until I can sink back into the passenger seat and relax. That is pretty much it. Happens every time even if I pack a few days in advance. There could be some psycho-social revelation waiting for me to discover, but I would just rather say, “Yeah. Accepting the fact that I get ready to leave my house in a state of sheer anxiety when traveling. It is where I am and probably where I am going to stay.” Getting ready for mania tomorrow morning. No need for coffee in the early a.m..
I am looking forward to being in one of my favorite cities. I look forward to being in a city that fits like a glove. One in which I can find my way like going home to my childhood house. In a sense that is what I am doing. I grew up in Minneapolis and St. Paul. I found my true love there. I met lifetime friends. I realized passions and values and created a community of like minded people. I learned how manage relationships. I grew up. I am going home.
I will spend time in Uptown; I will go out and have coffee with an old friend and lover. I will take time to be with my husband in the late afternoon on Friday and we will go to galleries and eat yummy food and be together in places that take us back to a time when we met and discovered each other. It already feels right. It already feels like part of me is healing. Minneapolis is my touchstone. I am going home to become grounded and ready for challenges here in Madison.
I am also going to face Thanksgiving without my brother Linn for the first time in about 15 years. I will look for him in the corner, drinking scotch with my bother-in-law and husband. I will listen for his stories. I will miss holding his hand and talking about my plans, about his plans, about what the future might hold. I will simply miss him. I am going to face life without him for the first time, really. I have not had to face walking into his house and finding him gone. I will face his absence at Thanksgiving and for me it will be my first true test in letting him go.
I don’t want to let him go. I want him back for me and for his family and for our mother and my siblings. But I will keep that to myself. Those spending Thanksgiving with us in MN have faced his physical absence on many occasions. They have gone through the pain of expecting him and receiving his absence many times. It will still be painful. It will still be uncomfortable. It will still fill the room at times. And in that, we will all be together. We will also quietly know that he was a person to be thankful for knowing. Flawed? Oh, hell yes. But he was also an amazing person who gave and gave without complaint. A person who loved to be with others and enjoy some of the best things in life. Someone who could amplify his enjoyment of life exponentially by sharing it with others. That is what we will miss. That is what I will long for when I am home. That is something I will have to find in myself.
So we are off. We are going to envelop ourselves in our family. Revel in the sheer number of us. Enjoy being with one another. Laugh, eat, tell stories, listen, and play. My family fills me up and makes me whole. I am going to get filled up and made whole again. I will bring that back to my true home and give it all back to my boys … all of them.
