Into the Woods, Part II

Hello, Gentle Readers:

I haven't posted in a couple of days. I'd forgotten just how hard teaching full-time and having two kids can be. Summer's like some crazy kind of high. I know, logically, during summer, that I will be stressed and overworked once we all go back to school; but my summer-high mind convinces me just to forget it. "It's all good," my mind says, "Read some more. Why not hang out on Facebook for six hours or so?" The idea that I won't have time to burn seems too unlikely to be possible. So now I'm back to "real life," which is considerably harder. I have been looking forward to having a few minutes to write something.

I thought I should update the "60 Hikes within 60 Miles" situation. Since I last posted about this in July, the kids and I (and sometimes one of my sisters) have visited Caldwell Park (#22 in the book), Cincinnati Nature Center's Rowe Woods (#24), The Fort Thomas Landmark Tree Trail (#55), as well as John Bryan State Park in Yellow Springs, Ohio. JB didn't make the cut. Tamara York listed Clifton Gorge Nature Preserve, which connects to JB. I'm still counting it, though. They connect eventually, so it's as good as going on the trail. We've had mostly positive results. I have to qualify my answer with "mostly."

The first of these was our visit to Caldwell Park. The book listed Caldwell Park as being a good site for looking at fossils. This is pretty much all we got to do. The children, their aunt, and I all walked in the creek, looking for fossils. Then we ate lunch. Then Lily needed to use the restroom. We had to leave the park to do this, driving to the neighboring Caldwell recreation center, since there were no working potties at the park. We took care of the situation, with the children looking longingly at the rec center pool. Then they both noticed the playground there, so we got stuck for another twenty minutes. The kids were not into the hiking idea after that. Their aunt got them to take a very brief hike after promising them Graeters, which we ate post-hike in Hyde Park Square. What I found kind of funny about this hike was that the kids did end up enjoying nature but in their own way, not mine. They love tromping in creekbeds, and they love the little park with flowers and a giant pine tree in Hyde Park Square. The kids hid under the branches of the pine tree after they got done with their ice cream. Does this count? I think so.

Rowe Woods was a better fit. The Nature Center is a pay park, but it's so worth the six bucks or so you have to pay. However, I feared we would never get out of the visitor's center. They have an indoor interactive center for children. They have a library with "books for grown-ups," as Lily noted. Most importantly, they have a gift shop. As gift shops go, this one has a lot of nice things. But I hate gift shops in museums, nature centers, parks, etc. I hate gettting hassled for gifts, the subtle suggestions of "(sigh) It's too bad we can't get anything here," countered with my terse, "Yeah, well, it's a shame, isn't it?" It took a lot of coaxing to get my kids outside again. Once outside on the trail, though, we had a great time. We saw the same deer on three different occasions, as well as a bunch of frogs in a puddle and some really pretty flowers. The trails are the best marked I have ever seen in my life. They use pictures, which is cool for the early literacy set. The Center's goal is to educate children and young people about nature, and I think this mindset is evident the minute you drive into the park.

The Fort Thomas Tree Trail was altogether a different vibe than the Nature Center. The NC was packed when we went on a weekday. We were the only souls in the tree trail. Still, the Tree Trail has a sort of educational mission of its own. The point of the trail is the identification of 25 notable species of trees. The trees are well labeled; the trail is straight forward. Finding the trail was more difficult than I would have thought possible, especially considering it's in the Fort Thomas Army Reserve complex. Folks, this is right next door to Tower Park, which is about a six or seven minute drive from my house. But it's a secluded trail for certain. We found the trail and the kids finished the whole thing. I think what makes hiking the trail fun for kids is the tree identification. It gives them a goal to look forward to. "Hey, where's number 16? Do you see number 16?" "There it is! I see it, Mommy!" It's also nice that it's right in our backyard. Better still, the excellent Tower Park Playground would be a great reward for finishing the hike.

