High-flying adventure

In spite of keeping pretty close to home this summer, we've had some great adventures in and around Boston.  This Friday we took a little drive to Kimball Farm in Westford with a few friends from Cambridge.  Three moms, six kids, and a crazy amount of fun!

First on the agenda was a hot air balloon ride!  I've never been up in a balloon and this was quite an experience.  As the kids and I drove up to the parking lot, our friends were already there and waiting in line.  The plan was for Hilary and myself to take the 4-year-olds up in the balloon while Sarah stayed down with the three toddlers.  I didn't have much time to prepare River or myself for the experience, which was for the best since it didn't give me a chance to get nervous. 

 River hopped into the doughnut-shaped bucket willingly, we got all the kids hooked onto their safety lines; then, before we knew it, the tether was loosening and we were floating up into the sky.  My stomach dropped out from under me and I looked over to River, who showed no signs of stress.  Personally, I felt much better knowing we were tied to the ground and wouldn't be going higher than 300 feet.

The other kids did amazingly, and also showed no signs of fear.

 We got some video of the adventure.  I was terrified I was going to drop my phone, so it's pretty short and sweet.

 And here's our shadow as we were pulled down.

Next, we wandered through the farm to see what was available and discovered a fantastic mini golf course.  I was drawn to the bumper boats, but the logistics just seemed too difficult to work out.  Instead we got three balls and clubs for the big kids, extra balls for the toddlers and we set them loose.

 What followed was pretty unrestrained chaos.  Everyone was on the green at the same time.  The little ones kept stealing the big kids' balls; which didn't actually matter that much as the game they were playing could be considered "golf" in only the loosest of terms.

Basically we'd let them knock their balls around the course until a group came up behind us, then we'd move on.

 Here's a typical moment from our game.

 It was by far the best mini golf course I've ever been on.  There was a little river running next to the course, with bridges, waterfalls, and little gullies.   The course went up and down hill and in and out of caves.  The kids were never bored, and we wore them out plenty.

 A brief moment of calm with River and his friends.

 Lila already had a sense for how to hold the club and was desperately trying to play along.  (After a short t-ball session yesterday, I can say with near certainty that she is going to be the jock of the family.)

 We made it about 2/3 of the way through the whole course before hunger and fatigue took over.  We ate at the little outdoor grill nearby while the kids watched the chickens, goats, and ponies play.  Of course, some special treats were involved, and River picked out some candy buttons that were a big hit with the whole gang.

 

Tired, happy kids, at the end of the day.

We had such a great time.  I'm so glad to have made friendships like these in our time in Cambridge.

building a shell

One of the things about motherhood that has surprised me is not how much loving attention and care I give on a daily basis, but how much I must routinely steel myself for River's benefit.

The whole family was at Kevin and Crystal's this weekend, helping to put the finishing touches on their nursery (Thom and Summer adding wall decals, River tasting all the new baby's toys). Later, while we were hanging out in the living room, River took a tumble in the course of playing and bonked his head pretty solidly. Everyone in the room did what I wanted to--gasped sharply and readied themselves for the inevitable cry. Quite against my natural instincts, I reminded them to laugh it off and act normally until he actually showed signs of being upset. Low and behold, the little terminator shook it off and kept playing with nary a whimper or chin quiver.

That little act of restraint--not immediately rushing over to fuss and comfort my baby--has taken months of willpower to develop. It seems like such a cold thing for a mom to do, but I know in the long run River will be better and stronger for it. There is no way to avoid the many bumps, bruises, scrapes and falls he will encounter over the years, but my hope is that he will face each one on its own, dust himself off when he can, and trust me to be there to give hugs, kisses, and magic band aids when he really needs it.

Last night, as I was lying in bed thinking about this, we heard the tale-tell cry from the monitor. Months ago, one of us would have gotten up and gone to him, unable to leave him too long lest he build himself into a rage and refuse to go back to sleep. But after the (very successful!) sleep training we recently did I am much more confident he can actually get himself back sleep. So I waited. His cries rose and rose and I stayed where I was. Finally, after a minute, I heard the sound I was waiting for: the tapering cries, the little whimper, the tired last gasps before he fell asleep... all on his own. It was a miracle I couldn't have asked for just a few weeks ago, and now it is a nightly occurrence.

Still, the will-power it took to leave him there--to trust him to go back down and trust myself that leaving him alone was the right thing--was immense. It is hard-earned and does not come without a price. It's not as dramatic as the child who understands death for the first time, but it does feel like a kind of innocence lost.

The cover of pregnancy books always picture radiant women in sun dresses walking through fields of poppies in the afternoon light. It's as though new mothers are getting ready to attend a never-ending tea party, not deal with pain, poop, hurts, and heartbreak. If they wanted to be honest about the reality of motherhood, they would show an Amazon warrior gearing up for battle. Full belly covered in armor, face strong and stern: a woman willing to do whatever she must to protect her child.