One pie in the oven, grilled tofu, tea parties

Y'all, I felt like Frances (the badger from the childrens' stories; if you are not familiar with these books, they are just terrific; I loved them as a child and I love them even more as a parent) this morning. My girlfriends came over for a tea party, and we used my tea set which is "real china with flowers in blue" (and red and yellow), just like Frances pines for and ultimately gets in A Bargain for Frances. What a delightful thing to do on a grim day. One pie is in the oven, and while it bakes, I'm eating a quick lunch of lemon carrots, burnt eggplant and grilled tofu. I love grilled tofu. I like char in general although I know it's carcinogenic and you shouldn't have too much. But I still like it and just don't eat much. Anyway, yum, yum. I found a miniature fleur-de-lis cookie cutter so I'm going to accent each pie with a fleur shaped piece of crust. Will take some photos as they come out for cooling. Send me stamina vibes today!

Being good enough

It's raining like it'll never end. I brought Jack to school this morning, walked him in and then headed upstairs to finish photographing the new students. I knew I'd have to make it snappy as I still needed to get back, beyond our house, to bring Oliver to his first day of school. The boys' schools are in completely opposite directions, DC drivers drive slowly in rain, and the first few days after Labor Day, as folks head back to school and work, the roads are really busy and move at a snail's pace. I had a nagging feeling that the timing for all this just wasn't possible but I needed and wanted to do it all. As I sat stuck in traffic, trying to get to Oliver and T, my stomach started to hurt because I knew I'd never make it. Long story short, I arrived at O's school just after the classroom door had closed. T was wonderful- he and O had made a sign and taken pictures and O was thrilled. But this wasn't about him. It was about me, my expectations and what I'd wanted to be part of, and my feelings about missing it. I haven't missed much, if anything, of the boys' lives, certainly nothing like the first day of school. And as it hit me that it'd happened, I sank down to the ground and just started sobbing. T said O hadn't missed a beat and really hadn't noticed. The dear head of school, whom I've known for years now, was wonderful, and during the parent coffee, made mention of how much we mothers expect of ourselves. The whole, intense morning provided much to process and think about, and it reminded me that we all have limits. We literally cannot do it all, and that must be OK, we must be OK with being good enough. I've tried for years to embrace this notion more sincerely, but I know I still hold it at bay. And the only person who was upset this morning was me. Jack and I had time together, a mini-date; Oliver was thrilled when he walked out and I was there [and wasn't this a) great for him and T, and b) a real show of independence and thus a giver of confidence for him, even subconsciously], I finished my photos and they've been ordered. Everything is fine. Better than fine. But I feel so tired.

It happened. I missed something. I was late, and nothing bad occurred. The world did not fall apart, the boys are fine. Perhaps this will be an opportunity for letting go, for recognizing that being good enough is enough.

Dispatch from K

Both J and I got slapped with a case of nerves upon arrival at school. I could just see him turning inward a bit; because he's such a gregarious, attention-loving munchkin most of the time, that behavior always surprises me when it rears up, and then my nerves inflame. This morning I was looking at the boys and listening to the concurrent squabble-and-love in which they were engaging, and it almost took my breath away, how capable they are, how big even though they're young. It's funny how time can seem to stand still but fly, almost simultaneously.

I was struck too by the ways in which children AND parents struggle with independence and dependence, the ways we both assert our needs for each. But, as in so many aspects of relationships, those needs aren't always running in tandem. I might feel desperate for space just as one or both of the kids really needs some snuggling, time or connection. They may want to do something "by myself" when I'd love to smother them with kisses. Relationships of all kinds are living, dynamic things, at least the healthy ones, I think. This seems especially true in the parent-child relationship in which the participants aren't equals developmentally. And I think this is why parenting can seem so fraught: you want to maintain a sense of self; you want to give your children the love, support and space to discover their true selves; and you want to do this while also civilizing them and teaching them the ways of the world so they can function most happily and effectively within it. Tough!