Mouse and Her Cello

Our Little Mouse has long been a great fan of music, from singing to violin to piano and now to the cello! At the start of the new school year, she and kids in her third-grade class could sign up for musical instruments, rented for the entire school year. This year, Mouse really wanted to learn the cello, so it felt wonderful to have the means to make her desire come true. 

Unfortunately, her dear old doofus dad didn't check with Mouse's music teacher about the correct size of cello that would best suit Mouse. Oh no. That would make too much sense. As would not putting off until nearly the last minute to sign up for an instrument. Instead, with a looming deadline, Yours Truly simply went off the instrument renter's website guide to sizing up your child with their instrument, and while it was a little better than a guess, I was unquestionably wrong in my attempt at sizing. 

Mouse came home both excited for her cello and mystified as to why she had an adult-sized cello. Believe me, so was I on the latter point. In fact, before I pushed "send" on the cello order, I specifically showed the renter website info to Becky, and we both thought the size chart on their website corresponded well to Mouse's size and the correct cello size. Boy were we wrong! 

We're hoping for several things, first and most importantly that Mouse will enjoy learning the cello. Also, that she and her sister Goose will favor us with some musical performances in our new basement rec center. And is it too much to ask (and we have, repeatedly) that our daughter get a cello that best suits her size?  

"Goodbye to All That"

Not the best images of these items, but above are photos of an old car seat, an old kids-sized chair, and our old double-stroller. These items were recycled to people in our neighborhood after Becky cleaned out our century-old basement and sifted through a decade's-worth of accumulated stuff to make a rec center for our kids and their friends. I hope each of these items went to good new homes. 

Mister Sentimental/Mister Nostalgia had almost no attachment to the car seat. I know our daughters used it when they progressed out of infant seats and before booster seats. The white chair with rainbow material? It did our kids great good over the years for outdoors tea parties and picnics and lemonade stands. Bon Voyage!

As for the double stroller, that was a gift to Becky on her birthday from our dear friends The Fabbers (Marcello and his wife Sharalyn, Hugh and his then-girlfriend and later wife Cailin, and Becky's best friend Alyson). I can still see in my mind the setting: On the grass outside the Longfellow Park Mormon chapel in Cambridge, on a beautiful, sunny afternoon, in the fall of 2010 or 2011. Our friends wheeled this puppy out of their mini-van, and Becky sat on the grass, mouth open wide, as the double stroller journeyed ever closer to her. 

That double stroller was a wonderful gift and a provider of countless memories as we pushed our little girls in it around the neighborhood, up to the library, and even along the narrow, jarring, cramped brick sidewalks in the North End. It also ferried all three of our oldest kids at once when they were all younger, with Goose standing on the bottom rail like a surfer on a surf board. The stroller was sturdy, dependable, lightweight (enough), and easy to navigate. It also held a ton of stuff. 

In terms of the double stroller, things became more complicated once a fourth child came on the scene. But by then, Goose was capable of walking wherever and almost for however long our troupe was out and about using the double stroller. Sure, there were plenty of gripes about who's turn it was to sit in the front, who's turn to lay in the reclining back seat, who could ride the rails, and who could push it.

The double stroller's days were numbered once one of its two handles snapped off. That was  the only casualty it suffered in almost a decade of service, but it's a terrible wound to bear and for us to try to navigate around. Luckily, it came when our three oldest kids were able to and wanted to ride their bikes most anywhere. When that new vista emerged circa 2014, we did not need the double stroller much any more. We simply mothballed it and broke out a lighter, smaller, and just as serviceable single stroller. 

And now, in late 2017, all four of our kids are bike-riding fanatics. Our stroller days are almost completely over, though we hang on to the single stroller for any random needs. It was time for the double stroller to help a different family in their time of need and necessity. I didn't want to see who took claim to it, preferring to imagine them in my mind as very kindly, in need, and trustworthy to maintain a Wilson Warriors heritage item that had been the bearer of our kids and a delivery vehicle for so many fun, hair-pulling, and sweet memories over the years.

