A Writing Life

My writing class is almost over (the last day is tomorrow), and I feel like it has opened up a whole new space for me in terms of writing creatively. Even though I've always, always loved to write, it's often hard for me to find the time or environment to do the work. I'm learning (and still practicing) this new method; I plan to keep practicing it long after the class ends. So look here, from time to time, for bits and pieces creative writing - different formats, imitations, snippets of stories, scenes, memoir, and essays. In the meantime, a poem I wrote for this morning's class:

Senior Year

It’s dinnertime
and I am standing in the kitchen,
stretching my legs.

I am drinking lukewarm water
from a red plastic glass.
It is the only cup that is clean.

I am wearing black nylon shorts and Nikes
with an orange swoosh.
Greek letters dance and play on my shirt.

I hear the train whistle and bend down to touch my toes.
There are crumbs
and dirt on the floor.

You are leaning against the counter,
eating kidney beans
out of the can.

“I put cheese on them,” you say. “It’s good.”
I roll my eyes. I look out the window,
try to see the train.

Your blue Volkswagen
sits on the driveway. One window
is stuck in the down position.

Orange, brown, and yellow leaves
have fallen on the hood
and on the ground around the car.

The worst thing in my life
is student teaching.

“Is anyone ever going to do these dishes?” I ask.
You shrug.
“I’m going to the library,” you say.

I clasp my hands together and push them towards the ceiling.
“Maybe Connie,” I say.
I pull the door open.

New air floods the kitchen
and competes with the fluorescent light
for our attention.

We are here because it is dinnertime:
It is college,
it is 5:00, and I have still not gone running.

Living the Dream

How many times per day, on average, do I have some version of this conversation in my head?:

"Who are these kids and what will I do with them for the next 9 1/2 hours??? If only they would be . . . somewhere else for a little while. Then I would be able to __________ so easily."

I estimate 2-3 times per day, on a good day. And here I am, this week, "living the dream," as Sarah might say. They really are somewhere else. In spite of that, life is not tripping along quite as merrily as I had fantasized. Turns out, accomplishing projects is still frustrating even when you aren't dragging 2 small people around town with you.

Yesterday, for example, I stopped at Rivertown Crossings on my way home from class to FINALLY purchase a curtain rod for my kitchen window. (The curtain itself has been made since, oh, April, but does Target or BB & Beyond carry any sort of remotely correct-length/appropriate-color rod for a normal price? No.) So, I'm at Restoration Hardware - a store I have all but banned myself from because the prices there make my eyes hurt - and do they have the rod? No. I go to Pottery Barn, where the girl takes 20 minutes of digging through the back room to find the one I ask for. It's $79.00. But, hurray! I'll finally hang that damn curtain!

As I'm checking out, I say to another salesperson, "Now, you're SURE that this is the 48-88 inch rod, right?" Yes, yes, she checks; it is.

I take it home. Jason brings out the drill. We open the curtain rod, prepare to drill holes into our wall, and . . . the curtain rod is too short. It is 28-48 inches. We decide to just drill into the molding around the window so that the 48" will be sufficient. Holes are made, brackets are hung, and we tack the curtain up on its rings. It looks horrible. Whole sections of top-of-the-window are visible above the fabric. It really needs to go into the wall. We take the brackets down, Jason spackles the holes in our woodwork, and I pack the short rod back into its box to be returned. Curtain status: still not hung.

Other projects went better: Annie's room has been transformed. I took her bedrail down because it's been ages since she's even seemed like she might fall out, turned her bed to another wall, vacuumed every inch of her carpet and moldings, bought a beautiful light pink drum table for a nightstand, assembled a new Target lamp, reorganized her books, and installed pink glass pulls on her dresser drawers. I am going to frame a painting she did and hang it on one sad wall that has been all empty for almost 2 years. I hope she will like it.

There have been moments of satisfaction. We've hung new pictures, a montage of art objects by the back door, wall vases in the dining room, and a mirror above our dresser. Today, I bought some gorgeous red hypericum berries and huge white hydrangeas at the Holland farmer's market. I got to listen to part of a hysterical interview with Riann Wilson on Fresh Air on my way home today. Jason and I went to Leo's for dinner (buy one, get one coupon) last night. And I drank my coffee out on the front steps this morning, all by myself.

