On Saturday morning, we leave for Omaha, Nebraska for a friend's milestone birthday party. On Monday morning, Bear and I will head off for the Badlands (CD is flying back to Chicago to work).

I've never been to the Badlands. Although I've created one or two... more...

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:12 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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1 I am sorry it is so hard. You really are in a major life transition. A large part of how you defined yourself no longer exists. That seismic kind of shift can be very unsettling. When we are unsettled, it is much easier for us to lose our cool, to feel more out of control, to feel more helpless and frustrated. Please don't underestimate how much this change is affecting you and cut yourself some slack. You certainly deserve it. Bear is also adjusting, which I think also explains his change in behavior. I bet he probably doesn't fully understand what this new change means and he's testing to try and figure it out. His testing probably just makes it harder on you to feel settled and easier for you to get upset with him. I am actually struggling with something similar with my Okapis and it is really hard. My wife has been working two nights a week for the first time since they were born 3.5 years ago. I take care of them by myself those two nights and it is a little scary for them to not have Mommy and it is hard for me since I've just worked all day and now have to get them to bed on my own. I have a feeling we'll both figure this out, though. We're just too smart not to, right?

Posted by: JGS at June 20, 2006 01:43 PM (7OOQY)

2 Remember when you were dating a new guy, and for the first while everything was sooo wonderful? Everytime you managed to have time together, it was great. You spent time apart wishing you could see his smile. And then, inevitably, would come the weekend/road trip/holiday together. The first time you would spend all day, everyday, together. With no end in sight. Remember? Didn't you just about hate that guy by the end of time? But it got better. And you learned to just....be together, happy or sad. Good days and bad. Fun filled afternoons, and bathroom cleaning afternoons both. And maybe you even married him. I guess waht I'm saying is it will take time to adjust to "living together" rather than just "dating". But it's worth it.

Posted by: Tammy at June 20, 2006 07:10 PM (M++hX)

3 He's 5 almost 6, he's going to test you no matter what your relationship is. It's like the terrible two's only he's older. It's another transitional age milestone where he's also questing for some more independence. It's going to happen again only it will be worse because he'll be an adolescent. See ya' in two weeks in Madison. kisses - Auntie Marfa

Posted by: Auntie Marfa at June 21, 2006 12:15 AM (/qtT1)

4 Have a great trip! I think you are being hard on yourself with regard to Bear. First and foremost you are a person, and then you are a mom. It's okay to get upset, it's okay to get upset with Bear for not helping you! That's all so human. Just explain to Bear that when he makes mistakes, it is his job to ensure he helps you clean it up No apologies needed here, in my opinion. I am envious of your trip the Badlands!! Our neighbors leave for Alaska today to wed.

Posted by: Eyes for Lies at June 21, 2006 09:52 AM (L67iN)

5 Have fun in Omaha! I miss it there so much. I moved to Oklahoma a year ago. If you get some time you should go to the zoo. Bear would love it!

Posted by: angela neer at June 22, 2006 07:30 AM (g/KvV)

6 funny cause I call my husband BEar and my baby little bear! came by so the fish!

Posted by: mrsmogul at June 26, 2006 02:40 AM (S8ofP)

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What an amazing weekend. more...

Posted by: Elizabeth at 01:56 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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It was around now, so many years ago it seems, that I first met CD. more...

Posted by: Elizabeth at 06:12 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Growing up, in sandy New England. School would let out, and my mom would drag out that canvas beach bag - like the ones they sell at Land's End? Over weeks, the layer of sand in the bottom would rise, no matter how much she'd knock it out at the end of the days.

Sweaty plastic bottles of juice. Bags of chips and carrot sticks. Towels that were always a little damp. T-shirts and romance novels and beach toys and plastic sunglasses.

And there were swimming lessons and half-day camps and play dates. And hours upon hours at the pond or the beach. Sunburnt cheeks with smears of zinc, sea glass and "perfect" rocks that we'd beg to take home, and long rides in the car to and fro and the hot vinyl seats and the radio blasting and licking popsicles we got from the ice cream man.

I spent all of my 20's together/apart with my first love. There are so many reasons why love wasn't enough. The most abiding reason was our different dreams. Of my dream, of being that mom. Of that child in the backseat singing along as we played the radio loud. Of a canvas bag full of sand and treasures, swimsuits under our t-shirts, flip-flops slapping as we walked.

You'll remember me when the west wind moves /
Among the fields of barley /
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky /
When we walked in fields of gold

And there have been have been five summers since Bear was born. Five summers that I have tried to be that mother to him while being the professional woman I also was. Five summers of me in slacks, on the other side of a fence and watching. Five summers of my telling him to be quiet as I drove with a teleconference hanging in my ear. Five summers of dropping him off, and picking him up later. Of hearing him and Elia through the window as they splashed through the sprinkler in the backyard, and blocking them out so I could concentrate.

