How Much is Too Much?

I love modern technology and the opportunity for communication it provides. I remember as a kid racing to the phone every time it rang, so I could be the one to answer. In those days with no Caller ID, you couldn't tell who was calling, but I didn't care. I still wanted to be the one to answer. I remember my joy when my parents first got an answering machine, and I no longer had to worry about calls I may have missed when I was away from home. Yes indeed, I love communication.

As the years passed and the world of technology increased exponentially, as a newly married couple, we were one of the first to have a computer in our home. I wasn't too impressed at first, until Gerald introduced me to the possibility of using it to communicate. Really? I could "talk" to people using my computer? Okay, I'm interested. This was before the World Wide Web or the internet as we know it today, but we were able to send messages back and forth with certain people who signed up for the same online service we did, in this case a company called GEnie. We could only use it at night or on weekends; during business hours, the folks at General Electric needed their mainframe computers for business purposes. It was a start, though, and it offered me an amazing new way to keep in touch with the people I love. I was immediately hooked.

To my delight, this was only the beginning. In the twenty years that followed, we have been blessed with countless other miracles: cell phones (I can talk to people when I'm not even home?!?), text messaging (I can send quick notes to people at any time without interrupting their daily lives?!?), the full-scale internet (I can email friends all over the world instantly, and get a response back within minutes?!?), instant messaging/live chat (I can have live conversations with people just by typing on my computer?!?), social networking sites (I can learn more about my friends and acquaintances than I ever imagined by reading their Facebook profiles and commenting on their statuses?!?), and blogging (I can write these blog essays and share my thoughts with as many of you as are interested in reading?!?).

THE WORLD IS MINE!

Seriously, this is all pretty much a dream come true for an extrovert like me. But the other night, I began to wonder, "How much is too much?"

With three of our children currently living away from home, I find myself inundated with communication in various forms. The other night, I was lying in my bed typing a "quick" email to Shulamith. My cell phone rang, and I began a conversation with my mom in Portland. Just then, Luke called on our home phone, so I quickly ended the conversation with my mom in order to talk to Luke. Right then, a text came in from Eli telling me what time he needed to be picked up from work. I quickly replied to Eli's text, all the while talking to Luke on our home phone and continuing my email to Shulamith. Next came a text from Gerald: "Isaiah's on Facebook right now. If you go on, you could chat with him." I immediately open Facebook and begin to chat with Isaiah. By now, I've said goodbye to Luke, and just as I flip back to my email to Shulamith, an email comes in from her: "Matt and I are headed out longboarding, so I'll have to write more later...as in tomorrow." Ack, even if I do get her email finished and sent, she won't even get it until tomorrow!

So how much is too much? My conclusion is there's never too much when it comes to communication with one's children. So Luke, Shulmaith, Isaiah, Eli.....if you're out there reading, keep 'em coming! Emails, phone calls, text messages, Facebook posts....it's all good. I love hearing from you. More than you can possibly know. I miss you, and I'm profoundly thankful for the miracle of modern communication, even if sometimes it's a bit overwhelming.

What Do You Think of That?

Seth is basically exhausted tonight, overwhelmed from the first week of school, lonely because no one but me is home, angry/sad/hurt over both Luke and Isaiah leaving home at exactly the same time, and pretty much on the edge of a meltdown. He just came up here whining over the fact that he can't find a DS game he wants, and Eli isn't home to help him look.

Seth: I'll NEVER find it, so I'll just be bored, bored, bored forever.

Me: Seth, you are so tired. Why don't you just go to sleep, and Eli can help you look tomorrow when he gets home from his friend's house.

Seth: You think sleep is always the answer to EVERYTHING!

Me: Well, when you are obviously so tired, yes, I think sleep is the best idea.

Seth: You just don't get it, and you never will. One time I got 16 hours of sleep and I was still very grumpy, so what do you think of that???

Change

So change is good, right? That's what they say, you know the infamous and elusive "they." Change means we are moving forward, becoming better, learning, growing, experiencing life in new and different ways. All that sounds so good as I read it on my computer screen. But the truth is, I don't do change very well. I don't particularly like it. I can get pretty comfortable with the status quo. Like it or not, though, change is a part of life, a big part, and in the past two weeks, we have experienced quite a lot of it.

