Sometimes, it’s just time to buy a suit.

Jim and Peter decided today was that time.

(This photo was taken by Jim from inside the Nordstrom’s fitting room, and texted to me. I like it.)

I’m kind of losing it today. The Blue Devils lost their playoff game last night to Oak Ridge… a story I’ll tell later… which marks the end of baseball for us. And oh.. I just can’t tell you.. the bittersweet.  It was all so great, and now it’s over. I’m unbearably sad, but it was so great! I am definitely crying because it’s over, overwhelmed with a grief that I also recognize as full of happy. I can’t even begin to express the happy, as I’m all weepy and numbish.

I think there’s a platitude for this.

Well, it’s a Dr. Seuss quote, actually, so it’s a little more stomachable than a platitude. It goes:

Which is kind of helping today. It’s helping me get to the oh, c’mon Kari, pull yourself together already part… which is good.

Deep breath.

I feel so lucky that Peter…our family…had such a thing as the baseball experience. It was a thread that ran through Peter’s whole childhood. He started at the beginning with T-ball and just rode it the whole way. It was a consistent, fun, worthwhile, constructive presence for just about all of his conscious, rememberable life.

I am grateful for all of it.. the structure, the community, the camaraderie. It provided Peter with an identity, a go-to, a landing spot. It taught him a ton about everything that you expect and want a team sport to teach you.

Of course.

And he would have been fine without it.. something else would have filled in…but I’m just glad we had it anyway. Because I love baseball. That sure worked out, didn’t it? Thank you stars.

I’m probably most proud of his perseverance.  That he remained engaged, that he was inspired to stay with it for all of those years. I am grateful beyond words that he formed deep friendships, a sense of belonging, and a strong sense of self.

Just holy shit. What more do we want for our kids?

Ok… so… some photos?  From the way back?

Here is Peter’s first T-Ball team, the Diamondbacks. It all starts with stretching (the focus started early!):

His coach was.. oh dear.. I’ll have to look up his name… the nicest guy. He was excited and a little nervous because he’d never coached before. He recruited his dad to help, and they were very tender and caring with the boys. They both liked Peter (they liked all the kids) and they encouraged him so much and made it really fun. The coach’s kid was enthusiastic, but I don’t think he went beyond T-Ball.

It’s amazing how you take kids who don’t know which way to run around the base paths and turn them into baseball players (sorta). But it all comes together.

And that was the start. First game, five years old… and on his way.

This is one of the very first shots we ever got of Peter on the diamond (such as it is in T-ball). I love the finger’s out, the foot’s on the bag. He looks a bit uncertain.

These (the below) were some of the last shots I got of him on the diamond. It’s now a little over TWELVE years later. A lifetime.

Hanging on the field before the game.. far more certain of himself:

The above and below shots were taken during warm up for last night’s game. They are not the most spectacular shots, but they are relaxed and confident and infinitely comfortable…a profound contrast to the uncertainty and tentativeness of that first day.

What I do remember about those first days of T-ball was his eagerness. He was so thrilled to finally be officially on a baseball team, starting the baseball program. We/he didn’t have any view of the future, we could not have imagined that he’d ride it until the end, that he’d become a varsity pitcher on his high school team. But he did know he was very excited to be playing baseball. On a team. With rules. With other kids.

We’d been playing catch for years. I remember very clearly the careful tosses to his glove, only on the right side, so he’d experience success always and build his confidence. He loved it. I remember the feeling, very explicitly, of going across the street, lying in the grass, on our backs, looking up at blue sky, feeling warm air on our skin after a long winter, excited about being out there and playing spring catch. I don’t mean to sound too Rockwellian, and we didn’t always do this, but I have a very crisp memory of the times we did, knowing then that it was a special moment, a very precise moment in the larger baseball experience.

I am not exaggerating at all. He loved it. It was a perfect start. Every time, he had fun. His eagerness is what makes me cry now (for happy). T-ball, and the fun we had playing catch across the street, was so simple and such a sweet start on which to build.

And it did build!

I like this picture. It’s important to me because it’s taken at his last game as a varsity player, and also because he looks so quietly comfortable. Such a wonderful and sweet contrast to his T-ball pictures. So mature, so evolved, so grown up, so competent.