But having the girls gone isn't really the be-all, end-all I thought it would be. Since Annie's been born, I've blamed having children in the house for my horrible insomnia. Then, last night, I was inexplicably unable to fall asleep until after 2:00 a.m.!!!! I had been writing just before bed, and my brain could not shut itself off. So I guess the sleep issues are my OWN issues, after all. Not to mention, I miss the girls. A lot. I talked to Annie this morning in a wide-ranging conversation about oatmeal, newborn puppies, the library, her cousins, and raspberries in the garden. She sounded normal; she sounded happy. She sounded amazingly grown-up and I can't wait to see her on Sunday. Between now and then, I am going to give myself some more space to relax (enough with the projects!) so that I can be rested and ready for their return.

Life, Pared Down

It's strange with the girls gone - their rooms empty, the house so much quieter. We're using the time, so far, to accomplish two things: spend some quality time together, and re-organize places in the house that aren't working and need some help. Yesterday, the minute the girls left, we sped straight down to the beach in Saugatuck. (After not seeing Lake Michigan all summer, that made three days in a row for me . . . and I am not sick of it yet by any stretch.) We found a quiet spot, plopped down our chairs, and read happily - uninterrupted! - for almost an hour. We walked on the beach a little and splashed in the waves. We ate dinner at one of our old favorite restaurants in Douglas, Everyday People Cafe. We had long, wasteful conversations about Green Day, future vacations, and other people we know. We walked through Saugatuck and picked out a painting that we'd like to buy, someday. It was good.

Today, I had the first of my week-long writing seminars at Hope. So far, it is interesting. We will see how the week progresses, but for now, it's nice to be in a space where I get to play with words and listen to stories instead of change dirty diapers and chase naughty toddlers. The focus is on writing from images and getting all the cerebral "overthinking" out of the way. It's making me slow down. It will hopefully make my writing more spare, more streamlined.

This afternoon, I got a lot done - dropped off 8 (!) rolls of film to be developed, made a Target run, found some nightstands for our bedroom at East Fulton Antiques, cleaned out some kitchen cupboards and drawers, did two loads of laundry, and framed some pictures I want to hang this week. I made a pile of things to be thrown out and another pile to be given away. For his part, Jason mowed the lawn, weed whipped, and cleaned out the garage. Mostly, just trying to get caught up and simplify, simplify, simplify. Now, at the late, late hour of 9:30, we are going to take a small walk around our town. I miss putting the girls to bed but love the freedom to walk out the door this late, unencumbered.

You're Right, You're Right, I Know You're Right

(from When Harry Met Sally, my favorite movie)

Though our week, especially the last three days, has been jam-packed with all sorts of summertime fun, Annie continued to be, shall we say, challenging. I know she's only three, and bound to struggle with discipline and self-control and limits, but what really gets me is the repeated mistakes and the total lack of remorse. One day, after a particularly horrible episode which resulted in all her dolls being taken away, I attempted to have "a moment" with her as she had her bath at night.

"Annie," I said calmly, "I love you so much and I want us to have fun together. I don't like it when we have hard days like this, because it's no fun. The choices you're making are not OK, though, and I'm going to have to keep taking things and privileges away until you can make the right choices. I know you can do better. How do you feel when Mommy takes away your things because you don't listen?"

She looked right at me and said, "Happy. I feel happy."

The next day, when we were heading inside after a nice picnic lunch with neighbors, Heidi said graciously: "Annie, thank you so much for having a picnic with us today." And Annie said, hatefully and for no good reason at all, "You're NOT welcome."

I was lamenting these things to Connie on the phone, ending with the fact that, boy, was I glad that I had decided to go ahead and let the girls stay with my in-laws for the week because I wasn't sure if I could take one more week of Annie. She listened, made all the appropriate, sympathetic comments, and then said, "You know she's going to be adorable on Friday or Saturday just before she leaves, though, right? Just to make you feel all guilty . . ."

