Reading (that is, cutting back on TV time).

It is amazing how much work I can accomplish when I hire a babysitter. John Anderson, who I started tutoring three years ago when he was in high school, is now a sophomore at the UA. He’s happy to make some cash in the summer and Turner loves having another man around. Yesterday and today John took Turner to swim lessons and to the library while I finished my fellowship article. What a luxury.

I have written almost every single day since April for two to five hours at a time. Sometimes, this leaves Turner supervised by the TV while I churn it out at the kitchen table. He’s had plenty of imaginative play, of course, and we have some big adventure every day. But, sadly, he’s also watched tons of TV and movies this summer. My friends assure me that they grew up watching this much TV and they turned out okay, but I’m not convinced by it. I spent nearly all my time as a kid getting dirty in the backyard using my imagination. Turner’s imagination, though, was taking a scary turn. It wasn’t uncommon to hear him say things like: “I’m going to crack you in the head, stab your ear, then twist your arm until it pops.” Usually, tirades such as these would be followed up with some kind of kung fu move demonstrating how deadly he could be with only his body as a weapon. So. Andy and I decided we needed to cut back on the TV and to do a better job balancing Turner’s play fighting with non-violent DS games. DS, by the way, makes very few games where the object is not to get rid of, in some fashion, your opponents. Imperialism.

With only one movie a day and nature TV at night, Turner has learned to play in his room as long as I sit in the hallway with my computer and work (he can’t stand being in a room alone and never ever will be upstairs without us or downstairs without us; makes putting laundry away are real game of cat and mouse). He acts out plays for me (and he’s a great actor). He plays computer games online, which has made him so interested in reading. And, I’ve learned to write for thirty minutes, play for an hour, write for thirty minutes. We’ve built dinosaur worlds where we chase each other around the house hunting for defenseless bugs (and there are plenty to find in our place). We’ve built car villages where cops and robbers chase ice cream thieves and while they are resting in jail we go find our own ice cream (and we have eaten SO MUCH ice cream and gelato this summer I think they should name a flavor after us). We’ve cooked a lot together, cut paper, glued things, colored, painted, created greeting cards, played matching games and bingo and Go fish about everyday, and we’ve read book after book after book. Halfway through any of these activities, I’ll get a good idea for something I was struggling with in my writing, so I’ll rush to the computer and address it. At first, Turner would rush after me, but now he knows I’ll return in a few minutes more concentrated than before on our task. Not watching TV has been good for us all.

This afternoon, for example, I’m making pad thai for Turner and I to share as we watch the sunset (he had milk and an apple too, and he takes his noodles plain). Turner sits at the table and reads one of his new library books to me while I cook. It is a Scooby Doo chapter book. He reads to me often, and he does a wonderful job thinking up imaginative details and dialogue to go along with the pictures. He begins on the first page and says, “The author and the illustrator are...” and he pauses. Then he says, “the author and the illustrator are the same guy named John.” I’m so glad he recognizes that the author and illustrator are note-worthy. Most folks skip right over this page and get into the story, but there would be no story without the writer and illustrator. My pride in this is self-serving, I’m sure. So, then Turner turns the page and reads the title of the book (which he heard me say when I handed it to him as my requested read). Then he begins the book and talks me through it for the next ten minutes. He even does the Scooby voice! Can’t wait for you all to hear it.

After the pad thai was finished we went to the gym so that Turner could interact with other little people and so that I could celebrate finishing my article by working out some stress. Then we gathered our picnic dinner from the house and headed to the very end of Campbell Ave and watched the most beautiful sunset together. Turner and I chatted about what makes the sunset so purple and pink (I have no idea but I figure it has something to do with moisture so we came up with different theories). We sat in silence for a bit and watched the sun drop out of a cloud. Just before Crystal and Brad arrived to take in the sight with us, Turner sat his apple in the cup holder and climbed out of his camping chair. He put his arms around my waist and said, "Mom this is my favorite part of today." Me too.

Dance moves.

