Unfinished business - Circe's Daughter

My new book cover design

Writing this blog every day has taken some serious discipline. This summer, I need that discipline to get my novel finished. So, I've decided to take a summer break from blogging every day and use that energy to get this novel done. All three boys will be in summer day camp for 8 weeks which will free up every day to really hunker down to the keypad. It's a true sequel to my last book The Aquanauts, tentatively called Circe's Daughter, that is written for young adults and adults. (Let me know if you find the cover I designed intriguing.)

I'm so glad, dear readers, that you enjoy the trials and tribs here at Tricorn acres and I'm really happy to have you here leaving comments, checking in, and just quietly keeping tabs. The good news is, I'm not going to disappear. I'll write a weekly post and maybe some odd bits here and there in between to keep everyone informed on the doins' at our looney bin. I'll see if I can get Tio or Kit to guest blog, post some pictures, maybe some novel excerpts, flute videos, relate the odd funny bit of kiddie antic, and in no time at all (but actually 3 months) I'll be back full time when the boys start school. Both Kit and Tio will be starting new schools and Doc will be in grade one. That's three BIG changes in their world.

To stay in touch without having to click every day wondering if I posted, you can watch for my Facebook and Twitter links, create an RSS link, subscribe on Blogger to get updates, or - if you like - you can send me an email address and I'll be happy to notify you when I post. My email is 18k(at)comcast.net. (You have to replace the 'at' with '@' - this is to keep spam robots from finding me.)

It's been a long haul getting this book done. It'll either be a new genre of hard SF that takes the literary world by storm, or a pink slipped manuscript that sits in the reject file. Whatever happens, it's time to get it done so I can move on to other projects. 

Wish me luck. Have a great summer everyone. I'll see you next week.

Sex Ed. 101 - is friending a girl the same as girlfriending?

It's been a week since Tio has been trying to define love and why he should have a girlfriend. Last night we talked about the ideas he'd had and what he thought. In the end he couldn't define the diffence between love and a strong friendship. Not surprising, as most adults have a hard time with that one, too. In fact, lots of adults don't think that one has anything to do with the other - but that's a different story.

The point of this exercise was to get him thinking and find a place where he can start to explore an emotional relationship and I can be comfortable knowing it won't get out of hand. I did most of the talking, needless to say, to impress upon him that this is complicated and the beginning of a lifelong effort to relate to the opposite sex. I don't want him getting off on the wrong foot, getting deeply hurt, hurting someone else, or (gulp) getting prematurely sexually active. I told him I want him to understand and respect girls better than most guys seem to. I want he to know that I'm not trying to keep him from girlfriending, but make sure it is a positive, and appropriate, experience.

All the while that we talked, the rest of the house was quiet. Too quiet. I made loud jokes with Doc about not giving Kit dessert and sending him to bed early and still no peep. I knew he wasn't far off listening intently. Finally, Doc spotted him in the corner with a book.

"I was reading," he insisted.
"Me, too," said I.
"Me, too," said Tio.
"Seriously," Kit protested, "I was reading!"
"Me, too," Doc piped up.

Later, at the ball game, I told Kit I was glad he was listening and asked if he understood any of it.
"No," he said, "A little,maybe."

The big test will be tomorrow when I tell Tio I want him to write out what he thought I was telling him. Then we'll know who was really paying attention.

Reflecting on what it's all about

I've been blogging about our family and the grandkids every day for 7 months now and have touched on subjects from deeply psychological to plain amusing. After spending so much time shaking issues out of the trees, I'd like to stop and take a short breath to mention just how much I love my grandsons.

Here I am at the park watching little Doc while he winds up the swing for a spin ride. He got the chain wound tighter than the elastic band on a balsa airplane and just before lifting his feet off the ground, says, "Man, is this going to be sweet". All I can do is smile at the little hooptie and hope that he doesn't grow up too fast.

All three of these boys are wonderful people and will be wonderful men. They are strong, affectionate, smart, and look at life in their own unique sense of humor and perspective. Their strength will come from these things and serve them all their lives.

