New school scores big in my book...

I just got home from the first parent meeting to talk about Environmental Camp, which is a program that happens at the tail end of fifth grade in my son's Elementary school.  I didn't really know what it was, but as I sat in the school amphitheater and listened to the presentation, I felt overjoyed.
 
Environmental school is a week long trip to camp Calumet in Freedom, NH.  You heard me right, A Week-Long-School-Trip in 5th grade!  (the Freedom, NH part is overkill if you ask me... really, there's no need to lay it on so thick!)  I wonder how many parents have schools that are offering these kinds of experiences?  I am so grateful that we have stumbled into an elementary school that does.  I KNOW that there are not enough programs like this, that our kids don't have these opportunities enough.  The reason I know this is two-fold.  One, I know that the district we left in NY does not have this type of trip, I think they do a one day end of year blow out somewhere, but certainly not a week at an environmental school wading in marsh and canoeing across a lake.  Two, even in our school, three quarters of tonights meeting was spent allaying parent fears about sending their kids on this trip.  Addressing questions about meals, schedule, how bunk mates are decided.  Sharing details about student/counselor ratios, safety measures for boat/lake activities, and explaining why it was not a good idea to send kids with cell phones or I-pods.  In other words, even with a long history, parents today are skeptical about this kind of program and need to be soothed, cajoled even.

I share these details not because I think it's wrong that organizing a trip like this requires jumping through some hoops, but rather to point out that it does.  A LOT of hoops, and work, and explaining-of-benefits, and anticipating problems so there is a plan to deal with them.  Some of it is par for the course, some of it is absolutely absurd, and much of it lies somewhere in between.  A situation that has evolved out of years of over-protective parents, nervous school districts, accidents made worse by lawsuits and hand-wringing where blame is squarely placed in a superintendents lap and edicts are in turn passed down.

The sad truth is that all this history and all of our growing concerns and policy based on lessons learned, has left our kids with far fewer opportunities to experience field trips, to explore their world independent from mom and dad, to learn in one of the best ways I know how.  The director of the camp said in his presentation tonight that he went to a program like the one our kids will be doing when he was in 6th grade, and while he doesn't remember his teacher's name from that year, he remembers almost every detail of that week long trip.  This is exactly what I'm talking about.  I remember those trips too.  Every trip.  From bus rides to the Natural History Museum in New York, to our 6th grade camping trip out east,  to the several times that I left for school in the morning only to return to my own house for a field trip at the farm!  (Yes, I took a field trip to my own back yard several times as a kid!)  Ask anyone, and I think you will find that they too remember those trips of their childhoods with a detail far more crisp than most other things.  Yet the number of trips, and the length of trips seems to diminish year after year.  Trips like this Environmental School especially, because they are more costly, more dangerous, take so much more work to get together... someone decides it's not worth it, and it just stops one year.  Picking it back up is so much harder.  It doesn't get picked up.

The economic issues that began to surface in school budgets a few years ago have been huge contributors as well.  I know at the farm we got many calls from districts who wanted to continue running programs with us but were no longer taking off site trips- at all.  Some of those schools were still able to fund an in-school program with us, others just eliminated special programs entirely.  I remember feeling the tragedy of these decisions- not as a business person, but as a parent and a teacher.  These trips and programs and experiences are important-- critical.  We are sacrificing more than we can measure when we take these experiences away from our kids.

So, I sat in that room tonight feeling grateful.  Grateful for the opportunity that is around the corner for my 10 year old, and grateful that my 4 year old will be here for 6 years, in a school and community that shares my feelings on this subject enough that they continue to jump through the hoops... year after year.

Friend dating

Let's delve into the subject of living in a new town.  Here I am, feeling relatively settled in an unpacked-and-know-my-way-to-the-market kind of way, the kids seem fairly well integrated into their respective schools, we're even blending well at the UU church in town. (church will be a topic in and of itself, i assure you).

