Flying through the air with the greatest unease

It’s not every day that you get to try out something you’ve only ever seen performed at a circus! When I assembled the kids on the couch to announce that my sister had arranged for them to have a trapeze lesson over their spring break, this was their reaction:

“Why is Auntie Sissy so awesome?!” my son exclaimed in wonder.

“I don’t know if I’m more scared or excited,” my daughter said.

As we drove to the venue, I confirmed to my sister that I had gone online to fill out the requisite forms.

“Do you mean liability forms?” my son asked from the backseat.

“Mmmhmmm” I replied as nonchalantly as I could.

The Trapeze School New York in Washington DC is in a hangar-like building, right across from Nationals Park and the Navy Yard Metro.

The kids got strapped into their super tight – forget about breathing – organ-crushing belts.

I – can’t – breathe!

After some brief instructions, they chalked their hands and got ready to climb an extremely tall ladder:

In the video of my 13 year old’s first try on the trapeze, you can hear the teacher instructing him to jump on “hep.” He can’t quite bring himself to actually jump off the platform the first time, so the teacher gently repeats the command.

The boy never did get his knees over the bar, but days later I discovered that he had done something far more remarkable.

We were reminiscing about his amazing trapeze adventure when I asked my son,”Was there ever a time during the lesson when you thought – Nah, this is way too scary. I’m not going to jump.”

“Yeah!” he replied.

“But just the first time, right?” I asked.

“No. Every single time I got up to the platform, I seriously thought about not jumping and just climbing back down the ladder.”

I’ve always told my kids that you can’t be brave without being scared. If the level of fear they felt is commensurate with their level of bravery – I think they should all be draped and festooned with medals right now! I had no idea that he was so scared…I was so proud of him for climbing that ladder and taking that enormous leap of faith over and over again.

Speaking of scared, you might be wondering where my 10 year old daughter was while all of this was happening. She was lying on the ground – with the saddest look on her face. Kind of like the fish we had seen in the aquarium the day before:

Grumpy Fish

For the first hour, you could see that she was at war with herself. She couldn’t bring herself to give it a try and was getting more and more upset as her brothers took their turns. Finally, one of the instructors came over and said that doing the trapeze is all about gaining a sense of accomplishment by pushing through fear. He suggested that her goal for the day could simply be to climb the ladder.

She pondered this, but was intimidated by the thought of taking even that step. One kind lady, a trapeze veteran, walked over and offered to climb up right behind her to spot her from behind. She kept resolving to try it, but would change her mind the next second. We kept reassuring her that she didn’t have to do it if she didn’t want to, but finally, she decided to go for it! We whooped and cheered for her when she made it to the top of the ladder! We could hardly wait for her to climb back down to give her a congratulatory hug… We were surprised to see that the instructor at the top was rehooking her harnesses.

And then this happened:

When she got back down, I asked her why she had decided to go for the swing.

“I think the instructor at the top didn’t realize I was just going to climb the ladder. She just assumed I was going to jump. So I did.”

Flush with the thrill of her accomplishment, we all asked her, “Do you want to go again?!”

“No.”

And I could totally respect that!

Baltimore in 2 days with 3 kids, Pt. 2

It was this kid’s 16th birthday!

We got tickets to the National Aquarium for 9 am…just in time to see the sharks eat their breakfast of fish and squid…They’re kept well-fed so they don’t eat their smaller tank mates:

This giant sea turtle was a rescue. He had to be amputated because of an infection, but he’s doing just fine now.

Grumpy Fish
Messy eater

My favorites were the Jellyfish:

We got a couple of little bitty shrimp at the gift shop for my birthday boy:

We did a quick stroll through the Baltimore Civil War museum, which happens to be right across the street from our hotel. It’s located in what used to be the President Street Station…

And then we walked to Miss Shirley’s for lunch. It was worth the longish wait:

Funky Monkey Bread
Chicken & Waffles – a house specialty.
Mac Crabby…MMMMMM!

We were excited to take a ride on the Chessie boats:

…but sadly, they were not running.

We took a water taxi instead. It’s a great deal at $14 for unlimited rides all day.

It turned out to be a relaxing way to get great views of the Harbor.

We hopped off to go to the American Visionary Arts Museum, a place I’ve been wanting to visit for years. The description of “visionary art” is a bit vague – “art produced by self-taught individuals, usually without formal training, whose works arise from an innate personal vision that revels foremost in the creative act itself.” Although it was not always the case, in many instances the art was created by people who were mentally ill.

