An unfinished Story

This has been a full yet mundane sort of week. I have immersed myself in a variety of tasks that are essential to complete but seemingly incomplete able. I am frustrated, exhausted and feeling no sense of accomplishment! Can you tell I'm a little cranky?
I also haven't felt like writing this week. I'm afraid the back to school and reality mode I am in has left me little time and energy to ponder the color of the sky or why certain things that happen in my day play out in the particular manner that they do.

I had this odd little scene pop in my head a few weeks ago and I wrote it down, but I couldn't finish it and I couldn't really understand from where it had manifested. It’s a part of a story, I can tell, and I've never been driven to write any kind of story. I think I'll put here and see if it takes me anywhere. Its not honed or edited, and as I said before, it isn't finished. Or... it may not go any further than this entry. We'll see. Here it is.

Alone, Vinico faced a united pack that swiftly and skillfully ripped away his noble breastplate. He had been commanded to come alone and he had obliged, leaving him fully exposed for their attack. Their agenda was clear and had been well plotted. They pummeled him with stones and then, like hungry ravens, pecked at his very being. Years earlier the sovereign warned that when he was gone, this would be the way of the elder he. Vinico understood his position in the flock and slightly protested, but only out of a primal instinct. Trusting this encounter would be brief and the status quo would return in a few short hours, he took his blows dutifully. Knowing it would always be his role; he resolved to carry the fault. When they flew away to their protected nests, Vinico gathered the feathers that had been so violently plucked and returned to his own shelter. He found his family anxiously awaiting his return. Seeing them, he let his grief come in and collapsed into them. They wrapped him in their warmth and ministered to his wounds. He recounted the degradation, and together they wept. They wept for the stinging wounds that would surely leave profound scars. They wept for the loss of their cherished flock and because they knew they would now be left to carry on alone. He was innocent but forever accused, with all knowledge of his qualities ignored by those whom he had first loved without condition.

Vinico's confidence now wavered and he questioned his ability to endure what he knew lay ahead. He had never known such fear and doubt. Self-doubt had always offered a personal challenge to which he welcomed and valiantly and skillfully arose, but this recent encounter had been overwhelming. He found himself standing at the edge of a unfamiliar ocean that beckoned him to jump into its salty darkness. The sky and the water had become a blackish green and the air seemed putrid and thin, lacking in oxygen causing him to gasp for breath and feel disoriented and confused. Vinico couldn't understand how these waters, that had always been his sweet salvation, now betrayed him. On this day the depths were dark and menacingly unpredictable and he no longer trusted them. He sensed powerful creatures swimming beneath its cloudy surface, waiting for the chance grab at him and swallow his every effort. Suddenly, his body lifted from the earth and began to float above the water. He was in a terrifying state of limbo, paralyzed, unable to turn back, reluctant to go forward. He imagined the weight of all for whom he felt accountable and again struggled to catch his breath. He was aware of a persistent draw from the once calming water that now seemed so unreliable, and he resisted. The more he resisted, the higher he lifted. As his altitude increased he could see his beloved family shrinking smaller and smaller as they reached upward toward him and shouted for him to jump in. Why were they so sure when he, for the first time, was so afraid? He focused his gaze on Oamiare. She looked so certain and so ready. The air was becoming increasingly thinner and the pressure was closing in on his chest. He breathed heavily. She looked so eager. While he dangled there in the sky, feeling enormous amounts of fear and the squeeze of the thinning air, he studied her. She had caught his eye and his heart a lifetime ago, for a multitude of reasons he could not put into words. They had made a life together and were connected by all of the events and circumstances that make two people live in perfect tandem. She had a gift of insight and intuition and was skilled at adaptive thinking, making her a valuable council. At this moment he didn't believe her, but he knew he could trust her. He knew he should trust her. She loved him and they shared one soul. He could lead her or follow her and she would always be there to begin again and again for as many beginnings as he ever needed. He had to squint to just make out her face and although he was too far above to hear, he could see she was shouting, "Its time! It won't be easy but you can do this! Its time! Jump in!" He looked from the dark waters to her face and to the faces of his babes. He sensed that he would be pushed upward no farther, but this discomfort would never cease. He would be alive, but never be allowed to live without this pressure bearing down on his lungs and heart. He had no choice, he had to jump in.

Vinico looked down at the ocean and saw waves breaking over a wide peninsula that had not been there before. They were long and powerful waves that built up then crested into perfectly hollow tubes that eventually broke over the land in a perfect rhythm. They came in sevens and he watched them in awe. He wanted to touch them and to feel their power, but he knew he would have to jump in at the right time. The current pulled and the bottom was jagged with coral and sharp rocks. He could see the waves building in the distance and knew he had to hurry and be smart. Timing along with his strength and intelligence would be key. He wondered if he would be able. He would have to avoid the dangerous rocks and the coral reef, not to mention the fierce creatures that lurked there in those waters. The swim out to the waves would be long and tiresome but all at once he was on a mission; becoming focused and motivated by this massive challenge. He counted each breaking wave, “...one...two...three...four...five...six...seven.” He thrust his body out into the waters and swam for his life.

