Kathleen M. Basi's Blog, page 11

Time

[image error]I think the time has come.

I’ve really enjoyed blogging, but the interactions that used to take place on blogs have moved to Facebook, and it’s just too hard to justify spending the time, emotional and mental bandwidth anymore. My kids are getting too old; it’s no longer okay for me to share their moments indiscriminately, and I can no longer reflect on parenthood without sharing stories that are no longer mine to tell. I’m wrestling anxiety, partly personal, and partly because of what’s going on in the world, and the most important things I have to say, nobody wants to read.

I don’t blame anyone for that. I don’t read blogs anymore, either. It is what it is. We’re all emotionally exhausted by, well, life in 2017 America. Life itself seems angry. It’s hard to pull free of that. It poisons everything. And it affects us all.

The only antidote is to do due diligence before sharing things and reacting to them—to stop and reflect and read at least three or four different articles from varying points of view. But I can’t justify spending that much time when only a handful of people are going to read it anyway. It would be better to try to place those reflections in a larger outlet.

So it’s time, but it’s harder than I thought. I’ve sat here for most of an hour while my kids have piano lessons, staring at the blank window, checking Facebook, looking up Christmas gift ideas, because the idea of writing this post made me so sad. But I think it’s time.

Which is not to say I’ll never post here again. I’m sure I will occasionally feel compelled. But the time for regular posting has passed, at least for the foreseeable future. So click on that box on the left, below my picture, that says “Follow blog by email,” and if I do start up again at some point, you’ll be the first to know.

I’ve loved blogging. I’ve loved the people I’ve met, the connections I’ve been allowed to make. But it’s time to move on. Thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me this long.

See you on Facebook and Instagram.

The Yearly Portraits

You know you’ve all been waiting for them…but this year, we’re in a “keep it simple” mode. So we took good shots from the Colorado trip for the two youngest, and on the older kids we made our decisions without waiting for the input of Facebook and the blogosphere. So that leaves me only asking input on the family shot at the end.

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And now for the family shots…pick your poison!

Click to view slideshow.

 

Are We Freaking Out About The Wrong Things?

A couple weeks ago, I was driving to the gas station to meet up with Christian when this story played on NPR. It’s been a rough month or two anyway, emotionally, and the idea that we could so casually be throwing away the end of the Cold War actually had me in tears, driving across town. I think the words I screamed at the radio went something like, “What is WRONG with you people? Didn’t you learn anything the LAST time?”

Less than 48 hours later, I was standing here:

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Part of me wanted to geek out at being in the same space as something that had so profoundly impacted human history. But in the wake of that report–which NOBODY’S EVEN PAYING ATTENTION TO!–my sense of awe in the presence of history was overshadowed by a single, crushing thought:

My kids were never supposed to have to deal with the threat of nuclear war. This was the one thing the world actually fixed when I was a kid.

What does it matter if Russia puts up intermediate-range missiles? So their missiles could get to us faster than ours could get to them. Big whoop-de-doo. Is this a pissing contest? If they fire intermediate range missiles, we’ll fire long range ones, and maybe we’ll be dead before they are but they’re going to be just as dead. How can anyone even entertain the notion that starting up an arms race again could possibly be a good idea? I thought we all learned better than that thirty years ago!

It occurs to me that day after day after day, we’re all losing our minds about the wrong news items.

What I Learned About Myself While Traveling

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The view from the back seat. Hard to get mountain pics from there! Mostly you get Mom. Note: I LLLLOVED this vehicle. Chrysler Pacifica, possibly a hybrid.

I learned something about myself in traveling these past two weeks. When I’m in charge of travel, I’m susceptible to some pretty strong anxiety.

I like traveling. I like experiencing the world, seeing new places. I like it a lot, in fact. But until last weekend, I didn’t realize how stressful I would find it to be The Responsible Party for a major trip—you know, airport security, anxious child, rental car, driving in a remote mountain area. Until last weekend, I hadn’t really sympathized with the stress Christian feels when we travel as a family. You know how it is—in a marriage, one person takes lead in certain areas (mine are kid logistics, meals, and family scheduling) and the other takes the lead in another. One of Christian’s areas has always been travel arrangements; I’ve always been the support personnel.

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We didn’t win these Halloween Olympic golds by ourselves, but since I didn’t warn the other 10 people on our team that I blog, I figured I wouldn’t post pics of them.

Scenes From A Weekend In the Poconos

Nicholas and I spent the weekend at Woodloch Pines Family Resort in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. Review to come on Pit Stops For Kids–in the meantime, here are some photos!

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Bucket List: Space Shuttle

A few years ago, when NASA announced the end of the space shuttle program, my reaction was: “Nooooo!” I had always wanted to see a launch. The kids were young, and it would have been a very, very big deal to go to Cape Canaveral, but I signed up for the last three ticket lotteries and I told Christian that if we won, Alex and I were going and we had to make it work. Of course, we didn’t get tickets, and the space shuttles went into retirement, and I mourned the loss.

We’ve known for several months that Christian and I were going to be in D.C. this past weekend for the baptism of our new godson, and percolating in the back of my mind was, “Well, we’re not there to sight see, but maybe we can do one thing, and if that’s the case, I know what I want to do. I want to at least see a space shuttle!”

