Lucas and I have been taking a pottery class together on Tuesday nights for several weeks now. Tonight was our last class, but we’ve had so much fun doing this together I’m tempted to sign us up for another 5-week session. The first four classes we spend learning different clay building techniques, including one chance on the potter’s wheel. (I would really like to do more of this.)

Tonight we spent our time glazing all the pieces we’ve created. I’m excited to see how they turn out! The glazes are funny. Sometimes when wet they look like you would expect: light blue looks like light blue. But sometimes they look totally different when wet than how they will look after they’ve been fired. There was a brick red-looking glaze that fires into a forest green. I used a glaze that’s supposed to be royal blue but was a sort of mauve color when I painted it on my bowl. So, in a way, we don’t really know what we’ll get until after they are fired. We have to wait two more weeks before we can pick up our finished pieces. I’ll post pictures when we finally have them in hand.

I guess what I really want to say is this: It has been really wonderful doing something with just Lucas. I mean no offense to Asher, of course—he is very jolly and fun in his own shrieking toddler way. But Lucas is a treat when he doesn’t have Asher either dragging him back or hogging up all of my attention. He is able to focus on his art, work independently, and carry on limited conversation while he does it. We are easier with each other when we are alone. Perhaps more forgiving, definitely more relaxed. When it’s just me and Lucas, and he is neither playing boisterously nor fighting with Asher, I can breathe easier and just be with him.

I’ve got my copy of Your Seven Year Old now, and am reading it. So far it has described my son to a T. I haven’t yet gotten to the chapter with suggestions for how to handle "Seven," as the book says. But I’m looking forward to finding better ways of coping with this introverted age.

"When I’m trusting and being myself… everything in my life reflects this by falling into place easily, often miraculously."  —Shakti Gawain

Playing Together
Originally uploaded by SarabellaE

Sometimes, when the sky is green and the sun blinks to the rhythm of a celestial rumba, when the bananas grow down and the bonobos find “the one” and get married, when the uptown snails ask the waiter for more salt, my children play beautifully together. And when this happens, my heart cracks open and I hear the strangest sound—it is a medley of unrestrained laughter and angel choirs.

We made it through the first month of summer vacation. We’re squarely into our fifth week now. Only 8.5 weeks to go!

I have some mommy friends (delightful creatures, every one) who seem to be thoroughly enjoying the lazy days of summer with their kiddos home from school. They are vacationing, taking it easy, enjoying every moment. I want to be there! But I have to be here in my own skin. And my skin is busy with work projects.

It’s not going badly. We are doing some fun things: swimming some afternoons, play dates, pottery class, etc. Lucas has enjoyed most of the daytime activities I’ve set up for him so far. The summer playgroup I set up has met twice already and will meet again this Friday. I’m a little worried about next week because although it seemed like Lucas had a good time at Camp Fair Oaks, when it was all over he said he didn’t like it. I have him signed up for another week of Camp Fair Oaks next week and I can’t get my money back. I’m anticipating a tantrum.

Lucas and I are both really enjoying pottery class. We go on Tuesday evenings for an hour and 15 minutes. We’ve learned several different clay sculpting methods (pinch pot, coil, slab, and throwing on a potter’s wheel). Using the potter’s wheel was w o n d e r f u l. I loved it and I hope to do more of this. It’s seriously hard and my one pot didn’t turn out well, but whatever. I don’t have even a little bit of the knack of it, but I want to try again. Lucas’s pot crumpled a little, and while he acted at first as though he didn’t mind, when we got in the car to go home, he fell apart. He hates his pot, he says. "It’s terrible. It’s ridiculous. I’m going to smash it with a sledgehammer! I hate it!" No amount of gentle reminders—that it was his first try, that no one makes a perfect pot on their first try, that mine didn’t turn out quite like I hoped either, that we learned something new and learning things is what life is all about—made any difference to his disappointment. He is so sensitive, so perfectionist sometimes. And I totally understood how he felt because I felt that way many times while I was growing up, too. I hope he’ll rally for our last class next Tuesday. We get to glaze all the pieces we have made.

