A Love Letter

Dear Fall,

I have missed you very, very much over the last four years. There is almost nothing as divine as New England in autumn and it hurt too much to remember how exciting and generous you can be while we were apart. I admit it -- I got distracted and developed a crush on the mild weather in Seattle -- it was painful to forget about you, autumn, but I had to put your gloriousness out of my mind during the drizzly months of late fall out there. I'll admit that I was swept off my feet with being able to comfortably head outdoors for nearly all the months of the year and forgot the allure of four distinct seasons. I even briefly fell head over heels for the dry, hot heat of Penticton. I've come back to you now, though. This thing we have is special and I realize now that there is nothing like New England fall -- the chilly mornings, mild afternoons, gorgeous sunshine, crisp air -- my heart lies with thee forever and ever. The allure of the season will hopefully keep the woeful depression of late winter and dirty snow from becoming overwhelming and your loveliness will be enough to carry us through the other months of the year. I suspect it will be just fine. I want to remember you just like this, especially in March when I've gotten used to seeing crocuses and daffodils pop up even though I know it'll be at least another month before I see them here. I need you to continue to be reliable and steadfast so that I don't get sucked back into thinking spring comes earlier than it actually does. I think you've turned on your charm quite nicely this year and I sincerely thank you for putting in your best efforts this year. I won't forget it.

Yours faithfully,
Melissa

P.S. Apparently, I'm not the only one happily enjoying the season.

The Wheels On The Bus

We have week #1 of Kindergarten tucked under our belts. And I use the "we" generously since it was a transition for all of us last week. The bus ride, the outside the building pick up and drop off, the "I have no idea what you did all day" -- those were opportunities for reorientation for me that apparently barely registered on the actual kindergartener. She says her days are great, she's making friends, she's ready to replace Charlie on the MTA and become Molly on the yellow school bus (except she actually doesn't want to get off versus not being able to get off). I have no idea what is actually happening at school since getting information out of the lock box isn't ever easy (why can I find out the play by play of a Wild Kratts episode but cannot hear who she sat next to at snack?) but I can easily tell that she's found her rhythm already and is off and running. Little brother is embarking on his school year next, and that familiar routine of school days is on the horizon, which is comfortable and comforting despite all the big changes we've achieved over the last several months. After a very fun summer, one where I wouldn't have changed a thing, I'm happy to slip back on the familiar threads of the school year. Though spring is traditionally the time of rebirth and regeneration, when your life is centered around school-aged children, the fall usurps that traditional cycle of mother nature. And while they are off and exploring and experiencing, I have a little more quiet in the house, which is both welcome and a reminder of the other things people are doing and that they are off on journeys elsewhere. I am thankful for the little break from the constant-ness of small people. I certainly miss overhearing the stories from the playroom and the conversations and snacks under the quilt forts (while decidedly not missing the bickering and tattling) but I take a great deal of comfort knowing that they will resume sometime after 3:00 and while I might not know what happened during the school day, I can rest assured that I'll know what every pirate, dancer, ice skater, baby, and other random assortment of characters is doing during the great toy takeout of the afternoon. The balance of new and old, of known and unknown is exciting and peaceful and helpful to tuck away in the back of my mind. It makes the inevitable bumbs along our roads easier to weather, aware that we strive towards homeostasis and balance.

And The Beat Goes On

Tomorrow is the day -- well, really it's Wednesday but tomorrow is orientation -- so we're going into school and meeting Molly's kindergarten teacher and learning whose face goes with which one of those twenty-two names on the class list and finding out where she hangs her bag and where I pick her up. I'm nostalgic and a little sad, of course, finding it hard to believe that my baby who was responsible for my change in careers is ready to embark on the school journey already (wasn't she just this big? and didn't she just learn to sit-up/crawl/walk yesterday? and where does the time go?) and (overnight, of course) turn into a big kid. She is beyond excited, having continued to pack and repack her backpack over and over. She had her clothes picked out weeks ago, is steadfastly maintaining that she is ready to get on the bus, and is full of energy about what tomorrow will bring. I know that isn't always how new experiences have always gone with her but she has really been looking forward to this day for a long, long time and has grown enormously in her ability to embrace change and have faith that the unknown is okay. Having that faith took me a long time so the fact that she leapfrogged over me on this one is making me feel a little like a dunce. I'm proud of her, nervous for her, nervous for me, a little freaked out about the loss of control (for me) but know that this is a natural and logical step for her and she is super ready to embark on this phase of her life. She'll actually be in school for less time this year than last year but this feels so much bigger and official-er and grown up than preschool. It's not the time she'll be away from me that is hard to get used to but the door that she's walking through and that the balance is yet again radically shifting in regards to sufficiency and agency. Thus, while my head and heart aren't totally in sync here, I know that harmony will come and with a few ups and downs for both of us, we'll soon be looking in the rear view mirror on this day of firsts.

