Summer 2013 Wrap-Up, Part One

This summer happened through raindrops and monsoons. It was still awesome for the Polings. Here are some things that transpired:

**We swam. Despite sometimes blinding rain, we managed to spend a fair amount of time splashing in the pool. Franco only mistook his lungs for gills about ten times and only turned blue once, so that totally worked out. He also enjoyed telling the dogs to "jump in" and being thrown into the air like the newest member of Cirque du Soleil. We are as proud as any parents in said situations.

**Lots of people came to see us...and by "us" I mean "Franco." House guests make us all very happy. Franco shared tons of experiences with friends and family, which is priceless, really. Even our local buds joined pool time when the flood waters decreased enough for boat travel to and fro. That made for some lovely memories. (The parties, not the downpours.)

**We took the camper to the Outer Banks and discovered that we really love it out there, in the outer banks. Because of some fairly serious medical problems, we had to take Gracie with us. (She is doing so much better now, for which we are grateful. I completely chalk it up to the salty ocean air.) We, unfortunately, could not take Emma because that would have made for some cramped quarters. She stayed home to be spoiled by the pet sitter, so everyone mostly won.

                                     Do you see Franco's sad turned face? Read on to know why...

While at the beach, Franco really came into his own. He started to talk so much! And what spurred such language development? Well, his dad's constant and incessant declarations that we do not own a golf cart. And how we should totally have one. And how if we did have one, we could do so many more things. And how next year, come hell or high-water, we are going to have one. (And if you know Scotty P. - well, you are probably surprised we don't already have one!)

This led poor, anxiety-prone Franco to point out every golf cart (which, if you have ever been to a campground, is a full-time job) and also bemoan our cart-less life on the skids. In his early sentence structure, he could not really say "no" so he just shook his head sadly while repeating "cart." As in, "No Cart." Once, we saw a parked cart, and he pointed and plainly said, "Daddy. No Cart." What a terrible existence for the kid.

The other parts of that vacation were awesome too. But afterward, for weeks on end, poor Franco walked around shaking his head, muttering "cart" randomly about the house. Then, in his first full sentence, he said, "Daddy. Needs to buy a cart." I am fairly certain his memory works properly, if nothing else.

**Franco discovered movies. (He is welcome.) Despite the usual children's fare to which he was properly introduced, he goes in for live-action, dog-themed flicks. His far-and-away favorite is "Because of Winn-Dixie." (Simply called "Dickies.") I think it's the combination of dogs and Dave Matthews - who can resist that? He loves "Beethoven" and "Benji" and some Disney tale about dogs playing football and "Matilda" - which has nothing to do with dogs, I realize. We don't understand that one, but whatever. Let the kid be who he is! It's interesting to see how much he does enjoy this fare and I can't say that I blame him. Those are some fun ways to spend a few hours! He and I share this passion, and I hope it continues.

And that is enough for now. I guess the summer was mighty eventful! We shall continue, I promise...cart or no cart.

This Is (Almost) 40

**All props for this post go to my great friend Samantha Jones Harkins, who referenced this exact speech in her own blog. That post was waaaaaaay back, but it stuck with me and I felt I needed to revisit it myself. You should check out her blog too - because it is awesome and so is she!

www.irunthesetowns.blogspot.com

* * * * *

So, a few days ago, I was thinking about this radio speech which was all the rage in the summer of '99. If you want to listen to it and get all weepy and nostalgic - or not - here it is:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5NAPZp2w-o&feature=related

I lived in my very first one-bedroom apartment, the only time I could afford not to have a roommate. This foray lasted about 3 whole months, but I put in loads of time decorating that interesting space to be just perfect.  And I have an insane number of memories shoved into those 120 days, including this whole Sunscreen Song. (Why such a short stay? Well, let's just say the landlords were the neighbors and they were intrusive to the point of stalking my every move. Oh, well. You will have that, I guess. Until you decide to move out.)

Part of the "furnished" part of this apartment was a great old desk with a piece of glass on top, underneath of which you could lay out photos or concert tickets or newspaper cut-outs of the lyrics of the Sunscreen Song. I distinctly remember reading that list of things daily, through the murky old glass top. It was just the sort of thing for a 20-something college graduate with no idea of her future to think of as she drove around Morgantown's lazy summer streets, reveling in being aimless and young and free...and broke, shiftless, and (in hindsight) woefully cavalier about important life details. In other words, it was the epitome of what someone's early 20's should be. In my own, unscientific opinion.

