Spring has sprung!

I’m so excited about it finally being gardening season! Tomorrow is the Gardener’s Gathering at Northeastern. I’m always surprised by spring; it seems like winter is never going to end, then suddenly it’s spring and I haven’t started my seeds yet. It was especially bad this year, with all the snow we’ve gotten. This time last year, when the temperatures were in the 70s, I had planted my peas already (I’ve gotten the alliterative mneumoics down: plant peas on St. Patrick’s Day, and taxes and tomatoes). Last weekend, I finally ordered some seeds and plants and sent my garden renewal in (for my plot at Fenway Victory Gardens). I requested a second plot, but I doubt I’ll get it because those are supposed to be reserved for people who served on the board. Kristen, the current president, suggested I write on the renewal that I’ve worked on the newsletter for the past several years. We’ll see if that makes a difference. Astrid was the one who wanted a second plot. She said she wants space for her own garden, where she can dig in the dirt or just play, and she knows there’s no room in our space for that. If I don’t get a second plot, I don’t know where I’m going to put everything I bought. As always, my eyes are bigger than my garden. I spent a small fortune on beans, peas, cucumbers, basil, carrots, tomatoes, peppers, and cosmos, and a beauty berry bush (pictured above). On top of all the seeds left over from last year. And, of course, the plants already in the garden.

The Good Luck Ball

Astrid came up to me with a piece of paper and said, “Write down everything that makes you happy!” So I wrote: “Astrid, Eliot, my garden, cats, being creative...” “You should write ‘sleeping!’” she interjected. So I wrote, “...sleeping, reading...” “OK, now crumple it into a ball.” I did. “That’s your good luck ball. Whenever you’re feeling bad, just squeeze it and all the good things will travel up your arm into your heart and you’ll feel better!” “How did you think of that?” “Well, I was writing a list of things I like and I made a mistake, so I crumpled it up and threw it out. Then I thought, ‘I should do something else with it instead of throwing it out,’ so I thought of the good luck ball!”

"I’m having the time of my life here!"

Friday we woke up to a LOT of snow falling, but Boston Public Schools, for some inexplicable reason, did not call  a snow day, so Eliot and I did. Astrid’s had a cold all week and the thought of her going out in that mess just didn’t make sense. She was supposed to have her Poetry Cafe that afternoon, but we figured her teacher would probably postpone it, which she did. I was all set to go in to work, but Eliot talked me out of it. Astrid stayed in her jammies all day. I worked from home at the table; in the afternoon Eliot and Astrid sat on the couch while he read a few chapters of Little House in the Big Woods. So we had a cozy day together while the snow swirled outside.

On Saturday, which was clear and sunny, in a seemingly knee-jerk reaction to the previous day’s decision, Astrid’s school cancelled MCAS Bootcamp, so we went out to breakfast at the Watertown Diner instead. The snow was piled up on the sidewalk, so I let Eliot out of the car before parking. Astrid, of course, wanted to get out on the side of the car that was up against the snow and fussed about getting out on my side. She and Eliot started walking up the street to the diner and I kept pushing the lock button on my car key and nothing was happening. I went in the car and manually locked all the doors except the driver’s door wouldn’t lock. I couldn’t believe my 2-week-old car was malfunctioning. I called Eliot and Astrid back and told them what was happening. We decided to go straight to the dealer and figure this out, so we all got back in the car and I started driving. Astrid said, “what’s that light for?” The “door open” light was on. Apparently when she was fussing earlier, Astrid had opened the door to get out on the other side where the snow was and my car couldn’t lock the doors with a door open. I was so relieved that 1) my new car wasn’t broken and 2) we didn’t drive all the way to the dealer to be told our door was open. Duh!

After breakfast we dropped Eliot off at home and then Astrid and I went to Michaels where we spent more than two hours picking out beads (spoiler alert! ) to make a necklace for my niece’s birthday. At one point Eliot called to find out where we were and I had to say “Uh, we’re still at Michaels.” Then we came home and went back out again so Astrid could go sledding. The snow was melting rapidly, but we found one section where there was enough snow and a bit of a hill. Eliot was getting cold and I had to go to the bathroom, so I told her “Two more times, then we’re going.” She said, “Really? I’m having the time of my life here, you know!” Good Lord! How could we make her leave after that? My sweetie pie.

