Wade Oval Wonderful

 

Wade oval Wednesdays are back!  Summer is officially here.  Threatening skies and even an erroneous tornado warning could not keep us away from University Circle tonight.... 

It was a near-perfect evening, complete with a picnic eaten under an impromptu rain tent, a prize wheel to spin, horses and dogs and giant ketchup, mustard and onion characters to meet, and friends to play and talk with. 

I love so much about Wade Oval Wednesdays. Tonight marked the beginning of the 10th year for this giant community picnic.  It is one of the most diverse gatherings around, with people from all neighborhoods, East Cleveland to the suburbs, gathering around blankets and coolers and foldable tables, a loose ring around the stage where the band du jour provides a communal focus.  Food tents make for a walking destination, a reason to circulate, to see and be seen.  Dogs are welcomed and abound.  And then there is the green space, the gentle roll of the Oval, a canvas for every possible game of chase or catch. Children tearing about, frisbee a everywhere, deliciously dangerous to walk through; surprisingly safe, with its easy sight lines, to let little ones wander to their hearts content. 

Tonight Jack and Ivy ran across the field and over to the seed sculptures, on their own.  We stayed on the blanket and watched and held our breath a little as they went.  It seemed terribly far.  We watched as Jack stopped Ivy at the curb, as he looked both ways before leading her across the the driveway and into the crowd of climbing children.  We listened to music and talked and lounged on the grass as our children played confidently on their own, mixing in with children they'd never met, so happy.

They came back a bit later for more spinning, Nat swinging each child into the air in turn, Jack and Ivy and Naomi and Lillian and Finn and Hadley.  Not one but two families from Boulevard joined us on the field.  Jack was in his element, tackling and running and chatting with his friends.  

And then the giant hot dogs showed up.  Ivy dropped everything and ran when she spotted Ketchup, running across the field, eyes alight, so excited to give a high five to him.  And then Miss Onion, whose purse Ivy borrowed for a minute. And then Mustard, who before long was being chased, and eventually tackled to the ground by a troupe of children, Jack among them.  Nothing like giant anthropomorphic condiments to draw a crowd. The children were having so. Much. Fun.  And I enjoyed talking with the other moms, showing off my dog, taking in the view.  I don't think we even noticed the drizzle by that point. 

This is why I love Wade Oval Wednesdays.

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 

Last Day

June 5th, 2013

Dear Jack,

We have just tucked you in for your last night as a kindergartener.  Tomorrow is the last day of school-- for both you and I-- and more so than any year before, I am awestruck at how fast these weeks and months have gone.  It truly does feel like only a moment ago we were snuggling in an anxious, sleepless little barely-five, all of us hoping and fretting about this year of change to come. 

Now here you are, a confident, funny, bold almost-six.  A first grader in just one more day, you will remind me!  A tall boy, lanky and wild; your hair, just cut , begs to be be tousled, your hands are dirty all the time, and you make swords out of anything you can find.  There is barely a trace of my baby boy left in there-- but for the curve of your cheek into your chin, the softness of your sleepy face as you rubbed it into your pillow, receiving my good night wishes with a mumble and a yawn. 

Kindergarten wears you out.   

It has all year, these intense days of learning and play, the navigation of a new social dynamic, the constant need to try new things.  We knew it would hit your hard and it did-- in the fall you were a tired little wreck after school.  You're young, you know, for Kindergarten, with your birthday only a month before the cut-off. Oh how we agonized over our decision to send you on, instead of keeping you one more year at St. Paul's.  

But you were ready.  You've risen to the challenge.  You've toughened up-- in stamina, muscle, emotion.  You've got the energy to play for an hour after school these days, racing and climbing and-- your most-proud new skill-- doing backflips on the monkey bars.  You're trying new things, more confident and willing to take risks-- in your work, your art, swimming, eating dinner.  And you were certainly ready academically--you're reading, writing, doing addition and subtraction, and amazing us every day with new bits of knowledge from Science or Music or Art.  You wont tell us much about school but your enthusiasm when you do speaks volumes for how you feel.

What have you told us?

Well, you love Boulevard, and plan to stay there "forever."

You describe, play by play, just exactly how those backflips are done.

Keeping your paws (the school behavior chart) is very important to you.  So are new pencils, candies, or any other treats that are given out.

You always do your "must-do's" though you can never quite remember what it was you had to to do.  Sometimes, you tell us about what you picked for choice time-- legos, or drawing.  Mrs. Reynolds runs a tight ship so we know you're busy, creating and working on your own or with  your teacher or sometimes with the tutors who come in to help individualize instruction.