Connie is right about many things (paint colors and wine selection spring to mind immediately), and she was right about this, too. Yesterday, I took Annie to the beach for the morning, and we had the best time digging a giant hole, eating ice cream, running into the big waves and jumping them, swinging, making mud piles. She made me so proud at her last dance class of the summer session on Thursday, all proper in her tap shoes. And today I painted her toenails while she sat, rapt with attention, before we spent another day at Lake Michigan with some neighbors. Looking back at the pictures, I'm reminded again just how crazy I am about my girl, even when she's driving me crazy. For her part, Jemma has been the most hilarious, cuddliest, mischevious, adorable thing ever, these last few days. I'm looking forward to some days of peace, but I'm missing my cuties already.

What the Universe Says to Me at 6:23 a.m.

Last night, my neighbor talked me into attending some horrid "boot camp" workout with her next week, during my week of freedom from my children. In my defense, I had been drinking when I agreed that running hills and doing push-ups in a park at 6:30 a.m. sounded like a good plan. I told her, casually, that I used to practice yoga 2-3 times a week, and all those sun salutations gave me great upper-body strength. But that strength is pretty much gone, now. I am scared.

A few days ago, my friend Gina blogged about something she and I did together in our way-distant college-student past: the Hope College Pull. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you can google "hope college pull" and browse the website.) Anyway, she reminded me that, as members of the "99 Pull Team" and the class of 1999, we were once able to do 99 push-ups. In a row! In a giant circle in a field with 39 other people! On a Saturday, of our own free will! Good times . . .

Then, I spied a reference on a blog I occasionally read to the Hundred-Pushups program (www.hundredpushups.com ). I checked it out. I was intrigued.

All of this to say that on my run this morning, enjoying the crisp, perfect sunrise, I realized: the universe is talking to me. It is saying, "Stephanie, start doing push-ups." So after my run, I got down on the floor and . . . couldn't do ANY. I had to revert to, for lack of a better term, "girl" push-ups, with my knees bent. In my living room by myself, I was a little humiliated.

Thus, I will be embarking on the Hundred Push-ups program STAT. Any of you wishing to join me should check out the website and consider Monday our first day. The rest of you may remark with jealousy and awe on my amazing arm muscles at some point in September.

System Overload

Jemma does this thing sometimes (and by sometimes, I mean a few times a day) when she instantly becomes so thirsty that she needs water immediately. "Muh," she suddenly says. "Muh muh muh muh muh muh muh," one syllable per second, at least, as though a wire has been tripped and water is required to reset her. It is usually just when we are toppling back into the house from somewhere, me with my hands full, Annie running to pee, the phone ringing. Today, it started happening when I was in the kitchen, trying to make dinner, on the phone with a friend, and Annie at my heels insisting, "Mom! I saw a cardinal. A cardinal!!! Mom. Moooooom." In the background: "Muh muh muh muh muh." And then my cell phone rang, and the CD on the stereo started skipping, and it is a small miracle that everyone got fed, cleaned, and put to bed before I lost my mind.

I think this is one of the harder things for me about being a stay-at-home parent of small children. I just don't really like noise. In high school and college, I required total silence to study, do homework, read, and write papers. (I am always a little amazed - and suspicious - of people who can learn things with loud music on.) I hardly ever turn on the TV during the day and prefer to listen to music when I can really listen to it, not when it is just one more layer of background noise. Living in such close proximity to neighbors, some of whom own several loud items with which to tend their immaculate lawns, is frustrating to me, even though I know that it's to be expected, living in a city. Noise - especially repetitive, annoying noise - makes it hard for me to THINK, hard to function at the top of my game. I forget things. I lose things. I lose my patience, my train of thought, my motivation.

These days, I try to embrace the messy, noisy world that is raising children. I expect lots of questions, nonsense singing, shout-outs to each and every "digger!" that we pass on the road. At night, before bed, I try to spend some time by myself, either outside running or upstairs writing and reading. It's my way to "reset" myself for another noisy day. And in the meantime, I am trying very, very hard to teach Jemma how to ask for "Water, please."

