June, 2021

The first half of the month was exciting, with the end of the school year for my husband and I, kindergarten promotion for our little girl, and the very last day for Cha at "my big house." I thought I might make it through her kinder promotion without crying, but as soon as she started singing God Bless America with her class, tears filled my eyes. 

Our daughter has not worn a mask all year, due to her medical waiver. It was so nice to be able to see her face at her promotion and I was surprised that she was the only one not wearing one. The next day, I was so filled with pride that such a song would be sung in a public school setting, and excitedly told my friend "If more schools were like hers, our country would be a better place." I wasn't referring to the political ideation shared by parents or the academic rigor, but the unity that I feel the school's patriotism brings. At a time when our country feels so divided, remembering (or learning) why our country was founded helps bring cohesion rather than division. I am beyond thankful for her school, which surrounds us with a community that makes living in California a bit more tolerable. 

Cha's last day at daycare was bittersweet. Because it was a daycare that she also attended, it signaled the end of an era. Due to COVID restrictions, I never saw his teacher, whom I knew from before, until that final day. Every day that he attended, I would call to have him brought outside the gate at pick-up time, following COVID protocol. Sporadically, there would be a note telling me about his day, but I was so disconnected compared to my experience at the same place with her. So it was very sweet when his teacher came out and filled me in on how much she will miss him. She said he has such a sweet, gentle spirit and is so helpful that he even picks up toys daily that he didn't play with! She confided that she rewarded him with gummy bears, which I love, and I told him that he would need to start doing this at home more, now that I knew he was so capable.

One of these things is not like the others...

On her last day of school, we worked in a Knott's Berry Farm trip with my brother. There was time for more swimming lessons, ice skating and a playdate with their cousins before flying to Oregon for the last two weeks of June. Being in Oregon is such a break from my  normal routine because when I have time off at my own home, there is always something to do. Aut played for hours on end again with the neighbor  girl  Charlotte and the renter's granddaughter AJ, while I weeded the driveway, went for my runs and watched Cha ride the gator up and down the driveway endlessly. There was a lot of lake swimming (I even went in!), late nights, sprinkler running, conversations around the dinner table, slip 'n slide, salamander catching and baby swan watching going on.

Like compounding interest, every visit to Oregon holds more and more meaning to me because of the memories of previous visits that have been deposited. And of all the past visits, this was my favorite, for no reason in particular. Maybe it was all of the previous memories that added up. Or maybe it was the fact that we celebrated my in-laws' 50th wedding anniversary while we were there, with a semi-surprise part out on one of the docks. They knew we were planning a dinner, but did not know that my husband had booked their favorite harpist. I am so happy that the children were able to be a part of such an important event, and they had a blast being in on the secret. Marriages that have this type of longevity are a rarity, it seems, in a time when fewer people are even deciding to get married. It sends a message to Aut and Cha that although things are not always easy, you stick together and honor your commitment. Both sets of their grandparents remained married until the end.

"I love watermelon, it's my fay-yet."

When was the last time you had a casual conversation with someone who quoted scripture just as a natural part of the conversation? It doesn't happen very much (at all?) where we live. But in Oregon, I went for a run the day after the anniversary celebration and stopped to talk to the neighbor down the road and his wife, who was loading mare into her horse trailer. This is a family I talk to maybe twice a year, and usually chat with them as a welcome break from my run. I had started out on my run a bit wistful and contemplative of the passage of time. My mother-in-law had Ben go get a picture of her husband in his youth to show us at the dinner, and it immediately brought tears to my eyes. It was not so much the touching sentiment as it was the passage of time, which is my Achille's heal. I started the run a bit wistful, thinking of how that would be my husband and I someday, surrounded by our kids, lamenting the passage of time. But I ended my run renewed and hopeful, even though he spoke about his father's recent death on the property from a tractor accident, and how he blinked and now his youngest is getting married. "Enjoy it. It goes by in the blink of an eye. Our time here is limited, and we could die tomorrow...but are we living like that is the case?" he asked. Somehow this conversation made me feel better, not worse. It was as if God knew what was on my heart and found a way to have someone speak to me about it. I returned from my run excited about the day with the kids, and resolved to spend more time with God's word, downloading a daily Bible app since I'm on my phone daily.

The primary purpose of my blog is not readership, but to serve as a virtual scrapbook for the kids and I (as well as future generations?) to look back on, as a piece of family history containing memories of Mom and how remarkable she was, and any history I have from prior generations. I have already found myself reminiscing over my posting on our first international trip with Aut and know I'll do the same when they are grown and out of the home. So, dear future self: You really did strive each and every day to appreciate and enjoy all of the moments of each stage with them. Even (especially?) the ones that can seem trying at the time but are really so fleeting in the grand scheme of things. The ones that you miss as soon as they pass, like when they don't want to be put down or let you out of their sight.