It's a treat to beat your feet on the Mississippi mud...

Last Tuesday was a lovely day for an outing, and ViMae likes to collect pretty rocks, so we went to Hidden Falls Park, in the heart of St. Paul and Minneapolis, with a picnic lunch and Vi's pink plastic bucket.

We started out like this - jackets and shoes on, staying dry.

We soon switched to this, which was much more fun.

Her bucket filled, we had one exuberant child running up and down along the water's edge and laughing. There were a dozen or so other park visitors, and a few paused to watch.

The Mississippi doesn't really become muddy until somewhere downstream from Minnesota, but we don't know a song about the "sandy and rocky" Mississippi, so Peter serenaded us with the oldie he knew.  It was a glorious day.

Rocks, trees, and water

With a late September wedding anniversary, Peter and I often celebrate by driving to the nearby countryside to soak in the glorious leaf color. This year the setting itself was far more dramatic than the color.

Last Friday, on a lovely warm afternoon, we drove along the St. Croix River to Taylors Falls, Minnesota, home of Interstate State Park. The river forms part of the boundary between Minnesota and Wisconsin, and the park extends into both states.

Basalt cliffs at Taylors Falls are just the beginning; the entire area underwent drastic upheaval in the glacial age. Says the park's website: "At least 10 different lava flows are exposed in the park, along with two distinct glacial deposits, and traces of old streams valleys and faults." This isn't a park for strolling; it requires climbing and sometimes picking your way over massively uneven rocks.

A notable feature of the area is a series of glacial potholes, some of them remarkably narrow and deep. This pothole illustrates another common feature of the park: trees, ferns, and vines growing out of seemingly tiny fissures in the rock. Peter's comment: "Where there's a will, there's a way."

Some potholes have been excavated; others that appear shallow are simply filled in with sand and rock. Scientists hope to excavate one more, the largest in the park. Daily tours explain the potholes, and there is information on the park's website.

We may go back another year to take a river cruise to enjoy this scenery from another perspective. Glad we didn't try that this year; Sunday's paper noted that the river is so shallow because of drought that the usual 2-hour cruise has been cut to just 45 minutes.

The New Normal

Augie, with three weeks of kindergarten under his belt, walks a little taller and behaves a little more responsibly. ViMae, initially bereft without him, is enjoying our undivided attention and learning who she wants to be when he’s not around. They were already spectacular, and now they are just a little more grownup.

We’ve settled into a daily routine. The kids still arrive at roughly 6:45, and I’ve started getting up at 7 instead of 8. There is time to play, eat a big breakfast (an hour earlier than we used to), and have lots of conversation. Then at exactly 8:07 Augie puts on shoes and jacket and heads out the door with his grandpa.

This routine works because Augie is much more able to do what he’s asked the first time. Come to breakfast. Wash hands. Time to go. These used to be a struggle, because he gets immersed in whatever he’s doing and it has been hard for him to let go. We all knew he needed to get better about it in order to get along in school, and he has risen to the occasion.

A couple of days ago he announced that he was ready for Pa to drop him off at school instead of parking the car and walking in with him. So yesterday Peter watched with a lump in his throat as Augie ran to the door, turned and gave a big grinning wave, and disappeared inside.

As Augie and Pa go out the door, ViMae is taking my hand and pulling me toward wherever she wants to play this day.

We do crafty things with markers, stickers, construction paper, play-dough, and the like. Using scarves, tiaras, and silk flowers we dress as dancers, as princesses, as a bride (her) and flower girl (me). We dance or drink pretend tea or practice walking slowly up an imaginary aisle. Often Pa reads to her, and sometimes we play a board game.

What is striking is that every activity lasts much longer than before. With Augie here, ViMae interrupted herself every few minutes to see what he was doing. Often she got sidetracked and didn’t return. Now we play for an hour or more at each activity, and as a result, her skills are developing: Our projects are more complete, our pretend stories more developed, our dances far more expressive. She often stops to say, "This is fun!" It will be fascinating to see where this leads.