A message from my fortune cookie...

In an effort to glean wisdom from every thing I hear or read... this memo was delivered to me with dinner that arrived at my door in 30 to 45 minutes. Though born from a cracked open cookie, these are words by which I live.

"We must overcome difficulties
rather than being overcome by
difficulties."

7 down, 5 to go!

This is the first day of 8Th grade and the last year of middle school for Trenton. Our blond haired, blue eyed boy who is approaching 14years old, is tormented by hormone surges, sprouting pit hair and has an overwhelming need for sleep that is only interrupted for several extreme feedings through out his day. He remains at the smaller end of the size scale compared to the other guys...his best friend being an absolute man-child who's feet have now surpassed David's size 11's! But, there is hope for T to gain on his peers. At a slight 95lbs, he has the same 30" inseam as his dad, although not yet meeting him in height, and sports a size 9 shoe, thus surpassing my 40 something, 50 something and 60 something year old brothers.

He's a good kid at the core, but while he is currently possessed by this phenomena called puberty, I can hardly tolerate him at times...well, honestly, most of the time. Puberty has got to be a form of Bi-Polar disease mixed with a relapse of the terrible two's and a smattering of mid-life crisis. He alternates between saying, doing and wanting what ever is the opposite of the family's general desire. When he is not sleeping or eating, he enjoys camping in his room, for which he has requested black-out shades, or camping in the play room playing a video game and talking to his pals via X-Box Live. He wants black-out shades for that room, too. This indoor way of life particularly makes David crazy so when T does exit the house he glances at his dad with a sly grin and squeals like a little girl saying, "Outside burns! It Burns! It burns!"

Recently, he and a friend were hanging out in his room with the door closed. They were laughing and chatting, but I had a sudden mother moment and felt the need to open the door and take inventory. Dear Lord! What is the source of that smell!?!? As I caught myself from falling over, I had a sudden flash back of entering my own brother's room a million years ago. Boy feet, boy breath, boy hair, boy gas, boy shoes, boy socks, boy laundry, boy, boy, boy! Why?!? They bathe and brush their teeth regularly. Actually, he bathes REALLY often. Trenton even fancy's using manly products manufactured by AXE and the like. I found myself fanning the door back and forth, like my mother had done so many years earlier, saying, " You've got to leave the door open and let some air in here! Whew!" They both looked at me like I had lost my mind. They didn't smell anything, except the sweet smell of themselves I suppose. I wonder, if I left my husband in a closed room for several hours with his friends, would it smell that way still? I guess it depends on if it was the hunters, the surfers or the cyclists. Meanwhile, I'm fanning Margo's door back and forth to rid it of the fumes from nail polish and magic markers! More on that another time.

At random, and seemingly without cause, Trenton will take out the trash or unload the dishwasher. We have tender moments in which he confides to me that he wishes he weren't so shy or had a more studly chest profile. He will grab his sister in what appears to be a violent headlock, but turns out to be a hug. He loves listening to his favorite stand up comedians and thoroughly enjoys performing segments of their routines at the oddest moments. Just this morning, when offered breakfast, he asked for "...just a smoke and a pancake." (Dr.Evil, for those who don't recognize) When in charge of the remote control, he jumps back and forth between the assorted high kill ratio flicks like James Bond, Sponge Bob and America's Funniest Videos. He can consume an entire can of soda in three gulps followed by an award winning belch, which gives him great pride and pleasure.

Well after Trenton was born and named, I happened to be standing at the grocery check out, waiting my turn and killing time by flipping through a baby name book. I read somewhere that children live up to their given names. I thumbed through and found that the name Trenton means Torrent.

Chuckle...

Poised, at the starting gate...