I never made promises lightly /
And there have been some that I've broken /
But I swear in the days still left /
We will walk in fields of gold /
We'll walk in fields of gold

While I believe, with all my mind and conviction, that there is no right way to do it - Lord knows that I have never been at peace with the path my mothering was taking. I am just not that good at multi-tasking, that I ever felt like I was doing justice to all my roles.

And more than that, it is never far from my mind that I will get one childhood with this boy. A handful of summer nights standing outside the ice cream place licking the melting chocolate chips from our fists. And then it will be time for him to join his friends, his own children, his destiny.

Five summers gone, already.

This summer comes at the expense of our savings and, maybe, a little bit of our security. I lay awake some nights, listening to the fan twirl, pushing away the feeling of panic. Of what happens in September.

But yesterday, as we drove home from the swimming pool with Bear licking his bomb pop in the backseat, with freckles over the light tan on my arm, with a familiar song on the radio. We were plotting the summer. Our plan to visit all 50 states before he is 10 years old. We're up to 16, and it was serious discussion to figure out where to next. About the Grand Canyon, and hunting dinosaur bones.

... I realized that I finally had my dream.

We pulled into the driveway, in the warm afternoon sun. His lips were bright blue and red, the towels damp over the seats. CD came out and lifted him from the van while I gathered everything up into my big bag.

Inside, the shadows were long and the house was quiet. As his father dressed him in dry clothes and tucked him in for a nap, Bear chattered softly about the ordinary adventures of a mid-June day.

I leaned against the wall with a smile.

They say: be careful what you wish for, you just may get it. Well, after 20 years of deaming, this one has come true.

It is a joy as fleeting as a summer. And worth every moment in gold.

Many years have passed since those summer days /
Among the fields of barley/ See the children run as the sun goes down /
As you lie in fields of gold

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:58 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
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1 Wanted to point you in the direction of a new magazine called "Wonder Time". It's about the things you are talking about...making the time with your kids count, be memorable, fun, and educational. I have devoured the 2 issues I've read - lots of inspiration and practical ways to be present, instead of looking over the fence. http://wondertime.go.com/

Posted by: Cheryl at June 14, 2006 05:23 AM (Cd3JM)

2 Well, if you ever decide to drive through the armpit of a state I live in, you've got a place to stay. Congratulations on living the dream.

Posted by: ieatcrayonz at June 14, 2006 06:27 AM (FLJz9)

3 Your post made me cry. Thank you for putting to words whatI've been striving for and what I want to keep right in front of me no matter what else comes my way.

Posted by: mommytowahid at June 14, 2006 09:49 AM (Gfg5h)

4 What a lovely, lovely post. You've hit the nail on the head...we only get one chance at our kids' childhoods. We'll muddle through and make mistakes together, but it's the being there that's important. Thanks for your post, Elizabeth. For validating all of the parents who fend off the soul-killing comments from people who think that hanging out with the kids is "doing nothing".

Posted by: paige at June 14, 2006 10:52 AM (CLVcc)

5 That's beautiful and scary all at the same time. It is going by so fast and this is the only childhood we'll experience with them. In a strange way it feels harder with twins because they both grow so fast and we just don't know when or whether we'll ever have another one (or two again). There is something powerful about trying a create the kind of special childhood we didn't experience growing up, creating the kind of family we always wanted, being for our children what we needed ourselves. It is both powerful and painful. The dichotomy of parenting.

Posted by: JGS at June 14, 2006 02:50 PM (7OOQY)

6 What a great post! THat is what summer is all about. Really. I wish you a lovely summer with lots of Bear adventures!

Posted by: Laura at June 14, 2006 04:05 PM (FzMzF)

7 I'm so happy that you have finally gotten this life that you've wanted, Elizabeth. You keep on enjoying; I'll keep on enjoying your writing about it.

Posted by: Kimberly at June 14, 2006 05:04 PM (CXd4V)

8 stunning words. true thoughts. thank you.

Posted by: gigi at June 14, 2006 05:27 PM (edeSB)

9 That was beautiful, Elizabeth. Enjoy every minute of your field of gold.

Posted by: Tammy at June 15, 2006 04:47 AM (M++hX)

10 Beautiful post, Elizabeth! These memories will stay with him for the rest of his life too.

Posted by: Michele at June 15, 2006 05:13 AM (5VGFA)

11 It's been awhile since I checked in on your site and I'm really glad to see you're enjoying life. This is beautiful, even made me a little teary-eyed.

