week 20 // you are my wild

Her school year began in tears and resistance. She loved being home schooled- the one-on-one attention, the syrupy drama of greek mythology love-triangles, the drawn out art projects, the hard boiled eggs and tea and good books in pjs, the unstructured nature of our days.  

It was exactly that- the structure- that initially made 3rd grade at public school a challenge.

Ultimately, we all agreed that some of these struggles were probably really good for her.  No one (sane) likes 6am, but she managed to drag herself out of bed everyday at that time.  No one likes being in a class with other kids who've already been friends for years, but she made a few really good friends in spite of that.  No one (sane) likes multiplication, but she passed her times tables.  No one likes doing homework, but you know what?  My little trooper spent hours every afternoon, after an already long day at school, doing even more school work.  I know kids everywhere were/are doing the exact same thing, but I am still so proud of her and her efforts.

We spent the weekend celebrating the start of summer vacation by grilling tender cuts of meat (hotdogs) and eating pie on the porch, making boxcars with her dad, swimming in the late afternoon, watching bats at sunset, and listening to owls after dark.

And the ultimate?  We will not be waking up at 6am until the start of 4th grade.

>>> See what week 20 looked like for the others HERE <<<

season's favorites collide: peonies & rhubarb pie

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie:

I used Smitten Kitchen's recipe, and I like it.  It's not too sweet, which really lets the rhubarb flavor shine.  

1 recipe All Butter, Really Flaky Pie Dough or double-crust pie dough of your choice

3 1/2 cups (about 1 1/2 pounds, untrimmed) rhubarb, in 1/2-inch thick slices
3 1/2 cups (about 1 pound) strawberries, hulled and sliced if big, halved if tiny
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup quick-cooking tapioca
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1 large egg yolk beaten to blend with 1 teaspoon water (for glaze)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. On a well-floured counter, roll half of pie dough into a 12-inch circle and carefully transfer to a 9-inch pie plate. (I like to fold my gently into quarters, to transfer it more easily, then unfold it in the pie plate.)

Stir together rhubarb, strawberries, sugars, lemon, salt and tapioca in a large bowl. Mound filling inside bottom pie crust and dot with bits of unsalted butter. Roll second half of pie dough into an 11-inch circle and cut decorative slits in it. Transfer it to center over the pie filling. Trim top and bottom pie dough so that their overhang beyond the pie plate lip is only 1/2-inch. Tuck rim of dough underneath itself and crimp it decoratively.

Transfer pie to a baking sheet and brush egg yolk mixture over dough. Bake for 20 minutes then reduce temperature to 350 degrees and bake for an additional 25 to 30 minutes, until the pie is golden and the juices bubble visibly.

Transfer pie to wire rack to cool. When full cool (several hours later) the juices gel.

Do ahead: Pie should keep for up to three days at room temperature but I have never, ever seen one last that long.

This is my favorite pie, and those are my favorite flowers.  Period.  Done.  End of sentence.*

*Let's reconvene at peach and zinnia season.

circumstances beyond her control

After the last day of school, walking up and down Whole Food's aisles.

Fiona: "Mom, since I won't see Doug at school everyday anymore, can I be his penpal?"

Me: "Yeah.  That would be nice."

Fiona: "Are you going to say something about him being my boyfriend?  Because he's not.  He's just my friend."

Me: "No.  I want you to have friends with both boys and girls.  I won't tease you for it."

Neve: "Doug.  That's a funny name.  Dug.  Duh-ugh.  Duggy.  Is his name short for 'Doug-apher'?"

Fiona: "It's short for 'Douglas', Neve.  Be quiet.

Mom, in that movie that you and Daddy were watching the other night, didn't the girl and the boy start being friends because they were penpals?"

She was referring to Moonrise Kingdom.  And I have no idea how she knew about it, as she was supposed to be asleep.  And I was definitely asleep while the movie was on, so I'm in no position to answer her question.

Me: "I don't know.  I slept through it."