 

You love when you get to watch videos on the smartboard.  You are proud of your art projects.  You like when you get to be line leader.  You think your friends-- Maurice, Emmanuel, Steven, Keonte-- are the funniest people in the world.  You think your teachers are great--especially when they give you things!

And what have you learned?

Well, you've learned to call a bum a "booty," and that hitting yourself in the head is a way to make people laugh.   And a variety of other little Kindergarten mannerisms that aren't exactly what we sent you to school to learn-- but that are very important to you!  

You've become quite the social creature.  We weren't sure how that would go, as you've always had a tendency to wait and watch and take a long time to warm up to new situations.  But this year you've come into your own.  You're confident at school, you know your space and your place and your friends.   Kids call out greetings to you as we  pass and you run off to join in games of chase.  Watching you at the Boulevard Blast, standing in line for a game, ticket in hand, chatting with your friends, laughing, encouraging, waiting your turn.... you're learning how to be in the complex dynamic of school and this mama of yours, always plagued by shyness, couldn't be more thrilled.

Besides that:  You can do math facts to 10 in your head (you describe watching the numbers "light up" so you can count them). You can count out a ta-ta-tiri-ta rhythm and carry a bit of a tune.  You know about life cycles and stars and plant parts and rain and... all things science, really.  You did win the prestigious "golden goggle" award for excellence in Kindergarten science, after all!  You can write all your letters and spell some sight words from memory and hear the sounds to spell a lot more. You don't love to write and you still reverse 5, 4, and the letter R, but you're getting there. All of a sudden you are motivated and excited to read.  Not as nervous about it any more, I imagine.  You're reading at a level C-D and you're excited to do summer reading at home and move your level up even more. You love to listen to chapter books-- Deltora Quest is what you and Daddy are reading right now--- and you can keep up with the story now, asking questions and remembering the chapters from day to day.  

You're ready, in other words, for first grade.

Tomorrow, one more day as a Kindergartener. We will take pictures upon pictures because you, and your sweet friends, impossibly large as you all have become-- you will never be this small again.   I won't be there at the end of your school day (how i wish I could be!)  but i can see in my mind your glowing faces, so intensely proud, so full of love and enthusiasm, running out of the school and into summer vacation.   Running head on and full tilt into the future.  I'd like to slow time down, keep you this size, this magic, just a little longer.... but the future calls. 

For tonight, sleep well, Kindergarten Jack.  I love you more than my heart can comprehend. 

Mommy

Time away

Last weekend we ran away for a bit. We camped for two nights with some of our most treasured friends.  We turned back the clock for three days and lounged, drank beer, and evaded responsibility entirely.  

it was pretty great. 

 

(many thanks to a great gram and auntie for making our getaway possible)

Back to the real world in time for a fast and furious four day work week-- two of which were spent in Columbus.  On my own.  Talk about evading responsibility.  I mean, yes, I was there for work.  But aside from those 7 hours each day (which were not, as it turns out, all that strenuous.  Standard-setting may be mind numbing but its not exactly hard work...) my time was completely, utterly my own.  That Wednesday night stretched out like you wouldn't believe.  Time for dinner at a park, paperwork for school, a jaunt out for ice cream, a swim, and plenty of cable TV.

It is a good thing that I don't have access to HGTV all the time.

Nonstop days back at home, racing towards the close of the school year, with soccer games and birthday parties and school carnivals thrown in for good measure.

This morning we did escape to the art museum for a lovely bit of time, blowing bubbles and playing on the lawn by the sculpture garden, then inside for a time-out-of-time experience in the Forty Part Motet sound-sculpture installation.

Time away from my little family is a good thing sometimes.  Finding space for my thoughts for a moment. Time to read a book and sit and think and be with myself.   Time to not worry about laundry or dishes or the routines of life.  

But I wouldn't trade all the quiet campgrounds or pristine hotel bedding  in the world for what I have at home.  Piles of laundry, floors covered with buckeye flowers, full schedules and never enough time-- and  so much love.

 

 

 
 
 

School

Today Jack found his backpack, spent a few minutes figuring out how to put it on, then requested that we pretend to go to school. I was more than happy to pull out a few worksheets and puzzles that I just happened to have on hand... :)

Here is a little snippet of our impromptu school. Notice that Ivy had to attend as well.