Ty and the beloved Ms. Camera ; Lexi loves to make TS bracelets

There was great joy and excitement this morning in our home. Of course, I needed to figure out why (can this be duplicated? Cloned? Frozen like Ted Williams?) After some caffeine, I figured out that it’s the result of excellence.
 
Not our excellence – I wish! Rather, it's thanks to the excellence of two women: Lynzie Camera and, yes, Taylor Swift.
 
Ms. Camera is Tyler’s first grade teacher, and in his eyes, hung the moon (a position I used to hold, but lost, because apparently I don’t grant enough iPad time). This evening is the Spring Fling at school, and there will be two booths: a photo booth and a dunking booth. Ty learned that Ms “Cwamia” (he still cannot pronounce "Camera" despite 9 months of practice) will be at both. On the walk home yesterday, that is ALL he talked about.

He awoke an hour early this morning, needing to know what time Ms. Cwamia will be at these booths. He bugged me until I finally broke down and texted her (at 7:04 AM) as if it were some emergency, because in his eyes, it is. Even though he will be in her class all day, he cannot miss her tonight. She graciously texted back with her times – no small feat considering she has a middle-school aged son of her own and a job to get to!
 
Teachers still matter. Ms. Cwamia (we all call her that now in my house) is the reason Tyler wants to go to school in the morning. Tyler is the kid in her class with the IEP, whose hand never goes up first, unless someone is handing out food. But she sees Tyler as more than that, and he knows it. He feels he matters to her. He wants to thank her the only way a 7-year old boy can: by dunking her in cold water tonight.
 
Across the hall from Tyler, our 13-year-old daughter awoke two hours early (at 4:30 AM) to listen to The Tortured Poets’ Department, Taylor’s latest. I wasn’t even aware a teenager was capable of waking up this early on her own.
 
Lillie Grace and Lexi have had a count-down since the Grammys, when Swift announced the release of the album. The songs (I’ve been told by our in-house experts) are GOOD. At midnight (10 PM here), the expected 17 songs dropped (we would NOT let them stay up). Then two hours later, Swift released an additional 13 songs, shocking everyone. That is the mark of excellence.
 
Clearly, Swift doesn’t need the money. She just gave her fans double the value because she wants to. So why are there all these Swift haters again? That both of my daughters chose a role model who over-delivers, is a savvy businesswoman, and a hard-working creative known for her generosity brings me joy. If they can tap into a passion as she has, develop their craft daily, learn how to monetize it and be known as givers, I’ll buy every TS item around for them as long as they want me to.
 
It was a stellar morning. Everyone got out of the house on time (a victory not to be downplayed). But it was more than that. Thanks to these two women who go above and beyond what is asked, we all awoke inspired.

Lillie Grace, our oldest, set off today on Ex Ed: a three-day/two-night camping trip in the Sandia mountains with her classmates and instructors. I will miss her. This is slightly ironic.
 
The irony is that this is the first week since March 15th that we haven’t had someone on a never-ending “spring break”. (It’s what you get when you put three kids in three schools.)
 
Of course, with a three-week vacation from school in the wings, that meant that things finally warmed up for me on the job front. After months of waiting, I was hired to ghostwrite a quick polish, headhunt three positions for a phenomenal independent school, coach two juniors through their common app college essays, and start the quest for an agent for our book Dear Oliver: A Grandmother Shares Tales of Love, Loss and Hope. (This is the amazing Young Adult book about a French Jewish family that I’ve been engrossed with since August.)  I
 
But did I mention “Spring Break “?
 
It’s a never-ending aria, interrupting my work, with solos mostly from my 7-year-old. His voice fills the day with, “Mom, I’m bored!” and “I’m hungry!” and “Mom, mom, can I please have Ipad time?” and “Mom, Lexi’s being mean to me!” and “I’m hungry!” and “Do you not give me more Ipad time because you hate me?” and “You’re not listening. I don’t want to do my chores, Mom. I’m bored!” and “Is it time for lunch yet?”
I organize play dates for him every day, only to find that I’m either supervising them, or back in the car to pick him up before I know it. Is it any wonder I’m just getting to the March blog?
 