Fiona: "Yeah, they started as penpals, and then they fell in love.  And then they ran away together."

Me: "Yeah, well.  You and Doug are not boyfriend and girlfriend, so it's fine.  You guys are just friends.  Rightt?"

Fiona: "Right.  I just hope Doug doesn't fall in love with me.  Or ask me to run away with him."

I look at her with a raised brow, and Neve laughs.

Neve: "Fall in love with you?  Don't say that, Fiona.  It's not like boys are just falling in love with you all the time everywhere we go.  Do you think he is in love with you?", pointing to the 50-something year old man behind the seafood counter in a hairnet.

Me: "You can say no, remember?  If he asks you to run away with him, that is..."

Fiona: "Well, actually, mom.  I'm not sure.  I don't think you can say 'no' to love."

Well.

week 19 // you are my wild

She might be one of the few who are not looking forward to saying goodbye to teachers or burning school papers.  Her heart was always into the start of a new day.  She learned this year that showers were best had in the morning.  10 hours of tossing and turning in her sleep made for the messiest curls, "but you wouldn't understand, Mom.  No one in this family understands what it's like to have curly hair", she'd say with a sigh, simultaneously petting her own tendrils.  There were night rituals too- picking out clothes and underwear, lying them flat on the top of her dresser, setting her matching shoes beneath.  She did not like those mornings when Terry or I slept 10 minutes later than we should've, which in turn made her rush.  This was the girl who enjoyed a slower pace, an episode of Spongebob, and avocado toast + side of orange juice in the morning thankyouverymuch.  As each person piled into the car, she'd inevitably be the only one who'd remember the order for drop-off.  "Everyday, Fiona, you NEED to sit on the right side.  Every.  Day."  Exasperated.  And every afternoon she'd be the first one off the bus, talking to me before even setting foot on the sidewalk.  "Mom.  Today the CRAZIEST thing happened."  Everyday.  The craziest.  

This is the first year she made a best friend who lives walking distance from our house.  This was the year she admitted she secretly wanted a purple cast on her arm, just like her friend Riley.  This was the year she decided she likes boys a little itty bitty bit more than last year.  Especially if they're blonde.  (?)  This was the year that she learned to do a split.  (This was the year we humored her and pretended like she wasn't doing something shy of a split).  This was the year she discovered that egg salad was private food, and would rather eat the less delicious pbj sandwich to avoid any heckling from classmates who may not like the smell of egg salad. This was the year she went to NYC for the first time and couldn't wait to tell her teacher about it.  This was the year that she pored over her first chapter book.  This was the year that math began to make to sense.  This was the year she did a video presentation (along with all of her classmates) for all the moms & dads... "I love my Dad because he's as strong as a hippo, he wakes up at 1:00 am to jumprope" (cue impressed looks from other dads) "and because he's as handsome as Justin Timberly".  (Justin Timberlake.  And he does not wake up at 1:00 am to jumprope).  "And I love my mom because she's there for me when my dad is not."  ???  (Cue worried looks on all the parents' faces).  This was the year she grew over 3" taller and jumped an entire shoe size.  

Next week first grade will already be a thing of the past.

>>> check out the others' beautiful photos here <<<

scenes from a spring weekend

Our yard.

The line was awfully blurry between the landscaping style of "wild & natural" and the landscaping style of "great place to dump a dead body".  The girls were trekking in unrecognizable gelatinous yuck on the soles of their rain boots, slipping on the steps as they walked upstairs.  I believe it was the remains of slugs that were loving life in our knee-high grass.  It was only a matter of time before someone stepped on a snake or found a tick in their hair.

I'm happy to report that we've managed to tame some of the wildlife back there.  Things are better, but will never be perfect.  So, if I can't have the pristine yard of my dreams, I will love my 4 little garden boxes and the time I spend with my girls.

Last year we planted wildflowers.  I swore I would never plant them again, as they are more hearty and invasive than mint or other ground covers.  I was ready to yank them out a few weeks ago when they reappeared, and make room for my summer vegetables.  But the girls insisted we needed to keep them until they bloom.