Car Wash

Our Hot Weekend in Fort Wayne, Indiana

And by hot, I mean nearly 90 degrees. I also mean hot, as in Paris-Hilton-trendy, because that's what hanging out in bathing suits with pregnant friends and toddlers in Indiana is, right? What we did:

Rocked out to: I Like to Move It; various Prince songs on the drive there and back, most especially Kiss, which the girls absolutely love; Jason and Eric's constant guitar playing; the best infomercial ever at 11:00 p.m. last night - 154 Rock Ballads of the 80's. Jason was beside himself with joy.

Ingested: donuts, awesome BLT pizza, coffee with coconut creamer (yum!), Chinese take-out around the kitchen island after the kids were in bed, lots of Coke, raspberry lambic, a tuna melt that made my stomach hurt for the rest of the day.

Bought: fabulous, giant Nicole-Richie-like white sunglasses which I plan to wear daily for the rest of the summer (look: Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie in the same post!!!!); many cute clothes for myself and the girls at H&M; David Sedaris' new book; Pull N Peel licorice to bribe the girls for the car ride home.

Got the kids wet with: the lovely, large outdoor pool; the slip n slide; water gun fights; the giant bathtub before bed last night.

Read: US Weekly, domino, Cottage Living, Better Homes & Gardens . . . so many magazines, so little time; Chrysanthemum by Kevin Henkes; a hysterical card from Joonie.

Stalked: Tittlesen, the cutest little black kitty in the world. I think she was glad to see Jemma leave, but we miss her already!

Thursday Highlights

Because I am a spoiled brat whose husband only works four days a week, I always look forward to Thursday. It's like Friday for us - the last day of the workweek, the last irritatingly frantic night of preparing family dinner without a spouse around, the last long day by myself with the kids. We usually have a beer with dinner or after the kids are in bed, watch The Office or some Food Network TV, and talk about what we want to do with our weekend. Right now, Jason's off with some neighbor guys (they rode their bikes to the bar . . . I am so sure) and I'm trying to accomplish a few things before passing out with a book in bed. Before that, a few highlights from our day today:

-pushing the girls in the jogging stroller this morning and actually having a GREAT run in spite of the heat, humidity, and Jemma trying to rip Annie's barrette out of her hair while they were in the Chariot.

-Annie's awesome, enthusiastic performance at dance class today. She was 100% into it - listening well to Miss Amy, doing all the "moves," and later, pointing out which poses were plies and which were arabesques in her Angelina Ballerina book. It's so nice to see her enjoy something, learn about it, and be good at it.

-Making some grown-up plans for the next few weeks, including finalizing plans (read: food ideas) for my college girls' weekend, gearing up for our neighborhood canoe trip (!), and taking Jason's parents up on their offer to host the girls for almost a week at the end of the month. While part of me hesitates (I've never been away from them for more than 4 or 5 nights at most), I found a summer writing seminar that coincides perfectly with the week they'll be gone. Plus, Jason and I would love some downtime here at home to get some long-procrastinated cleaning and organizing done, sleep and talk more, go out for dates, and just hang out together in our house - this never happens! So, I'm excited.

-My conversation with Annie in the tub tonight:

"So Mom, how old are you, now?"
"Thirty"
"Wow. That's a lot of years."

-Drinking my morning coffee with a new appreciation for the way a little bit of caffeine really gets me through the day. (But stop me if I try to become one of those little old ladies who drinks 42 cups of coffee all day long . . . )

-A guilty Thursday pleasure: the Dear Prudence advice column on www.slate.com. I am strangely drawn to advice columns (always have been; I read Ann Landers faithfully all through high school . . . I'm such a nerd) and get a little excited when I realize it's Thursday again. And another Thursday enjoyment is the Thursday Morning Wood post on the Sweet Juniper blog, which I highly recommend as well.

Now, like the abbreviated Doublestein workweek, my random ramblings draw to a close.