I love them like I love their father, like I love my wife, like I love wind and rain and sun and laughter. They bring joy to our lives and cheer to my heart. They are my friends, my passion, and our future.

We are blessed. We are loved. I never take that for granted.

There's always something to learn about your grown children.

The longer I live with Buddy as an adult the better I can understand how he sees the world through his hyperactive lens. Working with Kit and his therapy also makes the picture clearer.

Yesterday, while feeling sick, I asked Buddy to do a couple of small jobs I could't get to for the kids. No problem, he said, and I returned to bed. This morning both jobs were only half done. It wasn't that he didn't mean to get to them or that he completely forgot. It's simply that any change, big or small, to his routine is difficult.

He does fine with work because expecatations and routine are set. Life with the kids is another story. You can't set up a daily regiment with kids and expect it to unfold the same way twice. So Buddy gets overwhelmed. He juggles lunch and play time and chores and errands and then supper and bedtime as though it were linear: one thing following another. It's difficult to start supper at 2, let it cook while he takes the boys out, change plans if irains, drops off his laundry and then scoot back to the house check on supper, play a board game and set the table while sorting out an argument before getting everyone fed and off to the next thing. Add in my small requests threw a monkey wrench (adjustable spanner) into his engine.

This was the way he grew up and it seems that he still struggles with it. But now, as his father, I'm discovering a chance to help him move past it. The more that life here becomes stable, his routine ordered, and the kids do well, his natural hyper tendencies calm down. While it's hard to dump more things into his routine without creating problems, introducing things methodically, rather than springing them on him, will help him lead a fuller home life with his sons.

In sickness and in health

Spring housecleaning around here seems to mean everyone getting a stomach bug that runs through us like a howling wind. Buddy was tossing his guts out last week and Tish was bedridden for 4 days, Tio has a bit of ear ache, and I've been feeling the grumblings of my inner warthog. Kit and Doc have managed to stay clear so far and we can only cross our fingers that it stays that way.

The beast caught up with me today and whacked me over the head hard enough to knock me out. I'm never ready for an illness to keep me in bed sleeping for 20 straight hours. It happens to us all and regularly enough that we shouldn't be surprised. But I always am. It was my day off and I had plans to do a bunch of stuff. I didn't have the energy to even regret getting none of it done.

Here it is the middle of the night and I feel almost fully recovered and look back at the day as though it never happened at all. I suppose that's one of the safety features of the human condition: when we're healthy we rebound far enough that we don't feel the effects of our illnesses. Otherwise, we might live from one sickness to the next.

Keeping both feet on the ground

I hate shoes. As soon as the weather is warm enough to shed them, I go barefoot until the snow flies again. I'm not sure why but I feel a natural connection with the the earth through my feet that keeps me grounded both literally and emotionally. I walk and run on stones, grass, pavement, flooring or whatever. It's been this way all my adult life, and I'm always feel disappointed when the cold weather returns cursing me to bind my feet up in shoes again. I don't even like sandals although I settle for them when I need something on my feet in stores, restaurants and, public toilets.

I don't know anyone else like this. At least, I don't see any other bare feet wandering the streets or under cafe chairs or padding along the ballfield watching their kids play. Everyone has shoes and boots and arch protectors and gel soles while I plod along in nothing at all.

I've been told that the body's nerve endings pass through the soles of your feet and by massaging different parts you can diagnose, help and even cure certain organ ailments. I had a traditional Chinese foot massage in Beijing once and it did nothing for me. I guess I didn't enjoy being handled. But I wonder if my barefootin' connects all these nerves to the Earth to keep me centered.

Right now, while I'm wearing black nail polish in solidarity with Kit's summer of Goth, I suppose my feet stand out even more in public than usual. Not that I've ever cared about that. While at the ballgame tonight sharing stories with a great-grandmother watching her young descendent pitch against Tio, she caught a glimpse of my feet and said "aren't you hip." She could have been saying "It takes all kinds."

