Adjusting

As I watch the sun rising over Trenton this morning (it's usually not fully morning until we hit Newark), I'm thinking about the family's whole adjustment to my new career life. The job itself is great - it's intellectually stimulating, it's demanding, I get treated exceptionally well by both co-workers and staff (I admit, it's a bit heady to walk around the office and be greeted with "Good morning, Judge' "How are you, Judge?") The commute is daunting - although quiet time to myself on a train every morning has its upside (I just wish it didn't come at the cost of the sleeping I would normally be doing between 4:15 a.m. and 7:15). JR's dad has been fantastic - he has stepped into the role of primary caretaker and actually seems to be enjoying his extra time with JR and the fact that some household things (like getting JR up and out of the house in the morning) he just does better than I did. He even cooked us a great dinner last night that didn't involve ordering pizza or reheating his mom's macaroni (that will be tonight).

JR has also adapted quite well. He loves his camps and seems to genuinely enjoy the time with the two babysitters who alternate days picking him up after camp. It's been particularly nice to see him develop a relationship with his oldest cousin on his dad's side - who is now entering his sophomore year in college. As the cousins on opposite ends of the age sandwich, they hadn't really spent much time together until this summer.

Of course, he's still his usual self - so we have our arguments over clothes (now mainly limited to Sundays and church clothes) and TV (we've moved on from Max and Ruby to Bindi the Jungle Girl) and whether he can have a second dessert. I love watching him try to negotiate - especially when he goes into what I've now deemed his "spoiled rotten face" I actually can't watch him do this without cracking up. He starts fluttering his eyelids, looking up at me, and pouts. But the whole expression is so exaggerated. I am at a loss to explain where he learned the eyelid fluttering pout or how he knows when it is appropriate to pull that expression out - but he does. It hasn't worked yet to get him what he wants - but it never fails to leave his mother in hysterics.

New Day, New Rules

Yesterday JR started a new camp. Earlier this summer, we all attended a camp orientation. As parents, we were impressed by the facility, the range of activities, the creativity of the counselors. Apparently, all that JR heard were RULES. Yesterday, he was excited to report that camp was great and "Mom, they don't really have all those rules. There's only one rule - have fun!"

New Student

I"m getting back in touch with the range of emotions JR must have felt last September when he started kindergarten. I feel like I've started a new school. New (wonderful, BTW) teachers. Every day new and exciting things to learn. New friends.

There have also been passing moments of desperately missing my old friends. (I had this moment yesterday, standing in line at the deli across the street from the new office building, waiting for my sandwich, where I felt this sharp, stabbing absence of one of my old lunch buddies. When I emailed him later, he reminded me that we'd been lunch buddies for 17 years. We knew each other's routines, we could order for each other.)

There are also the new routines at home. Mastering the new commute. Getting organized the night before with items necessary for the new book bag. New school supplies.

Mostly, it's exciting and invigorating. I leave work every day with my brain feeling like it has been stretched in an entirely different direction. It's akin to the "burn" you feel after working out (okay, okay, the "burn" that I've heard that some people feel when they work out). :)

Life is new.

(On the homefront - last night we had a discussion about mating for life and swans. At camp, they took a trip to a state park with a lake and JR reported that they saw swans. First he described them as "neese" which he eventually acknowledged to be geese, but then he corrected himself. He said the birds were big and white and they saw one (which he described as "totally unexpected") and then were even more surprised when there turned out to be two. So we discussed mommy and daddy swans and how they are usually seen in pairs.)

Fishing

I'm starting day 3 of this new career and new commute (how does one adjust from a 20 minute walk to a 2-1/2 hour cab/train/train commute?) The hardest part, of course, is the compression of my time with JR. I think he's noticing too. He's been great so far about cooperating with Dad in the mornings and getting dressed, fed and out of the house in time for camp (I leave way before either of them are awake). He's been cheerfully willing to accept being picked up by babysitters (well, one old preschool teacher and one grown, college-attending cousin). I've gotten home almost in time for dinner (I'm working on that) and I've managed to be around for my favorite part of our routine together - bedtime.

We had been moving to a system where JR got his bath alone while I took care of household chores and setting clothes out for the next day. But last night, he wanted me to stay with him in the bathroom and he accomplished that by relating a very detailed account of that day's fishing adventure. It was great. My monosyllabic boy, who, ever since kindergarten began last September, has been increasingly stingy about sharing the details of the day, burst forth with a story of going fishing in the deepest part of the creek, the part nearest the campers' shelter. "Only boys, but one girl, oh and the teacher was a girl" "S almost caught a fish, but it was so slippery it jumped back in the water." "Did you know that salamanders are really slippery too? We saw a salamander. It was black and yellow. Those are the caution colors. Just like the tape in the city. If you see the caution colors you know the animal will taste yucky. We could have caught the fish if we'd had a net. Well, I had a net, but I gave it to Z and the fish swam in and jumped right out. We used sticks with worms on the end. When you lift up a log there are a million worms. No, I didn't have a stick. My job was to put the worms onto the sticks. But S almost caught the fish. Someone else almost caught a salamander. We saw a slug too - it also had the caution colors. Like the bee. I think I got bit by a black and yellow bug but it wasn't a bee. It was littler than a bee. But it had the caution colors...."

Ah, my city boy ...