Tomorrow: Double-Shot Skim Latte Before Dance Class

Since I have somehow (carelessly) ingested mainly dairy products today, my digestive system is not really settled enough to let me sleep tonight. Instead, I shall recap our day:

Morning: Had breakfast, played outside with a roly-poly and sidewalk chalk, dropped Annie off at gymnastics and went straight to Jemma's 18-month checkup. Her weight? 19 lbs, 5 oz. (less than the 5th percentile, but exactly on the Jemma-curve she's been following since birth). Her height of 31.5 inches put her in the 60th percentile! Is she going to be TALL???? We addressed the ongoing night coughing, which her fancy inhaler hasn't seemed to remedy, and we got ourselves a ticket to go have a chest x-ray and instructions to start on Claritin and see if it's allergy-induced. After waiting around at the hospital and informing no less than three people that I was not pregnant, we got to don our lead aprons. Jemma did well and happily collected her stickers. Then, the two of us headed to the pool for an hour before picking Annie up. Notice there is nothing written here about me drinking my morning coffee. I somehow forgot to make myself coffee this morning (Jason is working early this week and my mornings are all messed up) . . . the consequences of this will be felt later in the day.

Afternoon: After we all ate lunch and took naps (yes, myself included - all that laundry-folding just made me drowsy), we headed to Lucy's for some pool action. As a group, I will say that the children in attendance were not on their best behavior. Not one of them. And as we were walking back home, one of those children was being taken home, crying, as a consequence of bad behavior. Jemma stopped, noticed the stroller coming towards us with the crying child following behind, and started saying, "Uh-oh. Uh-oh!" until they passed. I giggled, in spite of my pounding headache from lack of caffeine.

Evening: We had planned to meet Jason at the pool around 5:00, eat some dinner there, and then let the kids swim for a while before bedtime. So I pulled into the MVP parking lot a little before 5:00: girls in swimsuits (still), sunscreen on, gear in bag for a night at the pool . . . only to watch the lifguards set out the Pool Closed signs because someone had just pooped in the pool. Loaded everyone back into the car, crying, and headed back home to figure out what to make for dinner. As a consolation, we took them to Jersey Junction afterwards and walked around downtown for a little bit before the thunderstorms rolled in. To make up for my lack of morning coffee and try to get rid of my headache, I got coffee ice cream, which only compounded the dairy issue AND injected my body with some caffeine at about 7:00 p.m. - just when I really didn't need it.

And here I am, paying the consequences . . .

Talking Like a Teenager

After a truly wonderful day yesterday, Annie had a really hard time today. She began the day crying in bed for her Daddy for 20 minutes after he left for work, and she ended the day crying in bed for her Mommy. In between, there was also a lot of general whining, crying, and time-outs punctuated by a few brief bursts of normal behavior. At breakfast, for example, she was adorable and very happy with her oatmeal, string cheese, and raspberries. (She eats a ton for breakfast!) After she finished that, she told me she was still hungry.

"What else do you want?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Whatever, Mom." Is she 13?

And tonight when Jason came home, he asked her how her day had been. She stood there in the kitchen, all serious, and said, "Well, Mommy just asked me to take my dance clothes off and change into regular clothes to play outside and I TOTALLY FREAKED OUT." So, yes, she apparently is 13 years old now.

Her behavior was truly so difficult today that I told her, around 11:30, that she'd be in time-out in her room while I made lunch and then she'd be eating lunch by herself in her bedroom. I can't tell if she found this to be a punishment or more of a novelty, but she was pretty pathetic sitting at her little pink desk, eating her turkey sandwich and applesauce all alone.

Besides trying to switch Annie back into the "nice" mode, we spent today trying to keep cool by finger painting outside and splashing around at Meijer Gardens this afternoon. Jemma kept launching the little plastic boats over a waterfall into one of the pools and saying "thank you" to the boat when it would float back to her.

Tomorrow: more heat, humidity, and sunshine. And I am NOT complaining! So glad it's fully, entirely summer!

I Tempted Fate, I Lost

Within the first five minute of our neighborhood Pork Extravaganza on Saturday night, I said to Heidi, "I don't want to tempt fate, but I haven't gotten a single mosquito bite all summer. Weird, huh?"