I guess I'm officially a member of "all kinds" now, like old ladies with blue hair and old men with nipple high trouser belts.

Is 12 too early to fall in love?

The older boys each have a Facebook page and I keep tabs on them to make sure there are no predators or inappropriate activity. Kit talks with his mom and shares pictures of Lady Gaga. No problem there. Tio IM's his friends and gets a bit out of hand in talking with his 'girlfriend'. We've discussed that he's too young for dating and that if he responds too strongly with her that the FB page, like the phone, would become a piece of history.

Well, down it came. He immediately started looking for bargains to make to get it back but this isn't the first, second, or third time around this track and I said so. However, in thinking about it I wondered if there was an opportunity here to learn something - both of us.

"You keep doing this because you think I'm wrong about you being too young for love, right?"
He agreed.
"Then, I want you to spend this week on our academic writing time making an argument for love. Explain what love is to you, why you believe you're really in love, and what is different here than with all the other girls you've "dated". If you can convince me you understand what you're talking about or that what you're feeling here is appropriate, I'll reconsider."
"You're on!" he said.
I said he'd have to make a legitimate case, not just a half baked essay that ends with 'because'.

Tonight he wrote out the definitions of love, affection and devotion. We talked about that and I gave him things to consider about how that affects him personally. This will be a tough sell for him. We've discussed it before and he couldn't explain the difference between love and friendship. We'll see how he does here.

Does anyone out there have experience along these lines with a child so young?

An old man in the making

Wild "Doc" Hickock

All Doc needs is a cigar, a golf bag, and an El Dorado and he'd be ready to retire in Miami.

A very long day.

Man, what a day. And it's only four o'clock.

Tish got some kind of stomach bug yesterday and it's been eating a whole through her all night. She still hasn't been able to get out of bed. So when I got into bed last night at 3 am, I had to set my alarm for 6:30 to get the kids up and off to school. I fed the dogs and fell over for a nap because I had a meeting 50 miles away at noon. When I woke up at 10, Tio called to say he has practice at 4 and needs his equipment. I got home from my meeting at 2, took care of the dogs and made some toast for Tish then caught another quick catnap until 3:30 to rack my night's sleep total up to 5 big ones, picked Doc up at the bus stop and got down to the ballfield with the cleats and glove.

On the way down here Doc was doing his usual incessant nattering, made up mostly of inane questions he knows bug me. Stuff like: "Where's Dad?" or "Why is it cloudy out?" and "Is this the soft top on the Jeep?". Fortunately, the Jeep (which I put the soft top on for the summer last weekend) is noisy and I couldn't hear him very well. We got to the park and just as he starts running to the playground he announces, "I think I'll stay home tomorrow and ask you a lot of questions." Thanks, I'm thinking, if only it was my birthday cause it's what I always wanted.

I've got a few minutes now to write my blog before we pick Kit up, then I'll hustle everybody home to make supper, hang a load of laundry up, feed dogs, cook something for Tish if she's well enough to keep any food down, and have just enough time to read bedtime stories for Doc before we head back down to the ballpark for Tio's game at 8. We'll get home again around 10, where I'll settle the boys in for the night and creep down to work in my flute shop until 2 or 3.

Just a typical day in the hood.


PS> I'm about to upload and it's 12:20 am and I just got down to the shop. The baseball game got delayed in the middle because of lightning and we didn't get home until 11:30 when I made some hungry boys sandwiches. Then I hung up more laundry and checked in on Tish, who still isn't doing much better.

Man, what a day.

Mea culpa

Earlier this week I let my anger and frustrations with Debbie's family get the better of me. In Tuesday's blog "Help police! I'm being spoken to", I related my frustration that Auntie would ask for a favor and then insult me for it. Rather than drop it, I let it get under my skin and should have just dropped it.

Knowing how Debbie's family uses police intervention to resolve problems, I should have expected to see them at my door even before I tried to talk with Auntie. This is the second time we've had them send the authorities to our home for no good reason except to provoke: the child services investigation last month - for which we just received their report that the allegations were completely false; and the police visit this week, also completely uncalled-for.