Today, we went to John Bryan Park. It took about a month of Sundays to get there, or so it felt. I've been there probably forty or so other times in my life. The kids don't remember this, but they've both been there before, at least twice for each of them (maybe even three or four times for Lily). Once we finally parked our car and hit the trail, Lily gasped and said, "Oh Mommy, it's BEAUTIFUL!" I agreed. This was probably our most successful foray to date. I had promised them waterfalls, but we didn't end up on the trail with the waterfalls. Vince was the trail leader, and he was keen on staying right next to the river. After a point the riverbank trail petered out, so we ended up on some other trail that wasn't gorge or cliff. It wasn't as pretty as what I had remembered, so I got the kids to climb up a hillside, saying, "I think that's the trail over there!" It wasn't, but I could see a trail a few feet below on the opposite side of where we'd been hiking. We got on that trail, and Vince sprinted up a whole boatload of steps in the process. We ended up in the park's campground, which we stayed in for about half an hour or so. Vincent pretended he wanted to build a fire. Lily confided in me that she "might want to look into Girl Scouts." They both like the idea of camping. I'm just happy to continue a family tradition. Some of my happiest memories of my dad are of the times we spent hiking. I can't help but think he's smiling at me from wherever Heaven might be, looking at his grandson, hiking stick in hand, going off the trail like generations of Bachman men before him.

I've got to go bathe my filthy children. Have a lovely evening.

Some Ugly Truths about Motherhood

Okay, here's the part where I get confessional. I'll give you the back story to my confessions (bless me readers; I have sinned. It's been about four years since my last confession). I'm sitting here removed from my children, alone in our very air-conditioned bedroom. My husband is downstairs dealing with the things to deal. I'm left here to sort out my thoughts and air my dirty laundry publicly. Here are some things I'm not proud of:

1. I get jealous and resentful of my children because their childhood is easier than mine. No, I didn't have some sort of Frank McCourt-drunken-dad-ambivalent-mom childhood. I did come from a working-class family, though. Prior to about fifth grade, most of my clothing was third or fourth hand, such that I recall wearing (gasp) bellbottoms in straight-legged 1982.

The Prince and Princess don't have that. They have a posse of folks who adore them and shower them with gifts. Whereas I went out to eat with my family about once every two or three months as a kid, my children do this about once or twice A WEEK. My darling, overly picky daughter was just pouting because she had to eat the disgusting, leftover Mom's-homemade pizza, while her brother had a piece of Pizza Hut pepperoni leftover from a trip there with their dad yesterday. "It's not FAIR, "she complained. Yeah, well, they didn't have bread machines back in the 1970's or 1980's. So I got Mom's homemade pizza about once a year.

I feel like some disgruntled old geezer in complaining about this. Part of me gets mad because I don't think they understand the value of the things they have. But some petty little part of me feels like the kid who wasn't chosen for the kickball game. It's not fair! How come I didn't get to have Pizza Hut once a week when I was a kid, huh? Maybe I will make them eat my most despied childhood food, the torturous ham and green beans, to exact my revenge upon them. As long as I don't have to eat it, too.

2. I secretly fear that I am screwing these children up and that they will be ruined forever and not be functioning adults. If I make the mistake of comparing my parenting to other parents around me, nearly everyone else seems to do a better job. My parents, especially my mom, were much more organized than I am. The mommies at the pool and the mall are not only thinner, prettier, blonder, and wealthier; they also seem to be such loving, patient sweet women that I feel like Roseanne Barr next to them (loud, loutish, working-class, fat, allowing my children to eat Cheetos). I am not an overly saccharine person. I also resent putting the children to bed and having to read to them. So maybe the kids will grow up to hate reading and with it school. I know that the reading part, at least, is craziness. Lily lives to read. But I can't control the crazy train when it leaves the station house; it just runs ninety miles an hour downhill on a mountain. My thoughts are not always rational, in other words.

3. This is hard to admit, but sometimes I get disappointed that the children were not made to order to my specs. Yes, it's true. I want things the way I want them. This means that from time to time I want my children to perform per my expectations, and they don't. I am very musical. I sing and I was a pretty good clarinet player back in high school. My husband is musical. He is an ex-piano teacher and a keyboardist in a local band. I expect my children to love music. Our parish is recruiting heavily for the children's choir. I know better than to force the issue. Lily wants no part of it. "I can't read music," she tells me. "Daddy could teach you. I know how, but I'm pretty sure you don't want me to try to teach you." As we were leaving today the Deacon of our church said, "Where are you going? Deacon needs you children to help with the choir." The little boy said, "No." The little girl just hung her head and pouted. I know in my heart of hearts that they would make a contribution to the choir. But I also know that they can't be forced.