I don't want to talk about how many mosquito bites I now have on my feet and legs . . . too many to count. I guess that's what happens when you tempt fate on a humid summer night while wearing a skirt. I DO want to talk about another successful neighborhood night. People on this street can cook, for sure. Also, they can ask ridiculously personal questions around the campfire and, strangely, get honest answers. We all now know way too much about one another.

After a very busy Friday and Saturday, we spent yesterday just hanging out with our family. We went to church in the morning, where the girls actually went for the nursery so Jason and I could sit in peace. Then we headed to the park before lunch and spent the afternoon at the pool. It was a little too windy for the girls to want to be in the water the whole time, so we got them out, bundled them in sweatshirts, and plunked them on chairs with strawberry smoothies. They couldn't have been happier.

This morning, Annie and I are all ready to head out for the gymnastics drop-off, and then I'll head to the grocery store with Jemma and take her for a spin in the jogging stroller. We are the beneficiary of a fantastic loaf of onion rye bread straight from Zingerman's yesterday, so I'm planning to buy something equally fantastic to put on it (cucumbers and cream cheese? smoked gouda and ham? reuben ingredients?). Also, several loads of laundry await, so that's our Monday plan.

The Various Ways They Are Trying to Make Me Crazy

1. For the past few nights, Jemma has woken up approximately three hours after we put her to bed (so, between 10:00 and 11:00 - right as I'm going to sleep) to scream, "Momma! Mommeeee! Momma! Mom! Mommeee!" for fifteen to twenty minutes. The first night, I went sprinting in there, thinking something was seriously wrong. I scooped her out of her crib, held her in the rocking chair, and tried to figure out what could be wrong while soothing her. She pulled away from me and began happily, energetically poking various areas of my face. "Book?" she asked. I think she just wants to play, and I'm having no part of it. So at bedtime, I explain to her that Mommy and Daddy aren't coming in until morning, everyone is going night-night, etc. She crumples her little face up until I can hardly stand it, then goes immediately to sleep when I turn out the light. The neurotic mother part of my brain, however, is always wondering . . . does she have an ear infection? Is there something really wrong with her?

2. Annie is having a very, very hard time listening to anything we tell her (disciplinary or just regular directions) on the first time. Or the second, or even, often, the third. I am really losing my patience with it and have been making more of a concerted effort to warn her once, then provide a consequence if she doesn't listen instead of repeating the instruction over and over. Today I had asked her several times to wash her hands before lunch and was walking toward her to physically take her to the bathroom myself when she stomped toward me in the hallway, pointed her finger at me, and yelled, "Mom! I'm going to PUT you in a HOLE!" Um, what?

3. Our week up north last week was, understandably, filled with an uncommon amount of treats, most given by the grandparents. Annie and Jemma now follow me around the kitchen for 80% of their day, asking for things that I am definitely not going to give them. Annie, particularly, feels that she could live for weeks on a completely nutritionless brand of fruit snacks called "Gushers." Also this week, I discovered that my children, who reject 95% of the various normal, healthy food I put in front of them on a daily basis, will eagerly eat A CORN DOG and Spaghettios. Since these are both on my list of Foods I Do Not Eat Under Any Circumstance, I feel that I have somehow failed as a mother.

Other than going a little crazy, it's been a great week. Annie started a mini dance class (three weeks only for the summer) with her beloved Miss Amy, we spent some time at the pool and I managed both girls there alone, we had the Pellow family over for dinner, got caught up with the neighborhood, took a couple good nighttime runs, had a picnic with Heidi and Jonathan, and I escaped to Holland for a haircut, too. Now, we're gearing up for tomorrow's neighborhood Annual Pulled Pork-Off and keeping our fingers crossed for good weather!

Q: Where is Jemma?

A: Hiding behind the bathroom door, counting "tree, tree, tree, tree" since she learned to play hide and seek last week up north. I don't think it gets much more adorable than this.

A Few 4th of July Highlights . . .