Over her break, Lexi provides the bridge to Tyler’s blues, “Oh, this is just great. I have nothing to do today.” No matter what I come back with, she gives the common Middle School refrain, “But I have no friends.” Or “I know what you’re going to suggest, and the answer is NO!”
 
It was my oldest who did me in, with a single verse. She looked at me sadly and said, “I haven’t been anywhere since last July, and I’m getting texts from my friends in Turkey, Hungry, Budapest (same friend), Scotland, Mexico and Oregon (different friends). I feel so stuck here.”
 
“Me too!” I realized, gazing at photos of friends exploring the Australian coast, skiing in Austria and visiting Paris.  The first thing on the chopping block with unemployment was travel. Ten months of unemployment and the atmosphere can get a little…anguished shall we say?
 
So instead of traveling these past few months in my spare time, I’ve been hunkering down and decluttering. Slowly sifting through the final boxes of my parents’ things, over two years after their deaths. It’s mostly photos, which, along with lots of nostalgia for trips made in a former life (and boy did we travel), I’ve felt a great sense of isolation. We are raising our family far away from extended members, with little physical interconnection.
 
I’ve been feeling this isolation for a while. Over the holidays, I reached out to one of my uncles, who still lives in his big house. I asked him if the kids and I could plan a visit this summer and connect. I wrote, “One of my biggest sorrows is raising my kids without them really knowing Mom and Dad. I would love to have them hear your stories of Nana and Grandpa, and of my mom growing up. I would love for them to get a sense of family.” In response, I got a definite sense that while we’re family, there is his family and there is my family.
 
In fairness to him, I grew up mostly seeing him (and his family) only at holidays, then funerals, weddings and memorials. How can I be missing a connection that never really existed? 
 
My 2024 theme of surrender is the gift that keeps giving. One of my closest friends Michele sent me Michael Singer’s book The Surrender Experiment. It is eye-opening (to say the least!), and has taught me much about acceptance. Do not wish things were other than they are. Accept. Otherwise, your energy is frustrated. Accept.
 
I keep up with my friend Jack because he is a role model to me. The week before the everlasting Spring Break began, I called Jack (Tyler calls him “Jack-Jack”). For Jack, life’s glass is not just half full, but since it’s half full, let’s make a toast and drain it. Jack is one of the most joyful people I know, despite being widowed, childless and a cancer survivor.  He had a few weeks before his trip to Mexico to get dental work done (last year’s chemotherapy did a number on his teeth). He wanted to see us, could we spare a few days? Well, actually...I mean, what are the odds?
 
That is why, the day after Tyler’s teacher conference, Lillie Grace, Tyler and I jumped in the car. (Lexi looked at me like I had five heads, “I will KILL Tyler and Lillie if I’m in a car with them for 7 hours, are you kidding?”)
 
The journey itself was a destination: through stunning scenery like the Apache-Sitgreaves National forest, the El Malpais National Monument, and the Acoma Pueblo.
 
At 84 years young, Jack lives in a 55+ community. Cue Lillie giving me pointed looks. (“But it’s a dump!” Jack laughs). We swam every day in one of the two large (and clean) 85 degree pools, then jumped in one of the saunas. One day, Jack drove us out in his pickup truck (Tyler bouncing around in the back) and we all hiked Box Canyon. We did scavenger hunts in the town of Florence’s two Western museums. We played Clue, Fantastic Mr. Fox, and Spoons. We laughed. Oh, did we laugh.
 
The craziest part? Unaware of my desire to have my kids hear stories about my parents, Jack spontaneously talked at great length about them. Jack and my parents had survived the isolation of COVID by becoming each other’s “pod”. Having to seclude in their adjacent apartments, they became so bored they told each other their life stories several times over during the months of co-sequestering in their Independent Living facility.
 
Four days later, on piling into the car for the beautiful ride home, Jack looked at me and said, “This whole thing really is synchronicity, isn’t it? From my becoming so close with your parents, to you now visiting.”
 
Synchronicity.
It is, I think, closely related to acceptance, ease and joy.  
All part of Surrender’s family.