But, for all that youthful meandering, the Sunscreen Song was pretty great. And for some reason, be it the sweat of the summer air or the smell of actual sunscreen, it popped into my mind some time ago and would not retreat.

I only now actually re-listened to it, and it surprised me in a sort of not surprising way how old I am now. All those references to being 40? Yes, that is almost me. All those ideas of what my future would hold at 40? Not so much.

I don't even know what those ideas were - but I can assure you, they were not my current reality. And not in a bad way. I suppose I envisioned something less stable and more ridiculous, with far different responsibilities. I am sure the time between then and now seemed a much further distance then than it does now. There are times when I feel 24, but know that the mileage on my soul renders me much older.

And it is great. I know, as the Sunscreen Song told me, that half of what has transpired in my lovely life is chance alone. I am thankful beyond belief for my good fortune. Yes, negatives did blindside me at 4:00 in the afternoon and they seemed, at the time, insurmountable. But I have learned that few mistakes are unfixable and each one will teach you something you did not know you needed to learn.

I wore sunscreen. I got to know my parents. I have more and more learned to respect my elders. I have danced and sung all along the way, literally and figuratively. I have come to understand that life is a marathon and not a sprint and it has released me. I have gotten tons of counseling.

And I have taken a few to look over my past, but not to the point of stupidity. And the best lesson I learned? Ironically enough, it came from a lecturer in a bar review course. (Which, if you know me, will sound like I may have early onset dementia. But bear with me.)  It went something like this:

           Don't look at taking the bar as something you have to do.
           Look at this challenge as something you get to do.
           You are lucky and privileged to be able to do this.

Right. About so, so many things in our lives. Me during the Sunscreen Song-era would not have gotten this.

I am glad I now do.

Dear One-Year-Old Baby Franco

(**Just to note that I wrote this in January, when Franco had just turned one year old, but have been tweaking it to get it perfect for this blog and will now publish for the world to see...)

Dear One-Year-Old Baby Franco,

You have now lived for one year. What a milestone! I'm fairly certain that in no other year of your entire life will you make so many drastic, dramatic changes. Sometimes it is mind-boggling to realize that a year ago you were getting used to breathing air, and now you are routinely doing things like this... 

     I am pretty sure that Gracie taught you this. It was kind of her trick first.

        The first few weeks and months of your life were kind of awesome. Your dad and I watched tons of hockey games and “Friday Night Lights” on Netflix during quiet evenings, holding you while you slept. During our days together, we napped and read “The Hunger Games” trilogy out loud and  listened to Skip and Stephen A. argue on ESPN and watched movies. Yes, some days were challenging when you acted grumpier than usual. But, that is true of everyone in every single person’s life, so why would I hold it against you?

        We traveled all over with you this past year and you proved a natural-born companion. We spent time in Alabama, flew to Arizona, went to a wedding in Wilmington, spent a week with yinz up in Western PA, partied in Ohio, and of course rocked our weekends in the Blue Lot at WVU football games, where you made friends with all the drunk 20-somethings who sit by us and who took pictures of you as you grew in between each game.  (And...as your Auntie Samantha pointed out, that is "not creepy" at all. HA!)  It has proven a wise strategy, as you are adaptable and up for an adventure at any time. You now go outside regularly  pointing to the car because you spend so much time there. 

We partied in the pool all summer with our friends and you loved it. You wore goggles and splashed and slept on the table in your car seat when you got too tired. I will always remember that summer as one of the best ever. There was (somewhat) less beer than in summers past, but the laughter seemed more meaningful and memorable.

I don't know about you, but this looks pretty comfy...

Old friends and family visited to shower you with gifts and love. You started eating solid foods in June and have never really stopped! Eating is a big time for you, so you fit in with the rest of the family for sure. Once, you ate an entire tupperware full of homemade mixed vegetables and awed all in attendance at the pool. You might have been a skinny little thing, but it was not for lack of trying! You love all kinds of foods and often regale us with your ability to put it away. As a result, we have that whole thing pretty easy and you are growing bigger and stronger every day. 

After Halloween (when you were a precious Elmo in a stroller) and Thanksgiving (when you ate pie and about eight plates of dinner) and Christmas (when you were spoiled beyond belief) we celebrated New Year's Eve by staying up with Kathy and Anderson and watching the ball drop and eating hot dogs with sauerkraut. It was not wild and crazy, but it was pretty great anyway.

What do you mean it's midnight? I'm just getting started here!

