In Which Kanga Reminisces -- and Projects

I took J to the Dartmouth picnic two weeks ago. The Oregon chapter of the Dartmouth Alumni Club holds a picnic every August, usually at a gorgeous beach house in Gearhart. This place is astounding. It was previously connected with the Episcopal Church as a small summer camp, and includes the former church, the main house, a shed, a guest house that is several hundred square feet larger than my "non-guest" house, a glassed-in writer's studio, and separate garage big enough to stage food and equipment for a big party.

Most flabbergasting of all, though, is the baseball field. Yes, field. Between the gardens of the main home and the guest quarters is a full-size regulation field. The house owner just really. loves. baseball.

We arrived at 11 am on the dot, since I'd timed our trip over the coastal range to coincide with J's morning nap. She did well, waking up five minutes after we arrived.

She proceeded to charm everyone there, and literally did not cry, whine or even make a negative sound of any kind -- she didn't even poop -- the entire day.

We took off about 2:30 after a great meal of roast chicken, cowboy caviar (holy crap, look that up. amazing...), a beer and some brownie treats. On the kids' menu...chicken and veggies in a jar, with pureed peaches for dessert.

As we drove again over the mountains and J napped like a champ in the backseat, I thought about how interacting with other Dartmouth grads, of any age, always takes me back there. Even if, as was the case today, we don't even speak of the College except in very general terms, it reminds me of the depth of emotion that this connection holds for me.

And, though of course no one said a word about it, I have to admit that as I drove away from the coast I was figuring out...let's see...class of 2028? 2029?

In Which Kanga Boasts a Bit

While dropping J off at daycare this morning, I put her in a standing position while I spoke with her teacher.

Gradually I realized that her weight was perfectly centered...and I let go.

She stood, unsupported, for about eight seconds.

Mama is so proud, baby.

In Which Kanga Hangs On Tight

This morning, after changing J's diaper and singing her the Good Morning song, we traipsed on down the steps to the living room.

Except that Ampersand had other ideas.

She darted in front of me as I raised my foot, and I ended up sliding down our seven steps. Even as it happened, my mind slow-motioned into what to do: I simultaneously raised up J and held her tight to me, while my rear, elbow and neck took the brunt of the fall. After a brief cry, J was none the worse for wear.

Can't say the same for me...had to skip Pilates, and my neck doesn't turn quite right. But there was never any question that I would hang on to J, come hell or high water.