At the end of the game, Dan held them for a very long time. Long meeting. I have no idea what all he said, what the other boys said, what the mood was. The parents, plenty emotional ourselves (senior parents, anyway) were dealing. I was in such a world. I was so overcome with the end, which I’d seen coming forever, but experiencing emotionally for weeks. A little tough to process.. simply because we were in a gaggle of parents, everyone handling the end/loss in their grown up ways, quite a range. Not quite sure how to receive our boys when they did, finally, come out.

One by one, some in pairs, they showed up. Quiet, not smiling, some trying to look settled in their feelings and strong. Finding Peter in the group felt almost desperate.. I was feeling so tender toward him, all of them, but especially Peter, hoping he was okay.

He offered a weak smile. We closed around him and started toward the car. And then he lost it. Not in a wracking sob kind of way, but he cried. He was caught off guard by the surge of emotion. He said he was “fine” until he saw us. He was uncomfortable with his tears and tried to shake them off, but they kept coming. We talked a little, said things like, “it was a great ride,” and “wish it could have kept going.” And who knows what else. Jim and I had come in separate cars, so Peter had to decide who he was going to ride home with.. he chose the crying parent.

We didn’t talk that much on the ride home, but we both sniffled a lot. I told him I was incredibly proud of him, so glad for the experience of baseball, so amazed and glad and impressed he went the distance. Said good things about his final season, how it was such a great note to end on.. things like that. He didn’t shrug me off or tell me to stop.

I’m sure as the days go on, especially the weeks, months and years, the baseball narrative will settle into its perfect elements. So many disappointments along the way, so many coulda beens and shoulda beens. But way way way overall, a fantastic, perfect thing. I’m insanely grateful for it all. As I said above… I reflect on his growth, his community of peers, our community of families, his skill building, the development of his athleticism, his identity as a baseball player, his safe landing in a supportive, camaraderie-filled place, the lessons, the opportunities, the friendships, the role models, the successes. He grew and developed in so many positive ways because of his experiences in baseball. And had so, so much fun at every step along the way.

It’s a total cliche. And it’s all absolutely the way it absolutely is.

So, yes, I am SO smiling because it happened.

And oh my god, I love him so much.

Walked into the kitchen this early morning, to see this perfect pepper just sitting on the counter–intended for, but left out of, last night’s dinner?

These days, you know, one is always close to one’s image capturing device–in my case, iPhone’s cradled in my hand as I made the rounds from bedroom to kitchen. It’s the modern way.

Anyway, walk in kitchen, see pepper, so, naturally, I circumnavigated, and here’s what else I got…

(…and as I performed my 360, I applied different filters… the above shot in Dreamstate, because it’s early and I just got up and didn’t have my contacts in yet).

Some HDR to get the most out of the detail and color inside the room (and out), and apparently, the imperfections in the butcher block:

Forget…maybe Madison Ave, just for classic, still-life effect:

Tail Fins, to emphasize the sunbeams:

The subject, itself:

Like a drone:

Not as perfect as I initially thought… iPhone’s impressive macro setting:

And voila–maybe a lifeofwry world record–my blog is done for the day!

At first, I’m like… what? I’m standing in the kitchen with my almost-adult offspring, cutting and glueing clip-art to sing-song poetry… just like when he was in… oh, maybe second grade. This morning I’m doing this. Not exaggerating… it’s totally back to elementary school: the scissors, the double-sided tape, the glue… they’re all there; he’s cutting, arranging, affixing art images to text. It’s a rush job, of course, because: Peter. So there’s a bit of panic in the air. Also just like it ever was.

This cutting and glueing and pasting is for a twelfth grade English assignment. Twelfth grade, I mutter to myself. What on earth? Most of these kids-in-adult-bodies are heading off to college, many are drinking and partying and experimenting awkwardly with the worst of adult behaviors. At the very least, all of them are trying on versions of their adult selves… maybe drinking coffee, maybe just going out for a drive, maybe wearing a tie to school and feeling grown up.

