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The New York Times Motherlode Guest Post: The Perfect Backpack

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The New York Times Motherlode blog is one of my favorites. Monday I read three essays on Motherlode (Daughter, Rising by Pam Allyn; Pay It Forward by Melissa T. Shultz and Silence is Golden by Karin Kasdin) about sending your child off to college. These essays made me think about Sophie, who will be starting preschool in September. And so I wrote an essay that night, and was thrilled when the editor of Motherlode asked to post it as a bookend to the essays listed above. You can read my essay here.

“Learning is a treasure that will follow its owner everywhere.” —Chinese proverb

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This entry was written by kara, posted on August 24, 2011 at 1:34 pm, filed under All and tagged backpack, preschool, Sophie, The New York Times. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.
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    Snow meant three separate requests for hot chocolate today, requests I was already on top of thanks to my mama intuition and a grocery run the night before. Most of the time I have no idea what I’m doing during these intense mothering years, especially with the big things, but 11 years in I can finally say I’ve mastered (a few) little things. I’m counting on those adding up in my favor in the long run. ❄️ Snowy Night, by Mary Oliver “Last night, an owl in the blue dark tossed an indeterminate number of carefully shaped sounds into the world, in which, a quarter of a mile away, I happened to be standing. I couldn’t tell which one it was – the barred or the great-horned ship of the air – it was that distant. But, anyway, aren’t there moments that are better than knowing something, and sweeter? Snow was falling, so much like stars filling the dark trees that one could easily imagine its reason for being was nothing more than prettiness. I suppose if this were someone else’s story they would have insisted on knowing whatever is knowable – would have hurried over the fields to name it – the owl, I mean. But it’s mine, this poem of the night, and I just stood there, listening and holding out my hands to the soft glitter falling through the air. I love this world, but not for its answers. And I wish good luck to the owl, whatever its name – and I wish great welcome to the snow, whatever its severe and comfortless and beautiful meaning.” It’s hard work waiting for the kids to come home from school and play. Today is my dad’s 65th birthday. All summer long he fills our kitchen (and others’ and the food bank’s) with his garden bounty. Almost every time the boys ask him to play baseball (even if it’s the third time of the day) he says yes. I can’t count the times he’s lent me his truck (and time and hands) to help me move things or pick up my crazy Craigslist finds. He dedicates a ton of time to our Unitarian church (just last week he spent the night there while the church offered shelter from the cold). “No problem” is his response to everything (even if he’s silently rescheduling things to make it work). All summer long he plays baseball with the Cincinnati Dragons and listens/watches the Reds play (and still finds time to watch our kids play). I’m so grateful to have him in my life and today was such a good day. Happy birthday, Dad. ⚾️ Friday night II ❤️ Friday night ❤️ I got a new phone (and I adore the camera, thanks again for your help, @jjmenk !) but I’m changing carriers (to Tello, it’s so inexpensive, check them out!) and apparently my phone number is “porting in” which “can take up to 5 business days” (maybe this is why it’s so cheap) so email me if you need me. Also, Sophie looks way too old in this picture! Today was a good day. Every great once in awhile it’s good to test the solidity of your marriage by moving a large piece of furniture, such as a couch with a bed tucked away inside of it and a chaise lounge attached to it. #WeAreStillSpeaking #INeedToUpMyWeightsAtBarre Happy Halloween! We had two Reds players, a zombie and a black cat this year. Io (you can see him in our front door in one pic) ran away from the door anytime someone knocked wearing a mask. Sophie went to the other side of town with friends, and the boys wanted to go all on their own, wearing a batting glove on one hand and a baseball glove on the other to keep warm. Everyone refused their winter coats bc they’re ridiculous. And I’m over that argument. So I let them be. The boys collected their candy in their baseball bags. It was windy and cold but no rain! Last-minute trip to Neltner’s last week on a gorgeous weekday after school. Skateboard: 1, Sophie: 0. Thankfully it’s just a buckle fracture so no cast! Ignore the messy house. I have another kid with a fever and another one who had to write an apology letter to our neighbor re his baseball and their car (hopefully there’s no damage). It’s been a (Mon)day! My grandma’s backyard, fall. We purposefully came after lunch so she wouldn’t feel obliged to cook. So she had dinner ready. Days like today will always be some of my favorites. 