For the past 14 months, we have had all four of our sons at home. Only Shulamith has been missing, and as you know, she and I manage to see each other every month, one way or another. I've had 14 months with six of us here under the same roof and visits with Shulamith every month. I have been a joyful mom.

Tonight, I find myself here at home with only Seth. "What happened?" you might ask. Change. Normal, healthy, productive change. And while I rejoice in every piece of it because it means the people I love most are doing all those amazing things I mentioned above, I'm also left feeling a bit empty. Now I realize that we have nothing even remotely close to the classic "empty nest." Eli is 16, and Seth is just nine, thank goodness! And I also realize that for many (most?) people, two children at home would feel absolutely normal. However, when you're used to five, or at least four, two feels woefully strange.

Luke and his dad drove to Indiana last week to get Luke moved in and settled there. They took their time and hit most all the historical and church sites along the way. Luke will begin a PhD program in psychology at the Univ. of Indiana next week. Reports are positive thus far. He has met the other first-year students, some of the second-year students, and most of his professors. And he's getting to know the people in his new singles branch as well. I will surely miss him here, though. I'll miss his smile and his wit, the surprise Diet Cokes he so often brings me, our Friday lunches, his computer assistance, so many many things.

Meanwhile, Eli, Seth, and I drove to Salt Lake City at the same exact time to take Isaiah (yes, Isaiah!!!) to college. We actually arrived in SLC just fifteen minutes before Luke and his dad arrived in Bloomington, Indiana. Not that it was a race; it wasn't. But I think Luke hoped to beat us. Sorry, Luke. We spent three fun days playing with Shulamith before Isaiah's orientation Saturday and Sunday. Isaiah travels light, so moving him into the dorm at Westminster took maybe fifteen minutes Saturday morning. The hard part came Sunday when we had to say goodbye. Isaiah is a quiet soul. Not many people get the privilege of knowing him. But I do. And I will miss him. I bought him a slice of cheesecake from Cheesecake Factory, hugged him tight, and cried.

You see, I have what Shulamith's friend Matt calls a "crying issue." What can I say? Change, no matter how positive, is not easy for me. Keep in mind that I've had the pleasure of Isaiah in our home for the past 18 years. That is a pretty long time, wouldn't you say? And for the life of me, I can't figure out how he could possibly be 18 already. Initial reports from him are also good. He likes his roommate and the other people he's met so far. He likes his classes which began today. He says "Everything's great!" That is all such good news. I am so happy for him. Tell me, then, why am I still crying?

Change.

Okay, here's the final straw. Today was also Seth's first day of fourth grade. Donned in awesome new clothes with his new Transformers backpack over his shoulder, he headed out on his bike with his good friend Tommy. I drove to the school and met him there, so I could deliver his supplies and put money on his lunch account. There he was, no longer in the primary wing, but on the "big kids" side of the school. For some reason, this phenomenon put me over the edge. He looked so little next to all those big fifth and sixth graders. My baby!

I cried all the way to my office.

Change. The power to change. The freedom to change. The desire to change. All this is very good. But for a wimp mom who likes everything sure and constant, it isn't always easy.

What Can You Say?

What can you say about the two most amazing friends a person could ever have?

That they are kind, funny, smart, talented, gorgeous, and the best mothers in the whole world.

That they make you laugh and laugh and laugh until you are literally crying with laughter.

That they allow you to be completely and perfectly honest with them because you know they will never judge you.

That they will always love you no matter what, and you know that as well as you know anything.

That they don't care one bit that you are 20 years older than they are.

That they promise you will never look like a grandma, even if you are one someday.

That the one in Texas loves the other two of you so much that she was willing to drive to Austin in the middle of the night to pick you up after you missed your connecting flight in Denver.

That they both cheat at Skip-Bo.

That they think it's funny that they cheat at Skip-Bo.

That they both love to eat delicious, fattening food almost as much as you do.

That their 20-something year old bodies metabolize that fattening food better than yours does, so they don't gain weight.

That they refuse to do P90X with you, so you likely gained ten pounds in the four days you were with them.

