Anna, high on the climbing wall at the 4th of July celebration in Lion's Park.
Decorating our American Flag cake.
My mom, demonstrating how to properly use a Snuggie.
The boys and cousin Reagan, enjoying the fireworks spectacular!
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Good Times In Indiana
Just a few pics of the fun we had in the heartland! It's nice to be back, but I really miss the old stomping grounds. I am dying to move to Indiana and homeschool again - it's my newest wish!
The boys and cousin Reagan, enjoying the fireworks spectacular!
The boys and cousin Reagan, enjoying the fireworks spectacular!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Latest Column
This is a similar, but expanded, post from my last one. More anecdotes from the wholesome midwest to come!
I recently embarked on a pilgrimage to my homeland of Indiana, not by Conestoga wagon like my ancestors (who include the great explorer Daniel Boone), but by Dodge Grand Caravan across the wilds of upstate New York and through Ohio, the most unremarkable state in the union.
Unlike days of yore when families and friends traveled in packs, I brought my children alone and somehow survived 20 hours of road travel and an overnight stay in a well-appointed Courtyard by Marriott the primitive way, without DVD player or hand-held electronic devices. But it is important to teach children of their roots, and what better way than a couple of weeks with relatives in another culture to help them learn.
“It’s so green here. And so much open space,” remarked my daughter, age 8. “It’s kind of creepy. Anything could just jump out of that cornfield at you.”
Now, I have never thought of Indiana as a creepy place. I grew up on a farm, complete with a 200-acre cornfield, where we would play Children of the Corn for hours, and hide from adult intervention. When I come back, I feel like my lungs can expand and I morph into a completely different person – the kids noticed this as well. “You’re so nice here, Mommy,” they say. “Can we have Indiana Mommy back home?”
I told them I will try, but it’s unlikely. While I love life in New England, with its sweet hamlets, rich history and the ocean, it’s a wholly different lifestyle – fast-paced and get-ahead quick – that I have to accustom myself to every time I leave and come back.
Yes, Indiana is mostly known for a car race (the Indy 500); farms; obese people in Spandex; and Michael Jackson. But the people are lovely. No one there cares if you were born there – they’re just glad you came by. The cashiers are friendly, and are genuine in their concern about your well-being. I am always surprised to find myself exchanging pleasantries with a check-out lady instead of hearing way too much information as she complains to the bag boy about her boyfriend, which seems to be the norm at the Stop and Shop.
People slow down and wave you in during rush hour on the highway. Roads are well-maintained; beautifully manicured parks and pools abound. There is sunshine galore and smiles wherever you look. It’s no wonder I always want to move back while we’re there. I am nicer, slower and more pleasant to be around in the Midwest, in part because people in Indiana do not cringe when I start to talk – there is a healthy respect for differing opinion decidedly not present in New England.
This is not to knock the life I have led in Amesbury for the last 10 years. I love the winding old roads, and the proximity to tax-free New Hampshire. The beaches are the best, and I cannot imagine going through life without a Newburyport just across a tiny bridge. But it’s hard sometimes to reconcile my upbringing as a Hoosier with the more rigid ways of the Northeast. I am glad my children get to see places where free-range behavior is encouraged and green expanses still exist. And here’s hoping, one day, I will figure out how to bring Nice Mommy back home.
I recently embarked on a pilgrimage to my homeland of Indiana, not by Conestoga wagon like my ancestors (who include the great explorer Daniel Boone), but by Dodge Grand Caravan across the wilds of upstate New York and through Ohio, the most unremarkable state in the union.
Unlike days of yore when families and friends traveled in packs, I brought my children alone and somehow survived 20 hours of road travel and an overnight stay in a well-appointed Courtyard by Marriott the primitive way, without DVD player or hand-held electronic devices. But it is important to teach children of their roots, and what better way than a couple of weeks with relatives in another culture to help them learn.
“It’s so green here. And so much open space,” remarked my daughter, age 8. “It’s kind of creepy. Anything could just jump out of that cornfield at you.”
Now, I have never thought of Indiana as a creepy place. I grew up on a farm, complete with a 200-acre cornfield, where we would play Children of the Corn for hours, and hide from adult intervention. When I come back, I feel like my lungs can expand and I morph into a completely different person – the kids noticed this as well. “You’re so nice here, Mommy,” they say. “Can we have Indiana Mommy back home?”
I told them I will try, but it’s unlikely. While I love life in New England, with its sweet hamlets, rich history and the ocean, it’s a wholly different lifestyle – fast-paced and get-ahead quick – that I have to accustom myself to every time I leave and come back.
Yes, Indiana is mostly known for a car race (the Indy 500); farms; obese people in Spandex; and Michael Jackson. But the people are lovely. No one there cares if you were born there – they’re just glad you came by. The cashiers are friendly, and are genuine in their concern about your well-being. I am always surprised to find myself exchanging pleasantries with a check-out lady instead of hearing way too much information as she complains to the bag boy about her boyfriend, which seems to be the norm at the Stop and Shop.