And yet.. here we are, standing at the large kitchen island, clip-art spread out before us… and I’m helping him by tearing off pieces of double-stick tape, while he adheres said clip-art to pages of his children’s book.

His teacher assigned the writing and illustrating of a children’s book. Which seemed so.. odd.  That’s not a very sophisticated project, I thinking. It wouldn’t seem an appropriate, age-related project for grown up, fancy pants seniors.

But then I started to think, no… it’s actually perfect. Just as they are preparing to leave their little feathered nests and fly off into the world, their English teacher is making them write a children’s book.  Maybe he wants them to reconnect with their innermost child selves, maybe he wants to remind them of the values their parents worked so hard to instill in them, maybe he wants to suggest that what they learned in kindergarten should still guide them today, as they prepare to leave home and make their way on their own.

Well played, Mr. Elliot, well played.

So, Peter, faithful to habits he’s honed since day one of homeworksville, was working until about 2:00am on his book’s final touches (probably its starting touches, too). Last thing he said to me before I went to bed around midnight was, “When you get up in the morning, can you print a file for me?” (All his print jobs funnel through my computer. And yes, I’m going to miss these days.)

And this morning, I did that.

The story…

A bit of its premise…

This, I guess, is a goop making tree…

Well, maybe you get the idea.

The story sing songs its way through a tale of goop making. It involves a mean man who wants the goop, we presume for some nefarious reason. Other things happen. And then it ends on a moral high note…

Sure the kids’ll love it.

As usual, please don’t mention to him that you saw this post or heard about his book. Thanks.

~~

I don’t know, but senior year is a funny time.

I did my first Tasty.. you know those compelling 30-second, hyper-sped up food preparation videos that are forever making the rounds on Facebook that make cooking look fast and easy?

I saw one a couple of mornings ago–I’m guessing when I was particularly hungry–and thought, wow, that looks really, really good, and very easy… why, I’m making that for dinner. 

So, I did that. Here’s the result:

Cross-hatched and marinated a pork shoulder in soy, sugar, scallions and garlic (lots) for an hour:

Tossed some asparagus and diced potatoes in olive oil, sprinkled with kosher salt and fresh ground pepper, and arranged on oven platter:

Baked for an hour or so on 275:

Made a glaze of dark brown sugar, honey and soy:

Spread on top of pork and returned to a 500 degree oven for 20 minutes. Here’s the result:

Looks pretty good, and should have been, but for these problems:

• Recipe called for boneless, skin-on pork. Coop doesn’t leave the skin on, so the cross-hatching part didn’t work and the meat didn’t hold together well. Still, it might have been okay, if you like fatty meat, which I don’t. I’d rather use a loin or something far leaner. I think you’d get as good a dish, but maybe not quite as flavorful.. in that fat-adds-flavor way.. but more appealing.
• This one’s key: You have to wait until the oven reaches 500 before you put the meat/veggies back in. Because I just returned the platter to the oven and let the temperature rise while the meat and veggies were inside. The glaze, instead of forming a discreet, crisp top to the pork, warmed and spread all over everything, turning what was supposed to be a savory dish with a nice contrasty sweet, crusty top, into a sickeningly sweet, goopy mess. I didn’t get a photo, but at one point, while in the oven, the glaze had bubbled and frothed to souffle-ish proportions, covering everything in a lava-like layer… and I thought, uh oh, this is not good (it wasn’t). Once removed from the oven, the expanded glaze layer settled back down, but not before it had soaked everything on the platter, to very sticky effect. Add to that, the potatoes were strangely chewy.. not sure why. And the asparagus spears were tough-overdone, not crisp-overdone and they were soggy after being drenched in the sugary glaze.

So pretty much none of it came out edible.. another food fail.

On a roll.

The playoffs have begun. We had our first game today against Vacaville and won 2-1.

There are twelve teams in the division 1 (large high schools) section of the Sac Joaquin Northern bracket. The teams come from three different leagues: the top five teams from the Delta League (ours); the top four from the Sierra Foothill League; and the top three from the Montecito Empire League. Todays round was an elimination round, meaning if you lose, you’re out of the playoffs. Glad we won. Thursday’s game is also a “play in” game, so it’s also a must win (or go home) situation. Then, should we survive beyond that, we enter the four-team tournament, which is double elimination. The winner of that is crowned Northern Bracket champ, and goes on to compete against the winner of the southern bracket. THAT is the big prize. And that is the one Davis has won three times (as recently as 2014). It takes a lot of talent and a good measure of luck to get that far. Wish us a bit of the latter.

