Letting Go

Parenting is so much about letting go - at the right time. 

Today, we drove Aveen to Camp where he will be for two weeks.  Two weeks!  It seems like such a long time to let him go.  But.  There was no one week option for his age group.  And why do I think it is important let him go to camp at all? 

I want to let him have this experience.  To enjoy the outdoors, learn to do things like kayaking and sailing that we can't teach him, to make friends, to learn to take care of himself, to be independent.  I want my kids to learn to be independent, because it is important, and I don't think I am very independent. 

Of course, it is difficult to know exactly when they are ready and how much independence they are ready for.  Aveen went to the same camp last year for a week and had a great time.  However, he was ready to come back after the week last year.  Hopefully, two weeks won't be too long for him.  It will be long for me. 

After the longish drive today, once we got there, Aveen hugged us and said, "Okay, bye."  As in, "Please go away now," in a nice way.

Are you kidding me?  We just got here. 

As much as I wanted to stay for a swim in the lake and lunch, we settled for a walk during which we ran into Aveen again.  He gave us a look that said, "Why are you still here?"  So we finally got the hint and left.

We drove back, stopping for lunch in a cute town, shopping at A Touch of Whimsy, and taking the scenic way back.

At the pool, Amrita got pushed into the pool by accident by three bigger boys.  As she sobbed, she said, "It's funny that this happened just the day Aveen left.  Now he won't know about it for two weeks."

I'm not the only one who misses Aveen. 

I am a secret agent

One of my classmates, whose first language is not English and is having a tough time, asked me how he can pass the French oral exam.  He says he can pass any exam, but not the French oral exam. 

This is the advice I gave him: " You have to suspend who you are and play a role.  You have to be a figure skater who doesn't fall on the double and triple axils." 

I have suspended who I am in French class.  My lovely, bubbly afternoon French teacher has no idea what my last six months have really been.  I maintain a light and airy existence insofar as French class is concerned and she thinks my life is all about swimming at a tennis club and soccer practices and socials.  Which it sort of is at the moment.  But not really.

I've even lied about my job.  As far as my French class is concerned, I still work on the CPP.  Because I haven't really worked since I switched files.  I know the CPP vocabulary.  I know the issues.  My teachers don't even bother to ask me about my work.  They say I already know that.

I lie about other things too.  To stay within the role.

Maybe this is what a secret agent feels like. 

Today, I am mad

Because I can't speak French using the correct rules of grammar with allese.

Because some days I can't speak French at all.  Or even English.

Because today I found la formation especially difficult and boring.

Any why do I have to keep learning the same rules over and over again and why can I still never use the rules properly?

How can I have been learning French all my life and still not be able to speak it?

And why did this package of shrimp need to be defrosted when the others don't?

And why is there soccer practice again today after we just came back from a whole weekend of it and didn't do anything else?

And why do I have to deal with having had cancer all the rest of my life?  Why can I never forget it, even for a minute or a second? 

And why do I still have a cold?

And why can't something work out easily or simply for a change?

International Sign of Respect

When children play soccer and a player is injured, all members of both teams rest on one knee with their hands folded together in respect of the injured player.  When said player gets up, or is carried off the field, everyone claps.  I find this sign of respect from young boys very touching. 

And at the end of the game, my son's team started a ritual where they form a bridge cheering the other team's name.  It is interesting to see how the other team reacts to this.  Often they are confused, then surprised, then they participate, and return the bridge.  It changes the tone of the ending of the game, no matter who wins.  Then they run and give the parents high fives.  I don't go to all of Aveen's soccer games (they both Amrita out of her wits), but this ritual is so sweet that it always makes me cry.

In fact, the boys themselves were crying after their game today, defeated 3 - nothing.  And Aveen was in net for the second half and had two goals scored on him.  He is always in net because he is an awesome goalie - he almost always catches the ball and boots across the field.  But when they lose a game, as goalie, he feels solely responsible for losing the game, which he shouldn't because it is a team sport.

Many of the parents were riled up with the game.  The other team pushed and shoved, the referee was unfair, the other coach kept yelling at our coach.  All that was true.  But the kids would not have been upset had the grown-ups not been yelling.  And no one got hurt.  And we finished early.

And it was a great weekend!  The team played two great games on Saturday.  The motel looked less Psycho like in the morning and turned out to have a great pool where we swam twice.  Amrita made friends with two other younger sisters who came along.  And the summer spinach salad at Swiss Chalet was not so bad.  And the boys had a GREAT time.  And the parents - aside from being a bit intense about soccer - were really nice.  And I feel a lot better than I did on Friday.  I even picked up vegetables from the Kingston market but then couldn't choke down kale and cawliflower curry - in fact, I can't even spell it.  We had pasta with tomato and basil sauce instead. 

So, yes, a soccer weekend can indeed cure a cold, as long as it comes with a pool!

Travels with the soccer team

So we travelled through the driving rain, thunder and lightning, and funnel clouds. We are now in a sketchy motel at the edge of town. The rain is still coming down. The only entertainment is the streaks of lightning. Aveen is coughing. There is a DVD player. We should have brought Downton Abbey. Tomorrow, we may skip the complementary breakfast and head to the nearby McDonalds.

Onward Ho

This afternoon, we leave for a soccer tournament in Kingston.  Unfortunately, I woke up with a terrible sore throat this morning.  Aveen has had a cold for the last two weeks.  Let's hope that staying in a less-than-comfortable looking motel and playing and watching soccer in the hot sun (or thunderstorm or tornado) all weekend and going out for a group dinner late is the answer!

On Sunday, I will let you know if that did the trick.....

The Heat is On

Week 3 of Summer. 

This week, we contend with tennis camp, which is mornings only - with rotating and creative childcare in the afternoon - and the second week of French.  It was the pronom relative today.  Our assignment was to write a text using the passé, with the subjunctive, pronom object direct and indirect, a verb ending with a preposition, and a pronom relative.  It made for rather convoluted writing.

And we are in the midst of a heat wave.  Air conditions are broken or are not able to cool down houses.  Throughout the city, people can't sleep.  Children are lethargic and soccer practices are shortened.  There is a run on freezies.  My daughter, who does not eat fruit on principle, resorts in desperation to watermelon.

It is the season of plenty.  Every fruit is in season - mango, leechie nuts, strawberries, cherries.  Soon it will be wild blueberries.  It is mid-summer in Ottawa.

I have never before swum everyday in the summer. This is a first.

And I should be only watching French television, but it is too tempting to keep watching Downton Abbey.