I'm glad they convinced me.  They make a very temporary season a bit more real.

week 18 // you are my wild

We went to one of our favorite spots to check on a baby lamb, but left with a paper cup filled with fresh picked wild daisies in watered-down iced coffee.

>>> This is my newest favorite week at you are my wild.

You have to see it here. <<<

the heck outta dodge.

Sometimes we like to drive just far enough outside of city limits to make us feel like we went on vacation.  We pretend to be really comfortable around horses, as if we grew up riding them.  We get a little scared when they nibble at our shirt cuffs.  We name them really great names.  We are a little disappointed when we find out their real names are Diane and Charlie.  (Not that there's anything wrong with those names).  We buy berries and cheese and old fashioned candies and coffee from the farm stand to eat on the drive home.  We say a final farewell to the sweetest bunnies.  We may have said we would get some bunnies for home.  We approach the city limits with full bellies, tired bodies, and a fading desire for bunnies at home.

week 17 // you are my wild

*** Rainy Weekend Edition ***

In a blur of birthday parties this weekend, I was happy that we had an hour to bake together in between.  I sat back and let her do it all herself.  Even crack the eggs herself.  (I checked for shells).  I bit my tongue as she may have over-mixed the flour, and I looked away as she scooped enormous spoonfuls of batter onto the cookie sheet.  I let her set the oven temperature, and open the oven door with both hands clad in mitts.  I helped her slide the sheet in, and showed her how to turn on the oven light.  She pressed her face against the oven door and watched each cookie rise and spread and bleed together into one enormous cookie.  She giggled and said "uh oh", hand over mouth, realizing there was nothing left to do but eat the biggest rectangle cookie ever made.

If their daddy had a blog, he would have written a parallel post to this which told the story of him and Fiona playing Super Mario Brothers a room away.

We all shared a corner of the enormous cookie and took off to another party.  It was a good weekend.  Hope yours was too.

>>> see what everyone else was up to this week at you are my wild. <<<

a tale of two school days: day two (fiona's turn)

I told the story of Neve's worst day of school.  Now it's Fiona's turn.  Coincidentally, their worst days happened within a week of one another.

We begin in the same way I began the last story (bus approaches, bus door opens, two little girls hop off).  The only difference is that now the subject wears her feelings a bit deeper than her sister wears her's.  Neve wipes her emotions on her sleeve, where Fiona tucks her emotions inside envelopes inside secret pockets under sweaters and coats.  There are no hung heads, no dragged backpacks down the bus steps, and definitely no tears in this greeting.  All I get is a stoic hello.

But as the day went on, it became more and more clear that something was wrong.  Fiona lashed out several times at her sister, mumbled third grade expletives, furrowed her brow, and was altogether a bit quieter than her usual already-introverted self.

*** mini backstory ***

Fiona is a happy kid, but she is different from me in her delivery.  While my husband is also a happy person, he is quiet.  He enjoys spending time with friends and a wife who can talk (a lot), but he also really likes being alone.  Fiona is like her dad. They retreat when things get loud.  They don't often discuss their feelings.  They can be funny and silly, but they are more in their head than on the table.  (Safe to say, Neve and I have no problem putting it all on the table all the time.  This blog is evidence of that.  I'd say Neve and I are like 70/30 table to head, and Fiona and Terry are 70/30 head to table.  But I digress...)  That said, it is rare to get an emotional offering from Fi, unless she's truly at her wit's end.

*** end of backstory ***

She was nearing her wit's end by about 7:00 that night.  Neve's annoying little sister-ness coupled with whatever "yucky" thing was on the menu that night is what did her in.  I could see the start of the avalanche happening... it started so quiet.  She wouldn't look in my direction.  I knew I was in for a doozie in 5, 4, 3, 2...

Me: "Fi, you okay?"

Fiona, not okay: "Yes."

Me: "Look at me.  Are you sure?"