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FYI: This post's title is taken from a storied, eponymous book by Robert Graves. My inner history and book-geek selves could not hold me back from using it as the title of this sentimental post. 

Goose in Yard Sale Hat

A neighbor and great family friend recently had a weekend-long yard sale, and our whole family was more than happy to get involved! This neighbor has lived in her home for most of her entire life, except for her college years and perhaps a few years post-college. It's a beautiful old house, charming and cozy and spacious even to have a bedroom for each of our kids (not that I've ever thought about this house's potential for our family!). 

Our oldest child, Dear Goose, was perhaps the most enthusiastic for the yard sale. As a reward for her labor, she selected this cute hat, which she wore a lot over the weekend:

Martin Richard Statue

A few weeks ago, I took our four kids to my parents' home on the South Shore of the Bay State. But instead of driving our Blue Bomber mini-van like we always do, this time me and the four littles took the MBTA commuter rail train. Becky drove us all to the South Station train and bus terminal near Boston's Financial District, and we took the train from there. The ride lasts about 45 minutes. 

Our kids loved the train ride, as did I. They were pretty well-behaved, but at times the boys got pretty rambunctious and kept moving around in their seats, switching positions and trying to scamper up the aisle. I'm not sure my patience could have lasted much longer without blowing steam like trains of old, so thank goodness we reached our destination before the conductor had to haul me off the train.

The train stop we needed is located at Bridgewater State University, from which my dad graduated in 1971 and where he spent almost 45 years as a full-time administrator in the Office of Public Affairs, the President's Office, and as a part-time instructor. He loves this college, as do I. Its gorgeous campus was kind of like my second childhood backyard.

So to bring my own children to this locale that meant so much to me, and gave my so many wonderful memories, is special. It's a tremendous blessing. 

After our kids and I disembarked from the train, we made our way across a grassy plaza, heading toward Nana and Bumpa's home. They live about a ten-minute walk from the train station. Along our way, I purposely steered our kids toward the above statue, of 2013 Boston Marathon bombing victim Martin Richard.

Martin was eight years old, the youngest of the four innocent people killed in this atrocity. Martin's parents Jane and Bill Richard are graduates of Bridgewater State University. In 2015, the University unveiled this statue of their late son, and also renamed an on-campus institute to The Martin Richard Institute for Social Justice. 

This was a brief yet very meaningful visit, and I hope our kids will learn more about Martin Richard's life. And, perhaps, maybe one or more of our children will attend Bridgewater State in the future.

Daddy's Little League T-Shirt

What a blessing it is for me to have a mother who has a thing for nostalgia tied to tangible items. She's been learning over time to rein it in, as she's collected and held onto admittedly a little too much stuff. It's a process. Nevertheless, when my mom recently gave my oldest son my 1983 Little League baseball t-shirt, he was thrilled.

And so was I.

My team that year (I think it was 1983) was sponsored by the now-defunct At Your Service gas station and mechanic's shop. I remember liking this shirt because of its striking bright blue with white lettering. Having been a Major League Baseball fan from a very young age, including memorizing the locations, nicknames, ballpark names, logos, and uniforms of most every team, I was tickled that my jersey was a reverse-copy of the Los Angeles Dodgers' sparklingly bright-white jerseys with Dodger Blue lettering. 

And I love watching my little Dodger pull this shirt out of his dresser and wear it to school or around the house. Maybe one day we'll take in a game at Dodger Stadium. He can have one of their famous "Dodger Dogs." As for me, his dad...I'll pass on the hot dog. It's a source of unabashed pride, bordering on arrogant boasting, for me to inform you all that I have never once eaten an entire hot dog.

The closest I came to eating a hot dog was taking two bites of a hot dog while sitting on a green slope and watching a Civil War re-enactment at Borderland State Park in southeastern Massachusetts with my great friend Ted and his future fiancee Christine in August 1999. Yup, seared into my memory. 