Lotta tournament detail for ya.

Anyway, the game today against Vacaville was played on our field, and it represented the final game ever on the Blue Devil diamond for the graduating seniors. All remaining games–and we hope there will be many–will be played at Sac City College and, if we’re still in ’til the end, University of the Pacific down in Stockton.

Sniff.

So… here are some parting shots:

Taken last week on Senior Day… this is our graduating senior:

Photo credit: Mark Martin

Below is the home game press box crew:

Anya and Shelby, DHS seniors who are volunteer team managers, and who run the scoreboard, cue walk-up music, fetch line-ups, ice, and do whatever the coaches need them to do. Sweet and helpful.

And Dianna and me… seasoned, faithful (or is it obsessive) scorekeepers:

Peter took the above picture. Speaking of whom, this is Peter, our absolutely wonderful announcer, posing with Dianna:

I guess we’re all feeling sentimental… here’s another:

(Damn, I’m gonna miss this stuff.)

Here’s the view from my perch…

Here’s one that Wes took just after today’s victory..

Coach Dan Ariola and his graduating seniors:

Daniel, Mason, Ryan, James, Solly, Hunter, Pierce, Gabe, Peter and Ray.

~~

And finally, in the this-doesn’t-happen-often catagory…

The boys decided to wear dress shirts and ties to school today in honor of the opening day of the playoffs:

.. on a lovely spring weekend in Davis…

Walking downtown to Farmer’s Market yesterday, this is the Central Park garden in full & charming wildflower bloom. So in love with this, I can hardly stand it:

Ran into Nugget to pick up some to-go dinner to take to Janet’s house; was moved by the sunset and the view through the parking lot:

Shot out the window on our way to Janet’s… the sunset over North Davis was so pretty:

Same sky, just shot a little more over my shoulder to the north, with some added HDR effect:

Shot this morning on way home from breakfast with Peter and Jim..had never seen this sculpture before — it’s huge, near corner of 1st and E:

~~

In more productive news:

Took advantage of an unexpected break from baseball this weekend to address a number of items on the anxiety list: made serious progress on Grad Night committee work; finalized dates/times/venues for family graduation celebrations for Peter; designed graduation announcements and invitations (taking to Kinkos shortly); helped Peter set up–at long last–a functioning bank account and deposit (this morning) birthday and Christmas checks dating back to 2013 (please don’t judge us.. and do keep your fingers crossed); nudged Peter to register for his Santa Cruz orientation; and helped him pull together his thoughts on reaching out to a UCSC physics professor, a contact facilitated by our friend Wes.

Learned yesterday that Peter was accepted into his first choice college at Santa Cruz: Stevenson. It’s the east-most of the ten campus colleges, up on the hill, with a sweeping view of the Monterey Bay and Pacific Ocean beyond. It’s a short run down the hill to the spectacular East Field, site of most (all?) of UCSC’s recreational facilities. It seems not too far from the student union, if that’s a thing, and Quarry Plaza & Bookstore. If there is a central hub (not certain there is), that might be it.

Next step: meal plans, dormitory assignments.

That sound you hear is me breathing just a little bit easier for progress made on all those fronts.  It’s like that sculpture above… breathing calmly, feeling more peaceful with every item checked off the list….

I don’t often completely lift newspaper articles and post them in their entirety in my blog, but Joe Davidson’s article from yesterday’s Sacramento Bee captures this aspect of our season so well, I’m just gonna.

But first, I have to add this:

When Peter was in kindergarten, I helped out a few times out on the playground. Peter and Ryan were in the same kindergarten class (and 1st, maybe 2nd, I think 5th… will have to check).

So, I was a PE mom from time to time, which was really fun. And enlightening.