Fiona turns toward me and boom.  No words needed.

Me: "Talk to me.  Did you have a bad day at school?"

All 63 lbs of Fiona were routed to her head which was thrust into my chest, almost knocking me over.  The avalanche.

After several minutes of hugging and hair petting (deja vu), she composed herself enough to tell me what exactly had happened earlier that day.

Fiona: "I should've known better.  It's my fault really..."

I honestly don't remember what awful things I imagined would follow that statement.  I'm sure I was holding my breath as I nodded with strained smile.

Fiona: "... I mean, WHO ACTS LIKE A FOX IN THE THIRD GRADE!?  I should've known not to do that in front of the gymnastics-girls."  (Unfortunately, I have no backstory to these "gymnastics-girls", as this was the first time hearing about them.  I assume they are the girls who prefer gymnastics over personified animals.)

Me, stifling laughter: "What do you mean you were 'acting like a fox'?"

Fiona, chuckles through tears, "I know, I know.  I don't know why I did it."

Me, stepping back to give her room: "Here.  Show me what you did.  I'll be honest with you."

To be fair, her fox reenactment was less of a National Geographic fox but more a Wes Anderson fox.  She, for whatever reason, felt the need to capture the essence of a fox at that very moment.  Amidst cartwheels and double round offs and athletic shorts.  I did not ask why she did it.  I trusted she had her reasons.  Besides, she's only 9 years old for pete's sake.  It's not like I'm pretending to be foxes for bank tellers or bag boys.  She's a kid!

I'm still holding my breath as I wait for the reactions of the gaggle of gymnastics-girls.

Fiona: "So, after I said I was just being sly like a fox, I slinked away.  I thought it might be funny, but they just thought I was weird."

Me: "How do you know they thought that?"

Fiona: "Because they laughed really hard at me and did this-" (rotating finger next to temple).  "So-and-so even followed me around the playground doing it at me.  I was so embarrassed, I climbed to the top of the old wooden slide* that no one ever plays on, and waited for her to go away."

My blood is at a rolling boil.  I'm silently counting backwards from 10 to keep myself from driving to so-and-so's house and ringing the doorbell to do the cuckoo sign language at them on their porch.  With gritted teeth I ask Fiona to wrap the story up.  

Me: "So did she ever go away?"

Fiona: "Yes.  So-and-so, so-and-so, so-and-so, and so-and-so (2 of said so-and-sos were also categorically "gymnastics-girls", FYI) told on so-and-so (the bully).  They all ran up to the top of the wooden slide* to make sure I was okay, and then I climbed down.  So-and-so (the bully) even said sorry and that she was only kidding with me, after I climbed off the *wooden slide." 

Me: "I'm confused.  It sounds like everything turned out fine.  Sounds like no one was really all that mean.  Then why are you so upset?"

Fiona: "Because I was embarrassed that I did it.  I'm not like them."

I wish I could say that I immediately understood the full impact of what she was saying at that moment.  I was too wrapped up in being angry at that other little girl to hear Fiona explain that she wasn't mad at her or anyone at all.  She was only upset that she let that little fox slip out.  I think she caught herself in a moment between little girl and big girl, and it embarrassed her.  

More so, I think she's finding her identity, and that road can be a lonely one at times.

Me: "Do you want to take a gymnastics class?  Is it something you'd be interested in getting better at?"

Fiona, with absolute certainty: "No.  I don't think it's bad, but it's not for me.  I just want to make books."

Done.  And when we find that book-making class, perhaps she'll meet another little fox like her.  

*Wooden slides.  Let's discuss.  I've never seen an all-wood slide.  But according to Fi, I think I know why no one is ever actually sliding down them.  (Ouch).

a tale of two school days: day one (neve joins the ranks)

The bus slowed down to a stop, inches from where I was standing on the sidewalk.  The doors open, Fiona disembarked first, all smiles, skip in step.  Neve followed close behind, head hung, dragging her bookbag behind her and down the steps of the bus as if to say, "thump-worst... thump-day.. thump-ever".

