Summer Lives

It makes sense that I chose a profession that has such a great distinction between the school year and summer vacation. Starting in first grade, my summer life differed drastically from my day-to-day life. My parents worked in the restaurant business, so summer with it's longer days, was always the busy time of year. My grandmother, Dottie, a high school English teacher during the school year, was the principal of the elementary summer school in Byng. While we lived in Oklahoma, my mom or dad, would drive me the hour drive to Byng to stay with Dottie and George until Friday evening when they would pick me up again.

Monday through Friday, I attended Byng summer school. The days had a pleasant routine. I would wake up at 6am to have breakfast with my grandparents and then get ready for school. The school was only 1/2 a mile from their house, so Dottie and I would walk to school together. There I had classes in art, swimming, math and reading. Class let out at noon, just in time to walk home make lunch and spend the afternoon out in the woods that occupied some of the 13 acres of land they owned.

In later years, there were changes. We moved to Louisiana, a 13 hour drive to Byng, so my summer stay extended to 6 weeks rather than just weeknights. Dottie's nieces, Amy and Cindy, came to live with Dottie and George for a while, but my childhood memory is fuzzy on how many summers they were there.

What I do remember is having Amy, one year my senior, as a playmate. Dottie got us involved in softball games. I remember spending every afternoon in the above ground pool that Dottie and George put in the backyard. We put on our own production of Jaws with neither of us having ever seen the movie. We would compete over how many underwater somersaults we could do in a row. The record stands at 7. I thought I had reached 8, but I must admit that I blacked out while doing them, so Cindy's official count stands. It was also during these summers that I saw the Empire Strikes Back, which first introduced me to the concept of sequels and that they do not live up to my expectations.

They are simply great summer memories. They also contrasted nicely with my life in Baton Rouge, which had all the trappings of mid-size city life. Because of my time in Oklahoma, i learned about gardening from both sets of grandparents. My love of homegrown tomatoes, summer squash, and snapping beans continues as I grow my own square-foot garden. I remember scrambling to grab the potatoes George dug dug up as if they were buried treasure, before going inside to get ready for church. Eating salads fresh from granny's garden for lunch and then being dumb-founded that the town turned off the water from 2-4:00pm each day to conserve usage. Staying up late with my aunt Gail as she recounted the horror of the movie, The Hitcher, to me. (I finally saw the actual movie 2 years ago. Gail's version was scarier.) Granny buying Gwyn and I matching purple polo-like shirts. I remember marveling at my grandfather, Papa's windmill, that brought water out of the ground in the hot, dry summer of 1980.

And that was the gift of living in a city for most of the year, and in rural Oklahoma for the summers. It allowed me to have a sense of wonder that staying in one place year-round wouldn't have provided. There is a beauty to Oklahoma and to Louisiana, but it is a beauty as different as Louise Brooks and Ingrid Bergman. Living in both worlds gave me an appreciation of both.

I know it was hard on my parents' to have me gone so long, but they were committed to me knowing my family, despite the distance between us. As I prepare to have a child, a timezone away from most of my relatives and lifelong friends, I hope I can pass that gift onto him/her.

The Cat's Out of the Bag

It's official. Tom and I will be adding to our household come January. In addition to our cat and dog, we are adding a baby into the mix. I am 13 weeks along and things are going well. Unless you consider overwhelming morning sickness unpleasant. It makes brushing my teeth and driving to work an adventure.

The top two weirdest things about being pregnant:
1- I have absolutely no craving for chocolate. None at all. My entire life I have craved chocolate. I prefer dark chocolate because it is just extra chocolate. I have always despised white chocolate, because it is not chocolate. Yet, when I ate that one piece of chocolate since conceiving, my body responded by a simple, "hmm... food," instead of it's usual "YES!!! Food of the Gods."

2- My appetite is actually less than before. I just can't eat as much before I feel full and not just a little full, but stuffed, it must be Thanksgiving, full. The baby isn't that big yet, just the size of a lemon, so I don't think it should be impacting me that much. However, after seeing it kick my bladder in the ultrasound, maybe the kid just wants some more room. I'm not in maternity clothes yet, so maybe there just isn't enough room for food?

So that's what I didn't expect. The morning sickness, I kind of expected given my mother's experience, but it really sucks.

C'est la vie. It is worth it in the end.