kara

“In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.” —John Muir

Congratulations, Kelsey! We loved celebrating with you and we so look forward to you being so close at University of Cincinnati!

“Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.” —Les Brown

All the kids were in town to celebrate my mom’s birthday with a brunch.

Mom finally got her subscription to The New York Times, something she’s long wanted …

… and some very old (and very beautiful) French linen.

And Sophie got to play with a cat that doesn’t bite! Happy birthday, Mom!

“Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.” —Jean Paul Richter

Gearing up for the big Mangan Family reunion, everyone who was in town the Friday before got together at my parents’ house for a softball game, dinner and Keith’s birthday celebration.

“Family life is a bit like a runny peach pie—not perfect but who’s complaining?” —Robert Brault

(Thanks for the quote, Katy!)

Mid-June we attended Brooke and Brian’s beautiful outdoor wedding in Wheeling, WV. Sophie had her first overnight with Nini and Grandpa. Around 8:30pm Saturday night I called home to make sure Sophie went to sleep OK. She was out! She was visiting my grandma Mangan and still had my grandma Gebhart to visit. Grandparents are supposed to spoil, right? She was perfect for them and although we missed her, Andy and I enjoyed the short getaway. Congratulations, Brook and Brian!

“A child needs a grandparent, anybody’s grandparent, to grow a little more securely into an unfamiliar world.” —Charles and Ann Morse

Sophie is no longer a baby. I know that. But in certain instances I’m struck by how un-baby she’s become. Like the above instance. I often turn on PBS in the morning, for about the length of one show. Up until now, she’s maybe glanced at it, but she hasn’t really paid attention to it. Recently, I unloaded the dishwasher and came back into the living room to see this—it’s a pose we’ve all assumed, as children, when watching TV. As an adult, I prefer the couch. But seeing her in this pose I was reminded of myself, years ago, in the same pose, enjoying my half-hour-a-day TV allowance. Not a baby. But definitely a kid.

“Television has changed the American child from an irresistible force to an immovable object.” —Laurence J. Peter

A couple weeks ago Sophie got sick. She stopped eating yet she needed constant diaper changes. She had a fever. She had a runny nose. She wouldn’t sleep. I gave her Tylenol. I turned PBS on and left it on—a rare treat. I played with her. Read to her. Took her temperature constantly. I tried to comfort her in ways my mom and my mom’s mom and almost everyone’s mom does—soft hand to the forehead (Are you hot?), soft kisses to the cheek (You’ll feel better soon.), looks of worry when she wasn’t looking (Are you going to be OK?).

By the end of the day she was exhausted. I was exhausted. She was crying because she was starving and exhausted and didn’t feel well. I was close to crying because she was starving and exhausted and wasn’t feeling well. So I did what I always do when I’m out of tricks. I turned on my ipod, picked her up and danced. We danced and danced and danced.

And then, after about 20 minutes of dancing, something incredible happened. She fell asleep. As an infant, she fell asleep in my arms constantly. As she grew, she eventually only fell asleep in my arms while nursing—it was then that I’d slip her into her crib for naps. But now she’s mobile. And weaned. And on a nap and bedtime routine. This simply doesn’t happen anymore.

I hated that she was sick but I loved this moment her sickness gave me. When Sophie was an infant I longed for the chance to get things done when holding her, asleep, in my arms. Maybe it’s the grass is always greener, maybe it’s those rose-colored glasses. But whatever it is, whatever you want to call it, I now long for the opposite. While she naps and I’m working on a story or cleaning the house, I long, physically long for the feel of the small heft of her weight in my arms, for the sound of her sleep noises without the static of the monitor, for the warmth of her body against mine.

Yes, I hated that she was sick. But I loved this moment. I loved it.

“The power of love to change bodies is legendary, built into folklore, common sense, and everyday experience. Love moves the flesh, it pushes matter around … Throughout history, ‘tender loving care’ has uniformly been recognized as a valuable element in healing.” —Larry Dossey

My parents had four tickets to a recent Reds game so they invited Sophie, Andy and I along. Andy had a softball game so he was unable to make it. They played the Reds and it was that night, 34 years ago, that my dad asked my mom to marry him on the way to a Reds game.

My dad was thrilled to learn the Reds were once again selling reasonably priced scorecards. He’s saved every scorecard from every game.

I thought for sure I’d be walking Sophie around the stadium and that we’d have to leave early. But she quietly sat on our laps the entire time. Maybe she was tired (it was past her bedtime). Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was everything there was to look at. But she was so well behaved.

And it turns out the cup holders are perfectly sized for sippy cups as well as beer.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that the two most important things in life are good friends and a good bullpen.” —Bob Lemon

June 12 we celebrated Andy’s 30th(!) birthday at Outback Steakhouse.

Then it was back to our house for a song and blowing out 30 candles.

Sophie’s still too young to make cards so I let her pick one out from the store, instead. Apparently she likes Garfield. And pop-ups (but we knew that).

Sophie was very excited about all the cards Andy opened …

… and she was more than happy to hand out the presents.

We ended the evening with banana ice cream cake from Graeters. Happy birthday, my love!

“The older the fiddler, the sweeter the tune.” —English Proverb

A couple weeks ago my mom had her entire kindergarten class over for a class party. The children ran around the yard, ate food and played T-ball.

Sophie played with a baseball, hung out with Grandpa and rested on the big beach blanket my mom put out on the grass for her.

This was my mom’s last class before she retires. Although always my teacher, she was never my classroom teacher. But I have so many memories of her as a classroom teacher. Growing up, I loved visiting her classroom. Posters of children’s book covers pasted the walls. The bulletin boards changed with the seasons. Pretty plastic beads and children’s artwork hung from the ceiling. There was finger paint and old men’s dress shirts for use as smocks and crayons and glue and books and books and books.

Although my mom took some time off from teaching when my sister, brother and I were growing up, when she was teaching, her schedule was perfect. She was home when we were home from school—at night, on weekends, during holidays and over the summer. Sure she had lots of at-home work to do, but we loved helping her sort, paste, pick out stickers for children’s work … and little did we know how much work she did long after we went to bed, late, late at night.

The older I got, the braver I thought my mom was. When I would go to help out during class parties or after-school class functions, I would be terrified if she left the room for even a moment. It’s more difficult than you might think to control 20+ five-year-olds. But my mom always did it with such humor, patience and grace.

I’m so happy she gets to retire and this party was such a fitting way to end her last year with a class.

“One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feelings. The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child.” —Carl Jung