The almost-kindergartener at our special Molly/Mom first day of school lunch date 

Babes In the Woods

I am, by no means, a moving expert but one thing I have learned to appreciate when starting off in a new place is to explore spots that blend into the background before too long. Some are hidden gems tucked away in the woods, some you know are there because you drive past the sign 4000 times a day but it's hard to make the time to actually get to, and some are hidden in plain sight and easily overlooked. I'm not going to pretend that every opportunity to explore has turned out well -- I've had some major duds. We have dragged people on a trail from beginning to end or tried to convince everyone that "this place is so kitschy cool" with scary looking, most-definitely-not-amusing, ceramic tree creatures peeking out from weird nooks and crannies. Looking back on our early days both Penticton and Seattle, there were beautiful spots that we stumbled upon soon after we landed that I didn't necessarily return to as time went on and we settled into our routines (clearly, we're a well oiled machine) and normal stuff dominated our daily lives. And while we've "returned" east, this part of Massachusetts is still pretty new to me and I'm trying to bask in the best of both worlds thing that we've got going on -- familiar faces and places to catch up with and return to while also enjoying the new-to-me spots that come with every transition. Amid the chaos that comes with large men dropping large boxes into all corners of your house and doing super fun errands like poking your eyes out at the RMV, it grounds me to just head out and find something new (to me) and see where it takes us. We did that the other day when the lack of pictures on the wall made me feel like I was living in an asylum (there are some up now -- I guess John didn't like the direction I was trending). I knew there were big adventures to be had -- the aquarium, the children's museum -- but it's the small, local places that I really like to suss out. We headed out on a path with a picnic lunch, made it approximately 50 feet before the little river (swamp) made for an enticing spot to stop and throw rocks. Lots of rocks. I've been making a concerted effort this summer to stop hurrying and rushing -- to let my hurry-resistant children set the pace more than me. You know us, being late is our calling card, but this has been a special summer with almost zero structured plans and very few times when we've absolutely had to be on time. And then we stopped 25 feet further along to climb on big out crops and (Jack was not with us that day but Superman was and he was convinced he was going higher on the rocks than Jack could ever go. Good thing Superman has two moms...ahem...to let him know how he's doing with every step). Eventually, because Molly realized that bears might come get us despite my reassurances that bears don't live in Dedham, she shooed us along and we spent a completely lovely, longer-than-planned afternoon meandering in the woods. 

These afternoons are the kind you savor. The big stuff will always be fun and magical and there's nothing like watching your kids' eyes light up on Christmas morning or when they see their favorite character in real life. Those times will get memorialized and talked about with great joy and pleasure -- as they should. But these less thrilling afternoons are the mortar between the bricks of those great adventures. They blend together and aren't necessarily outstanding in and of themselves but they are quiet moments of togetherness that I feel privileged to enjoy. It eases the transitions, too, to go back to basics and just head out together without muss or fuss or even too much of a plan. This move hasn't been awfully hard by any means but I still like these early months when everything is new and we have the opportunity to explore the big and small stuff right under our noses. It's a good opportunity to remind myself to stop doing and just be a bit more -- that adventures come in all shapes, sizes, time frames and distances from home and that small things, like dragonflies, can make the world sparkle. 

Superman and Mom II

Rock scrambles

The road newly traveled... by Superman

And magic does happen when you can stand still enough for a dragonfly to land. 

Wonderland

Wellllllll, what can I say? The white rabbit and I are late for a couple of important dates. It's been a whirlwind couple of months and when I say whirlwind, I mean a complete mess... of loveliness and sweet moments and hard goodbyes and a myriad of other fun stuff. My biggest (but still very, very small in my mind) monkey graduated from pre-K (proudly) and set up her first entrepreneurial venture all in the same week. This girl is ready to move on to bigger and better. She is most definitely the daughter of my dorky self who loves nothing better than a good day of school and her father's kid who can identify and carve out a business niche in the neighborhood like it's, well, her job. 

In the midst of celebrating and bidding adieu, we got some much needed hands to pack up our house in Seattle. Has anyone told you how not fun packing and moving is? I remember moving out of a dorm room as painful, but you add a few Legos to the mix and it all goes down the toilet. The good news is that I never plan on moving again so come visit us in our new house! Suburban Massachusetts is lovely for the next 1000 years so you'll know where to find us and our not-moved-selves.

We finished up in Seattle with a much needed tour of local ice cream joints. It's about the only thing (along with a littie bit of Johnny Walker) that makes your forget about boxes and packing tape. 

I also managed to harass friends into letting us tucker our little people out.

And we said our final goodbyes to our sweet little Craftsman

 But we said hello to...

our new house (thanks to Nana for the picture)! Wahoo!