It’s All Too Fast

So this afternoon was Astrid’s second swim class and it seems to be going well. She’s excited about going and likes her teacher. There are only two other kids in her group, so she’s getting lots of attention, which is what I had hoped. It’s hard to see what’s going on, however. There’s one tiny room upstairs overlooking the pool for parents to watch from. There are 10 folding chairs and room for about only 8 of them, and every time I’ve gone up there, all the chairs are filled. I’ve stood in the doorway, trying to peer around to see Astrid through the window. All the other moms seem to know each other and I overheard a conversation about various summer sleep-away camps. This one mom signed up her 7-year-old at a camp for 7 weeks. I was floored. I’m all for instilling independence, but that’s practically the whole summer! Eliot and I have been watching old movies of Astrid, especially this one he put up on Facebook from when she was almost three and wanted a bike. It’s so sweet, with her high, little voice and wispy hair. Her childhood is hurtling past and I can’t imagine missing out on a couple months of it.

I had a doctor’s appointment today. It was one of my New Year’s Resolutions, to get a mammogram and a physical.  We spent a lot of the time talking about menopause. Holy fucking shit. It was bad enough a couple years ago when I had pain in my hand and was diagnosed with arthritis. I could tell myself I was too young to have something like that. (Although I said, “But my grandma had arthritis” and my doctor replied, “No, you have arthritis.”) Anyway, it’s all going by too fast. Who said that quote about getting older means having breakfast every 15 minutes? It’s true.

Swim Class

Astrid starts her new swim class tomorrow night. After the swim team season ended, I wanted to find a way for her to keep swimming. In previous years, she took classes at the Y on Huntington, but since it’s been bought by Northeastern and closed for renovations, I had to look elsewhere. In a list of summer camps, I noticed Charles River Aquatics and looked at their website. They hold classes at the BU pool, which would be close (pro). But it’s expensive, roughly twice as much as the Y (con). They seem really serious about teaching kids to swim properly (big pro). The swim team is just a lot of drills, not much teaching at all. And the Y was hit or miss; she had some good teachers and some not so good. At Charles River Aquatics, you have to go for an evaluation first. On the way to the evaluation, she kept asking me what level she’d be in. I had looked at all the descriptions on the website and figured she’d be in level 4 or 5, but I kept telling her that that’s what we’re going to find out. At the pool, the head coach told us that parents aren’t normally allowed on deck, but we could stay and watch. He was very intense. He looks a bit like Guy Pearce. The whole thing took 5 minutes, then he brought her back over to us and said his recommendation was that she be in level 2. He told us very specific things that she does that are wrong. He said he knew that she’s been swimming for awhile, but she needs to get the basics right. It pissed me off that we’d been wasting our time and money on other programs that weren’t even teaching her properly, but I was happy that we found something that would help her. I turned to her and asked something like, “What do you think?” and she smiled and said, “Great!” but I could tell she was upset. We went in the locker room and she changed, but she didn’t say anything until we were walking to the car, then it all came out, “You said I’d be in level 4. I know how to swim! I don’t want to be in a baby class.” I said, “No, I didn’t know what level you’d be in. I said we were going to find out.” “Liar!” I was rather shocked, but I said calmly, “I am not lying. That’s why we came, to find out.” She was crying and we all got into the car. Eliot was telling her how this class is going to help her, so when she goes back to the swim team, she’ll be better. I told her it’s not about what level you’re at; it’s about learning, about getting better at something you love doing. She was still upset; it didn’t seem to be sinking in. Then I remembered something. There’s a boy who’s probably the best swimmer on her team, and at one of the meets, his mom said how when he went to middle school and started swimming at his new school, he told her, “every day I learn something from my coach.” That seemed to turn it around for her and by the time we got home, she started thinking that this could be a good thing. So, cross your fingers that it all goes well tomorrow night.