That even with one of them living in Texas, the relationship you have doesn't change. Once you're together, it's like you were never apart. It's magical.

That you've stopped trying to figure out what it is that makes this incredible friendship work the way it does, and instead you're just so very thankful that it does.

That you love them so much it brings tears to your eyes even thinking about it.

That saying goodbye is hardest because you really can't know for sure when the three of you will be together again.

That you are grateful for modern transportation, so even 1,300 miles can't separate the three of you forever.

What can you say about the two most amazing friends a person could ever have?

Only this: I love you Lindsey and Celeste.

Back-to-School Shopping

Growing up, this was one of my favorite times of year, the back-t0-school season. In the Northwest, the weather begins to shift (or at least it did back then), and you can tell that fall is right around the corner. School shopping was without question the highlight of my summer. My friend claims the main reason I decided to become a teacher was so I would forever have an excuse to go school shopping in August. What can I say? I love clothes. I really do. I love to see the mannequins dressed in all the latest styles as I wander through stores. I love trying on the new clothes. I love being part of the hustle as people scramble in and out of dressing rooms searching for perfect outfit in the perfect size. I love all of it.

Because I will be out of town the last two weeks in August (one week in San Antonio visiting Celeste, and one week in Salt Lake City visiting Shulamith and taking Isaiah to college), the pressure was on to get all the back-to-school shopping done before August 14th. Not that I needed any pressure; school shopping is pure pleasure for me. Last week, I began by taking Seth to Target for school supplies. Eli was with us, lamenting the fact that, as a junior in high school, he no longer has a long list of school supplies to purchase. He told Seth that buying school supplies is one of his fondest memories of elementary school. Me too! The three of us made our way down Seth's list of required items for 4th grade. Next we hit the boys' department for the standard boxers and socks. Eli picked out some P.E. shorts, and we were done with Target.

A few days later, the real fun began. We headed for the West End, where the mall and Kohl's are located. This time, though, it was just Eli and I. Like Shulamith, Eli was destined to carry my last name and to be a shopper through and through. Isaiah and Seth, on the other hand, take after their father (whose last name they bear) and don't much care for the process. Isaiah said he needed jeans, but had no interest in going with us to find them. Seth also needed jeans, along with a backpack, and he was perfectly fine with me picking it out if it meant he didn't have to accompany us to the mall.

So yeah, it was Eli and I all the way. We were missing our other shopping cohort. Sad...Shulamith, but we'll see you in two weeks!! Fortunately, Eli loves to shop, and he is so good at it. I have trained him well. Zumies had a back-to-school special: two pairs of jeans and three shirts for $80. Sweet! Eli took advantage of that deal. Now he just needs a new backpack, and he'll be set. Next we hit JCPenney to find jeans for Isaiah and Seth. Score there too...good sales in both cases. And to top it off, we found a Transformers backpack on sale for Seth.

What an incredible rush! Truly, the silver lining as the end of summer rapidly approaches is back-to-school shopping.

My turn? Do I need a back-to-school outfit? Of course I do! But not without Shulamith. I'll wait to get that until I'm in Salt Lake, and she and I can shop together. I was tempted by some lovely shoes at the Buckle, plaid canvas ones that would be perfect for longboarding, but I resisted. Another day, perhaps.

Happy back-to-school shopping everyone....

Oxygen

Don't you just love it when young children confuse words or word meanings, creating new and often hilarious images?

I am reminded of so long ago when at age six, our precocious firstborn, Luke, proclaimed, "Being a kid is okay, but I think I'm going to enjoy adultery more."

Or when we lived in Northwest Washington, and Isaiah once remarked, "We're going to Bellingham, where Baby Jesus was born!"

Or when Seth so lovingly referred to his oldest siblings as "Wook and Mith."

Or when Seth's older brothers taught him about large numbers and introduced him to the term "googleplex," only Seth called it "cocoa flakes," and couldn't understand why no one knew what he was talking about.

Or when we first moved to Billings, and the unfamiliar dry climate caused Seth's lips to be constantly chapped. He would say over and over, "Mom, I need chopsticks!" It took me several days to realize what he was actually asking for: chap stick.