4. I remember reading some stupid poem in Dear Abby, long before I had kids, to the effect of "dust bunnies, you'll just have to wait; my dear children will only be children for a little while." I hate that sentiment. I can't live in a nasty looking house. And I'm super squeezed for time. But I've kept this stupid poem in my mind for twenty-something years, so I end up either a) cleaning and feeling guilty because I'm not spending time with my kids or b) feeling resentful because my house looks gross and I'm stuck playing Monopoly or some matching game.

What does this all add up to? I'm always looking for a tidy ending, just like some After School Special of my youth. I'm confident there isn't one. Logically, I know that I am human and that parenting is hard. My parenting style isn't like other people's. I won't ever be perfect. There's lots I do wrong. Here are three things I've done right in the past month:

1. I introduced my children to the excellent Gertrude Warner story The Boxcar Children. It felt so good to get them hooked on a story I had loved as a child.

2. I took them both to Coney Island before the summer ended, and we had one of my happiest ever motherhood memories together.

3. I put a note in my daughter's lunch box on the first day of school, just like they tell you today in the women's magazines. She thought it was kind of weird, but she liked it ultimately.

I guess in the end, I just fumble around and try to do my best, confident in the knowledge that I'm about 65% percent succesful on a good day. Then I take a bath and go to bed. Good night, everyone. Thanks for being here.

Raindrops on Roses, whiskers on kittens

This is the time of year where I start to feel a little down. I suppose it's inevitable. School is back in session, and as a teacher, I'm back at work after a long summer. The light starts to fade. The flowers start to look a little droopy. It's going to be cold soon. What's a mom/Spanish teacher to do? Well, I've decided to compile a list of the things that make me feel better when my mood is less than exuberant. Here goes (in the order in which they came to my mind):

1. Nothing beats Charlie Harper's artwork. If I feel sad, I just need to look at one of his cardinals. http://www.charleyharperprints.com/

2. Old cast-iron skillets. I love them.

3. Listening to my kids play together, because my son says "Betend (not pretend)."

3. John Coltrane's "My Favorite Things."

4. This cool Youtube video of the Columbus Symphony playing at Ash Cave park in the Hocking Hills region.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFx3BMpo3vg

5. A quick view of Chartre cathedral. The most beautiful shade of blue in the world can be found there. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYRVmIj7bw8

6. The sound of wind in the trees

7. The sound of water in a creek as it goes over the rocks

8. The sound of seashells as they wash up on the beach

9. The yellow on my dining room wall

10. A nice glass of Pinot Grigio on a hot day

11. A nice glass of shiraz on a cold day

12. Thai pumpkin soup

13. Subzi dalcha

14. Talking to my mom or my sisters

15. A walk through my neighborhood because I like to look at everyone's gardens

16. Walking through my neighborhood at twilight, when the families who live there turn on the lights inside the houses. Lights through the window look beautiful to me.

17. If you look at the glass on office building windows in the late afternoon, the sky reflects in the windows so that they look almost silver.

18. Krohn Conservatory

19. The Purple People Bridge

20. Singing at the top of my lungs, especially stuff in German or Latin that I remember from college choir

21. My white-and-red-flowered tablecloth

22. Cold Saturday mornings, when I burrow under throws on my sofa, and my children and cats climb on top of me.

23. Talking with my husband about music

24. Dinner with friends

25. The show "What Not to Wear." My husband makes fun of me for watching. Yes, it's predictable. Yes, the shlubby woman will be fabulously transformed. Yes, Nick Arrojo will give her the same haircut he gave the woman on the last show. Why is this bad? In a world of recession, wars, disease, etc., what's so bad about knowing what's coming next?

26. The video "Bonito" by the group Jarabe de Palo. The song is almost what I just did right now. The lyrics are about all the things in the world that are beautiful to him ("todo me parece bonito.") Great video. Great sentiment. Take a look. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vaPIrbmEj5E

If you have any suggestions, feel free to add them.

I think this picture should have been a Yes album cover

I think if you tweaked the color, it would look like a prog rock album cover.

Procastinators of the world, unite! (tomorrow)

I haven't posted in forever. I'm back to my job as a Spanish teacher. Volvi a la realidad. I have no desire to do any work, while I know that I have a ton to do. It's 3:29. While I should be entering the summer homework assignments in the gradebook, I prefer to search for navrattan korma recipes online. Donde esta mi motivacion?