Go, Dodgers!

Grouse on a Horse

As recently blogged, Becky and Our Little Mouse went to our niece Brynn's wedding in Utah at the beginning of this month. Your Resident Goofus (me) held down the fort over two school days and a full weekend. I was so delighted to have hours of uninterrupted time with Mister J, also known as Our Baby Grouse, while his oldest sister and brother were at school.

We played baseball, we read books, we made popcorn, and one bright morning, I took him to a nearby grocery store. This market has a way-back feature that brings to my mind many childhood moments spent riding these mechanical horses outside Kmart and grocery stores south of Boston. As far as I know, this is the only store anywhere that still features these nostalgic odes to a different time in American consumer culture. 

And just look at how excitedly pleased Grouse is to be going for a ride! It was a highlight of our weekend, and a special feature of our one-on-one time. There's something to be said for simple pleasures. I loved watching Grouse beam while this yellow-colored horse trotted. My little guy refused to dismount, until I promised to buy him a treat inside the store! 

Giddyup!

Happy Birthday Becky!

Happy birthday to Becky, this stunningly beautiful inside and out woman who has been by my side for almost fourteen years. She has been serving as our ward's Relief Society president for over one year now, and a full-time mom for over a decade. Four kids, one home, one Blue Bomber mini-van. Countless carpools, books read, diapers changed, laughs shared, hugs given, smiles shown, and love extended. 

These are the ways to count her impact and her kindness. But they don't fully tell the story. For that, I am so glad to have a front-row seat to Becky's life. Happy birthday Boo! I love you and am so grateful to be together with you for the road ahead and the journey shared so far.    

Batter up! The Grouse

I snapped this photo while pitching tennis balls to Our Baby Grouse on Friday last week. He and I were playing baseball in our backyard, while his oldest sister and big brother were in school, and Mommy and Mouse were at a wedding in Utah. Grouse loves batting, whether he makes contact or not. And when he does connect and the ball sails, soars, or bounces around our yard, he flings the big yellow plastic bat and runs for the hills! 

Oftentimes, after I retrieve the batted ball, Grouse will reverse course on our backyard base path, running behind parked cars in our driveway, and suddenly deciding that it's time to play freeze-tag instead of him getting tagged out! He laughs a lot, we get some exercise, and some one-on-one time together. 

And of course it reminds me of my childhood playing baseball and having baseball catches with my dad in the field of my youth. Sure, now the yards are different, and I'm the pitcher to my own son, but the sentiments and fun are the same, and I love that.

Back to School!

And they're off! Fifth grade, third grade, and first grade for our three oldest kids. Goose (5th) and Mouse (3rd) are at the same school, but this will be the last year they will be at the same school. Barring us moving, which is often discussed in our family, Goose will start sixth grade at a new school for the 2018-'19 year. So, these sisters will hopefully enjoy their time together, including lunch and recess, this school year. 

This little stinker gets one more year of full-time being at home. Again, barring a move or other unforeseen circumstance, Grouse will attend a 3-day-a-week pre-school for the 2018-'19 school year. It's the same pre-K that his siblings all attended and loved. So here's hoping that he and Mommy soak up their time together. It will fly by!

Our Mighty Moose, whose main focus in first grade will likely be improving his quick running skills with his friends. That's his major answer to our question of "Tell me how your school day was?" almost every day. He loves racing against his buddies Orlando, Jesus, Steven, and Ryan, among others. 

I loved walking with our children to their schools on their first day. And times like this make me dream of being a teacher myself someday. Lately, I've been particularly attuned to the good vibes I feel whenever I'm in a school setting: volunteering, PTO, seeing kids at drop-off or pick-up, imagining the enthusiasm I'd bring to the profession. A man can dream...

As for now, the reality is also pretty sweet. Our kids have safe, thriving schools. They have friends. They are being educated in the U.S. state with the best public school education system in the country. There is untold diversity among their friends, classmates, teachers, staff, and neighbors. It's beautiful. It's not perfect, and never will be, but it's a tremendous blessing to be where they are right now.

