Nov 21, 2016 | moments & memories
Today, we celebrate our main man, Gavin. He’s 10.
Yep, 10.
TEN.
T-E-N.
Double digits. One – zero.
Yea. I’m not really sure how that happened either.
He’s taller than my shoulder. Just shy of my shoe size. Totally overgrown for my lap. But he still tries to sit there. Mostly so he can quietly share little things from his day to a one-woman audience. Sometimes to annoy his sister. Sometimes to wonder why things happen the way they do. Most recently, he was curious about why ‘nice things’ sometimes make him feel like he wants to cry. Because he’s Gavin. And he’s mostly heart, that kid. Mostly heart.
The last 10 years have been the fastest of my life.
And knowing life and its funny ways, I suspect the years ahead will not feel any slower.
The last 10 years have been the best of my life.
And knowing life and its funny ways, I suspect the years ahead will be even better.
I am so thankful for Gavin.
He makes our smiles bigger.
He makes our laughs heartier.
He makes our days brighter.
He makes our hearts fuller.
He makes our lives better.
He’s 10 today.
The start of his double-digits.
Just the start.
Happy birthday, buddy!
Sep 6, 2016 | moments & memories, trying to raise humans
This time last year, I sat in my chair and worried about Gavin and Grace, both of whom were nervous for their first day of school.
This year, I sit in my chair, and smile to myself because both Gavin and Grace are super excited for school to start. Like literally could not wait.
I am so glad. Gladder than I’ve ever been since moving here. I feel truly happy today – and there’s no underlying nervous edge like I’ve had on this day each year prior.
Why? I’m gonna say … Community. It’s happening. It’s here. We have one.
Woo hoo – Finally!
I know that sounds strange given that we’re fast approaching our five year anniversary in Portland. Let me go all broken record here for a minute – there’s something hard about integrating your young family into a new community. When you’re 3000 miles away from where you lived the first half of your life – so far away from the familiarity of your familial infrastructure and lifelong friends – you feel strange and out of place for a long time. Of course, when you combine our work and work travel schedules with kids activities and sports, it’s not really conducive to a big social life for any of us, which compounds the issue. Hahaha! The good news here? I’ve now realized that becoming part of a community is a series of baby steps, and, after the past few days, I feel like we may have finally arrived.
We’re fresh off a long, lazy weekend (which included a few days off for me). I had planned to squeeze in some last summer flings – you know, all the things we didn’t get to do this summer because we worked, and the kids were in camps. Instead, I hit pause. And realized that I had TIME. Such a rare, fleeting gift these days, right? Why am I trying to mess it up with a schedule of things? Particularly on our last weekend before soccer kicks off in full force next weekend? #crazy.
So, I unplanned. And we did not much of anything. And I have to say it was my favorite weekend in a long time.
Friends were all back from their summer adventures, and our neighborhood and community were bustling with school preparation (for the parents) and the last lazy days of hanging out (for the kids). The kids met their teachers, and they now know enough kids that each have friends in their classes – solidifying their excitement for the upcoming year. We hosted a kids movie night, then a movie afternoon. The kids played outside endlessly. They each read a book (admittedly, their only one all summer! Had to sneak one in to dampen my “worst mom at school” fears! Oy!) I had the greatest girls night – a simple night comprised of a happy hour and a movie…followed by a few hours of hanging out chatting and laughing…so much laughing. Grace toured the Audubon Society of Portland with some friends while Gavin played soccer at the park with his boys, and I hung out with some friends I hadn’t seen in a while. Even Bob got in on the action and hung out with some dog friends. The kids had friends over to play. They went to friends’ houses to play. We cooked dinners together. They made their first batch of brownies all by themselves. They packed their own school bags and picked out their lunches. They giggled as they incessantly and excitedly talked a mile a minute about going back to school. (even Gav!). We had so much fun.
This was living.
I look at this weekend and think – yep, we’ve got a great community. I’m happy to be a part of it. And even happier that Gavin and Grace are. And happier still that, as they get older, they are truly becoming part of the community. They are Portlanders. Ones who are enjoying the people and experiences around them. Ones who are spreading their wings and ramping up for take off.
How do I know? This: Last night, the usual hug and linger with their head buried in the nook between my head and my shoulder didn’t happen. You know the one where you can see bravery unfold before your eyes as you listen closely to hear their inner voices screaming “keep it together, man!” We’ve graduated to full-on tight squeezes as they grin and say, “See you tomorrow, Mom. First day of school!” before they excitedly scramble up the steps. Bittersweet: We’ve got a few years left on the runway before they take off. But I am happy to see their growing independence…and confidence.
Welcome, 2016-17 school year. Let’s do this!
P.S. How ’bout them lunches? I wanted photo evidence that I tried to rock their lunches one day this year. We all know that shit won’t last… let’s go back and take a look at exhibit A.
Aug 26, 2016 | moments & memories
Since it’s #nationaldogday, I thought it was fitting to share the story of how Grace and I took Bob for a walk last weekend.
It was setting up to be a warm day, so, in an attempt to beat the heat, we headed out early.
Judging by preparations alone, this walk was gonna be epic. I mean, there was a lot of prep involved:
- Grace brushed her hair (willingly and without me asking her!) AND brought her sunglasses with her.
- I tried on two pairs of shorts and some workout capris to make sure I looked semi-decent for a walk around the neighborhood. Hey, there are some fancy places around here! I don’t want my workout garb to single-handedly bring down their housing values. And, let’s be honest, I am already walking a thin line with my typical skinny jeans and black tee uniform. I also brought my sunglasses and a bottle of icy cold water that we call could share. (And yea, you read that right. I tried on clothes for a mild workout. I have issues.)