So, what of friends?  Making friends as an adult is no easy business.  It's awkward and uncomfortable, and involves a lot of work.  It feels like dating.  I guess it really IS dating... as friends.  I think I've already expressed that moving wasn't exactly my idea, and when we began to seriously plan the move, one of the things I felt sad about was leaving my friends behind.  It had taken me a long time to make those friends~  Now I would have to start from scratch!?

Here's what I've got so far...
1.  I am thankful for my children-- especially K and his 10 year old needs.  He is out there mingling and socializing, playing sports, joining clubs, needing entertainment.  I am, of course, his shuttle, his cheerleader, his facilitator, movie escort, sledding companion, etc... and more often than not, in keeping him busy, I am rubbing elbows with the parents of his friends (and some of them seem cool!).
2.  I am shy, kind of.  It's funny to be realizing this about myself, because it isn't the first word anyone who knows me would use to describe me.  A shy extrovert is a little bit of a contradiction in some ways, but it's true.  I don't jump at a lot of opportunities because of this shyness.  I wonder how it is interpreted, and I fear that it makes me seem aloof or disinterested, especially because I don't seem shy.  I have been trying to battle this shyness lately, and I think it has helped.
3.  I wish I had more money so I could plan some outings with a few potential friends I'm dating.  I am generally a cheap date, but in the 'getting to know you' stage, I feel like dinner at a restaurant is a little less pressure than dinner at my house-- the thrifty activities feel more personal to me, and it triggers that shy thing (see #2)... being broke and friend dating is an extra challenge!

 Over all, the search for new friends feels promising in this town.  I'm not sure if I'm getting better at it, or if this town is just a good match for me.  People seem open and warm, and I like the lifestyle that this place seems to embody... active, intelligent, liberal (or at least seemingly so... you can't tell sometimes!), one potential friend is even a Yankee fan~ aminor miracle in New England!  Still, I look forward to getting past this beginning stage of friendship-- Can't we just skip this silly stuff and be friends already!? Do I really need to vacuum before you come over?

Anticipating sugar... and FLIDS.

Photo courtesy of Tom Langton- family friend and lover of cameras

So I will be heading down to the farm this weekend to help with our Maple Sugaring demonstration days-- Friday is devoted to scouts and home-schoolers who will begin to arrive at 8 am, and stay for an hour and a half of maple lore and instruction, most finishing off the experience with a warm waffle and a drizzle of the good stuff!  Saturday is our walk-in day for the public, when families have an opportunity to come see sugaring on a VERY small scale.  Our angle at the farm is demonstration- in many things.  We are not big, and we aren't a 'produce farm' in the sense of producing any product in sizable quantity.  (possible exceptions being Strawberries in June and Pumpkins in October-- but even then, our quantities are limited.)  Working in this way is a perfect fit for my family of teachers.  It allows us to use our greatest talent-- sharing experience with kids and adults of all ages, passing on the fascinating details of this ancient lifestyle.  It's funny though, the expectation that some folks have, and their assessment of what we do in comparison to their expectation.  I hate to say it, but our setting has it's down side.  It is Long Island, after all.

I don't think I need to go into detail about the stereotype that is Long Island 'culture'.  It seems to be quite well known, as I've seen knowing nods in places as far as Europe, and certainly during my time in New Mexico, and here in New Hampshire.  The populace of Long Island seems to have found a special brand of self entitled- outspoken- judgement of all, at all times!  Sadly with a lack of willingness to turn that scathing scope in on themselves.  This is not true of all of Long Islands residents, and of course, is not unheard of in any town across the world, but the concentration of these people seems particularly dense on our little island paradise.  I had the pleasure of a few long distance phone calls this week to speak with some of these particular LI Residents... I've paused here, and deleted a short rant.  I am so trained to smile and soothe when I get these calls, to let the attitude buzz past my ears, and find a way to make the best of the situation, to translate the rudeness into a compliment.  These people really do love coming to the a farm, I should appreciate that, even if there approach is less than pleasant.  Still, there are moments when I close my eyes and wish this type of person would fade from view, choose to spend their Saturdays at the Mall, Building a Bear, or dressing an American Girl Doll.  Probably many of them do.  The vast majority of our farm guests are fabulous.  I miss them in fact, and when I get back to the farm I am truly happy to see them, as they are happy to see me.  But oh, some of the Flids* find their way in.