One thing that has improved lately is that we seem to have finally struck on the thing that motivates Lucas to do chores. We have started paying him allowance. For years we have tried other means to encourage Lucas to do jobs around here—small tasks that he could handle. But nothing ever stuck and the battles that ensued made it feel not even worth it. But the opportunity to earn cold hard cash is finally a motivator. He has been allowed this summer finally to spend some of his money, and he like the taste of that! So far, he has bought for himself two books and two Lego kits. (He’s been saving money in his Thomas the Tank Engine bank for years. By the way, he has totally outgrown the Thomas the Tank Engine bank! "Gosh, Mom! I don’t like Thomas anymore.") Ian and I get veto power over every purchase he makes. So far, that hasn’t been an issue. We now have a chore chart and he has daily and weekly chores. If he gets enough smiley faces on his chore chart, he gets $2 for the week.

I’m pleased to have finally purchased the Your Seven-Year-Old book because frankly I’m mystified about Lucas sometimes. This series of books has never steered me wrong before. I think the subtitles are very telling. This one’s is Life in a Minor Key. Hopefully it will tell me who is this moody, angry creature living inside my son, and how to deal with it. I can tell I have a lot to learn about this age and I’m not handling things as well as I might.

Asher is enjoying day care as usual. His schedule is the same as it was during the school year. There are more children around this summer, and I think he likes that. He talks about his friends at school. He is more verbal all the time. He, too, throws massive tantrums about random things, but these are relatively easy to ignore. We have been down this toddler road before. Most of the time he’s funny and silly and makes us all laugh a lot. I’m very pleased that Asher is now sleeping all night, every night in his own bed. Only once in a while does he wander in to our room at 6 or 6:30 in the morning. Now if we can only get his bedtime to move earlier without sacrificing morning sleep, I will be over the moon. At the end of this month, he’ll be two and a half!

We all had a tough week leading up to the 4th of July. Stomach flu for all four of us, then Ian’s surgery. He was thinking after a couple of days, he’d be fine and up for a trip out of town. But his jaw was really painful for much longer than either of us anticipated. We managed to make it over to the mall to watch the big fireworks in the sky that night. We now know that we don’t have to get close in order to enjoy them, however. Ian is still achey but is back at work this week and doing better.

My family just rolled out of the driveway, leaving me behind. I kicked them out so that I can work today in some peace and quiet, but now I’m sad that they are going to the zoo without me! I missed their last trip to the zoo for the same reason–work. I miss having boundaries in my life that designate work, family, and maybe even some me time. My world is all mixed up and intertwined, and although that is how I have set it up, sometimes it is hard.

A momentary lament. Forgive me.

I Made These Shorts!
Originally uploaded by SarabellaE

I’ve been putting my little Janome Sew Mini sewing maching to use lately in spare moments. Enough that I now know how to thread it, wind a bobbin, etc., without having to consult the instruction book anymore.

These started out as the tiniest of fabric stashes: www.flickr.com/photos/sarabellae/3445800217

Today I finished two pairs of shorts for Asher. Mom and I cut out five pairs last month and we’ve worked on them little by little. There are some cutie-pie pictures of Asher modeling the citrus shorts on my Flickr. The pairs that Mom made on her own are shorter shorts, so I elected to make mine longer board shorts.

Only one pair remains to be finished, and I’m thinking of making them pants instead of shorts (I cut them long, so I could decide later how short to make them). I love the fabric so much that I want Asher to be able to wear them more, even in cooler weather.

So, I’m finally kind of getting the hang of this, in an extremely rudimentary way. My brain is finally beginning to understand how a flat piece of fabric becomes 3-D to fit around a curvy person.

I’m planning on trying to sew myself a skirt next, as Asher has a full complement of summer shorts now.

July 2 was a big day for me and my DE project. For a week or so, nobody reinvented the scope of my work, so I was able to do it according to the last reinvented specs and turn it in on time, on the day I picked. I’m pretty happy about that. I still have the seven, maybe eight, appendices to deal with over the weekend, but they are short and should all be final and turned in by Monday.

