Camping, part II

Camping part two is completed. This weekend we went to Lake Cachuma with two other families, for a total of five adults and eight kids. All the new devices I bought, plus the separate tent for the kids, worked out great. Also, it not raining or freezing this time was a big plus.

It was a bit of a game changer - the other two families had invested in pop-up campers, so we were the only ones in tents. I was tempted by the idea of getting one, too, but there are a lot of variables. One, I just put a huge amount of money into all this camping gear that we’ll never use again if we get a camper. Two, we have nowhere to put it, although storage could be an option (for a fee). Three, we don’t know for sure that the BF’s car could safely tow a camper long distances. But. It sure would be fun, and open up a whole world of pulling up by a beach and just hanging out there for a weekend which we couldn’t do with tents (although we could piggyback on our friend’s camper with a tent by the beach). We could also just rent a camper, which is probably more practical. 

This is entirely unchartered territory for me. The world of tow hitches, boats, fishing, campers...these were things I did with other people’s families when I was a kid; my struggling single mother could never have had the wherewithal to do these kinds of things. And the reality is...I probably wouldn’t be doing them with my kids if I were single, either. It reminds me of how the world is your oyster just because you have a partner, and how restricted you are in your movements when you’re single, and that sucks. 

Now, I hit the ground running this week with work stuff. Also, tomorrow I meet with a personal trainer at my Y in yet another attempt to slim down. It’s one thing I’ve never tried - real working out - and I need guidance. Maybe putting toning up and getting strong before weight loss is the ticket for me...? Who knows. La lucha continua.

The boys had a blast playing with the other kids this weekend. It’s pretty special when you think that I met their parents twenty years ago through Swing dancing and now our kids are friends and building memories together. I’m so glad I get to be a part of that. 

It’s complicated

I’m in the airplane about to leave New York to return to LA. I’m having very complicated feelings about it.

To say this visit was magical would be a bit of an understatement. On top of two very special singing gigs, I spent long hours after midnight walking miles around the city with headphones on, taking it all in; and also had a couple of very intense, emotional visits with old friends. 

When it comes to New York, I’m now an outsider looking in - it’s been nearly 27 years since I left; the place is not recognizable to the New York I knew in the 80s, with its ten-pak token baggies, less-than-charming urban blight, and still standing Twin Towers. Dirty old New York is long gone. And yet...every once in a while you catch a soft whisper of it. The smell of a linden tree. The patina of a sidewalk with 200 years of grime on it. The caress of a warm almost-summer night, a phenomenon unknown to the desert I now call home. And it all caused me to be overcome with terrible, crushing longing.

But...longing for what? I have no desire to live there ever again. I love the life I’ve built for myself, and the new culture I’ve adopted. I am not a New Yorker. I don’t want to be young again, with all the misery and uncertainty my young life had. So, why the tears?

In a book I’m reading the writer says our brain thinks of the things we love as ourselves. So to my brain my children are me, as is my boyfriend and my sister and my event and band members. For all the intense devotion and love I poured into that city during my formative years, I suppose my brain thinks that New York in general, and the East Village in particular, is, in fact, me. To re-connect with me after years of absence is bound to be profound. How could it not be?

My oldest friend, a gay man I worked with at a video store after high school, and I had dinner and then found ourselves wandering to the East Village for ice cream. We talked about our toxic mothers, aging, how we were the Throw Away Kids. And how we’ve overcome and thrived. I mentioned half-joking how I was considering getting a tattoo of the “the party’s over” graffiti symbol which was everywhere in that neighborhood in the 80s - it was an anti-corporate, anti-1%, anti-gentrification symbol that so perfectly summed up the rebellion and street sensibility and sheer anarchy of those days. It seems more relevant now than ever. And it is me. He said DO IT. I just might. 

For now I’m going to try to come to terms with the fact that, as much as I tried to push it away - to my brain, anyway, New York is me. Immigrants all over this world know this reality - you are of two places; your heart will be forever split. My boyfriend, and my children, all native Californians, will never know the melancholy pull of the birthplace. The Brazilians sum it up so well with their term saudade - bittersweet longing. It’s terrible and beautiful and sad and lovely all at once. 

I’ve had a profound experience this weekend. It will take some time to fully weed through, and I may not ever entirely understand it. But I’m grateful for it.

Last days and June haze

Ah, June in Southern California. Haze, chill, and general moodiness, a brief respite before we’re plunged into triple-degree hell until Halloween.

I find I’m listening to Morrissey and knitting a lot more.

