Seasons for All

When My Sons Laugh

I wrote this post about my sons last July.  Nearly a year later and as my nest is about to become officially empty, I continue to marvel at the relationship my boys have with each other.  I honestly believe their relationship, which is indicative of cooperation, collaboration, and compassion, is my greatest success and it is my most significant contribution to this world.  Here's what I wrote last year. 

There are few things that bring me greater pride than the relationship my sons have with each other.  These two 20-somethings, who are 3 years and 3 months apart in age, could not be more different in personality, style, and demeanor.  They were different as night and day as babies, as little boys, and as teens.  While some of their current interests overlap, there are many differences between the two when it comes to their choosing how they spend their time. 

My older son likes to stay home.  That was true even before he was married with children.  My younger son is always looking to connect with friends, out and about.  But they both value family more than anything else in the world, a common attribute for which I take some credit and for which I feel very lucky.

I've always believed that my older son, who now has a family of his own, is an old soul.  He can see the world from afar and has a clear perspective of nearly everything he experiences.  He is so skilled at looking at the overall picture, that one of his grade school soccer coaches observed him coaching his teammates from the field.  But he wasn't moving as he offered directions to his teammates.  Rather, he would stand in the center of the field with his hands on his hips.  He saw clearing the strategy his team needed to score a goal, and he was directing his teammates accordingly.  After several minutes of this behavior, his coach got his attention by shouting out is last name.  Then he said quite loudly and clearly, "Get IN the game!"  That's my older son.  Sees the strategy and absorbs the detail; knows what needs to be done to reach the goal.  He is a home body who has kept friends he made beginning in the 3rd grade.  His humor is wise, dry, and always perfectly timed.     

My younger son is a younger soul.  He has always lived in the moment, filtering through a personal lens everything that happens to him and to others.  He is always on the go, is charismatic, and has an endearing quality about him that has attracted males and females of all ages to him all his life.  He makes friends easily and is a loyal friend to those he trusts.  His humor is physical in nature, and he has an uncanny ability to impersonate the rich and famous.  He began to perfect this talent when he was about 9 years old.  He could sound exactly like Elvis, Forrest Gump, Ace Ventura, and others.  What was fascinating though was that when I asked him to have Elvis impersonate Forrest Gump, he did it.  And he could then reverse it, Forrest Gump impersonating Elvis.  Perfection.  He has a keen ear for dialects and accents and, without preparation, he can instantly sound as though he is from somewhere other than Northern California.  A true talent.

Now, put these two together and it is quite the combination!  A few years ago, there was an opportunity for the 3 of us to converge from different corners of the community to lunch together.  Each of my sons would begin with their own style of humor, and in less than 3 minutes of our being together, I was laughing hysterically, complete with stomach muscles aching and tears rolling down my face. 

But even when I am not with them, my sons love to spend time with each other.  My younger son frequently heads to his brother's house on the weekends to spend time with his brother, sister-in-law, niece, and nephew.  When my sons are together, there is a synergy that is the result of pure chemistry.  That synergy was certainly combustible when they were growing up!, but there is a balance now that is constant.

The moments I love best are when my younger son is "performing" in some way, whether it is an impersonation or just teasing someone, and my older son is genuinely amused.  As my younger son experiences personally and makes the best of any given moment for the people who are in that moment with him, my older son is naturally detached and is observing all that is happening around him.  And, from afar while giggling nearly uncontrollably, my older son is in awe of his younger brother. 

When my sons are engaged and attentive to one another, it speaks volumes to the love, respect, and admiration they have for each other.  As their mother, I can think of no greater accomplishment I have achieved than fostering a relationship between siblings that will last a lifetime.  I just love it when my sons laugh. 

And on we go.

From the Mouths of Babes

After my grandson and I saw the Disney movie "Up" last week, I asked him if he would like to just walk around the mall with me.  He politely agreed.  I thanked him and told him that I had been sitting all day long and that I really wanted to do more walking.  I added that I don't walk enough most days.  To which he replied, "You should just get up in the morning, do your stuff, and then go for a walk." 

I didn't need to ask him what he meant by "do your stuff." He knows my routine in the morning always includes doing hair and makeup, making the bed, and eating breakfast.  

I've been thinking a lot about what my grandson told me.  I've decided that, in addition to recognizing his problem solving skills, his advice is absolutely right.  And now I'm reminded of that old adage: from the mouths of babes.  Indeed. 

Remembering Old Sonoma

During the summer when I was in grade school, my grandparents would take my sisters and me to what would now be considered a very shabby chic cottage.  At the time, it was known as a turn of the century shotgun house, i.e., every room in the house was lined up one after the other.  In our case, it was first the cooking porch, then the kitchen, then the dining room, and then the bedroom. 

A huge enclosed side porch was eventually built off one side of the house, it became the sleeping porch with 2 double beds and 3 twin beds, and what was once the bedroom became a small living room.  The house sits on an old fruit orchard, and the sweet smells of walnuts, apricots, plums, figs, and blackberries were always floating in the air. 

Inside, there was a Victrola in the dining room, a wood burning stove in the kitchen, and the drawers in every room held relics that were nearly as old as the house.  Summer nights were beautiful.  Balmy or windy, the trees glowed with now-vintage outdoor lights.  Well soaked blue hydrangeas lined two sides of the house, and flowerbeds were marked by whitewashed rocks that I recall painting early in the season with my grandfather. 