I owe the biggest apology to Kit. This has brought back anxieties for him of less safe environments by putting him in the middle of something that shouldn't have happened in the first place. In all the years that he's visited or lived here I can't recall any instance of the cops coming other than when I reported our being threatened by a loose dog on a bike ride last year. But they've seen the police show up at all their other homes too many times, sometimes ending in disaster where one parent was removed or precipitating in them having to move homes.

So, I apologize to my readers for engaging in this. I mean this to be a blog that speaks of the hard things as much as happy ones. So, one of the hard truths is that I can react badly as much as the next person when my back is up - much as I wish I didn't. I apologize to my family for allowing this to get out of hand when I know better. Mostly, I apologize to the boys for bringing this crap back into their lives.

The bane of modern life

Alcohol and drug addiction is a scourge, a plague and a pox on all our houses. We pass it around like a virus without even knowing it, like the guy at the meeting who coughs his flu on everyone in the room. Some will pick it up and others are immune but he got it somewhere and now you got it, too.

My dad was an alcoholic. At the age of 8 gave me my first sip of beer. I remember the occasion very well, sitting on his knee in our sunroom, a tall glass of fizzy Carling O'Keefe in his hand. I thought it tasted wonderful - probably a very bad sign. As a young teenager, my older brother got me smoking marijuana. He thought it was such a wonderful thing he couldn't help but share. He spread it around to everyone. In my turn I took the insidious disease to my friends and gave it to them. Some of us got better, some became carriers and simply passed it along, while others stayed addicted and constantly sick. With effort, I've managed to keep my drinking moderate and shook off the reefer altogether.

Buddy got addicted to cocaine in high school and managed to kick it for a time. When a doctor prescribed oxycontin as a painkiller, it dragged him back into the pit of desperate need. It took him a few years, a lot of collateral damage along the way, and all the willpower he could muster to kick it again.

And so the stories go. My introduction to abuse was at home, Buddy's was not. It amounts to the same thing in the end. Someone or some environment opened the wrong door and we step through. Except for the deliberate pusher, the one we caught it from was a victim, too, who caught it from someone else.

My grandsons have been exposed to this all their lives, as I was, as so many other children are, and will have to make the call for themselves when someone invites them through that door. We talk about it, prepare them for it, but they will be totally on their own when they have to make one of the most important choices of their inexperienced lives. At a party, or hanging with their buds, a friend, someone they don't want to look uncool in front of, unrolls a line of coke or pulls out a joint and says, "You really gotta check this out, it'll blow you away." Everyone's eyes dart from face to face in sudden game of game of chicken, spin the bottle, Russian Roulette all rolled into one. Who will be the first one in the room to admit that they are so uncool that they haven't already done drugs?

It takes a lot of courage for a kid to turn it down. If their immune system is weak, they'll catch a cold that day they may never get rid of for as long as they live.

Help, police! I'm being spoken to!

Yesterday morning I was woken from a dead sleep at 7:30 am by a call from Debbie's sister, Auntie. On Sunday's blog I had mentioned that Debbie was living with Auntie at her apartment in our town. She called to ask if I would remove that detail because her landlord didn't allow it and she could get evicted. I hardly knew who it was partly because I was half asleep and partly because she's barely said five words to me in the ten years I've known her and her call now was a big surprise. I said fine and did her the favor when I got up.

Today I learned that she trashed me in her blog (yes, readers, Auntie has a blog devoted in part to trashing me) for doing her this favor. She wrote that our phone conversation consisted of her threatening me with some kind of legal action if I didn't remove the blog that said her sister was living in her apartment because it was contrary to her lease - which could precipitate in her eviction, should anyone want to bring it to the attention of her landlord. Then she called me a half wit for being groggy. Now, I didn't expect roses or candy, or even a thank you, but I always thought when you do someone a favor it might make them a bit less hostile towards you. Not so for Auntie. I guess she made up the threat part to make it sound like it wasn't a favor - that maybe I was breaking some law by saying that she was risking eviction by allowing her sister to live with her in that apartment and therefore must remove it from my blog.