- Bob? He brought himself.
But he seemingly forgot to put on his walkin’ pants.
Apparently, Bob’s a lap around the block kinda dog. That’s his typical route. But given the amount of prep Grace and I put into this walk, and the fact that, well, he’s a dog, and a playful young Golden at that, he should have realized we were going big: we were walking the route to the school trail and back. Granted, we were going to loop through the next neighborhood over, but still. It’s not that far.
Unless you’re Bob.
We got about 1/2 through the loop, and, well, he pooped out.
Literally laid on a freshly watered lawn and would. not. move.
I gave him water. He drank it.
I let him rest. Then tried to cajole him to move on. He was having none of it.
As you can tell by the cover pic, Grace couldn’t believe it.
I swear that sucker was laughing at me as he cooled his undercarriage on the freshly watered grass.
I gave him more water. He drank it. This time, he jumped up and started moving.
Until we got to the next freshly watered lawn. He sniffed it, nuzzled it to make sure it was good and wet, and laid back down. This time in the shade. Grace decided to join him.
Is he smart? Stubborn? A little OCD because we didn’t go the normal route? Who knows. Probably a combo.
I let him stay there for 10 minutes or so…basically long enough that it was clear this dog was not walking no mo’.
As I stood in front of these sprawling single homes the next neighborhood over, watching my dog and my daughter hanging in the shade on a stranger’s lawn, I started cracking up as I realized what I was going to have to do.
Text Kenny.
Yea.
“Hi – Bob won’t move off a lawn. Can you come pick us up?”
Him – “Seriously?”
Me – “Yep. Literally stood up and changed lawns…and now won’t get up. Again.”
Him – “I swear he just does this to push your buttons.”
Me – “Probably. Can you get us? We’re by the trail to school. New business for you – uber for lazy dogs.”
Him – “Sure. Be right there.”
This explains a lot, really. I try to exercise. Try to instill healthy habits in my daughter. (Ok, semi-healthy. Let’s not forget that I tried on outfits to exercise for Christ’s sake.) Try to do right by my dog.
And I end up calling the freaking dog an uber for all intents and purposes, and hop in the front seat.
As for Bob?
He couldn’t have been happier. Kenny put him in the car, and when we got home, he bounded into the house, drank some water, hopped onto his bed and hung out in the air conditioning.
(For those who might be concerned – he was / is 100% fine…stubborn, but fine.)
Aug 11, 2016 | moments & memories, trying to raise humans
Ah, summer. The time of year when you spend tons and tons of time with your kids and get to know them on a whole ‘nother level. Again. Even with our work schedules staying the same and the Gs heading to camp every day, we spend a lot of time together hanging out at night (read: no homework and later bedtimes!).
This summer, it’s apparent that Gavin’s started his journey towards tweenhood. He’s testing the boundaries of his personality and his behavior, and, subsequently, our patience … more so than ever before. To the point where I am consistently having flashbacks to my father’s snaps (or, as we came to know them: “shit-fits” – the should-be-patented Den Flannery parenting trump card of yelling / purple face / tiny pursed lips / potential cursing my mother would warn us not to invoke). Three things I remember from that period of my own life: my brothers and I didn’t know everything, didn’t need to have a comment for everything, and needed to get our heads out of our respective asses. It’s all becoming quite clear now. Where is that Elton John when you need him to lead an online sing-a-long of Circle of Life?
Anyway, back to Gavin’s tweenhood journey…
Thankfully, it seems Gavin’s not fully crossed the bridge…yet: Last night, he snuggled up with me on our chair-and-a-half and encircled my neck with his arm. I smiled at him and, with the benefit of hindsight, stupidly said, “You know, at some point, it will be the last time you do this.”
But he’s definitely in the middle, if not more towards the end: He smiled back and said, “And that point is now! This was the last snuggle!” and hopped off the chair. Hahahaha! That impish little bugger.
I love how perceptive he is at reading situations and inserting jokes / humor. Well, I hope it was a joke, anyway. 😉 Here’s to the dawn of tweenhood. Cheers.
Jun 21, 2016 | yup, i really did that
Over the years, I’ve had a few mishaps with people mispronouncing my name.
Mostly, the experience has been with children during babysitting incidents.
Two great ones come to mind:
- My best friend and I were babysitting a young girl on her street who apparently found Bridget to be a foreign word for her young vocabulary. Hilariously, however, “Birdshit” was not, and that became my name for the afternoon. Punctuated by pre-teen giggles, of course.
- Before we had kids of our own, Kenny and I once babysat for my friend’s children, one of whom was a toddler. At one point, Kenny called me “Bridge”, as he often does. Later that evening, my friend’s son yelled out, “Hey, Fridge! Can I have a snack?” Fridge. How presh. Hahaha! This one was too good not to stick, and in certain circles, I am still called Frij (more exotic spelling 😉 ) to this day, and their kids affectionately call me “Aunt Frij”. This would be wildly funny if I looked like I visited the fridge a bit less, but, hey, I have a good sense of humor and a realistic view of things – hahaha! (Note to Portland friends – I will not answer you if you call me this. 🙂 )
My most recent misnomer, however, might take the cake.
I called the help desk for an issue with work technology.
I went through the normal drill – employee ID, phone number where I can be reached if we get disconnected, verify your name…
Me – Bridget Clark.
Tech Dude – Virgin Clark. Thanks, Virgin.
Something tells me he wasn’t looking at the screen and verifying my name…
If I ever decide to write a memoir (don’t worry, that’s not a threat – my life isn’t that interesting), Birdshit: Tales of the Fridge Virgin, has a nice ring to it, no?