Just as Augie decided he was ready to walk himself into school, ViMae has overcome her separation issues when we deliver her to preschool. Yesterday she hugged us and was gone in a flash. But earlier, when we mentioned that we planned to take turns driving her, as we did when just Augie went there, she let us know she likes both of us to come. As long as she feels that way, and since we both enjoy the experience, that’s exactly what we’ll do.

A whirlwind first hour, and a much calmer rest-of-the-day focused on one child instead of two. It’s all part of the new normal.

Adventures and adjustments

New adventures are good, but a little exhausting. We're all adjusting. :-)

That’s the closing line of Abby’s post summing up Augie’s first week of kindergarten and Vi’s first week without Augie as her constant companion. Each of them faced up to new challenges bravely, showing some emotion but pulling themselves together to get the job done. For the grownups who accompany them on these journeys, it tugs at the heart.

Augie faced serious butterflies before school Monday. He hadn’t slept much, couldn’t bring himself to eat, and was irritable and teary. Abby cuddled him, assuring him people do get nervous about big new things. He improved once he got dressed, but he wasn’t happy about posing for the obligatory first-day-of-school photo. When Abby said the pictures made him look dorky, she got a genuine laugh from both kids (and, I think, the world’s first non-dorky off-to-school photo).

At school, Augie held his mom’s hand for a long while and then said in a bright voice, “See you at the end of the day, Mom.” And when he bounded off the school bus eight hours later, he was grinning broadly and couldn’t wait to tell about his day.

At the end of the week, the teacher told Abby that Augie was doing great. “Today he read to me,” she said. He was reading book 8 of the Bone graphic novel series, so she got a good sense of both his ability and one of his great interests. His school, a St. Paul public school, is a Montessori-based magnet school, so we have high hopes for individualized experience.

At home after a full day of school, Augie is tired, and he indulges his need to be a kid without quite so many rules. But clearly he’s making the adjustment.

Meanwhile, ViMae is experiencing the biggest separation of her life. After delivering Augie to school Monday, she and her mom had a girls’ playdate. They made cookies and went to Vi’s favorite park, and while they had a nice time she said more than once that it would have been more fun with Augie there. (I love Abby's photo of Vi leaping at the park. This girl has spunk.)

Now that Augie is coming here before school, we make his needs the priority for that first hour. But after we get him off to school, every day is ViolaMae Day. We’ve taken her to breakfast and shopping at Michael’s, where she picked out a Disney Princess glitter-color kit (by the end of the day we both had glitter all over our faces). She and I went to the garden center and picked out mums for the yard and bulbs to be planted over the next few weeks. I just bought some sticker projects that I know she’ll love, and we have other Vi-centered activities planned. Once in a while she talks about Augie but like him, she’s trying to grow into her new role.

Still, we have witnessed their struggles. On Friday morning, Vi and I went along when Pa drove Augie to school, and we were all going in to see the layout. About 20 feet from the door, Augie suddenly froze. I thought maybe he was struggling with his heavy backpack, but when I looked closely at his face he seemed stunned. We kept asking questions, but as sometimes happens with his private thoughts, he ignored us. After 30 or 40 seconds, he simply moved on.  Peter and I think he was having a good time and then suddenly realized that while this was an outing for us, he wouldn’t be leaving when we did. He didn’t complain; he soldiered on. It fills my heart with pride, and pain. Change is hard.

For ViMae, the sadness hit at preschool. Her dad took her Wednesday afternoon, and when he tried to leave she burst into tears because Augie wasn’t there…even though they were never in the same classroom. When we took her Friday, she didn’t cry, but she returned again and again for prolonged hugs, until a teacher came over and sweetly asked Vi to come read a book together. It was just the invitation she needed, and she never looked back. Abby reports that later in the day Vi was running with some boys that have moved from Augie’s old room to Vi’s. They were playing Star Wars. She will know at least as much Star Wars trivia as they do, and she’ll be able to make up battle scenarios. It’s a match made in…Alderaan.

And it’s all part of the great new adventure.


(I borrowed all the photos from Abby's family blog.)