Anyway, at Tio's ballgame tonight I asked her three times why she would ask a favor and then call me names. She wouldn't answer. At least, she wouldn't answer then. After we got home a policeman came to my house informing me she was filing a harassment complaint against me. I've mentioned before that her family does like to bring the police into their domestic issues, no matter how trivial, rather than work them out themselves.

Both Tio and Kit were disgusted by this and can't understand why she behaves this way. So I guess that closes the door on us working anything out with their family. We offered to talk with the other grandparents a couple of weeks ago and haven't heard a peep from them, either. I was going to say it's a shame, but crossed it out realizing that a bridge between our two families might be more work than it's worth. They do not see the world the way we do and trying to reconcile that might be more frustrating than leaving well enough alone and dealing with occasional friction.

One thing is certain, I have no need to try and knock on Auntie's better side again. Fool me once, and all that. I'll still wish her luck and hope she doesn't get evicted for having her sister living in her apartment.

A Brave New World for a brave young boy

Kit had a good day. Buddy and I met with his school advisory team this morning and we all had good news to share about his attitude, his concentration, and his outlook. He's had some tough adjustments in the past weeks with the new meds but seems to be assimilating them well now. I went back to the school to help with his homework this afternoon and he was in a good mood, willing to think, even teasing with jokes. He even expressed concern more than once about Buddy having a bout of food poisoning last night, something he never would have said before - even if he felt it. The topping on all of this was during an IM conversation with his mom, she told him some potential bad news and was he able to accept it. When I put him to bed, he expressed his worry about it but I said the best thing to do was wait and see rather than fret and panic. We shared a pinky wish that everything would be alright for her and he was ready for lights out.

I don't think I can express how good all this makes me feel. It's been such a hard year for him and I've sweated it out with him every step of the way. If we can hold on to this new beginning, this boy is going to bloom.

My spider senses were right

Last week I wondered if things were too calm. Boys doing well, work going fine - must be something coming to screw that up. There was. The next day I lost a significant client and income stream. That was big. Then, later in the week Debbie moved back to town from having disappeared completely on the kids for 10 weeks.

I have some other things on the burner to try and make up the lost income. But there's nothing I can do to make Debbie behave consistently and positively towards the boys. Tish and I have already said we want to move forward not look back. But there is a lot of baggage and her recent disappearance doesn't help. All we can do is hope that she will consider the best interests of the kids before her own.

Next time things are going well, I'll keep my mouth shut.

Tio's Latest Post: America's favorite pastime... when apporopriate.

I try to be nice, I try to be fun but all in a respectful manner. Today I saved my baseball team from losing the first game of three. As one of the captains, I try to get good hits, get good plays defensively and try to have sportsmanship in that order. Have a little fun, joke around and stuff. But when we played our last inning, a "bad word" was used by one of our team mates towards the other team while saying good game after we won. So our coach calls us over as a team, very upset. He looks everybody in the eyes, then starts speaking. "While you boys were out there, did you guys say any degrading things to the other team?" Everybody looked around, wondering who would raise their hand... not a soul. Coach looked around the huddle again and told us "Anybody who doesn't want to confess right here, come back to my car and apologize to me for embarrassing me and making the other player feel bad." We all put our hands in a gave our team name a good shout. Everybody had their heads slung under their shoulders.

Nobody went to Coach's car, nobody said a peep. So much for sportsmanship...

Girl friend or girlfriend?

While it feels like Kit is doing better and calmer at school, he still had difficulty relating to other kids. He has problems with personal boundaries and since his friends are generally girls, that adds a layer of difficulty. Today, l learned that he had said and acted inappropriately towards two friends and they decided not to be his friends anymore.