Turner is a dancer. He loves to move his body to all kinds of sounds, and he doesn’t just move around. It’s as though he is compelled to move around and appreciate the sound of another person. Many of you know this first hand because you’ve danced around our kitchen with us. We are a music loving household. Tonight Turner and I went to the baseball game—Tucson Toros—with my school friend Denise and her 8 year-old son Noah. On Friday nights there are fireworks after the game, win or lose. We lost this week. But for several Fridays in a row, Turner and I have (half-heartedly) tried to make it to the fireworks. You know, just sit in the parking lot and take in the free show. But, they don’t start until late (10 or so), and one week the game was delayed because our team hadn’t arrived. We made it tonight for the fireworks, and we decided to take in a game.

Before Turner and I left the parking lot he said to me, “Mom, can you smell that?”
I said, “What?” Knowing this might be a loaded question because usually when Turner talks about smells, something smells unpleasant.
“I think I can already smell the cotton candy.” (Cotton candy, by the way, was a total rip off, but he got some anyway.)

After the fireworks, the boys ran the bases. Turner became separated from Noah and for about four minutes I didn’t know where he was. Noah ran the bases alone and there was no Turner. I trusted in him, kept looking and finally he appeared. (I kind of remember now a time when my mom was frantic in a store and having me paged. Her reaction seemed so irrational then.) When he got onto the field I was so glad to see him, I didn’t take any pictures, so I had him run them again for the photo opp.

We said our good-byes to our friends and walked toward our car. A musician was on the sidewalk playing a variety of buckets. I pulled out my camera because I just knew Turner would want to dance. Before I had any words in my mouth, he was out in front moving his five-year-old self around.

Once he finished and we resumed our long journey to the car, he said, “Did you see those other kids?”
“Yeah. You got them dancing too.”
“Yeah. They were all dancing with me. We were dancing as a team.”

This is the greatest summer ever!

"The Bionicle Dance"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2-_g2-EaV4

Soccer Saturday.

Turner's first soccer game was today. At 8:15 a.m. we're trying to get out the door because the school where he plays is way far away. Turner arrives in time to do some practice shots. I was SO excited for this game. We even bought camping chairs. I get set up next to the other soccer moms and we make small talk about how beautiful the weather is (70s this morning). The whistle blows and the kids take off like they know exactly what is going on. Let me remind everyone I know about zilch when it comes to the rules of soccer. I don't know how score is kept. I didn't really know what to expect today. I'd heard that kids this young just huddle around the ball and kick shins. This game was not like that at all. I cheered like a fool, joining the other moms, a grandmom, and the dads, and I didn't expect that I'd be that excited about a kid's soccer game. But, it hasn't been our kid out there before. It was an action-packed game, and I am so proud of Turner.

The kids ran the length of the field playing defense and knowing which goal was their goal (well, our team's first goal was compliments of the opposing team). At practice, if feels like the kids aren't always listening or organized as a team, but today they worked together. They play 20 minute halves. The coaches run up and down the field offering advice to the players. Turner was chosen to sit out the first quarter. He ws not particularly happy about this, but the tears didn't last long. He cheered for his teammates and even stepped into the game at one point when the play was in front of him. He ran out to intercept the other team. Actually, a little boy on the other team is dribbling down the field and Turner ran out in front of him and the ball hit the back of Turner's foot. Then he ran back to his spot standing out of bounds. The moms and I were all excited and cheered for him anyway. There are a few kids on the team that are good players. Six players on the team. Cameron, the coach's son, is fast and really good at handling the ball. Turner runs fast. He chases the ball down and is good at stopping it and, sometimes, taking it away. He's the tallest kid on the team, and he looks ginormous compared to the three year olds, who are both small for their age. Cain is good at aiming goals. Only one kid got hurt (busted lip, on our team). Check out the videos to see Turner in action. He was impressive. After snacks are passed out and Turner has the usual lip hickey from the small Gatorade bottle, we split ways with Andy, who has to go to work.

Turner and I go to Thorsten's birthday party. His folks are patients of Dr. Duchon, and they are the coolest (she's a grad student in hydrology and he is a professor, studing soil). It was the best kid party ever. Mimosas and the World Cup game on the big screen. A kiddie pool with sprinklers. I got to meet lots of new people who do all sorts of cool jobs and came home with an email list. Turner admonishes us to find friends with kids, so I came home with a list of email addresses.