In the midst of all the craziness of packing and saying goodbye and moving and flying and unpacking and saying hello and seeing old friends, we have sneaked off and had some fun (is that allowed when your life is contained in many totes and boxes and bubble wrap? Apparently and necessarily).

Enjoying Molly's oft requested meal of Maine lobster

Jack took Nana's hat to new heights

And stood on top of the world... or on the tippity tip of Block Island

And even enjoyed a freshwater dip.

While this has certainly been a nutty, nutty summer, we're looking forward to being a little more present (hallelujah! I've been waiting for someone to pay attention around this joint) and able to be back in the swing of things. There is a lot on the horizon as we get ready for the big Kindergarten leap (I'm not sure who is more excited for that upward movement... though only one of us chokes up a little when we think about how dang old our baby is) and Jack leaves behind his beloved co-op preschool and starts afresh at a new school, which thankfully has a few cars and train tracks kicking around. It's been an up and down and over and under summer but we're enjoying the ride again... now that we've divested ourselves of those boxes. 

Dad is Rad

I know that good dads shouldn't be taken for granted -- and I don't. I sincerely honor the pops, dads, grampys, grandpas, daddies, step-dads, etc. who are present, caring, and provide support and love to their kids and grandchildren (not to mention their wives!) in whatever way they know how. We had the chance to celebrate some dads this weekend up in Camano Island (and, sadly, we also ticked off another one of our "last time" events) with some pretty rad dads. I would have loved to celebrate with my own dad and with my favorite dad-in-law but in just a few short weeks, we'll be able to raise a glass with them in person. In the meantime, despite Jack's extra spicy behavior this weekend (sick+overtired+excitement=oh boy...), we had a really sweet time showering some dads with love (with a man-only car ride up, the chance to sleep in, the design and execution of homemade cards, a few sticky s'mores fingers, and finally a quiet, Doyle family strawberry shortcake night cap). Happy father's day to you all!

Jack Jack in the strawberry patch.

Molly's going to miss this kid... a lot.

Five kids on a farm. No shirts required.

Lots of monkeys.

A little big Mount Baker across the Sound.

Beach buddies.

Molly, overcoming her fear of doggies. Hallelujah! 

Jack, overcoming his fear of... wait, nope, this kid might BE a dog.

Beach buddies redux.

Nature's playground.

The three bakers "making" father's day treats.

Jack makes a mean mai tai (by the way, why don't more of us have a cocktail suitcase?).

Ahoy mates!

Somehow, someone conned the ancient stereo system into spewing out the (static-filled) Bruins game. We live in Seattle. No one cares about hockey here. Except this guy.

About 1/25 of our strawberry bounty. 

Take Me Out

Sporting events inspire a lot of emotion around here. It's not always the emotion that you would expect but the passion is there for some aspect of most athletic endeavors (Jack is our newest NASCAR fan. Apparently, you can take the genes out of New Hampshire but you can't take the New Hampshire out of the genes). For some of us, wings, beer, and discarding strict (oh, who am I kidding) "we eat dinner at the dinner table" rule to watch a game is the manifestation of our spirit. For others, it is dressing from head to toe (and accessorizing) with her team's colors. And for others still, passion is shown by wanting to get the heck out of one event to get home to watch hockey (any hockey game will do but if one team is wearing red, well, there you go -- they are the winners. This does not bode well for some dads in our house during this Bruins/Blackhawks series). But, if I thought we were a pretty passionate household when it comes to most sports, we clearly missed the boat when it comes to soccer for one member. I really like soccer and watch a fair amount of it during the Olympics or World Cups, but admittedly, we only watch regular match games in passing. In Seattle, we might be in the minority. This town barely ekes out a showing for the beleaguered Mariners. And while the Seahawks draw sellouts, we can't decide if we want an NBA team or not. But the regulars (all 50,000 of them) at the Sounders games? WOW. No seriously, WOW. They are insane. Cheers, songs, scarves, signs, choreography, bands (yeah band!), fireworks -- it's an entertaining, participatory experience. Molly, John, and I really enjoyed it when we went on Saturday. Jack, unsure of what to make of it all at first, eventually decided (a few minutes into the first half) that he HATED it. He covered his ears, thought everyone was nuts, and begged to get the hell out of there. He was not amused by the excitement, poor thing. Luckily for him, there was some entertainment on the way home.

Go Sounders. I did not (shocker) put this cheerful outfit together. The crazy thing? She didn't look out of place amongst the sea of green-clad fans. 

Jack is starting to realize that the crazies are out in full force

Heh, are there any hockey players around here? Maybe an Earnhardt or two? 

Maybe I'll wave for my friend Theo, whose seats we are using, but really, this is just insanity. What are those darn scarves for?

Trains on the way home + cotton candy = good game-time escape

Speaking of sports, we'll pretend that the t-ball hustle looks like this all the time.