The neighbor who lived on the orchard next door had a pool and we were always welcome to swim there.  We swam in the neighbor's pool, picked blackberries that permanently stained our clothes, took trips into town for groceries, and catnapped outdoors on a huge blue mattress that was placed squarely underneath the branches of one of the walnut trees.  Upon arrival, my grandmother, who was born and raised in San Francisco and who wore hats and gloves to "The City" all her life, placed a cotton lined vinyl tablecloth on the huge picnic table located outside the cooking porch.  Lunch and dinner were always served outdoors.   

In the mornings, I remember waking up on the sleeping porch and feeling nearly paralyzed by the cold.  My grandparents were already awake and in the kitchen cooking breakfast.  They had lit the old stove whose job it was to heat the house room by room.  By the time we had our robe and slippers on and had brushed our teeth, a hot breakfast was ready.  In mismatched chairs, five of us would crowd around the little wooden table and began our day together. 

Some days turned hot very quickly, and the heat made us lazy.  There was no telephone.  The lone black and white television relied on rabbit ear antennae for reception and, at that, it was hit or miss.  There were a few very outdated magazines were in the dining room but the idea of reading anything, including of the books we had brought with us, wilted in the heat.  

A game or two of cards or Parcheesi on the picnic table would entertain us after dinner as the hot sun finally set for another day. We took baths in an old clawfoot tub and listened to the sound of crickets singing as we fell asleep at night.  

The drive home was equally country-like in that there were fruit stands peppered along the old highway.  We always arrived home with fresh fruit, dusty clothes, sun-kissed cheeks, and an appreciation for life in the country. 

Just like our days and nights in Old Sonoma, my memories of time spent there are quiet and sweet, summery and lingering.

   

Vacation Days with Grandchildren

I'm looking forward to the next few days.  While all days of a vacation are enjoyable, some are certainly more fun than others.  Today I'm spending the day with my 4-year old granddaughter.  We plan to head to one of my favorite places to shop in San Francisco where she'll want to shop for girly things like purses and shoes.  We'll have lunch and, depending on how much walking we do, she may fall asleep in the car on the way home.  I won't kid myself on that count though as she is a very energetic little girl.

On Wednesday, I'll pick up my 8-year old grandson from school and I'll take him to see the new Disney movie, Up.  I used to take my sons to matinees often and I'm looking forward to reviving that fun with my grandson.  We'll have popcorn and something to drink, then I'll get him home in time for him to do his homework and get a good night's sleep.

I don't often get to spend one-on-one time with my grandchildren and I'm so looking forward to these two days!

A Day to Remember

I spent some time today with my very cute grandchildren.  My 8-year-old grandson's softball game was canceled due to rain so he wanted to watch his 4-year-old sister at her gymnastics class.  He had fun watching her and she loved her class.  Then I took them out to lunch and on a couple of errands.  

As I drove them home, I played a CD they'd gotten with their lunch.  We did not know what to expect in terms of songs, but when the first track began to play, they were both visibly elated.  They recognized the song from a favorite television show.  And then they sang along with it.  The following two songs we all recognized and we all sang along.  As I was getting closer to their house, I asked if they were ready to go home or if they wanted to listen to music for a little while longer.  The music won. 

When we arrived at their house, my son met us at the car.  I'm so proud of him; he's such a great father.  I saw glimpses of my younger son today.  Our schedules are nothing alike, so we are like ships in the night passing each other at sea. 

Today would have been my father's 78th birthday.  I can't think of a nicer way to remember him on this special day than to spend time with my family.  Today is definitely a day to remember. 

Three Hour Phone Calls

My sister called tonight at 7:00 and we didn't hang up until 10:00.  There was so much to talk about, and the time seemed to fly by.

When my sons were growing up, she and I would often have lengthy late-night conversations that sometimes lasted until 2:00 a.m.  I so appreciated her input and we seemed to solve a lot of worldly problems back then.

There was much to discuss tonight, too.  Perspectives and considerations, intentions and outcomes.  I'm not certain we solved any worldly problems tonight, but we sure covered a lot of ground.  And hearing the lilt in her voice as we talk about family members we love dearly is one of the sweetest sounds on earth.

 

Twenty-seven Years Ago Today

It was twenty-seven years ago at 4:10 a.m. this morning that my first baby was born.  A boy weighing in at 6 lbs 9 oz and 20 in long.  I had wanted a son for years.  He was adorable and easy and slept through the night at 5 weeks old.  His aunt and I always thought he was an old soul, and as the years have passed, I have found our theory to be true.

Today he is over 6 feet tall, is married, and has two adorable children.  He has many very good friends, a few he's known since the third grade.  His number one value is family.  He has a dry sense of humor and impeccable timing.  He is brilliant at problem-solving.  He worked with ease 250-piece jigsaw puzzles at age 3 and has continued to be a natural at anything mechanical or spatially oriented.

Although he and his family live less than a mile from me, I always call him to sing Happy Birthday and to tell him how very proud I am of him.  When I talked to him today, I apologized for gushing and said I wanted him to know how much I love him.  He reminded me I say the same thing every year -- that I love him, I'm proud of him for who he is and what he is doing with his life. 

I don't mind repeating myself every year.  The sentiments are genuine, and now I know they're consistent, too.

Twenty-seven years ago today was the happiest day of my life.