Goose's Cupcakes

Now open for business: Goose's Cupcakes and Assorted Goodie Confections! At the end of this summer, our oldest kid decided to start learning how to cook more foods, for herself and our family. Part of it is driven by our church's Faith in God for Girls program, which features a set of requirements intended to increase a girl's faith through service. For her cousin Savanna's ninth birthday, Goose went to town, whipping up these delicious, high sugary cupcakes drizzled with frosting and edible toppings. They were divine, and we talked briefly about how to turn this into a real business. 

Goose has, for now, softened on making this a business, but she's still into baking these treats. It's delightful to see her grow in self-confidence and self-service skills. She's also considering inviting girls from the neighborhood, school, and church over for dessert lessons and, naturally, taste-testings. 

Go, Goose!

Foosball!

This beautiful wife of mine has incredible luck with several things in life, including but not limited to: being in the right place at the right time when we're looking for a parking spot in downtown Boston; eating healthy in the face of fierce alternative eating habits from me and our small traveling zoo; and scoring free stuff.

Her latest score: a Foosball table! Becky actually made this gift even more magical because, for the last few months, getting a Foosball table had been on her mind. We recently visited some friends in Grafton who have a massive, beautiful home, and our kids loved playing with their friends' Foosball table. Weeks later, a friend in our church congregation was packing up to move, and she offered Becky their family Foosball table...for free!

It's a huge table, just right for our kids' and their friends' sizes. Becky and I had discussed making more space in - and making better use in general of - our old New England basement. This cellar had pretty much been a storage zone for all of the kids' stuff we had accumulated over the last decade: everything from bikes to beach items to winter items to smaller-kid play stations, old red wagons, a Hammond chord organ (seen in the second photo), plus our food storage and yard work items and our heating system, A/C units, boxes of diapers and wipes and Kleenex and anything else Costco sells in bulk for families as big as ours. You get the picture: Our basement was a display of consumer culture, and we had not done a good job weeding-out stuff that our kids had aged-out of over time. 

All of that detritus needed to go before the Foosball table could be accommodated. It felt like a Herculean task, but it is in those elements where Becky shines. Over a period of just a few days, and while running our family's ship full-time to boot, Becky cleaned up, weeded-out, shifted through, donated, recycled, and tossed about half of our basement's contents. Then, she re-arranged about 75% of our basement's floor plan, moving shelves and boxes and kid stuff (bikes, bookcases, etc.) to create ample space for the Foosball table and a little rec center for our kids and their neighborhood and church friends.

She unveiled the re-mastered plan on a half-day of school, putting the finishing touches on this project while physically working around our four kids and some friends, including J and E above. Every person, young and old, who has seen Becky's handiwork has complimented her vision and execution and her savvy-ness. 

It feels like we got a half-sized room and rec center added to our home, for free! As a family of six on one income in a 110-year-old home, that's about the best feeling of upward mobility that we can hope to experience! 

And we love having our kids and their friends downstairs to play, hearing them cheer and yell and complain and whine and accuse the other team of cheating while playing Foosball!

A Big Summer for the Grouse

With summer 2017 officially in the books, we're pausing to count the ways that it has been a summer of record for our littlest one, Our Baby Grouse. He is three-and-a-half years old, and his favorite place to be in the world is wherever I am. His favorite thing to do is to be a somewhat polite drill sergeant with me, persistently asking me for help with this or that, occasionally offered with a "please" and a "thank you."

Oh, and before continuing, he oftentimes decides that his real name is Sean. Not sure where that came from, but I like it: I have a cousin named Sean, who died in December 2004, when he was in his mid-thirties. He was supposed to be married in the summer of 2005, and he and his fiancee Liz had -- after long deliberation -- decided that they did want to start a family. I guess for a while one or both of them was opposed or indifferent to having children. So when my youngest son insists on being called Sean, I like to think that my cousin Sean is looking down and smiling. 