The conflict seems to me to stem from the odd perspective that all situations should be viewed as suspect.  So when you come to visit a small family farm, you assume these 'farmers' are trying to milk you for all that your worth (parden my play with words... couldn't help it).  Questions like, '"What do I get for my $6 admission?" or, "Is there anything else beside the farm?  A ball pit?  Juggling act?",  "Why should I come here?  What's in it for me?"  This is the exhausting piece of an otherwise pleasant day.  I don't mind the hard work, or the long hours, and believe me, I'm not in it for the money- none of us are!  But Oh, those Flids, they can really make it hard sometimes.

The weather outlook looks a little dreary this coming weekend.  That will help.  That keeps away those who are less rugged.  It will probably be a perfect couple days, with sweet treats, laughter and lots of "OH"s and "Wow, I didn't know that"s.  Either way, I'm excited to get back.  To don my tall rubber boots with fleece liners and trudge up the hill for some good'ol sugarin.

*FLID could be a post in and of itself I suppose.  A term we heard coined in upstate NY for tourists from Long Island who head north in the summers and swamp towns with antique bargain hunting and obnoxious requests... The acronym is not the kindest grouping of four words- Long Island is the middle two letters... you can fill in the F word, and the D word.  My family has embraced it as a quick and effective way to describe that special someone who occasionally crosses our path.  Really, we all have a little flid in us-- Let's just try to keep it to a minimum, hmmmm?

Techno-fan

I love the internet.  Really love it.  It is a social outlet, a curiosity, an endless source of information, and there is so much to it that I don't know, so I am always learning more.  I am writing this blog because of my love of the internet as a social experiment... because I'm an extrovert in it's purest form and blogging is another way to put it all out there.  It's funny because I find myself wondering where it's going, who is reading, who is in the room?  I like that mystery, and I think the idea that there is some invisible audience helps me keep writing.  Where journaling never seemed to become a habit, because no one was waiting for a new entry, blogging keeps the pressure on for me-- like a due date on a class project-- like the way telling your friends when you're quitting smoking or starting a new exercise routine might be the key to following through.

I also love the internet for it's freshness, for the feeling of wonder it still holds for me.  Where so much in life feels so complicated and heavy, the internet is just blooming.  I use it for work, promoting, organizing, advertising, assembling... it is a go to when we're writing the newsletter, or when I'm planning curriculum for a farm class.  I get to hide behind the fan page for the farm and pull the puppet strings.  I get to watch the 'insights' as a facebook administrator-- track the number of "lifetime likes", or see how many 'clicks' we get on a advertisement.  The web is instant gratification in quick flashes.  5 minutes here, 10 minutes there... a moment.

It's not perfect.  I am not above feeling irritated by loved ones seemingly glued to their laptop.  I worry that my kids might roam to the wrong places, or be a target of the wrong person, but even with the imperfections, I feel so grateful for the chance to live in this time of information at the stroke of a key.  When collaborating between countries is as easy as collaborating with a coworker in the same office, and the idea of one person can be instantly shared with the whole darn world.

The danger of warm weather in February...

The first half of this winter was pretty intense.  Snow, lots and lots of snow, and some very cold spells, it honestly didn't feel like it was going to stop until March.  How fast the tides change!  February came in with mild temps and clear skies-- even sunny skies.  The grey of winter feels like a distant memory.  Huge snow banks are shrinking, and I can even see an inch or two of grass along the edge of my driveway where the melt has crawled back.  Don't get me wrong... we still have over a foot of snow on the ground, but it FEELS like spring.  This is dangerous.  I am fighting the urge to start seeds, and longing for the melt to reach the point that I can start digging.  IT's FEBRUARY!!!!  I know that another snow storm is around the corner, and I keep telling myself-- it's not over, it's not over... but oh that sun.  She is a temptress.