Posted by: MJH at June 15, 2006 05:23 AM (CAFzk)

12 What a beautiful post. It certainly was a joy to read.

Posted by: Mia at June 15, 2006 07:05 AM (KpADZ)

13 Thank you for such a beautiful post, I can only type these words through a veil of tears. So. Sweet. You'll ALWAYS have your memories and those are more important than any amount of money. xoxo

Posted by: Margi at June 15, 2006 11:42 AM (BRtaN)

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Back when we were first dating, when we were lovers in our off-hours and our respective companies made us associates during the workdays... sometimes I would visit CD at his job.

It was a small shop full of geeks and nerds and strange men on strange drugs who had inflatable women in the back of their vans for those special lunches (yes, really). It would be too easy to say in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man... and untrue. Because CD was 20/20 and respected for his skills and quiet leadership.

I fell in love with that man. At a time when I thought I would never fall in love again. But I did. With him.

Then the years slip off the calendar, and my husband was ill, Depressed and unplugged. I thought it was sloth, or an excuse, or something hateful. I thought, what happened to the guy I married - who would work until 2AM to make sure the job was done right?

And by last year, I realized that weekends had become these crazy pockets. The cell phone in my purse, my email on alert, and I would grab Bear and go. Birthday parties, and errands, and adventures. Trying to stuff a week's worth of physical attention into crazy days. CD along for the ride, usually driving. Sometimes sniping.

I lived on the edge of everything, popping Tylenols and Motrins. I left the cleaning and whatnot to the day-to-day Elia and occasional hired maid service. Dry cleaners for everything except underwear. And jammies. Dinner from a restaurant. Sometimes lunch, too.

This is how you make it as a single parent on the corporate ladder. Outsource as much as possible, race to make all the ticks on the calendar, multi-task like a demon, and never really have a moment when you feel like all's right with the world.

But now CD is back, not the same but more whole than I can remember. And Bear and I have hours in each other's company without a to-do list. The money's gone, Elia's gone, and dinner is whatever I cook.

We putter and stall. Hours of housework then hours of nothing. We stutter a rhythm hasn't found its beat.

CD wants a leaf blower, but we can't afford one. The tree has barfed its annual spring tonnage of little green florets all over our cars and the driveway. Last year, we swept it all a couple of times. This year, the load is greater.

He drags out the wet/dry vac and I say "If you're hauling that out, then please vacuum the cars." He nods without looking up.

Back in the house, Bear passes by me with a hamper.

It's dinner time, but we're not hungry. I made late brunch and late snacks and the sun is up and no one wants to stop and eat. Fine.

Chores are left ignored. Piles and piles of clothes cleaned and folded need putting away. The kitchen floor needs washing. The beds need changing. I head into Bear's room and he's filled up his hamper with the contents of his dresser. He mulishly doesn't make eye contact.

"I am running away from home," he tells me fiercely, tugging the hamper behind him.

"Oh," tiredly, as I follow him out of curiousity.

"Yes, I am going to live in the van. For real," he drags the clothes down the front steps and I see he has set up a bed for himself in the front seat of the minivan.

I also notice that my husband is intently vacuuming the green shit off the driveway. He is halfway done.

Bear pulls his hamper into the van and then closes himself in, locking the doors and giving me a look that dares me to challenge his kingdom.

It's almost 6PM and I close my eyes. Easy math says this family is farther behind today than we were last night.

I sit down on the front steps in the breeze of a long shadow. Breathe deep, heart hurting. I tell you, I can not stop the voice inside of me that says this doesn't feel right. And I argue back to myself that the feeling of right comes and goes, and more often the former over the latter.

The chicken is marinating. The sky is blue. A long time ago, I fell in love with a man who is currently vacuuming a driveway. And we made the child who just marched past me with a suitcase and a plastic blue light saber, off to his new home in our minivan.

This is now.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 11:57 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
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1 You should know, Elizabeth, that it doesn't feel quite right for any of us. I've been a stay-at-home mom for three years now and am by all accounts, deliriously happy. Yet I cry more than I ought to and wish things were different sometimes, too. Wish people were different. Wish my husband could relate to me on a different level. Other times, of course, everything seems perfect and lovely and I have the greatest husband and family imaginable. That's life, I suppose...

Posted by: Lucinda at June 04, 2006 01:39 PM (OPvIN)

2 It's time to cut down the trees, literally and figuratively.

Posted by: ieatcrayonz at June 04, 2006 02:24 PM (cm3lo)

3 You are a wonder writer. I feel the same way sometimes about where my life is and is headed. Thank you for keeping to the blog active.