You can’t even imagine how sad I was not to be able to take pictures inside the museum! It is filled with extraordinary art. It also has a spectacular museum shop.

Word to the wise: It was only after we were taking the water taxi back to our hotel for dinner that I realized the booklet we were given when we bought our tickets was full of coupons, some of which we could have used for a lower entrance fee at the museum.

After dinner we went for another walk along the water. We strolled to Fell’s Point, an historic neighborhood with bars, restaurants and boutiques.

#Life goals – “I want a boat like that when I grow up!”

By this time, my daughter was flagging and wanted to get back to the hotel. We thought we’d take a short cut back, and blundered into a not so nice neighborhood. Once we hustled our way out of there, we decided to make one last stop at The Power Plant to visit the enormous Barnes & Noble café:

Back at the hotel, we watched another movie and then hit the hay.

And that was Day 2 of our Baltimore Adventure. We were sad to be leaving Baltimore, but excited about the amazing adventure my sister had planned for the kids in Washington DC the next day…

Baltimore in 2 days with 3 kids

  • We were thoroughly charmed by the two days we spent in Charm City. Here’s our itinerary…

Wednesday

We left C’ville for Baltimore at 9 am.

We drove straight to Fort McHenry, arriving around noon (after one impromptu stop to visit Yoder’s and the petting farm). My 13 year old history buff was especially anxious to visit the star-shaped fort, the scene of the epic battle during the War of 1812, which inspired Francis Scott Key to write The Star Spangled Banner.

Inside the Visitors Center you watch a short movie in which the battle is reenacted. At the conclusion of the movie, the screen dramatically flies up to reveal a huge window overlooking the fort over whose ramparts flies the American flag. Everyone stands up and, hands over hearts, sings The Star Spangled Banner. I have to admit, I got caught up in the moment. There just may have been a tear welling in the corner of my eye. And then I heard my 16 year old say, “This is so cheesy.” And it totally was. But stirring nevertheless.

Oh, say can you see?
Sheltering from the bombs bursting in air…

We drove to the Homewood Suites by Hilton Baltimore, where we would spend the next couple of days. The hotel is in an excellent location, not quite overlooking the water, (at least from our suite), but a very short walk away from the Harbor. They serve a complimentary breakfast every day and a complimentary dinner with wine and beer Monday through Thursday. The food was not spectacular, but decent. There always seemed to be at least one standout item at every meal that was actually delicious: buttery croissants, hash browns, super fresh caesar salad, etc.

After checking out our room and having a brief rest, we headed out to walk around the neighborhood:

The last surviving ship of Pearl Harbor

We walked over to the World Trade Center and went up to the Observation Deck to get 360 degree views of the city:


We walked back to the hotel for dinner and then headed to Little Italy for dessert  at Vaccaro’s:

We may have gotten a little carried away:

Oreo Sundae
Death by Chocolate!
Tiramisu Gelato

Despite our valiant efforts, we had to bring almost all of it back to the hotel to stash in the freezer.

We watched a movie and then headed to bed. We had two double beds and a sleeper sofa, but my silly girl insisted that she wanted to sleep here:

(She eventually did crawl into bed with me in the middle of the night)!

Day One: DONE!

Country Markets

Last Wednesday we left for a two day trip to Baltimore.

IMG_5301.jpgThe kids’ backseat banter set the tone for the trip.

Caesar v. Shaka Zulu. Who would win?

Me from the driver’s seat – What’s Shaka Zulu?

There was an uncomfortable silence and then I heard: You mean who is Shaka Zulu?

Uh, yeah, ok: who is Shaka Zulu?

I could sense the pity and disbelief as the boys explained to their shockingly ignorant mother who Shaka Zulu was.

Kids v. Me. Kids, obviously.

We didn’t get too far up 29 before we spotted Yoder’s Country Market. Despite the fact that it’s not too far from where we live AND has a petting farm, we’d never been.

IMG_5334.jpgWe’ve been missing out!

The aisles are full of interesting things such as baking supplies like this. I’m pretty sure you can’t find “Pure as Snow Cake Flour” at Harris Teeter.

IMG_5302There were lots of baked homemade goods made by Mennonites in their own kitchens, as well as other groceries like local organic meat, dairy products, and vegetables.