We catch the last five mnutes of the soccer game at Trident Grill, where some of my lady friends and their spouses watched the game. Turner entertained Star, Elise, and Crystal and refused to eat macaroni and cheese. I suppose all that candy at Thorsten's made him full. Or it could have been the brownies.

After the game we go to the bookstore to buy Kilan's birthday present. It is after 2 pm. The parking lot is full and we drive around for a bit. I give up. We go home for twenty minutes so Turner can eat a PB&J and I can drink a Diet Coke. Yeah caffeine. We go back to the bookstore and buy Kilan a present. We go to Kilan's birthday party.

There, Turner gets to hit his second pinata of the day, and he collects more candy. Andy arrives just in time to watch. There are also chocolate cupcakes (Cheryl's recipe), water balloons, a few party games, and tons of jumping on the trampoline.

Eleven and a half hours after we first left the house, we made it back home.

Role play.

Hibiscus has put on the best show this year. I've had as many as five blooms in a single day. This morning Turner came charging into the bathroom to tell me the hibiscus, which he totally pronounces correctly, has four blooms. "It is beautiful Mom. So beautiful. Can't wait for you to see it." My mother has some beautiful flowers, but as a child I did not love the duty of standing in front of them. Thankfully, Turner is a much better sport.

The theme of summer vacation could be, at this point anyway, "Role Play." Most every sentence out of Turner's mouth begins with, "Pretend that..."

Today, we had a busy day. Not just of role playing, but a busy errand-running kind of day. I do not like them. Turner does not like them. Errands are necessary, but in this kind of heat they seem not just burdensome but almost ironic and comical. We seek solace in cheap, sweet treats: Eegee's frozen lemon ice (made with real lemons that Turner gets to spit out the window) and humungo chocolate chip cookies (that melt in the first five seconds, but never stop tasting good). Our errands today were: 1) Pick up keys at Andy's work (which actually meant we went to Andy's work, picked up some water, used the bathroom, visited a bit, got a new tooth toy, and left without the keys. Drive back, secure keys.) 2) Drop keys with Realtor and sign tons of paperwork. Get more depressed about housing market then remember money doesn't matter. We can make more. Turner eats his lunch and plays with the water cooler. 3) Pick up soccer uniforms in the middle of absolute nowhere. 4) Go to grocery. Be so so so thankful for summer fruit and how absolutely amazing it smells and tastes. I can't really even get home without some sticky goodness running down my chin. 5) Go to pharmacy. 6) Take groceries home and move all the junk we don't need into the car. Takes just an hour. 7) Take junk we don't need to Savers to be recycled for other folks who consistently buy junk they don't need. 8) Meet at soccer field and distribute uniforms. Mom says seven times, You're welcome. No problem. To all the other mothers who are glad they weren't saddled with soccer family team responsibilities.

Then go to gym. Then cook dinner. Then watch weird documentary about soap salesman.

The things we pretended today. 1) "Pretend that I am Puss the cat" (from Shrek. He wears cowboy boots, which Turner wore yesterday in 100 degree heat as though they were not scorching his legs and feet.) Puss the cat fights bad guys and woos them with his big, sympathetic eyes. Turner and I have practiced "the eyes" too many times. 2) "Pretend that I am a Bionicle, but I don't speak your language." This becomes several hours of Turner making funny noises and loud screaming sounds from the back seat as we run errands. Then he'll whisper to me the English translation and I try hard to sound interested in foreign worlds where people refuse to seek peace with one another, no matter how convincing my argument for peace is. "Yes Mom, I know that we should get along. But we are different people from different places and we all want to have this land." Yes, I'm familiar with the perils and promises of colonizaiton. 3) "Pretend that you are in a pet store picking out a new puppy." I walk around the kitchen opening each cabinet and detailing what I "see" and why this puppy is insufficient. Then I come across THE puppy. He has beautiful brown eyes. A nappy tuff of hair. A really happy face that makes me think we'll be life-long comrads. For the next thirty or so, the puppy wants to do "tricks" for goldfish. Then we take a nap. The puppy naps by playing a mysterious DS game. Thirty minutes on the dot, the puppy kisses my face and says, "I'm ready for you to play with me again."