Posted by: mommytowahid at June 04, 2006 11:11 PM (Z71CG)

4 I wish we could take down that damn tree. Believe it or not - we can't afford it. It is 100 years old and massive and sits squarely in our little front yard. That wanted almost 1000 bucks (and a town permit) to do it. Not that we haven't considered a chainsaw in the night.... heh. Thanks for the comments - they brightened up a surreal day

Posted by: Elizabeth at June 04, 2006 11:34 PM (Lkn2Y)

5 As long as Bear doesn't take the keys with him... The tree is beautiful and messy, but then life in general is beautiful and messy. And so is love. Sometimes it really would be good to cut the tree down, but then again, maybe it would be good to stand in the shade on a hot day and look up and the leaves and the clouds between the branches instead of down at the litter. Or sometimes, the best thing to do is to grab your light saber and head for the mini-van. Bear may be on to something, there.

Posted by: Laura at June 05, 2006 12:11 AM (FzMzF)

6 I don't know what to tell you. I feel for you, but I still think you are settling. For what, I don't know. Something has to change.

Posted by: Tammy at June 05, 2006 03:47 AM (M++hX)

7 Adjustments take time, more time than we would like to allow. Mine took much longer than anyone would have liked. Yet, when you are there, you know it. Perseverance is the key, don't give up. You are doing a great job, even if you don't see it. Our kids don't always remember the things we do. They tend to remember the good days over the bad. Parenting is tough, yet it is the most rewarding job I have ever done. Be blessed today.

Posted by: Tonya at June 05, 2006 04:52 AM (th+Mi)

8 Oh, Elizabeth! I've worked full time, stayed at home, worked part time (still doing that). None of it has ever felt completely right. Sometimes, some days, it does. Sometimes, somedays, I think nothing will ever be right again. Ms. Frizzle is right, life is about making mistakes and getting messy together. We're all stumbling along in this enterprise of life, together. Just do the best you can...it will be enough. Assume that the people around you are also doing the best they can...it will be enough. Sometimes, all you can do is all you can do...you have to give yourself permission for that to be enough. Occasionally, though, I wish I had a better handbook for this life thing...

Posted by: paige at June 05, 2006 05:26 AM (95haa)

9 I will just back up what others have said. I don't think it ever feels "right." There are days when I wish I had a job and regular adult conversation but then there are those days, the days that make the difference, when I am so glad to be at home and know that I couldn't give it up for anything. I remember, shortly after we moved into this house, Emma moved into one of her closets (the one with the light of course). There was a lot of stess in our lives (I was pregnant with Ethan and things were always so tense) but we tried to keep it from Emma. Somehow she felt it and went to her favorite place with her Disney Princess sleeping bag, Pooh blanket, and baby. Like others have said - life is messy. It's only less messy when you can freely communicate your feelings ... and then every one picks up a broom and starts to sweep. Much love.

Posted by: Michele at June 05, 2006 08:37 AM (5VGFA)

10 I've been lurking for quite a while, but this post had me grinning. I remember my son at Bear's age, packing up his little "Going to Grandma's" suitcase with a pair of socks, a pair of underwear, his favorite rock, and as many stuffed animals as he could cram into the tiny thing. He made the grand announcement that I just wasn't a good mommy because he hated broccoli, and that he was moving out to live in the tree. I tried to look appropriately heartbroken while I tried not to choke laughing and packed him some lunch. He decided about an hour later that I was really a good mommy because I remembered that he liked grape jelly and not that other stuff with the lumps (strawberry!). Enjoy every moment! love the new masthead, btw. Myles

Posted by: Myles at June 05, 2006 12:21 PM (6HOJl)

11 Since he's moving in the van, maybe he could pick up dinner occasionally.... Kidding aside, I agree with the rest of the folks - change just takes time. You went from working full time to: Not. At. All. Just a quick story: I have a friend who has 2 children and she doesn't work. She's married to a loving husband who is very successful yet she told me she find herself staring into the mirror every morning saying: I love my life. I love my life. I love my life. The "other side" is never what we think it's going to be, whether we put ourselves there or was put there. You'll find your groove.

Posted by: Mia at June 06, 2006 02:21 AM (wHvMK)

12 I do not typically begrudge myself the sacrifices that my entire family must make to have me as the breadwinner (by far) for our family. After all, I derive a certain amount of pleasure/fulfillment/satisfaction from my career. After all, being a working mother was what I always envisioned for myself. After all, my mother was a single mom with no choice but to work - and who worked two jobs for years - and I turned out fine. After all ... But this morning I was rushing because I had a meeting I could not be late for and was just rushing, rushing, rushing my girls (2 and 4) all morning and then out of the door, and all day I have been wondering when/whether/if I have my priorities straight? Will be headed home early (around 7 or 7:30 pm) to give lots of hugs/kisses. Here's another thought: after all, if I did not have a demanding career, I would have to deal with the tattered fragments of my marriage. (and the Internet gasps...). You are not alone, E!