I have been reviewing the list I made on Monday regarding this nasty little back to school situation. First, let me say, I am coping well enough with this impending reality and my attitude this week, surprisingly, hasn't been sour at all!
I made a pilgrimage to Costco and replaced all the processed food that I tossed while I was still on vacation afterglow. The challenge now is to keep everybody from consuming it all before classes resume nest week. On the dinner front, most meals were served by 8:45pm, although last night we ate at 6:30!
With a minimal amount of bickering between Trenton and Margo, we hit the uniform store and swiftly spent several hundred dollars. On the short trip between Sue Mills Uniforms and Academy, Trenton and I argued about the fact that I would not be buying DC or any other kind of designer tennis shoes for his rapidly growing feet. Meanwhile, Margo silently sat in the back seat, plotting a trip to The Galleria for new dress uniform shoes and a designer pencil bag; this would be after we went to the surf shop for a very specific book bag! Thankfully, the Academy trip proved fruitful for Trenton who walked away with a pair of blue Converse and stylish enough dress shoes. Much to his relief, we dropped him at home and I took our fashionista to Famous Footwear where she found a pair of spiffy black pattin leather bowling shoes for dress uniform days. She did manage to convince me into a visit to the surf shop where she found a shockingly inexpensive book bag. She still wanted to check out Abercrombie for an oh so perfect pencil case, but I held strong!
And so the preparations are pretty much complete. We plan to head to the beach for the weekend and do our best to savour these last few days of downtime. We've really had a nice summer break. Its been a hard summer to be in small business, as the country's economic situation has finally made it to our little oil town with an avenging style. David has faced some challenging times over this last decade and is bracing for the next 12 months. To quote an advisor we recently consulted on Kiki's behalf, "Hope is not a plan" and so we are opening our imaginations and looking for creative ways to come out on the other side of this trying climate. We will focus on the facts and fight the distractions that bombard us from those who seek such goals. We will be concentrating on our beautiful children while we work to secure the survival of our family's business. We have each other and our dear friends and will strive to never take anyone or anything for granted and will be generous in giving the benefit of doubt. We will not surrender hope and maintain an optimistic faith while remembering to be smart and shrewd. Trenton will be shopping for and applying to high schools for next year. Yikes! Kiki will be turning 18 in December and, if all goes as smoothly as planned, we will be readying him to move to The Brookwood Community next summer/fall. Margo will be competing most weekends this fall on her gymnastic team while we all try to squeeze in as much family togetherness as possible on our ranch once the weather becomes more mild.

I was never a great student, but I always loved the first few days of the start of the school year. The notebooks were fresh and clean and smelled of the factory from which they came. The pencils were long and their erasers were perfectly pink with sharp even planes on top. Shoes were new, jeans were a deep and rich indigo blue. The future was staring you in the face with vast amounts of promise and opportunity, all of which you were in charge. Along with your fresh haircut, you had a new teacher in a new class room in a new grade and a new chance for a clean start. At 44 years old, I still regard "the year" as September through May with summer standing alone. I'm actually feeling this way about this new year as it applies to our family and our future. So...I guess we better get started! Happy School year!

PS. Pictured is me & my brother, David, on the first day of school, 1981. Click on the picture and you will get a blown up version that is ripe for study. The reflection off my teeth is generated by a very full and serious set of braces. I guess I wasn't wearing my 5 rubber bands in front that day or my head gear. David is heading off to his first day very prepared. He holds a small note pad, or perhaps that's one or two pieces of folded notebook paper, and a pen.

How many days until Thanksgiving break!?!?!?!

Today is Monday and marks the beginning of the end of our summer break. Though the days remain inhumanely hot and we have been blessed with an extra heavy layer of humidity these past few days, we will be pulling the kids' school sweater vests from the back of their closets and seeing by just how much they have out grown their Sue Mills khaki pants. I wish I could spell the sound of the groan I just emitted! I'm not ready! I'm not ready! I'm not ready! This is where you should picture me face down on the floor, kicking my legs wildly and pounding my fists. Sigh...

In preparation for the back to school routine:
* I have reactivated the alarm clock on my Blackberry
* I have made an enormous grocery list
* I have planned to stock up on unhealthy school snack foods
* I have settled my $4.00 debt with the school cafeteria
* I have agreed to take the kids shopping for new shoes to replace the ones from which not so human smells uncontrollably waft
* I have set an unrealistic goal to have dinner ready for consumption before 9pm this week
(Picture more moaning here)
I will NOT stress over my kid's easygoing attitudes toward:
* Homework
* Tests
* High school entrance testing
* Getting up on time
* The completion of school projects
* Remembering their belongings
* The overflowing kitchen trashcan
* Their dirty dishes left everywhere
* Bathing
* Flushing their toilets
* Wet towels on the wood floor
* My stressing out
* I will NOT stress over my inability to not stress
* I will remember to buy plenty of wine

To the tune of the birthday song

Happy birthday to me
I can no longer see
My eyes are starting to sport feet
And gravity is attacking me!

On this birthday I am 44
Of many great years, I have plenty more
I just wish keeping this body up
Wasn’t such a chore!

With this life I am quite pleased
I have children, numbering three
I have an adoring husband
Who all truly love me!

I am the last of a brood of seven
A position as blessed as heaven
No matter the years we leave behind
I’ll always be younger than my kind!

This tribute is getting really corny
Especially since I’ve written it about me
I better wrap this thing up
Before I cause anyone to upchuck!