What if they're missing the "jock" gene?

I am struggling with a new stage as a mom.  My 10 year old wants to play every sport, but he's really not so good.  This is not a problem for me in and of itself, if he wants to play I could care less if he's the star or just warming the bench-- as long as HE could care less... unfortunately that is not the case.  He cares.  He frequently leaves the field in tears or searing with frustration.  He can't find the words.  He doesn't understand.  He WANTS to be good, but he has my gawky, awkward-at-sports genes, and a little stubbornness too (though I don't know where he gets that!). He wants to be instantly good, he wants it to come naturally, and I know all to well that it won't.  He is the kind of kid that has to work-- hard, if he wants to be successful at sports.  That would be fine, but the anger and frustration seems hurtful.  It makes me anxious, and nothing I say seems to help.

The struggle is how to handle it?  Just today he asked me if he can try out for baseball next week.  Basketball is just ending today.  I want to say, "NO.  Let's leave competitive sports alone for a while!"  But I don't want to discourage him.  I'm stuck between a ball and a hard place.

If only there were a play book for this parenting game!

They bought the farm ~1977

I was almost 3 when we moved to the farm.  My folks were planning to leave Long Island and settle in Minnesota, which would have suited my norwegian mother well.  They had already put their Northport home on the market when dad's program proposal at the high school was accepted.  He didn't expect that it would be, as it had been turned down for four years before this one.  When they finally said yes, it was a bitter sweet victory- he was glad for the opportunity, but they were all set to leave, the house was for sale... now what?!

The farm was a suggestion of a friend who had already moved out to what was then the boon docks of Long Island.  A small family farm that was overgrown, falling apart, and would likely be bought up by realtors and parceled up for a development.  Mom and Dad took a trip out to see the place.  Mrs. Bryant was selling the house.  She was an old lady, living alone.  Her husband had died, her four sons had moved away, and she lived in just 2 rooms of the house, leaving the rest to slowly settle and deteriorate.  Mrs. Bryant's house was filled with unbelievable amounts of odd collected objects.... one chest of drawers was devoted entirely to buttons.  Buttons!  (I actually wish we had acquired those buttons-- oh the crafts I could do!) The grounds were all but swallowed in brambles and overgrown saplings.  From the back of the house you could just make out the top of the main barn.  

My parents had no idea as to what else was there.  They fought there way to the top of the property and as they reached the peak of the hill they found the old oak.  This was a grand tree.  It still is.  The way my dad tells it, he and mom looked at each other in the presence of that tree and said yes.  I have to tell you, they were crazy to take this on.  

According to the story, Mrs. Bryant was holding on to the place hoping for a family that would move in and NOT develop.  She likely could have sold the property for much more than she ended up getting from my parents had she chosen to sell to realtors.  It is lucky that she was seeking preservation, or rather, continuation of this special place.

My parents scraped together everything they had in order to buy the farm, plus some added help from my grandmother, who I can almost guarantee was shaking her head in disapproval as she wrote the check.  

We moved into the farm house in October of 1977.  My older brother was 4 years old, I was nearing 3, younger brother was just past his first birthday... #4 wouldn't come until 1979.  I believe mom had some major doubts about the choice they had made.  The house was run down, dirty, falling apart.  She was in a new town, didn't know anyone, stuck at home with 3 babies, no money... Dad off to work everyday teaching.  I tell you, the fact that this place came together was truly a miracle.  And the greatest testament to my mother's ability to endure and plug away, day in and day out.

Insomnia

Sleep continues to baffle me.  I can be well rested, not done anything particularly exhausting, and find myself able to go to sleep at 9:00 and sleep right through the night.  On the other hand, I am often needing sleep, exhausted from a long day, doze off at 10 or so only to wake at 2am and toss and turn till 5:30.  Mind you, at 5:30 when I do fall asleep, I am down for the count, making 7:30am and the morning routine utterly miserable-- dragging around getting backpacks and cereal bowls and feeling like I've been hit by a train.  (7:30 and the morning routine-- band name?  maybe for a bunch of 30 something moms who rock?)