Loving summer vacation. Three chapters drafted and one article nearly complete, by the way. Writing every single day and wishing it were over. Hello July vacation, can't wait.

Nanny and PaPa coming on Tuesday!

Memorial Day weekend.

Friday Turner did the farewell tour at school. Hugs and kisses all around and plenty of assurances that he will be missed. We can't say enough good stuff about Catalina. It was the major bright spot in our first two years of living here. Most everything was difficult and what wasn't difficult proved impossible in trying to establish a new life for ourselves after the move. But the teachers, kids, and Ms. Jo at Catalina always had words of encouragement, hugs, and laughter to push us forward through some really dark times. They have helped to teach Turner compassion, patience, listening, and thoughtfulness for things big and small. It was a really sad farewell tour for us all.

Saturday was birthday extravaganza. We got up early and went to the gym only to discover childcare doesn't open until 9 AM. So, Turner watched Avatar in the cardio theater while I did more lunges that I should ever do again. Annie's party was at 11:30 at Pump It Up (a room of jumping castles and slides). We bought her a Zhu Zhu, pink. She opened it, loved it, and we jetted. Noah's party started at 12:00, but he knew we'd be late to drop off his Gresh Bionicle. We arrived at 2 just in time for a babyquail funeral and some battle galatica in the living room with Bionicles (the girl--there is only one and she is named Kerik--was the most in demand character today).

We got home around 4 and "relax" with a movie (this is Turner's new language to get some TV time. "But Mom I really need to relax myself in front of the TV for a bit.") When Andy came home from work we went to the football field to practice soccer. T and I walked but Andy decided to drive. After a major fall in the crosswalk of 5th street, Turner and I made it to the field just before sundown. We practiced. Andy showed off some superstar moves. And just to bring back all those high school memories of track star days, the three of us raced around the football field. Turner took the shortcut through the football field to beat us both.

Sunday the boys went to the gym while I put an argument together for the Warnock Fellowship article, something I hope to pick up again on Tuesday. Then family pool time (so that I can start final edits of chapter one). Turner engaged in the usual casual flirting with the lesbian ladies down the street. After the sun had sufficiently kissed Andy's shoulders (because he still thinks 6 SPF at the pool is sufficient protection), we headed home. Turner and I go to the grocery for our party supplies and stop at the pharmacy again, only to be reminded again of how incompetent they are! We play scrabble, make banana pudding and cauliflower salad, do our watering chores, and read a stack of books. While making pudding and playing scrabble, Turner asked if he could eat as many cookies as he wanted. I agreed. An hour later he was whining to go to bed with a stomach ache. He said, "I don't want to ever eat that many cookies again." When he woke up Monday morning, he remained steadfast in his assessment that 3 cookies will be his limit from now on.

Monday is the pool party. Most of our friends come and hang out from 1 until Turner's bedtime. Turner makes a new friend, Star (in July she is moving to Southern FL for a super awesome job in Rhet/Comp). Star is her real name, by the way, and she looks like she stepped off a SoCali boardwalk: blonde hair, designer sunglasses, huge purse that harbors illegal aliens without papers, and the kind of attitude that exudes confidence. She fell in love with Turner because "he says smart things, like really smart things, that most normal kids don't express interest in. I mean really, he is a great conversationalist." Uh, yeah, we know. She and Turner had swim lessons. They laid out in the sun trying to get into the Brown family (seriously, that is what Turner said to me, "Hey mom. Come over here with us and be part of the Brown family.") Before the party stragglers moved to the house for dinner, Star and Turner hung out at the other end of the pool soaking up the last rays of sunshine (from behind 80 proof sunscreen) and talked about who knows what. She was smitten and, in the total giving way that is Star, she offered to watch Turner one day next week so that I could have an ENTIRE day to write.