The next time we go, we’ll try out the café. We were sorely tempted to try the hand dipped ice cream, but thought it would be too decadent to have it at 9:30 am.

Decadence v. Restraint. Restraint. This time.

Our greatest discovery was this:

IMG_5340It’s almost scary how addictive these are.

After stashing our purchases in the car, we strolled over to the petting farm:

Peacock v. Turkey:

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The turkey definitely came out on top. But just wait till November.

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Ruffled feathers

My birds v. the Rhea birds:

IMG_5321IMG_5327A draw!

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Ready for my close up.

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“I can’t decide if that duck is having a really bad hair day, or a really awesome hair day!”

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Pig v. pig

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ALL MINE!

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You lookin’ at me?

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Girl v. baby goat. Baby goat. No contest. She’s smitten.

We had such a good time at Yoder’s that on our way back home after our trip to Baltimore, we decided to check out another country store we’d always driven past, but had also never visited:

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Yoder’s v. The Ole Country Store & Bakery? Yoder’s for the win.

The Ole Country Store didn’t have a petting farm or the crazy good Mediterranean Cocktail Snacks.

Yoder’s v. Us.

Yoder’s!

We crossed four busy lanes of traffic to go back to Yoder’s on the opposite side of the highway for one last visit…and to buy two more bags of Mediterranean Snacks!

Decadence v. Restraint. Decadence, baby.

Tomorrow: Baltimore in 2 days with 3 kids.

A birthday wish for my son

IMG_8244May your life be filled with music, and may your light always shine bright and true.

Hair Bribery

March 4, 2016

After months of tiresome nagging, I strike a deal with this girl:

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(Sadly, the goat’s hair is more kempt than hers).

If you promise to leave a barrette in your hair all day long, I won’t bug you about getting your hair cut for a whole month.

Her eyes light up. It’s a deal!

To my amazement…she succeeds! It’s the first time in her entire life that she manages to keep a barrette in her hair all day long. Turns out, it will probably also be the last day she ever manages the feat.

April 5, 2016

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Japanese Maples

I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear it was going to snow on Saturday and will enjoy the glory of my Japanese Maples:

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Related post: Junks I Collect: Japanese Maples

A Better Way

We took a field trip with a caravan of friends to visit the wonderful A Better Way Farm and Goat Dairy in Waynesboro, Virginia. Ever since we moved to a house with a paddock and barn in the backyard, my daughter has been pleading for a baby goat. As my friend said, a visit to a goat farm truly was “a better way” to indulge her.

The goat farm is a one woman operation. Just a few years ago, Kathy was working at home as a computer programmer. She said she never dreamed she would end up being a goat farmer when she bought her house and land ten years ago. It all started when her youngest daughter asked for some chicks. (At this my friend and I eyed each other. The story sounded ominously familiar). “Chicks,” she said, “are a ‘gateway drug’ for other farm animals.” Soon all she wanted to do was be outside playing with the animals. She quit her job and started building her goat herd. Now all her children have grown and left home, and she runs the farm all by herself. Even though she has 70+ goats she milks by hand, chickens, a newly planted orchard, and bees, she says she’s having so much fun it doesn’t feel like a job at all! On the weekends she gives tours of her farm and from time to time gives workshops on things like goatkeeping, beekeeping, and soap making.

It was a delight to see someone so in her element. She knows each of her goats by name. “Hi, Magpie!” she says as she gives a black and white goat an affectionate head scratch. “My babies!” she cries to triplets, furiously wagging their little tails and clamoring for her attention:

We inquired about one goat who looked rather largish around the middle.

“Is she about to give birth?” my friend asked.

“Oh, that’s my very first goat. She’s not pregnant; she just never regained her figure after having her babies. She forgives you.”

I could definitely relate.

The tour concluded with a taste of creamy, sweet goat’s milk, which one of the visitors described as tasting like “melted ice cream.” We bought some chèvre, feta, and soap – all made from goats’ milk.

And though it was incredibly difficult to resist, we did not buy a baby goat.

Now the girl wants ducklings.

Rogue’s Gallery

I stomped downstairs this morning to confront my husband.

“YOU PUNCHED ME IN THE BACK LAST NIGHT. REALLY HARD.”

“Oh,” he said looking sheepish, “I know.”

I raised an eyebrow so high I almost got a muscle cramp.