This isn't new and we've talked about it many times. So we went at it again. I asked what happened. I said I wasn't mad, I just want to help him understand how to be better around his friends. He was reluctant so I did most of the talking. He really doesn't know sometimes how to behave, especially when the signals he gets from the girls are mixed. I want him to know that having girls for friends is fine. Most of my best friends were girls and girls like to do all the same things boys do: play and run and talk and joke.

"The problem is," I said, "you can be friends with a girl but then you can't act like she's your girlfriend at the same time. You're 10 years old and have no place for a girlfriend." He protested hollowly, saying one of them was a girlfriend but he couldn't say why or even how. Since they'd been friends since first grade, I suggested they'd be better off being just friends and we left it there to have supper.

An hour later he asked, "Before, when you said you wouldn't get mad but just wanted to talk, were you just saying that so I'd talk or did you mean it?"

"I meant it. I'm not mad. I want you to have friendships that last."

After that he opened up and we had a real talk.

Back to square one

I'm sitting at the library doing some tutoring with Tio (they also have some nice quiet rooms you can sign out for meetings and such). He was written up for bad behavior at school yesterday and last week so I pulling in the reins to keep him on track. He's doing his reading and math homework. After this, we'll try to write something. For the past six weeks we've been working most days on some writing or math or language and even internet research. It has been a struggle just to get through it without a firestorm of emotion - unless I go easy.

I started off today with lecture # 7: learning to learn. A tough concept for many adults but particularly hard for kids. Since he can't or won't concentrate for more than 5-10 minutes on anything and imagines somehow he'll magically have the ability to slog through an hour and a half or more of homework that requires more than a 5 word answers in the coming school years. I keep explaining that learning is a skill, too. He just doesn't want to acquire it if it requires learning. I know, how ironic.

So, he's here with me, reading a movie script I wrote 20 years ago that I based on a true story about one of my brothers. He's actually interested, which is good. Maybe I can get him to read a couple more. He's also enjoyed having me read the latest draft of my novel as well (if only he wanted to read what I've actually had published!). He's patient today, he'll be patient tomorrow. The trick will be to get him to be patient next week, too.

God bless those we hire to teach our children. If they knew what they were really getting into, they would never take the job.

Libraries are so much more than books

Me reading Dr. Seuss as Cat in Hat.
6 yr old Tio stands guard.

Today I’m going to brag about my town’s library. It’s a jewel staffed by great women and invaluable volunteers. I served 2 terms as a trustee and will probably sign up again when time allows. They don’t have a large budget and spin what the town gives them into gold in the hands of creative and hardworking people.

Doc at Lego club

 Among all the varied resources they offer, there are over 300 programs (at least the last year I counted them) offered to the public, many of which are for kids and teens. Book groups, toddler lap reading with parents, multi level crafts for adults and kids, Lego building, visiting authors, “wiggle worms and dirt pudding”, book binding, discussions, etc.. It’s always a busy place where everyone is welcome to visit and get involved, where kids can come after school, and housed at an historic Main Street home.

Gingerbread Building Workshop

Reading Buddies

We’ve taken the kids to many events right up to this week where the kindergarteners sit in pairs and read to each other as “reading buddies”. They get bussed straight from school. I’ve been taking all three boys there since they were infants. I taught Tio reading using their board games, Doc loves to pick out his own stories every week and Kit has taken origami and Asian sculpture at the attached arts center.

Thank you Richards Free Library.

Would it better to have obsessive kids or lazy kids?

It looks like Kit is taking an interest in gardening. He's digging up weeds and planting carrots and radishes with Grammo and brought home sunflowers from school. A couple of nights ago he spent a solid hour pulling up some dead shrubs and has been watering every night. I know it's just a start but a Grampy can dream.

It's been really tough getting either of the boys to take an interest in anything that requires both some effort and working alone. Come to think of it, Kit has been spending some serious time drawing pictures without constantly needing attention. This is great and I'd love to have it spill over to Tio. I've tried a bunch of different outlets and unless it's video games, he doesn't want to touch it. Even practicing baseball alone is a real chore for him.