Before Neve's feet had completely touched the pavement, she was already in tears.

We proceeded down the driveway in a moving hug.  This was not our usual after school greeting, especially from this kid- my little school-lover.

It took a good 2-3 minutes of hugging and hair petting for her to regain composure and articulate what could warrant such heartbreak.  "It had to be something really bad", I thought, as my mind always races to the darkest places first.

Me: "Neve, Neve, calm down.  Talk to me.  What happened?"

*** mini backstory ***

Since the first day of school, Neve has been an observer of the disciplinary system put into effect by her teacher.  She would fill me in on all the details of her day at 3:01 (seconds after bus descent), 75% of those details being social, or more specifically, the penal details of first grade.

"So-and-so moved his clip today to RED, and so-and-so moved her clip to YELLOW!  So-and-so never gets in trouble, but she was not listening while we were in line, so she had to move it.  Poor ole so-and-so... but I guess she should've been a better listener", she would say, shaking her head in a ham-fisted sympathetic way.

It was her invisible medal of honor.  She had never moved her clip.  She sat removed from the childish antics of her classmates, taking it all in like a journalist during war time... eager to share her reportings with me at the end of a school day.  While she never just came right out with it, I think she thought she was immune to such punitive measures.

*** end of backstory ***

Neve: "You're going to be so mad at me..."

Me: "I don't think I will.  You can tell me."

Neve: "I... (gasping for air)... moved... (gasp)... my clip... (sob)."

I jockeyed between consoling her and pressing for details.

Eventually she was able to explain how such an awful thing could've happened, obviously the result of a bigger injustice.  Something about the kids around her chatting, keeping her from being able to hear her teacher's instructions for the game they were about to play, which in turn led to her presumably doing something she shouldn't have, ultimately singling her out and being asked to manually move her clip from the taken for granted green light position to the now second-guessing-everything yellow light position.  I recall her even resorting to this reasoning, "Maybe Mrs. L was having a bad day.  Or maybe she wasn't feeling good."

Me: "Honey, did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, you did something wrong?"

Neve:  { blink, blink }

Me: "Listen, I know you are a good girl.  And I know it means a lot to you to be good at school.  But no one is perfect.  Sometimes, even when you think you are doing things right, you can find yourself in trouble.  Like remember the time I was pulled over by the police man for having an expired tag?  Even though I didn't mean to forget to renew my tag, I was still wrong.  In the same way, maybe you didn't mean to be a poor listener at that moment, but you just were.  It's not the end of the world.  You paid the price by moving your clip, and now it's over.  I'm not mad."

Neve, obviously annoyed by how I made light of the situation, replies cooly: "Have you ever had to get up in front of everyone and walk to the front of the room?  In front of everyone?  And make yourself not cry while you move your clip?  In front of everyone?  And when your friend asks you at lunch why you're sad, and you think you're going to cry but you really don't want to look like a cry-baby?  In front of everyone?  I waited all these hours to cry- worst day of my whole life!"

Me: "In front of everyone?"

Fiona: "It's okay, Neve.  I've done it a bunch."

Me: "Wait.  What?  You've moved your clip a bunch?  For what!?  Why didn't you tell me?"

Fiona: "For not listening or not following directions.  And every time I move it, the less I want to cry, so.  It gets easier, Neve."

I will spare you the details of the conversation that resulted from Fiona's remark (a post unto itself), but rest assure, Neve wouldn't know if it gets easier.  She has made it her job to never ever move her clip again.  She has had night terrors and night sweats over this (not kidding); nightmares about the nightmare.  She wrote her teacher multiple apology letters that weekend, and she begged me to make her a batch of cookies for added insurance (Mama's little sycophant).

It got so bad that Terry and I had to actually tell her to loosen up.  It's like Cheech and Chong gave birth to Alex P. Keaton.

*** To be Continued... A Tale of Two School Days: Day Two (Fiona's Turn) ***