Having always been a coordinated athletic type, I just didn’t relate to the challenges some kids had with very basic things.. like running, throwing, jumping. I remember one day, I actually worked with two kids, both boys, who could not skip. I had to break down skipping into its most basic elements: stand on one foot, hop, step forward onto the other foot, hop, step forward on the other foot, hop… etc.  It was the most unnatural thing to these guys…so frustrating. One, not at all happy about it, gave up and sulked off to do something else (which I was sorry about). The other stuck with it. When he got it, finally, I thought he’d cry. He was so beaming, and so proud. It was definitely one of the highlights of my days working in Peter’s elementary school classes.

I also remember just wandering around the kindergarten playground and watching the kids play. I remember standing at a teeny tiny rectangle of fenced-in grass one day and watching a group of kids play soccer. One was Ryan. He was far and away the alpha athlete on that rectangle of grass. He had more natural instinct and more coordination in his moves than anyone, by orders of magnitude. He was the clear leader on the field, he directed the plays, he juked, he controlled the ball… it was memorably impressive.

It was NEVER more evident to me that some kids had athletic talent, and some kids didn’t. The skipping was proof that some kids just simply didn’t, and Ryan’s command of soccer was clear evidence that some kids did. He had it completely and totally.

So fast forward to the baseball years. When Peter was making his first 9-10 District team, even as a 9-year old, which was impressive enough, Ryan was already playing a year ahead in the 10-11’s, and so it went all the way through Little League. They were also divided into National and American leagues, so never played with or against one another. When Peter made freshman team (so thrilled and happy were we!),  Ryan was already being brought up to varsity. When Peter made the varsity team in his junior year, Ryan sat out the entire season with an injury. So this year is the first they actually played together on the same team.

And it’s been a pretty fun experience to be able to watch some of what is described below….

Davis shortstop Ryan Kreidler makes a throw to first base in the fourth inning at Elk Grove High School in Elk Grove, California on Friday, May 3, 2013. Jose Luis Villegas jvillegas@sacbee.com

 

BY JOE DAVIDSON

A two-hour rain delay in Berkeley wasn’t going to dampen these spirits.

Not with Ryan Kreidler leading the charge.

Kreidler is a standout senior shortstop for the Davis High School baseball team who provides power at the plate and inspires teammates to compete in any conditions. He is on the radar of many big-league teams entering next month’s draft as a 6-foot-3, 195-pound prospect committed to UCLA on scholarship.

And if there’s fun to be had, Kreidler is at the forefront.

In the Boras Baseball Classic, rain delayed the start of Davis’ 7-4 loss to Mira Costa of Manhattan Beach in the championship game on May 7 at Cal’s Evans Diamond. Kreidler and his teammates made the most of the down time.

The ESPN3 production booth captured video of Kreidler stuffing a teammate into the tube of a rolled-up tarp. Then there was a fungo golf game to keep players on both teams loose. Then someone found a chewed-up old football in the right-field bullpen, and Kreidler soon found himself at quarterback, firing a different sort of laser to infielders turned receivers.

Clearly, idle time doesn’t fit into this guy’s schedule.

“Never,” Kreidler said on Thursday afternoon with a laugh. “I’m always busy, doing something.”

Said Davis coach Dan Ariola, “Mostly, you don’t want your kids running around like that (at Cal), but when you see it’s Ryan Kreidler, you think, ‘Oh, it’s OK. We’re in good hands.’ ”

Mostly, Kreidler is defined by focus, as his 4.2 GPA suggests. Before the baseball season, he yanked down rebounds and ran the floor as a forward with guard skills on the Blue Devils’ basketball team. College basketball recruiters pulled Kreidler aside after games and raved about his “motor.”

Kreidler is especially fond of baseball. He takes this game personally, including his last outing, which Kreidler feared might be his final one in Blue Devils colors. This was Wednesday, Senior Day, at Davis. The Blue Devils needed a victory over Pleasant Grove to ensure a Sac-Joaquin Section Division I playoff berth.