It is amazing what a person will spark to when the inspiration hits them. It can happen at any age but once it happens there's no stopping them. I remember being blown over by the flute and playing for 3 to 6 hours a day through my teen years. Right now, I'm helping a 14 year old girl write her first novel. I met her a couple of years ago during a creative writing course I taught and even at 12 she was a dynamo with words and description. She's wanted to be a novelist since she was 9 and she'll make it.

Not that I think it's necessary to have a passion that drives you but it doesn't hurt. It helps you learn to focus, to train and to believe in yourself. Tio feels that way about baseball but only up to a point. He plays a great game, loves it, and attends all the practices. He just doesn't go the extra mile by himself.

I remember at age 8 I had my dad mimeograph 50 maps of Australia so I could mark them all with topography, plant and animal and climate and all the attending geography. That was way over the top. I wonder if there is a sweet spot somewhere between mild interest and unhealthy obsession?

The winds of turmoil whistling under the door

Right now, the world is being kind to us. So far Kit seems more patient and a bit less frantic on his new meds. Tio’s reacquaintance with Marcia and Liz is going as well as can be expected and there’s a bit more work for the adults in the family - making things not quite so tight in the wallet. Everyone is healthy, I believe the school year will end on a good note for all three boys, both Tio and Kit will be starting a new school in the fall, and summer plans are in the making. There are always unknowables with all that is going on in a busy world such as ours, but things are on an even keel.

Maybe it’s the cynic in me, maybe it’s my nature to worry, but I wonder if this is calm before a storm. I hope not. It’s coming up on a year and a half that we’ve been together and we could all use a bit of Leave It To Beaver. The boys need a chance to breathe with all the crap flying at their heads. They deserve a shot at ordinary. So do we. It would be great if life could remain slow and steady for a few months to give us time to get the wind at our backs and used to life without turmoil before the next school year is upon us.

That’s never been the way in my life. So my finger is in the air testing the wind, looking for the calm route to chart.

To my mom

Janet Lunn

The time seems appropriate to talk a bit about my own mom. My relationship with my mother was not always an easy one, but it’s not my place on Mother’s Day to retrace the troubles we’ve seen. Instead, I’ll tell the tale of how she made a writer of me.

My mom is popular Canadian childrens’ author, Janet Lunn.(janetlunn.com) She grew up in New England, moved to Canada to raise her family and, by serendipity, I now live 30 miles from her childhood home in New England. She taught me how to write both literally and in the professional sense. She started me reading and writing at age four. When I was 12 and she was working on her second novel, I spent weekend afternoons in her study lying in a huge basket of unfolded laundry while she sat at her desk reading different versions of sentences and paragraphs asking which one I preferred and why. I don’t know why she picked me, or even if she gave all the other 4 sibs the same treatment, but trying one different word to see how it changed the tone of phrase or character taught me so much about words and writing. When the galleys came back from the publisher she read them aloud to us all and I tried to hear where I’d put my dime’s worth in.

At nineteen I wrote my first novel. A sprawling adolescent space opera about the far future of mankind. I asked her to read it. She told me it stunk. Not in those words but she was bluntly critical. She offered to help me work on it “if I was serious”. I declined. Three years later I came back and we worked every day one on one for several months on creative writing and if you’d say having to take daily criticism from you mother isn’t easy - you’re understating. Her pencil was sharp and her cutting was severe. A couple of years later we did it again, only this time on a second novel I was writing. She was cruel, unyielding and methodical. I ate it up. Day after day gave her rewritten chapters and pages hoping the pencil would be kinder to me. Fat chance. Two more years passed before I returned, this time with a completed novel looking for her opinion. She had only one thing to say. “I think you can be a writer,” she said with a smile, and I was walking on air.

That was 25 years ago and I’ve written enough words since to bury Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, and John Creasy combined. Only a modest few of them have made into publication but I’m still working and I love writing - a gift my mother gave me.