Monday I returned from my first-ever trip to Germany. We played a large event in the quaint town of Heidelberg. The event was delightfully young and fresh and had a progressive LGBTQ-positive vibe. There were lots of non-binary folx and same sex dance partnerships. So different from our stodgy, “I like to swing dance because I wish it were the good old days” middle-aged US bullshit. God bless those young people and their open minds and gender/orientation fluidity. God bless them, every one. 

Two days at home and then late tonight I leave for NY. It’s a bit stressful and I think most of us band members are kicking ourselves for agreeing to this tight schedule...but it’ll be ok. This morning I dropped Theo at his little neighborhood school for the last time. It’s weird to think I’ll never go to that place, ever again, after being there every day for almost a year. As if to solidify my feelings of sadness/guilt about leaving the school after only one year, as we were walking in an older Latina lady looked at Bobby and asked why he didn’t go there, and I said he goes to a different school. She then asked if Theo was going to stay here and I said no, he’d go to his brother’s school next year...she asked why, didn’t I like this school? It’s a very good school! I tried to explain that when B started his other school we didn’t even know about this one...in the end she seemed satisfied when I said the other school was closer. Someone told me last week that they’re discontinuing the ETK program there due to low enrollment. And despite my best efforts, Measure EE, a parcel tax meant to fund schools (result of the teacher’s strike, no doubt), failed to pass yesterday. Feeling all kinds of sad, weird, guilty feelings right now.

Also, hi, PMS!

Also, about to watch Season 3 of The Handmaid’s Tale. I guess I’m a glutton for punishment. 

Also, hot Dutch guy we met for lunch in Germany is private messenging me saying how much he enjoyed meeting me. Ha. I have no intention of going to the party, but it’s nice to be invited, ain’t it?

Camping

We had our first family camping trip over Memorial Day weekend. After several Memorial Days in a row with zero plans or hastily thrown together last minute plans, I had booked this camping spot at Lake Piru last year for us and another family, and I’m so glad I did. 

We had to buy pretty much all of the gear other than a camping stove from scratch and there was a steep learning curve as far as set up/tear down and the basic management of daily activities, but now that we’ve done it once I feel like it’s going to be smooth sailing. The BF said I was the best person he’d ever camped with, for how prepared and organized I was. That was a huge compliment. 

The only downside was the one full day we were there, Sunday, it poured rain and was bitter cold. It made for miserable muddy conditions and a lot of unpleasantness - many of the other campers packed up and left. But I took the opportunity to knit a dish scrubbie, read, drink liberal cups of cocoa filled with marshmallows, and nap. The BF took the boys fishing, and the next day as we left we went on a wonderful boat ride in which we took a baby duck on board who was all alone and kept following us; it was the cutest thing that ever happened to me.

The next day I ran out and bought all of the efficient devices that would have made my life easier - a camping spice container set, a bin to keep bread from being crushed, a collapsible grey water bin, a collapsible dish rack for clean dishes, a multi-compartment foldable sink. I also got the boys their own tent. Having two rambunctious boys treat your tent as a giant bouncy house/wrestling stadium - tracking in mud and crushing your reading glasses with their unbridled enthusiasm - was no bueno. 

We camp again Father’s Day weekend and I’m looking for a spot in August. There is so much to explore in California - especially now that the drought is over and the lakes are no longer depressing dust bowls. My goal going forward is to try to camp five-six times a year over the warm months. I want to make this a regular thing. There’s just something so zen about having your entire existence reduced to a toothbrush and a saucepan. 

My kids’ childhoods are 1000% better than mine, part MCMXVII

I just played the boys “Paint it Black” and Bobby said, “why does he want everything black? I don’t get it,” and I said it was because he was sad. “Haven’t you ever felt that way?” I asked. He said no. It was all I could do not to say, “Jesus, kid, when I was your age I was contemplating suicide on like a daily basis!”

Example number 5,387 why my kids’ childhoods are better than mine was. 

Also, just went in to tuck the boys in and Bobby rambled off, bored, “love you, too” before I’d even said it. My kid is so used to hearing me tell him I love him that he’s bored by it. Let that sink in for a minute. Reason number 5,....

In other news, Mother’s Day was a roaring success. I managed to lob away unwanted depressing thoughts about my mother and my own love-starved inner child like so many machine-thrown tennis balls. We had a delightful hike up Eaton Canyon to a beautiful waterfall. We all got wet in the stream, ruined our shoes, and had a blast. I got to listen to nothing but Beck in the car and got cute cards from the BF & boys. 

After this...I’ve been very, very busy, and as a result have felt pretty frazzled and discombobulated. There is so much work to do for my business that I don’t even know where to start...but I did meet with my new business partner and we went over things with a fine tooth comb so I feel a lot more secure about the success of switching over my registration system (which, much to my chagrin, has still not happened). Went to Portland last weekend to sing; will go on a first camping trip this weekend. Then I have back-to-back trips to Germany and NY as the boys finish up school. I finally got them registered for that summer sports camp today after months of stalking them. So they are set until our return from Hawaii in mid-July. If they like it they’ll continue on until school starts in August. 