Oscar Night

So we hosted an Oscar party last night. For the past few years, Astrid’s wanted to have an Oscar party. We’ve hemmed and hawed, so this year Astrid took matters into her own hands. While we were talking to the couple that live down the hall about my new car, Astrid said, “I can’t wait for Sunday, can you?” When they asked what was happening on Sunday, Astrid told them, “It’s the Oscars! Do you want to come over and watch it with us?” Then she did the same thing with the woman that always seems to be in the gym when she and Eliot go. And again when they ran into some friends on the street. So that makes 9 of us. It’s going to be cozy. I was sort of freaking out about what to make (I decided on vegetarian sushi) and having enough stuff to drink and Eliot kept saying that no one was going to show up anyway. We had said to come over around 6 and at 6:15, no one had come yet and Astrid was camped out by the door, almost in tears. Then suddenly everyone arrived at once, with desserts and wine, and we all had a wonderful evening. Thanks, Astrid! I love how social she is. She’s so different from me.

Swim Banquet

This is the last of the old posts...

The swim banquet was last night. Astrid was so excited about it. She talked about it for days beforehand, about how she was going to have a cupcake and a piece of cake. She wanted us both to wear dresses and picked out my new Boden dress for me to wear. After school, she and Eliot went to the Charlestown library to do homework. I met them there after work and when I walked in to the library with her dress for her to change into, she barrelled into me. “Let’s go put on my dress! Let’s go, Mama!” In the bathroom, she was doing jumping jacks and screeching.

 At the banquet, she gave the book she wrote to Marci, the coach, who seemed very impressed by it. Then we stood there wondering where to sit. It was so nice at last year’s banquet when Marty and Elena and Goenna and Brian saved us seats at their table. I wish they were still part of the swim team. Anyway, we found a table and Astrid was wriggling in her seat and kept asking if she could eat a cupcake. The cupcakes were arranged in the middle of the tables, for some reason, so of course all the kids were eating them. I told Astrid she’d have to wait until after dinner.

Then the coaches gave a little speech saying what a great year it was, blah, blah, blah, and announced that the ribbons and medals for sectionals were on a table in the back and the kids should go find theirs. Astrid just kept walking around the ribbon table, searching. Eliot and I were confused. Did everyone get a ribbon? If not, why would they make kids go look for a ribbon that wasn’t there? I went over to Astrid and she said “I can’t find my name, Mama. Help me look.” We both looked and I said, “I don’t think you got one, honey.” Marci walked over and I asked her, “Did Astrid get a ribbon?” She shrugged, “I don’t know. I haven’t looked at them.” We went back to our table, but a few minutes later, Astrid jumped up. “I’m going to go make sure” and walked back to the ribbon table. I said to Eliot, “She doesn’t have a ribbon.” Then I saw Astrid motion to me. I followed her into the bathroom, where she burst into tears. I hugged her and asked if she wanted to go home. She said, “No. I want to stay and show them how they made me feel.” I told her she couldn’t do that. Either we’d leave or we’d stay, but if we stayed, she couldn’t cry.

It was just cruel. Why make a kid go look for a ribbon that might not be there? And get it rubbed in your face that other kids have more than one? Last year, they passed out the ribbons one by one, and the kids walked up to the front while everyone clapped. Astrid didn’t have a problem with not getting one last year, when it was handled like that. And I’m not one of those people that think everybody should get a ribbon; you should get one when you deserve one. It was the way they did it. Only Eliot and I really know how much it took for Astrid to get through the season. Every day it was a struggle for her to go to practice. She loves swimming, but she always said that she has no friends there, no one is friendly to her, everyone is paired off, etc. And every day we told her she has to finish what she starts, that she needed to focus on her swimming. For someone as social and loving as Astrid, we knew it was hard. But she did it. She didn’t miss a single practice or a single meet. And now at the banquet, when she should be feeling good about what she accomplished, she was in tears. Eliot whispered to me, “Chipotle?” and I nodded. When I told her we’d take her to Chipotle, she smiled for the first time. “But what about the cupcake?” “You can eat it now, then we’ll go.”

The coaches were handing out sweatshirts to all the kids, and Marci came over with a sheepish grin on her face. “I have to tell you they spelled Astrid’s name wrong.” She showed us the sweatshirt with “Astros” embroidered on it. “But I spell my name “A-s-t-r-i-d.” “I know!” Marci said, “I’ll get you a new one, but you can hold on to this for the rest of the night.” I told her we were leaving in a little bit, so she could just keep it. I wasn’t upset about the shirt; that wasn’t her fault, it was just one more thing. So we went to Chipotle and brought our burritos home and sat at our table, toasting Astrid and telling her how proud we are of her for finishing the season and doing her best. Then I gave her another cupcake that I had snuck home.