“Let me explain.”

“There’s no explanation for domestic abuse.”

“I was having a dream that I was playing frisbee with the kids,” he hastened to say, “And I was doing that move I like to do,

IMG_5242and I guess I actually made the movement with my arm. It woke me up immediately,  (Ummm…ME TOO!!!!!) and I realized what had happened.”

“Well, it still hurts! Really bad. And the psychic wound hurts maybe even more!”

At that moment my son came down the stairs.

“Did you know your dad punched me in the back last night?”

“WHAT?” he gasped with gratifying horror.

“Yes, that’s right, your father punched the woman who gave birth to you and your siblings. In the back. While she was fast asleep.”

The perpetrator of the nefarious crime leapt to his own defense.

“ACTUALLY!” he said, pointing to his son, “It was YOUR fault!

IMG_5237 (1)“How is this MY fault?” the poor boy asked, with perfectly understandable indignation.

“YOU’RE the one who wanted me to play frisbee with you.”

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reliving the shame

Sad. Very sad.

 

Fellow Travelers

It was a lovely Easter weekend, but Monday morning came crashing down upon our heads like a furious hailstorm. I will spare you the gory details, but it was not pretty. I drove to my early morning doctor’s appointment feeling beleaguered and rattled to the core.

I stood in line at the reception desk behind a man I would consider to be the exact opposite of who I am in just about every respect. He was a wiry, older white man with no discernible top teeth. He reeked of cigarette smoke. I caught only snatches of what he was saying to the receptionist, but I could feel myself stiffen when I heard him say in a thick southern accent that this country was goin’ to hell. I was just waiting for him to start extolling the virtues of Donald Trump. I wondered if the very sight of my non-Caucasian face might make him bridle. He finally got checked in and shuffled off somewhere. I finished checking in too and found an empty seat in the waiting room as far away from anyone else as I could.

To my dismay, the man who had been ahead of me reappeared and sat down next to me. I pretended not to notice, and was already deploying my imaginary bubble shield when he addressed me.

“Hello, how are you?” he asked politely.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I replied warily. “How are you?”

“I been better,” he said.

“Oh. Well…I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah…had to take another day off work to come back here to get checked out. When I was here last week they found a spot on my lung. A big one. I knew somethin’ was wrong, but I avoided coming to see a doctor, ’cause I was afraid of what they were going to find.”

“I’m sorry. I hope it turns out to be nothing…”

“That’s how my dad and my brother died.”

“Oh, that’s terrible…”

“Yeah, well it’s been a terrible year. My daughter just died too.”

“What?! Oh no!”

“She was in a big accident. You probably heard about it. It was on the news and in the papers. She was going to Richmond for a NASCAR race and she got hit by a tractor trailer as she was pulling onto 64.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“She had a little daughter too.”

“Oh no! That’s so sad!”

“Her husband’s fighting it out with insurance, trying to get them to pay. They want him to take a settlement, but he’s just trying to take care of his daughter. At least make sure she can go to college.”

“How old is the little girl?”

“She’s eight.”

“They should pay! Especially when there’s a child to raise.”

“Yeah, my daughter was a stay-at-home mother. Her husband’s doing the best he can. He works nights in a factory in Waynesboro. My other daughter stays with the little girl until midnight, and her daddy’s home with her during the day before he has to go to work.”

“It’s so good to have siblings.”

He nodded, “Yeah, it’s good to have people around you who can help out. I took care of her for a couple weeks too. She ’bout near drove me crazy.”

I laughed, but he looked me straight in the eye and said with emphasis, “I’m dead serious. She ’bout near drove me crazy. One day she set there on my lap and looked up at me and said ‘I miss my mama.’ I don’t know how much she really understands about what happened, you know? I asked her, ‘Do you know where your mama is?’ She said, ‘Yeah! My mama’s on vacation!’ Then when I told her I had to go to the doctor, she asked me, ‘Are you going on vacation too?'”

We both laughed ruefully and then I was called for my appointment. The man extended his hand to me. As we shook hands, he wished me luck. I wished him the same.

Nothing really changed. The problems I began with that morning did not go away. The man is facing a frightening diagnosis. His granddaughter is still missing her mama. But in the midst of suffering and pain, there was an unexpected moment of human connection and understanding. We were no longer strangers, but fellow travelers. For me, it was exactly the grace I needed that morning.