So I am left scratching my head somewhat.  I know stress plays a part, as many of my restless hours involve a scrolling list in my head of pressing and not so pressing thoughts.  My insomnia was actually the impetus for the start of this blog... one nights scrolling list completely revolved around my brain believing that I need to blog.  Why?  I have no idea.  Friends suggest that hormones play a role.  I must say that I hate the idea of hormones having a role in anything in my life, but I know that doesn't mean they don't... In a way they are a lot like my insomnia... a part of me that I would like to peel off and drop in a public trash barrel.

I know this:  Laying in bed does not make it pass sooner.  Television does not make it last longer, but does make me feel worse when I pass the hours with it.  (This is odd, i know, but when I choose the tube I feel seedy or something... like I am wasting my time?  I don't know... again... stupid brain).  When I have a spell of insomnia, a part of me longs for my single days when I could just flip on the light and read without leaving my warm bed.  Waking of the husband is a factor I respect but resent.  Playing solitaire on my cell phone is a common choice (doesn't wake the husband- still able to stay in warm bed) but it has a hint of the issues that TV brings.  My new option of moving to the guest room we recently furnished seems to work... there I can read, or write... use my stupid extra time in a meaningful way.  Really though, I'd just like to sleep.  Try as I might, embracing the night just isn't working for me.

Guilt, obligation, and the nonsense that ensues:

Holiday cards are my topic of conversation today.  I know it's Valentines day, but stay with me.  I have been sending out holiday cards since my first born was a little guy... so 10 years (give or take).  It has never felt entirely comfortable to me, but I've sent them out anyway.  I think part of the reason is a constant feeling that I am bad at corresponding, and always falling short.  Holiday cards always seem like a way to redeem myself-  To make up for not sending a thank you card back in September when an Aunt sent a gift to one of my boys, or for not remembering to send a birthday card... you know what I mean.  

Anyway, every year around Thanksgiving or so I start thinking about getting everyone together for the "annual family portrait" and generally by the first week in December I have pinned down the boys, gotten the shot and ordered the photo cards from shutterfly.  So far so good.

This is where I start to slide.  Usually when the cards come I have a burst of productivity... this year I got through the letter G and had them mailed before the 18th!  But then I sputtered to a screaming stop.  Time passed-- Christmas passed and I was relieved I had the foresight to make the cards say Happy New Year-- I still had a week before they would be late!  But New Years passed too.  In fact all of January slipped by and still, only my loved ones who are lucky enough to have a name in the first 7 letters of the alphabet had received my well wishes.  What do I do?

Genius strikes!  I order Valentine cards!  This way I  can jot a quick note, apologize for my tardy new year wishes, enclose the Christmas pic, and be back on track!  

I have mailed out 15 of these cards.

I'm up to letter L.

Today is February 14th.

Now what do I do with these Valentines?  and the extra new year wishes?  

sigh.

A long story short

I grew up on a fifteen acre farm in suburbia and spent my childhood in a strange world of shopping malls and scrunch socks coexisting with strawberry fields and pig pens. A social farm, not congested, but busy. A curiosity.

I left at Seventeen. I didn't think I'd be back, but 12 years later, with a 3 year old in tow, I drove my Uhaul from Albuquerque back to the congestion of Long Island. To be completely honest, I was broken when I returned. Newly separated, single mom, seeking the support of her family and in many ways a place where I could crawl into a hole for a while and know my boy was ok.  When I emerged from the cocoon, I found I had stumbled back to a place that suited me perfectly in many ways.

Of course, there has to be complications!  Time passed, I remarried and had another baby.  Supported my husband through dental school and residency, and then... wouldn't you know it, he wanted to move.  I remind you, this is an abridged version of the story, but suffice it to say, my husband and I spent a long time debating and eventually, we decided to move.

What happens to you when your identity is so wrapped up in your way of life and then your way of life changes? What happens to a farmer when they move away from the farm? Can a farmer telecommute?