RYAN’S THE WHOLE PACKAGE, AN AMAZING TALENT AND KID. AND THIS IS HIS TEAM. HE LEADS BETTER THAN ANY PLAYER WE’VE HAD. HE HAS A FEEL FOR THE TEAM; HE’S OUR LEADER, AND THEY LOOK UP TO HIM. I NEED A MESSAGE SENT TO THE ENTIRE TEAM, I TEXT RYAN AND THINGS GET DONE.  –Davis High School baseball coach Dan Ariola

 

In the fifth inning of a scoreless game, Kreidler smacked a two-run double off the wall in center. In the sixth, he hit a two-run homer that struck the foul pole in left. Davis won 6-0. The season continues.

“Absolutely, I took it personal,” Kreidler said. “We needed that game. It doesn’t hit you how fast this all goes until a moment like this. We didn’t want it to be our final high school game.”

UCLA coach John Savage attended the game, flying in and out within hours. Major-league scouts and personnel also have stopped by Davis games. Several have visited the Kreidler home to talk shop and signability.

Ariola soaks it all in as a fan of Kreidler and of the game. Ariola bleeds Davis blue, having grown up in the Yolo County town. He played sports at Davis High and has coached at the school for 29 years and taught for 27.

“Ryan’s the whole package, an amazing talent and kid,” Ariola said. “And this is his team. He leads better than any player we’ve had. He has a feel for the team; he’s our leader, and they look up to him. I need a message sent to the entire team, I text Ryan and things get done.”

Ariola paused, then continued: “Ryan’s the best player we’ve ever had here. The defensive plays he makes are incredible. Every game, he does something, and that’s what saves you. I would’ve been heartbroken for Ryan if we didn’t get into the playoffs. He wasn’t going to be denied on Senior Day, and it was memorable.”

Ariola said Davis can “do some damage” in the playoffs. It has before, winning section titles in 2000, 2004 and 2014.

Kreidler was a starter in 2014, but he made a costly slide into second base. His right hand rolled under him, partially tearing two ligaments in his wrist. Kreidler initially didn’t realize the severity of his injury. He gutted out a full summer of travel baseball and played basketball the winter of his junior season.

“My shot was off and on, as it always is, because I’m no Klay Thompson,” Kreidler said. “But in baseball, something felt completely wrong with my wrist. I knew it was bad.”

Kreidler managed one at-bat last season. He had surgery and missed the remainder of the season. It pained him even more to watch his teammates play without him.

This season, healthy and motivated, Kreidler was paramount in helping Davis storm to a school-record 13-0 start. He hit, he fielded, he mentored younger players. He is batting .347 with 21 walks, 26 RBIs, 28 runs, 10 doubles and three home runs.

Ariola saw this coming years ago, when young Kreidler tore up the Davis Little League circuit.

“I knew he was something special when he was 7 years old,” Ariola said. “I told him he was going to be the next Dustin Pedroia (the one-time Woodland High star now with the Boston Red Sox). But he’s not the next Pedroia. He’s the first Ryan Kreidler. You could see even then that this kid just had it.”

Kreidler played basketball because he enjoys the sport, his teammates and the experiences.

I KNEW HE WAS SOMETHING SPECIAL WHEN HE WAS 7 YEARS OLD. I TOLD HIM HE WAS GOING TO BE THE NEXT DUSTIN PEDROIA (THE ONE-TIME WOODLAND HIGH STAR NOW WITH THE BOSTON RED SOX). BUT HE’S NOT THE NEXT PEDROIA. HE’S THE FIRST RYAN KREIDLER. YOU COULD SEE EVEN THEN THAT THIS KID JUST HAD IT. —Davis High School baseball coach Dan Ariola

 

“Other sports keep you competitive, keep you in shape,” Kreidler said. “I’ve had Little League kids and their parents ask me how I make time to play two sports. It’s not hard. Just have fun with it.”

The section baseball finals are June 3-4 at Pacific in Stockton. Kreidler graduates on June 10, right about the time Rounds 3-10 of the major-league draft are unfolding.

“It’ll be a killer few days,” Kreidler said excitedly. “It’d be an honor just to get drafted, if I do. If I sign, then I start living the dream. If I go to UCLA, that’s a dream. It’s all a win-win.”

Kreidler said a dream job outside of baseball is anything in sports advertising, marketing and public relations. Perhaps devising an ad campaign for a shoe brand or sports drink.