As Seth grows, we are blessed with fewer and fewer of such charming language misuses. So we relish each and every one. Recently, Seth wanted a particular video game. It cost $40 retail, and he wanted to withdraw that much from his savings account to buy it. I was not enthusiastic. We already have at least 5,000,000 video games (okay, I tend to exaggerate) in this house, and I'd rather Seth keep his money in savings. Luke suggested a compromise: they could bid for the game in an online auction and perhaps get it for less.

Seth was happy with this idea, so Luke found the game in an auction, and the highest bid at the time was just $5. Luke entered a bid of $10, and the wait was on. The auction ended the following day at 2 p.m. What no one bothered to tell Seth was that even if he won, he'd likely have to wait at least a week for the game to arrive in the mail. Seth has many wonderful character traits, but patience is not one of them. He was nearly devastated by the thought of waiting a week for this precious game.

The whining began.

The whining continued.

The whining did not cease.

In an extremely "bad mom moment" (does anyone else ever have those?), I exclaimed in frustration: "I'm going to cancel this auction, and I'm not taking your money out of savings either!"

To that, Seth ran straight to Luke for comfort: "Luke, Mom is going to cancel my oxygen."

Luke: "Seth, that is just terrible! How will you breathe?"

The following day, rejuvenated from a good night's sleep, Seth awoke in a good (read: not whining) mood.

Seth: "Luke, how's my oxygen doing this morning?"

Luke: "Well, I don't know. You'll need to see a doctor to get that checked."

In the way of closure, you should know that when 2 p.m. arrived, Seth won the "oxygen," paying $15 for the video game. Presently, he awaits its arrival. Patiently? No. But hopefully at some point he'll recognize the value of saving $25. I hope so anyway.

"I'm Not Taking One More Step"

Yesterday, we decided to go hiking. Notice I said hiking and NOT backpacking. I detest backpacking (sleeping on the ground in a tent), but I enjoy day-hiking, partly for the beauty of the outdoors but mostly for the great calorie burn. I feel like I can eat whatever I want when I'm hiking. Our other kids all had to work yesterday, so Seth was stuck going with us.

In retrospect, it was probably a bit ambitious to take him on a 10-mile hike, but that's what we did. Of course we didn't tell him ahead of time it was ten miles; he never would have agreed to go. Instead, we just said it would be a pretty hike, and we bribed him with candy. In Red Lodge there is a huge candy store called Candy Emporium. It has about every kind of candy imaginable, in most cases, sold by the pound. I gave Seth $5 to spend there. You gotta know Seth to fully appreciate this. Seth LOVES candy. This store is like Heaven on Earth to him. He carefully selected all $5 worth, and we were on our way to the trail head, about five miles from Red Lodge.

He did pretty well for the first three miles. The elevation gain was gradual in most places, and he only complained about the steeper parts. At 3-1/2 miles is a small lake, and we stopped there for a break and snacks. At that point, Seth felt he was done. "I want to go back now. I'm done hiking!" were close to his exact words. Our destination, Lost Lake, was but another mile and a half up the mountain. We weren't stopping now. As we got back on the trail, Seth dug in his heels and proclaimed, "I'm not taking one more step unless someone carries me." You should know that Seth weighs 60 pounds and is very tall. No one was going to carry him. I headed up the trail, leaving Seth to negotiate with his dad. Eventually the two of them followed, not without some serious whining from Seth, but they found Lost Lake (pun intended) nonetheless!

At that point, I learned the true meaning of the term "Power Nap." Seth lay down under a tree, shaded with all our sweatshirts over him. I don't know if or how much he actually slept, but he lay there for at least a half hour, maybe a little longer. When he awoke, it was the most amazing thing. He was totally energized, both physically and mentally. He was in a happy, cooperative mood, so happy that he literally ran down the trail ahead of us. We could barely keep up with him.

We are so proud of Seth for doing a full ten-mile hike. I'm not sure many other nine-year-olds can say that. And I learned something too. There are certainly days when I want to dig in my heels and proclaim, "I'm not taking one more step unless someone carries me." Perhaps the answer is a Power Nap.