But I knew I needed to be available to my cousin, so it wasn’t until Friday afternoon, as I was frantically shoving groceries into the refrigerator and prepping for a mountain of cooking to keep the kids and their weekend caregiver in food while we were gone, that she called and confirmed there was time on Saturday afternoon for us all to meet out at Dulles.

Visiting the air and space museum evoked many thoughts and emotions, and I will probably process at least one more of those on this blog, but today is for the space shuttle. I’ve been a complete sucker for space as long as I can remember, from stargazing to Star Wars to E. T. and Star Trek. I nearly cried when got my bearings in the museum and caught sight of the nose cone peeking from the space wing.

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Throughout the afternoon, whenever my cousin and her husband needed to take care of the baby or the preschooler, I returned to that hangar to marvel, to try to memorize what it felt like to inhabit the same place.

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I thought I was prepared for the size, but I wasn’t. It was so big. When I finally made it around to the back and the main engines, it was hard to process that what I was seeing were the small engines, compared to the boosters that take center stage during liftoff.

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And then, it didn’t look like I expected it to look. From a distance, on a launch pad, on touchdown, the shuttles looked black and white, but up close most of that black is gray, the tiles fading as they get older. And the patchwork of small panels contains lots of text—each tile unique to that specific spot.

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The white siding looks not like ceramic or painted metal, as I’d expected, but like…potholders.

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Up close, the space shuttle looks like it’s made of papier mache. The tips of the wings reminded me of those fold-up cars they give the kids at Steak and Shake. And this is what went to space!

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Look at those vertical tiles below the engine. Doesn’t that look like cardboard????

I crashed three different docent tours over the course of the afternoon, learning new things every time. I couldn’t stop taking pictures.

New bucket list: someday, get to see the inside of one.

How a 12-year-old befuddles his mother

Who would ever have thought this pocket…

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…could hold all this?

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Have a great weekend!

Escapism

Yesterday morning, I was scurrying through the bathroom on the way to do something with some kid to get them ready for school when I heard the radio announcer talking about a show that night, and having tickets to give away. When I realized what the show was, I dove for the phone, because except for Christian, we were uncommitted and this was one of the shows I had intended to try to get tickets for in the first place before, well, the last few weeks happened.

So I got the tickets and I told the kids we were going to an acrobatics show, but I didn’t really know what it was, and truthfully I was kind of nervous, because I was tired and emotionally drained and the last thing I wanted was to have to buck up four whiny attitudes, and I was terrified that I’d remembered wrong and what we were getting ourselves into wasn’t at all what I was expecting.

Well, it wasn’t exactly what I’d been picturing, but it was one of the coolest shows I’ve ever seen. I wince on behalf of my community, which didn’t attend it well, because I can’t imagine the audience that wouldn’t like it:

In a week when sorrow feels numb and outrage feels impotent and discouragement is threatening to feel like despair at the end of a series of weeks that feel like being on the receiving end of a whack-a-mole, I am so, so grateful for an hour of pure delight and wonder and escapism…with no need for violence or villains.

And the fact that all my kids adored it…even the tween who hates EVERYTHING.

And the wonder of watching what the human body is capable of.

And a haircut.

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Look, my laptop takes such poor quality pictures, it almost looks artsy!

And secondhand scarves, because I love scarves.

And a good conversation with a friend.

And the tone of my husband’s voice on the phone in the background.

And the return of anxiety, because it’s teaching me about the relationship among anxiety, scrupulousness, and hampered spiritual growth, and challenging me to move forward.

For a good air-clearing within my marriage about where we stand on a particular point of stress in our world, which may be a baby step, but it’s still the first step forward.

For a weekend of baby love, and the promise of another one coming up.

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And for a woman willing to spend a weekend with my crazy kids so we can have aforementioned baby love weekend.

For a massage. Because maybe my back won’t hurt in the middle of the night tonight.

For college students who want to work with the Down syndrome community…because we have so many ideas and zero time and energy to bring them to fruition!

For dipping below 130 on the scales again, however fleetingly.

For being too busy to cook desserts, which makes it slightly more likely that I could pull it off two days running.

For homemade yogurt and kombucha, and the way I feel different…even if it’s totally psychological.

And for homemade sourdough bread.

And a really good walk this morning.

And rain. Because oh, how we need rain, with our crunchy grass in September.

That’s my gratitude list. Are you thinking of yours?

 

Humanity at its best

[image error]At yesterday’s flute recital, I skipped a line in the first movement of the hardest piece we were playing and nearly freaked out both myself and my flute duo partner. Um, never mind the “nearly.” Luckily, it was the kind of piece that no one but the composer and ourselves could distinguish any trouble, and we were able to get back together. We had a good turnout, and took up a collection for Catholic Relief Services’ disaster relief. In this envelope, preparing to wing its way to Maryland, is $850. The generosity shown by the people who attended yesterday blows me away. The news this morning is filled with lives wrecked by gunfire and leaders apparently trying to taunt each other into world annihilation, but the contents of that envelope are a reminder that humanity is made for goodness.

Recital!

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