It makes me wonder what’s next…. It became clear a long time ago that this book doesn’t fit the mold, nor does it easily fit into the well-oiled production machine. Consequently, I’m thrilled to be working on something that’s innovative and stretching the boundaries a bit. It gives me more opportunity to be creative and artistic on a product that’s usually fairly predictable. It also unfortunately pairs my name with the Difficult Project in the minds of all the production people at this publishing company. On the one hand, with my boss and her boss, I’m a creative problem solver who is game to go above and beyond the call of duty. On the other hand, the people who have to work with me to churn it out might think I’m a pain in the ass because I’m asking more of them than usual. This duality leaves me feeling somewhat anxious. I’ve probably already mentioned that this client is very important to me. 

So, yeah. From here on, I’m in uncharted waters, although my boss will provide guidance. But she has never been asked to do the stuff I’ve been asked to do. All of us are figuring it out as we go. But damn. There’s every indication that the end result could be spectacular. I’m told to expect a certain number of hours per month until December, but she doesn’t really know how many hours will be required and neither do I. We are swinging into the "busy season," and I’m hopeful I can rack up a hefty number of projects between now and the end of the year.  
 

In other news, we’ve all been kicking around the house for the last few days, laying low and letting Ian heal. He’s somewhat fatigued and fuzzy when on the pain meds, achy when not.

I really need to get the hell out of here for a while.

Don’t ask me why he only had three. We’re all supposed to have four. Not Ian. He’s quirky that way, I guess.

Today, Ian had his wisdom teeth extracted by an oral surgeon. No food or liquid before the surgery, which at first was OK because he was supposed to go under at 11:45 a.m. They bumped him to 1:45 p.m., though, and by the time we were getting into the car to drive to the appointment, he was pretty hungry.

Then the valium kicked in.

Then he was floatymellow.

What’s amazing to me is how little time it took them to cut open his gums and saw out his teeth. (Eew!) We were literally out of there in under an hour. Maybe because they had to remove only three teeth. 

Seriously, I went out to my car to text some friends (cuz my phone’s battery was dead, of course) and when I got back I only waited about 10 minutes before they told me he was finished and coming around and I should go get the car. The surgeon can hack out three teeth faster than I can text three sentences!

Fortunately, the Percocet they gave him for the pain is doing its job. He’s a little woozy, but able to talk now that we have removed all the cotton gauze from his mouth. He has eaten soft foods like yogurt, chicken-noodle soup, chili, and jello pudding. (Perhaps this is his opportunity to enjoy nothing but prefab foods for a day or two.)

He is dopey enough to tell both me and his mother what a great nurse I am. "My wife is just so great. She’s taking such good care of me."

To which, I replied. "This was easy. And won’t we be lucky if this is the most serious nursing either of us ever has to do for the other in our marriage? I mean, I’d be very happy to skip that whole colostomy bag thing, if it’s all just the same."

P.S. I love him to pieces and I hope he feels better soon!

It’s my fault. I wanted him to stay in a bubble and never know about this, but when you have such nasty materials lying around the house, as I do, it was inevitable. It’s corrupting. It’s insidious. It’s depraved.

It’s Pokémon, and it’s consuming my son.

Hello. My name is SarabellaE, and I contract for a publishing company that publishes books about video games.  I have Pokémon books in my house. Ones that I helped create. And my seven-year-old son found them, stashed under the bed, like so many girly mags.

But at this point the infection is mild.

I’m sure it will get worse. When Lucas eventually sounds out (or asks me) the names of the 300+ Pokémon in the book he has glommed on to, he’ll probably go looking for more. He doesn’t know about the cards yet. He doesn’t know about the handheld video games on many, many platforms. For now, he knows only that they are cute beasties in a book. They “revolve” into other Pokémon. He heard that at camp last week, I think.

Good grief. There are now 491 Pokémon. They’ve been multiplying since I looked last. It’s marketing at its finest. And just as the creators intended, it is darling Pikachu who has captured his heart.  

But here’s the funny part. My Waldorf boy doesn’t do Pokémon on a screen. He isn’t glued to a gadget, leveling up and increasing his stats.

 
He “revolves” into one himself.