People slow down and wave you in during rush hour on the highway. Roads are well-maintained; beautifully manicured parks and pools abound. There is sunshine galore and smiles wherever you look. It’s no wonder I always want to move back while we’re there. I am nicer, slower and more pleasant to be around in the Midwest, in part because people in Indiana do not cringe when I start to talk – there is a healthy respect for differing opinion decidedly not present in New England.
This is not to knock the life I have led in Amesbury for the last 10 years. I love the winding old roads, and the proximity to tax-free New Hampshire. The beaches are the best, and I cannot imagine going through life without a Newburyport just across a tiny bridge. But it’s hard sometimes to reconcile my upbringing as a Hoosier with the more rigid ways of the Northeast. I am glad my children get to see places where free-range behavior is encouraged and green expanses still exist. And here’s hoping, one day, I will figure out how to bring Nice Mommy back home.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Going Home and Other Musings
So, I just traveled for 20 hours with three children to the wilds of Indiana, my homeland and place I both dread and love. The week I left to come home was a big one, with the loss of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett in the same day. One of my friends put it best when she said that the death of MJ was pretty much the signal of the death of the childhoods of my generation. Since my childhood is kind of what I like to recapture when I visit here, that made me a little sad.
Being me, I have been overthinking all the things that have changed about the place I grew up. My first night here, I spent a couple of hours laughing until I nearly wet my pants with my dearest friend Amy (you can look for an entire post about her here, if you wish). On my way back to get the kids from my mom's house, I passed my grandparent's old house. They lived there from the mid-1940s until their deaths, in 2001 and 2008. A strange car was parked there and it really hit hard that I would never attend one of their famous Wassail parties at Christmas, when they entertained more than 100 friends. I'd never sit by my Nana's bedside and listen to her wise words - she had polio and was bedridden her final years, but never had one negative word to say. I'd never make mischief with Pop, who made it clear I was the favorite grandchild and didn't care that the fact of it upset people. I had to pull over because the tears made it hard for me to see.
My childhood is indeed over, and my children's childhoods are going far too quickly. I look at them and wish I could start over - be kinder, let more things go. I often wonder if visiting their own ancestral home will be a happy trip. I certainly hope so!
I am going to enjoy my time here as much as I can. I tend to be a different person in Indiana. I think it's the logical way the cities are laid out, the expanse of cornfields, the friendliness of clerk and driver alike, the slower pace. My mood is different, more calm. I am a person people want to talk to, and don't cringe when I speak like some do in Massachusetts. I tend not to dwell on the horrors of my real life, and I make my plan to escape back here someday.
Sorry for the maudlin tone. I hope to regale my very few readers with some funny stories. There is a person I would love to see, but want him to mostly remember me as a cute 22-year-old and not the fat girl I have become. I don't know if he will read this, but he knows who he is, and I hope he will intitiate a meeting because I am too scared. I guess you can't really ever go back!
Anyway, off to bed after a long night swimming and enjoying time here in the Hoosier state.
Being me, I have been overthinking all the things that have changed about the place I grew up. My first night here, I spent a couple of hours laughing until I nearly wet my pants with my dearest friend Amy (you can look for an entire post about her here, if you wish). On my way back to get the kids from my mom's house, I passed my grandparent's old house. They lived there from the mid-1940s until their deaths, in 2001 and 2008. A strange car was parked there and it really hit hard that I would never attend one of their famous Wassail parties at Christmas, when they entertained more than 100 friends. I'd never sit by my Nana's bedside and listen to her wise words - she had polio and was bedridden her final years, but never had one negative word to say. I'd never make mischief with Pop, who made it clear I was the favorite grandchild and didn't care that the fact of it upset people. I had to pull over because the tears made it hard for me to see.
My childhood is indeed over, and my children's childhoods are going far too quickly. I look at them and wish I could start over - be kinder, let more things go. I often wonder if visiting their own ancestral home will be a happy trip. I certainly hope so!
I am going to enjoy my time here as much as I can. I tend to be a different person in Indiana. I think it's the logical way the cities are laid out, the expanse of cornfields, the friendliness of clerk and driver alike, the slower pace. My mood is different, more calm. I am a person people want to talk to, and don't cringe when I speak like some do in Massachusetts. I tend not to dwell on the horrors of my real life, and I make my plan to escape back here someday.
Sorry for the maudlin tone. I hope to regale my very few readers with some funny stories. There is a person I would love to see, but want him to mostly remember me as a cute 22-year-old and not the fat girl I have become. I don't know if he will read this, but he knows who he is, and I hope he will intitiate a meeting because I am too scared. I guess you can't really ever go back!
Anyway, off to bed after a long night swimming and enjoying time here in the Hoosier state.
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