“I speak the language of athletics,” Kreidler said.

And of fun.

Joe Davidson: 916-321-1280, jdavidson@sacbee.com, @SacBee_JoeD

Read more here: http://www.sacbee.com/sports/spt-columns-blogs/hometown-report/article77580962.html#storylink=cpy

Everything about this drawing appeals to me. The perspective, the tenderness, the comfort, the simplicity.

It was drawn by Tsui, a friend of Jim’s and mine for about twenty years. Her talents seriously know no bounds, and they come wrapped in the most modest, understated, unassuming package ever. She is a whole nuther category of humble, a person who works very hard at not drawing attention to herself.

Her artistic expression is always a joy to behold. Her poetry is observant and playful, her photography always un-flashy, yet stunning. She quietly observes her world and you can almost see her amused, satisfied smile in her art, no matter the medium.

In looking at this drawing just now, I see the date is May, 1998. I considered that as my first mother’s day–it was about a month before Peter was born and I was bursting at the seams with mom feelings. May 9 is also my mom’s birthday. Of course I didn’t even know Tsui back then and neither has anything to do with her sweet drawing, but it makes me love the piece even more.

I actually had this thought today:

Summer will come, and when it does, there will be no more grad night committee, no more graduation planning. High school baseball will be over. The college question will be settled, as will details about dorms, meal plans, orientations, and move-in day.

And get this, Peter will be done with school (K-12 school anyway). I know that is obvious, but do you know what that means?? It means the sort of chronic school-related stressy stress that always kind of hangs in the air–even as he’s aged and matured and is more responsible for his own stuff, mostly–will be gone. I/we are always still sort of wondering if the homework’s getting done and wondering if he’s staying on top of tests and projects. We still have to get him up in the morning and hope he makes it to school on time (he doesn’t). Still have to barter for the car every day. Money management is still a thing, wanting him to have enough to participate in activities with friends–knowing he has no time for a job–but also knowing that we subsidize more than we maybe should.  I always feel a nagging need to read the DHS daily bulletin, and check in with SchoolLoop, I mean, what if I miss something! And there’s the endless permission slips, health forms, product orders; and staying on top of practice and game schedules; and keeping the lunch inventory stocked; and there’s the bedroom, bathroom, laundry and backpack management I should have nothing at all to do with. But do. And parents gotta volunteer. Gotta do it. [Hangs head]…but are we doing enough?

All of this is on the should list. And it never feels quite done, or done enough. If you’re me, you’re always thinking there is a better way, a smarter path, a super opportunity not taken. Should he have done this or participated in that? Did we let him down by not knowing about something? Should I have researched that one thing a little more? Should I have done what all those experienced, smart parents did? How did I not know about that great, not to be missed opportunity? Wasn’t I supposta …  whatever. I’m usually pretty sure I’ve failed him in some important way. With all the savvy parents in this over-educated town, there IS always a better way. Somebody always has a better line on something. What did we miss?

I’ve completely and totally come to peace with all of this–especially now as most of it is gloriously MOOT–my new favorite word. I’m no longer in the hamster wheel or feeling like I’m walking through school without my clothes on. I’ve accepted that I/we have done enough, have loved and cared to the moon and back. We are good parents. We raised a good kid. Our effort with this School Thing was enough. I think I maybe matured out of the school-related anxieties long ago.

Maybe. Mostly.

But still…..and this is what I thought about today, it is going to feel unspeakably, unimaginably, load-lighteningly HEAVENLY to not have any of that to worry about, none of that hanging over my head come Summer 2016. And then Fall will roll around and none of that will be on my mind. NONE OF IT.

Replaced most certainly by a new set of anxieties, but the daily, low-level weight of school, and all those niggly, naggly things above?  *Poof*. Gone.

I’m dreading a lot about the coming transition, but I also see that there are going to be some genuine advantages to a life beyond high school.

I am looking forward to summer!

 (Butts belong to my grand nephew River, butt on the right, and his cousin with the floral diapers, whose name, believe it or not, I’ve forgotten at the moment. What a great picture, huh? Bluff Cove, Palos Verdes.)