Then, it was your birthday!! Oh, what a happy time for us all. We did not have a big party and you did manage to fall and bust your lip on a chair, but that day was awesome. We ate about a pound of cake (a piece) and played and laughed and then you passed out, likely due to the massive amount of cake you ate. Then, your Daddy and Mummy watched movies together and held you while you slept, not unlike when you were first born.

Impressed? You should be!

What? For me?

A lot of times people will say, "Gosh, I can't imagine life without my baby!" (Which is silly because you don't have to imagine it. Life without the baby would look a lot like life did before the baby. Come on.) What I think people mean is this: it is hard to grasp that you have only just arrived. Once, I told your Auntie Rebeccah about something I did a few years ago and she asked, "Well, who watched Franco?" To which I responded, "He...wasn't born yet, you know." And she understood it was silly, but at the same time it was like...oh, it just seems like Franco has been here forever.

Because, it does. And sometimes I wonder if each year will seem the same or if this feeling will just pass with the rest of the phases. And that's okay too, since we are happy to have you move from this point to that. We will always be proud of you in each new milestone, and we will not mourn those times which are passed. 

Because we are not raising a baby. We are raising a man. And so far, we are doing a damn fine job, if we absolutely only ask ourselves and believe our own opinions on the matter. 

The secret just might be all that traveling. And lots and lots of cake.

Hey Lady! Update Your Blog!

Okay - I will!

You know what takes time? Updating your blog while simultaneously living your life with a little bundle of energy known as Mr. Buddy Pants/Ol' Franks/Willie Franco P.

Sometimes, for, like, say the last year or so, I have just lived without the running commentary online or through social media or by telegraph or smoke signals, or...you get it.

That doesn't mean I don't have things to say. I have something to say! I just haven't said it publicly. In today's world, does that mean it is somehow worth less than saying it privately? Probably to some. Not so much to me.

So, here it is, some nuggets of parenting wisdom for the ages:

**You don't know how funny it will be to see your kid transfixed by Seth McFarlane's Oscar-opening song We Saw Your Boobs, on repeat, sometimes up to eight times in a row. We don't know what it says about the kid, but it is hilarious. (We also don't know what it says about us. But, we don't care. Because of the hilarity.)

**You can't foresee the following: You are engrossed in the new Les Mis musical, empathizing with the poor (yet brilliantly on-pitch) peasants singing Look Down, when here comes your kid in front of the screen with a "We're Number 1" Steelers' foam finger on his hand, waving it like Ben just threw the game-winner to Santonio in Super Bowl XLIII. The juxtaposition is philosophically quite deep. Or, the kid is used to watching a lot of sports. Or both. You decide.

**When your kid wakes up and his first instinct is to "red up" the bedroom, you might have spent too much time "redding up" so far in his young life. (See also: a fascination with sweepers, a need to run full-on to any broom within eyesight, and unprompted sorting of...everything.) This is so cute now. It likely will be less cute when he needs some meds.

**When on long car trips, you don't know the benefit of mixing up the music effectively. This kid finds  both The Muppets soundtrack and Eminem absolutely hysterical. (As do I. That Marshall is a witty fellow.) This little experiment is likely short-lived, once Franco learns to talk, for repeating Kermit is okay, while impersonating Mr. Mathers is socially irresponsible. (Don't shoot the messenger! I didn't make the rules!) So, we are taking full advantage now.

**Having a kid changes you because, from now on, you have the kid. For me, that is really the extent of it. I am pretty much the same person I was before. I do most of the same things, within reason, that I always have. I don't always have enough time to watch Dance Moms, so I have to DVR more and catch up later. It is a sacrifice, but I manage.

I still wear high heels and dresses and the same clothes I used to. My hair is still long. I sometimes don't shower, especially in the summer when I swim everyday, but it's not because of Franco. I have always been that way. I know I am a brat because I get to stay home and play with him all day, but I am no more bratty now that I was before.

We went to Disney World and it was actually more fun with a kid, as are many things in life. You don't have to cart as much stuff around as people lead me to believe - maybe because I often carried a large handbag anyway, I already was used to it. (Thank you, Lindsay Lohan, for showing me the way to proper, responsible motherhood.)

Sure, some things are harder. But, isn't that always the way? Kids or no kids, life gets more challenging as we go along. Like Mike Tomlin might tell you, "It's a journey, a process."

That's all I have. I am always trying to do better, to be better. And to find the humor because once this time is gone, it's gone for good.

But, again, isn't that always the way?