So, the summer of hits for Our Baby Grouse...

He's learning to clean!

He's rollerblading with his siblings!

He can now completely buckle and un-buckle himself in his car seat!

He's riding a big-kid, training-wheels free bicycle!

And, last but not least...Our Baby Grouse is potty-trained! He wears a diaper to bed each night and sometimes jokingly resists our efforts to take off his diaper in the morning. But he's got the whole potty thing down cold. 

Wow, what a summer for our littlest guy! So many milestones and so many fun memories. We love you, Baby Grouse!

Namesake

On Tuesday, August 1st, me the history-loving geek that I am hauled our family of six plus our good friend Loxi to visit Adams National Historic Park in Quincy, Massachusetts. I grew up less than a half-hour from this national site, yet have never visited it. Neither had Loxi, who has spent her entire life in Massachusetts. 

I chalk that up to there being so much history and nature to explore in New England, most of it within an hour or two at most of greater Boston. So many wonderful options to expand one's understanding of the past or tune in to nature. You could live your whole life in New England and never see it all.

[New England tourism bureau paid endorsement over]. 

While we ate our lunch and waited for a cute trolley to whisk us from the Adams visitors center to the actual historic sites, Our Little Mouse and I spotted this slice of serendipity:

So adorable! Mouse loved this sign, more so than she loved me asking her to repeatedly pose in front of or above it. Sometimes you have to work a little extra hard to get Mouse to break out of her quiet demeanor. Trust me, I can relate to her in that sense. But seeing her light up for these and other photos is gold. 

A Quote About Being in One's 40s

Scottish actor Ewan McGregor, in an interview earlier this year with Time about the sequel to 1996's Trainspotting, said something that deeply resonated with me. To the question, "The sequel is about a lot of things: friendship, betrayal, nostalgia. What was the main draw for you?" McGregor answered: 



"It taps into something about being in your mid-forties. I'm starting to feel it myself, this feeling of looking back at your life and trying to look forward at the rest of your life. It's not just about nostalgia. It's much more...about what's next. "

If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's this: Always take whatever anyone related to Star Wars says to the bank. He played a young Obi-wan Kenobi in the atrocious prequels, so my case in point. No, but really, what Ewan said struck a nerve with me when I first read this quote in the springtime. 

There has been some serious self-reflection, introspection, rearview mirror-gazing and scanning the horizon ahead going on in my life for years. Much of that has been tied to my career. I've been looking for the next thing for a long time now. From my front-row seat, a lot of promising peaks loomed ahead on this car trip that has been, at a minimum, six years long. But as I figuratively drove closer, a detour or another vista or engine failure or distracted driving or a myriad of other car-trip fiasco scenarios ensued. 

Each peak came and went, and some passed by with much regret, including the deepest regret from last late November.  

But more recently, this whirlwind forties road trip has taken on a broader, more existential feel. It's not just about my career. I had lunch with a friend from church earlier this summer. She is also a blogger and loves to write. We're in slightly different places in life, but it felt very comforting to connect over the word "re-claiming." It felt like a light bulb going off in my mind when Angela said, "re-claim." 

She is trying to re-claim pieces of herself. In my own ways, I am trying to re-claim pieces of my life, dreams, and identity, some of which have been in storage since before marriage, many more locked away during the tumult of the last decade of having babies and raising little kids. 

Ewan McGregor talked about not just looking back but focusing on what's next. It's a balance of perspectives, one I am grappling with. There are things about me as a person that I had a sense of, an inkling, long before I married. I chose to not focus on those aspects, to not give them voice. Likewise, other things I wanted to be or do had to, out of necessity, be mothballed so that my marriage could be strong for each other and for when our tribe started forming. 

But now that our tribe is entering, as a whole, a new dimension (less hands-on needs like feeding; more juggling schedules and friends), Becky and I both feel like we want to re-claim those precious pieces of ourselves, because we are individuals. Not just parents. Not just children ourselves. Not just a friend to others. Not just a worker. Not just a spouse. 

