Ice Skating with Zack's section

I vowed to do a better job attending Zack's section events, so when the first evite of the semester arrived in my email, I was excited to see that it was a kid-friendly activity at a kid friendly time. (Don't get me wrong, I LOVE Jack's 6:45 bedtime, but sometimes it does take us out of the game a bit prematurely!). Last night we headed out to go to Frog Pond to go ice skating. Outside. In the winter. I will admit I have only ever skated on indoor rinks, most of which were inside California malls, so I was excited. And then when we got there, the romance of skating in the park at night in winter I was envisioning was replaced with the realization that we were indeed skating, in the park, at night, in winter. Frozen hands (one of my gloves disappeared in Utah), frozen legs (I really need to invest in some lined jeans like Jack's or get over the concern that long underwear will only make my bum look even bigger), and most of all frozen feet (never again will I leave the house for an outdoor winter activity in stockings and what classifies as closed toe shoes only to a girl from California).

Other then being frozen, we had a great time. The people from Zack's section were really nice and one happily played with Jack during our hour wait (did I mention we were outside and it was cold?) to get in the rink. I was nervous to see how Jack would react since it had been an entire year since the ice hockey debacle. He was super hesitant at first, and I will admit there were tears shed, but Jack's new Section A buddies encouraged him and he put on a brave face. Here is a shot of Evan trying to help Jack out.



Even though Jack is at the age when he wants to do everything and be everything that Zack is, he is also entering the stage where he will try harder and be braver around strangers then he will around us. Zack and Jack went around the rink a few times (mind you they took a good 15-20 minutes each loop), and when they got off the ice Jack was not crying and said he had a good time and wanted to skate again.



It was a fun, albeit cold evening and a great way to get back into life in Boston.

Oh did I mention...

This guy turned 4



He insisted that he wanted to wait to have his party in Boston with his "Boston friends." The party is this week and I will post more about the awesomeness which is Jack at 4 then.

*This is Jack's picture face. After 4 years of us tickling him in pictures to try to get him to smile, he is convinced he has to fake laugh anytime someone is taking his picture. Oh and fake laughs always include the hand by the face to cover his laugh. Classic.

Maybe we need to get out more...

The other night, Zack and I went out to a movie just the two of us. When we were in the theater, I told Zack that I needed to go to the bathroom before the show started. To which he replied,

"Okay no problem. Pee Pee or Poo Poo?"

I stared at him until he remembered where he was and that I was in fact nearly thirty and not nearly four and in need of the sort of assistance that might require such an inquiry.

There's no maybe to it. We definitely need to get out more.

Back tracking

Before I can record the last few weeks of our lives I need to do a bit of back tracking.

December 1, Jack and I boarded a plane to visit my mom in North Carolina for a week. My mom met us at the airport with Madeleines (the cookies she always brings Jack) and presents. Here is a picture of Jack all the way in the bag, wanting to make sure there were no presents left in the bag...


Each morning Jack would wake up and I'd send him down the hall to wake up grandma. I would get up sometime later to find the two of them playing happily together. I love my mom. I love how much she loves my son. I love how she spends all day engrossed in play with him. They told stories, played computer games, read books, drew with chalk, played soccer and basketball, and decorated gingerbread houses.





Grandma took us on a hay ride through the Christmas lights. Jack looks like a goon in some of these pictures. I told him to smile, and then when he didn't I told him he looked like a goon and I was going to post the pictures anyways. This is me following through, because isn't that what parents are supposed to do? Follow through on all of our shallow threats?





Grandma took us to the tree farm and let Jack pick out the tree. We put on Johnny Mathis Christmas carols, and decorated the tree together. Jack basically put all of the decorations in one clump. He was especially excited to hang the candy canes.


**Did I mention that Jack wore his Harvard shirt pretty much the entire trip? He was of course Harvard in all basketball, and soccer games played. (Some what unrelated, one morning Jack got out of bed and told he he had the best dream. Harvard beat Georgia Tech! I didn't even know he knew who Georgia Tech was!!)



One evening we went out to see a local football game that Bill was covering for the paper. I knew the game was getting serious when the man in the row in front of us stood up and put on his waterproof pants. I was sitting there, all high and mighty from California, wondering where in the world I was that people packed waterproof pants in their bags, when I looked over and saw my little boy engrossed in this football game, and it clicked. These people were out, sitting in the rain, because they were fathers, mothers, aunts, uncles, grandparents to the boys on the field...and you better believe I will be bringing my waterproof pants to any and every thing I need to to support my child.

Thursday night the tornado watch for Warsaw county turned into a tornado warning. The same moment that the roof started noisily shaking my mom's cell phone rang, warning us to get into our basement or bathrooms immediately. I ran into the room Jack and I were sharing and picked him up out of bed and ran into the hall bathroom. My mom followed with all of the couch cushions in hand. We sat together in the bathroom for close to an hour. Jack woke up a few times in my arms and asked what was happening and if he could go back to bed. There are moments in life when I am no longer my own being, but just Jack's mother. I guess that's part of the survival of the species that is imprinted in each of us. This was one of them. As I sat there terrified myself, all I did was pray desperately that my child would be safe. In that moment, it was not about me, but my mind was busily thinking and planning on how I could best secure Jack's grip to the toilet (which had the best hope of remaining in place if the roof blew off.) I am happy to say that the worst of the tornado passed by us. Jack returned to bed, and my mom and I stayed up for hours eating chocolate and refreshing the radar on the computer screen until all traces of the storm had long past.



The next morning, Jack woke up and asked if we could go to the bathroom again that night because it sure was fun. His comment hit me. As terrified as my mom and I were, we somehow managed to shield Jack from it. He got to remain a kid, secure in my arms, even if my arms were surrounding him in the bathroom. Thank heaven for tender miracles.

One of the best things I got out of this trip, was how much my mom's house, of which this was only my third visit to, felt like home. It had the same feeling of home that her house always when I was a child. I love that. And I love her.

Home?

Jack and I are back home in Boston tonight. I was happy to get home and then was overcome with loneliness as it dawned on me that Dani and Maddie are not here. The two of them have been so much of my last three weeks that I had forgotten what it felt like to not have them with me. I find myself back at home, unable to remember where I keep my flour, my cookbooks, even my pots and pans and I start questioning whether this little space ever really felt like home, or if I was deluding myself. A few tears, and reassuring words from Zack and Dani promising that I really did love my life out here before and I will again, and I take a deep breath, lock my sister and niece away in my heart and move forward resolved to remember how I ever felt living in Boston felt like home.