The other biggest gift my mom has given me is to accept that love is a confusing and complex thing that takes a lot of work and sweat to last. I’ve loved her as a child, hated her as an teen, and tolerated her through my hardest times only to come back around to love. She is a complex and flawed human being like every one of us, not just a mom, and we have managed to forge a good relationship between two adults, not just a mother and son. For 20 years now we’ve been friends with no regrets about the past.

It’s been a helluva ride, Mom. I love you.

There's nothing like puppy breath

Puppy season is upon us again. Tish is hoping to breed one of our two bitches so we'll have a litter this summer. Maddie is in heat right now and Tish decided to hold off so that leaves Bunnie. I'm not sure who she'll have as the stud but we tried a tie with Bunnie a couple of years ago and it didn't take. Of course, it was only one tie so there was a high "hit or miss" factor.

I felt bad when she wasn't showing any sign of pregnancy... so to cheer Tish up I told her I got an ultrasound done and sent her this picture:

A strange brew

At the time she was a little close and didn't find it funny because Bunnie didn't get pregnant. It got better with age. I guess I should try to be a bit more sensitive this time around.

I hope she decides to do it. I think it would be nice to have Bunnie's litter this summer.

Take me out to the ballgame

Grampy watches the game

 Tio played his first baseball game Of the season yesterday. Most the kids on both teams were swinging at air through the whole game while they got used to the pitches. Tio stepped up in the first inning and slammed one down the right field. He made third base and stole home on the next hit, scoring the only point for six innings. Man, were we juiced. The only other point in the game was made by his teammate and they all went home victorious. It was a great start to the season.

Tio plays shortstop

Our boy plays shortstop. Next game, he pitches.

Go Cardinals!

Pictures by Marcia.

"The most important things are the hardest to say, because words diminish them." - Stephen King

"Love ya. Yeah, bye."

I may be all wrong on this but I'm not a big fan of constantly repeating "love you" as a salutation. I don't have anything wrong with saying 'I love you' and do to those I love. But Buddy, Sugar, Tish and the boys all say it every day as part of saying 'good night', 'see you after work', 'I'm about to hang up the phone', and a garden patch of other fond farewells. I overhear it on on other people's cell phones around town when they say goodbye to their callers.

I guess I'm in the minority on this but that's not unusual for me. I show my family love, I'd do anything for them and to protect them, but I feel constantly repeating "I love you" devalues it to mean "hello". Now, these are supposed to be important words. Relationships rise and fall on those words, historic epic poetry has balanced on them, and Troy fell for love.

I realize we live in an egalitarian society where all things are reduced to a common denominator but do we really want the sentiment of love, affection, and adoration reduced to a mere salutation?

The last lap of the school year

Vacation week is over and it's time to settle back into our routine. I'm at the park with Doc, Tio is romping around here somewhere, and we pick Kit up in an hour. It's warm enough to hang laundry outside, take daily walks down the trail, and overheat the dogs in a hurry. After last week's flurry of emotion on the blog, that too has settled down. We've had no response from the other family yet to our extended olive branch of peace, except that Auntie has said she won't talk with us as long as we communicate with Marcia. I might suggest that laying it all at Marcia's feet misses the point but that's her call. Tio has also written his own "two cents worth" that I'm not sure I should post because it is a bit inflammatory.

There were a couple of positive milestones last week, too. After going to Easter services with Marcia, Tio has decided he wants to go to church every Sunday with them. We think that would be great and hope he sticks to it. It's a non-denominational Christian church. Kit changed meds and is taking one that seems to be helping so far. This week at school will be the real test. And little Doc has 5 out of 7 nights free of bedwetting or needing to get up in the middle of the night. He's really proud of that and feels like a big guy wearing just undies to bed.

Sometimes the small things are really the big ones.

It's no fair getting left out

Doc holds out hope

I got a new phone with a much better camera. I guess I'll be using more pictures.

This is Doc after being left behind by Buddy and the boys because he's just too young to go on a long bike ride. He stood still like this for 15 minutes until they got back. He's quite the tenacious little puppy.