6th grade Halloween Dance tonight! These two have been neighbors/friends for years now and I swear it was just yesterday they were making fairy gardens in our backyards. Time! Slow down! Also, as I watched the middle school principal act as crossing guard, smiling, while kids from all directions walked toward the school giddy and all sorts of loud, I was once again reminded how lucky we are to have folks who not only work and engage with this between-things age group, but enjoy it. 🧟‍♂️❤️ My cousin @emfiz317 is such a talented crocheter. On chilly mornings my kiddos always fight over blankets and quilts in our old, drafty house, so last year I asked Emily if I could buy a blanket from her. I picked out the wool colors and she came up with this beautiful stitch pattern and we love it so — especially now that the weather has turned. If you’re ever in want or need of something crocheted, contact her! She does amazing work! Maurice Pommier speaks little English, so he replied to my Meet the Author interview request most generously with an illustrated letter. Maurice is the author and illustrator of the children’s book “Dans l'atelier de Pépère,” which Lost Art Press published in English: “Grandpa’s Workshop.” The book is rich in illustration and the story includes a dragon, elves, war and even murder amid a beautiful tale of a young child learning about the history of his family through his grandfather’s tools. My kids love it (I do, too.) You can read the profile here: https://blog.lostartpress.com/2019/10/18/meet-the-author-and-illustrator-maurice-pommier/ It was! With half our troop in middle school this year, and lots of our girls in different activities, we decided to go out big spending the night in the Twiga tents at the zoo this weekend (and buying lots of sleeping bags for a local women’s shelter with all our cookie money that was left). It was such a great experience with incredible staff and surprises at every turn (including a behind-the-scenes peek at our city’s favorite preemie). We’ve been with these sweet girls since they were in kindergarten/first grade, and it’s been a joy to see them grow. All the credit for everything we’ve ever done goes to Jana — I was simply the bringer of snacks. One of my former Girl Scout leaders still calls those of us in her troop “her girls”. I really get that now. Growing up is so bittersweet. BLINK! (I kind of love how the moon one-upped everything, rising above the Roebling all full and orange and beautiful for a few minutes.) Super impressed by all the artistry and technology and messages of inclusiveness and energy in our city tonight. So turns out some (most?) kids in middle school don’t like loud/waving/smiling/breathing parents. An example: Honking the car horn and yelling out the open window “Hi, Sophie!” and then yelling hello to all the other kids around her. This, my friends with kids still in elementary school, is not cool. Apparently. (I still do it.) Anyhow, for tonight’s choir concert I had the perfect solution: I changed out of the black cami I had intended to wear and instead wore a t-shirt under my blazer that says “c’est bon.” No grand displays, I promised her. Instead, I’d simply walk around pointing to my chest. (The look on her face.) “It doesn’t even say c’est fantastique!” I said. “Just bon!” Then I added my most colorful and big and sparkly earrings I own, to reiterate the message. (Plus I love the earrings.) I added my cheetah print Rothy’s (which I still can’t believe I scored on FB marketplace for $30) and I actually thought I looked pretty hip. She was not amused. “Mom, you look crazy,” she said. But then this happened: She spotted me in the crowd and I forgot about my shirt for a sec and I smiled and breathed and waved furiously, and she forgot about middle school for a sec and smiled back. That moment? Tres bon.
    TAP

  • Favorite Essays

    Choosing Compassion in a Culture of Fear

    Seeking the Bigness in the Everyday

    The Love in Trying

    The View from Up High

    Season of Innocence

    The Huffington Post guest post: Apologies to the Parents I Judged Four Years Ago, a TIME's top 10 opinion piece in 2012

    Simple

    Changing Love

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