Again out of necessity, essential elements of who each of us is as a person were covered over by layers of topsoil over the last ten-plus years. But new life budded under all those layers, and sunshine is piercing through the topsoil little by little. That new growth within me is looking up, as I am looking forward.  

It's time to re-claim, to re-invigorate, and to get in the car for another trip toward promising peaks and stunning vistas. I am so excited but anxious, because I have a destination in mind but no timeline. The road ahead awaits. I want to spend more of my forties looking up and forward, with the perspective and pieces of me that are important re-claimed, for what awaits us.

Sanctuary

With all of the talk this week about that orange-haired mess in the Oval Office publicly considering scrapping the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program -- not to mention how odious many of his behavior, statements, decisions have been while campaigning and since becoming commander-in-chief -- I thought it fitting to post this slice of street art. 

Notice how I can't bring myself to write his name, or write "President" followed by his name. 

I saw this street art in Somerville's Davis Square while at a work outing in April 2017. It spoke to my heart and mind. This nation has long been a sanctuary for millions of people, taking in women and men and children of all colors, religions, languages, ethnicities, economic backgrounds, sexual identities, ages, and abilities. 

It has not always been a pretty process. Not every class of immigrant was welcomed by open arms (or any arms at all). But the hope of America, the opportunities it offered, the chance for renewal and revival beckoned to countless people across the planet for decades. 

I am not sure if that beckoning call resounds as strongly and as invitingly as it once did. I don't think the person in the Oval Office understands that people are still drawn to our country for good reasons. He sees the world in win-or-lose terms, and views people who look or sound or dress differently as losers. 

But all is not lost. One day, he'll be out of office, and I hope that as a nation, we can help sound the call "America is a sanctuary" with a louder, clearer, and stronger voice of unity.

#1,500

We've hit another blogging milestone today: This marks post #1,500! I'm always looking at the next big number, but it's nice to also pause and reflect (and re-link) to the milestone markers than came before: 

Post #1,234 was in January 2016. We were a family of 6 for the third straight year and starting to emerge from the fog of our last infancy. The road ahead looked promising. 

Post #1,000 was in October 2013. We were a family of 5 and I had just survived a broken collarbone injury that then led to an even bigger scare, with a blood clot that necessitated four days in the ICU. 

Post #500 was in March 2009. We were a family of 4, panicked like millions of other people in the depths of the Great Recession. We made it through, thank the Lord, but it was a trying time. 

Post #100 was in July 2007. We were a family of 3, with little Goose not even six months old. Parenthood was starting to feel a little less overall daunting, and becoming more fun as Goose became more engaging.  

And this post, from October 2011, gave some summary to what was going on in our lives at slightly less-noteworthy number milestone time. 

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So, what will the next 500 posts en route to #2,000 bring about? At my blogging pace, the two thousandth post should hit sometime in late 2021. I was on a blogging tear in the earliest years (2007--2010), but my pace has slowed in proportion to the number of kids we have and the increasing demands on our time. 

That's why it took just under two years to go from #100 to #500, but over four years to go from #500 to #1,000, and another four years to get from #1,000 to today's #1,500. In 2021, Becky and I'll be in our mid-forties; Goose will be 14; Mouse will be 13; Moose will be 10; and Grouse will be 7. We'll have a house with TWO teenagers! Aaagh!

It's going to fly by, like every year has. I took a look at post #100 just now, and could not believe it was 10 years ago. I still remember that day, and still can recall the feelings of fatherly love and pride that I felt for an infant Goose, our first baby. Thankfully, I no longer have that tent-sized orange dress shirt :-)

Thanks as always for reading along, and for joining with us in a way on our road ahead!

[Editor's note: I plan to back-blog a lot of our summer, so once those posts are up, the numbers will be off and this 1,500th post won't actually be the 1,500th. But it was the 1,500th at the time I wrote it on September 1st.]