It feels good to be rounding out the school year. Bobby did well in first grade - only had (I think?) one note home from the teacher, got 100% on nearly all of his spelling tests, seems to be doing well socially. Theo thrived at his little neighborhood school - what a godsend that place ended up being - and will be that much more ready for kindergarten because of it. I cannot wait until that first day of school when I walk them both down the ramp to their teachers. I feel like I am on the precipice of that sweet spot of childhood - no more toddler craziness and before the sturm und drang of adolescence. It feels good.

It’s about me

Korea, as the last two trips, was a dream. Great food, sight seeing, appreciative audiences, autographs, pictures with fans. It’s a good thing I’m a very grounded, practical person, or I could get used to that. I came home to a fair amount of jet lag and massive spaciness. A lot of day sleeping and continual forwarding of my to do list. Spoiler alert - nothing got done last week. But the kids made it to school every day, got hot dinners, and Bobby didn’t poop his pants. I’ll chalk that up to a win.

A lot of what kept me stymied last week was the sickening dread of Mother’s Day. I found myself getting pretty emotional and panicky about it. It started when, after planning a get together for the last year with two friends with problematic mothers, one of them bailed, and the other never said anything so I assume decided to bail, also. I was inordinately upset about it and it dragged me down all week. Also, it was chilly and gloomy here, I was jet lagged, and PMSing. In other words - the perfect cocktail to set me off on a tailspin. 

In a text conversation the BF reminded me to try to take the focus off of my own mother and put it on myself as the mother of these kids. I have tried to do this in the past but failed. But this time? This time I’m pissed. I’m sick of being a wreck on Mother’s Day. That woman robbed me of so many things - she doesn’t get to rob me of this, too. So I decided to do a little old school brain rewiring, which worked so well for me years ago to overcome intrusive thoughts, suicidal ideation, depression, panic disorder, etc. So for the last few days whenever I’ve been tempted to ruminate I fiercely redirect my thoughts with a simple, “no, this day is about me, not her,” and it’s been working. I find myself actually looking forward to it. It is my day, dammit. I earned this shit - from every labor contraction to every butt wiped, every hug given to every sassy comment endured. I get to have a day. And it’s delightful to be able to spend it with people who love and appreciate me. 

Now, who knows how tomorrow will actually go. But I think, much like the last time I took a stand against my self-abusive thoughts, that I’m just sick of them and ready to let them go. Sometimes you just have to be ready to move on. I think I am. I don’t want to be upset anymore. I’m tired of it. 

In other news, I’m looking forward to finally having my registration system switched over next weekend (hallelujah) so I can at last get into the work of running my business, I go to Portland next weekend, the kids have four weeks left of school, and I get to plant my edible garden on Thursday. 

And hey, you. HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, DAMMIT!

Home again, off again

This last weekend I had my annual trip to DC to sing with my orchestra. I got home late last night; tomorrow night I leave for Korea for a week. 

Of course this would have to happen right in the middle of field trips, teacher appreciation week, and homework packages due. I’m concerned the boyfriend will not be able to keep all of this straight no matter how explicitly I spell it all out. But this is one of those times I’m just going to have to breathe and let shit go. I’m getting free childcare for a week. Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth, shall we? 

Countdown to end of school has begun. I’m already looking at Theo’s charming little neighborhood school with some nostalgia. He’ll have only spent one year of his life there. Will he even remember it? Will he remember his teacher, their spring chicken hatching project, his friends? Probably not. One day soon we won’t be driving that way - over the train tracks, over the 110 freeway - anymore, instead only up the steep hill to Bobby’s school, which we’ll probably be driving to for seven more years. Leaving that school for the last time will be very emotional. 

And yet I still feel like I’m doing the bare minimum when it comes to these kids and their school days. I always pictured myself being super involved - making cookies, joining the PTA, volunteering in the classroom. And yet I find I barely keep up with the homework, permission slips, and school projects. I feel like I’m continually asking myself - where did all my free time go? Is it true that when you need something done, ask a busy person? Is all this free time I now have inversely proportionate to how efficient I am? 

I need a new purse, new underwear and socks, new bras. I need to figure out how to style my hair, I need to look into getting lash extensions so I can better get away with wearing no makeup. Mother’s Day is coming up, as is camping trips, Portland, New York, Germany, and Boston. My event is coming up and I am impossibly behind. Sigh. Well, at least I can go to Korea and focus on singing and not have to do anything else for several days!