Posted by: Monica C. at June 06, 2006 06:24 AM (gkN3L)

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I want to thank the many who commiserated over Darth Vader's CD's housework lament. (I mean, commiserated with me. ME!) And the great advice - all of which we read, and digested, and discussed.

I am happy to report: Truce has befallen. (Um, can a truce befall? Is there a better verb for this? Yes? No? OK, then, moving along.)

In the end, CD decided after many teeth-crunching days & nights that perhaps not so much with telling me I need to be a better housewife. In fact, maybe a little more with him folding the laundry and loading the dishwasher and hoovering every rug in sight.

To sum up: we worked a compromise. The cornerstone being - trust. That each of us will do as we can, with both being ultimately responsible for all.

That tingling you're feeling right now? Yeah, that's mine. Peace and relief from every pore. Have at it.

I thought we were going to end up in some prehistoric battle (cue the "King Kong" sound effects) but the light, she's been seen.

Ahhhhhh.

I don't care if he looked into the deep abyss that was my outrage and scampered back to the land of reasonable out of sheer terror, or actually had one of those Dr. Phil "light bulb" moments. Either way, I've got a spring in my heart and a song in my step.

Of course, it's hard to find much wrong with the world now that the frigging heat wave has broken and it's finally less than 90F outside and the flowers are blooming and the world is beautiful.

I might be moved to muse angrily on the fact that it was the ex-Catholic Priest Pedophile across the street that gave us our lovely peony bushes (back when we just thought they were "the nice guys").

But who can be angry at such beauty?

So, Monday was Memorial Day. We remembered this year that it is Elmhurst that puts on the best parade around and high-tailed it over there just in time. In between countless somber reminders of those we were there to honor - as Lincoln said, "gave the last full measure of devotion" ... they throw candy for the kids.

Bizarre. But true.

Apparently the crack-smoking monkeys at parade central figured Memorial Day needed some kind of 'hook' and thus the tradition was born of politicians pelting small children with tootsie rolls that melt in their pockets and, forgotten there, then destroy entire loads of laundry.

Bear, of course, got a front-row seat on the curb. Scored a baseball-hat full. His father was so proud.

Being a long, hot weekend (and us without central air), we hit the beach. (Well, not so much me. CD built me a cave out of an umbrella and towels. From whence I cheered and watched and took lots of pictures of the muchly hatted and sunscreened family.)

And finally, our good moods like ginger ale stayed fizzy long enough that when Bear announced to me on Wednesday that "tomorrow is Flipsy's birthday!", I nodded and said "okay, let's have a party!"

And so it was that the ladies in the bakery department inscribed a cake for a stuffed animal....

...that was enjoyed by the boy.

You'll notice that poor Flipsy (the blue wooly mammoth) and his other best buddy EliaBear were unable to taste the delightful cake (mostly due to both their mouths being sewn shut. Also? they're inanimate. Not like you didn't know, but in case you wondered...)

Flipsy was also unable to enjoy his birthday gift - a Matchbox car that Bear picked out for him and paid for with his own money. Luckily, Bear was able to have fun with it on behalf of his furry friend.

It was a nice way to end a week that also included Yoga class and family dinners and many tickle fights.

If it sounds like I am saying that life, right now, seems sweet? It is because it is.

The shock of it, like the chocolate and buttercream frosting of a little birthday cake, surprises me too.

What happened to the goth Corporate Mommy?

The black silk pants and over-scribed dayplanner?

Have I taken a nutty?

I dunno.

It's not like I've gone utter daft. I mean, I know what day it is and where I live and who the President should be. (*cough*)

I am clear-eyed about the impending doom of dwindling savings and the void of an unplanned future.

And I know that this doesn't sound or even feel like me. At all. Not the usual and depended-upon Elizabeth Blair York, über Project Manager. But you know what?...

After this week, when the steadily dwindling darkness finally gave way fully to day...

I have come to this new philosophy honestly. Really.

I don't know what comes next in life. I tried searching, but have now realized that the path to the next dot on my life's map will probably not be forced. It will be discovered, with an open heart, in its own time. Let the tides of life ebb and flow. I give myself to parades and giggles and a mountain of laundry (that he will fold).

I walked away from success and security.

And found faith that something better is ahead.

Hell.

Something better is now.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 11:36 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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