Happy Thought Cottage

On Saturday, Iz and I were into Day Three of our time alone together; this was what Iz liked to call our “girl time.” Nathan was around the house but never really more than to snooze. Since he was asleep when we were awake, and we were asleep when he was awake, we put on our census enumerator hats (vintage Stetsons we think) and we checked the box next to “Inhabitant under the age of 18 badly in need of a hair cut who sleeps at the address occasionally which can only be verified by the sounds of the bonk-bonk and beep-beep of his IM and text messages.”

On Friday night, Iz and I struck a deal; if she helped me around the house on Saturday, I’d take her to the beach on Sunday. It was really a toss up in regard to who like the beach more. She liked being in the water, and I liked looking at the water and pretending I was numb from the frigid 61 degrees; she liked the feeling of sand down her bikini bottom, and I liked the feeling of the sand on the bottom of my feet.

Thus, Saturday was a day of cleaning everything and the kitchen sink. I first asked Iz to pick up the family room on Saturday morning, and she quickly shot me the “Why me?!?!?!” look. I shot her back the “You'd better do it if you want to go to the beach tomorrow” look. She then said, “Yes, Momma.”

Iz is getting used to the work-to-earn (toys or trips) concept. Last week, we were out shopping, and she saw a toy she wanted. I told her she could buy it with her own money; she agreed, snapped up her Littlest Pet Shop figures, and happily walked off to the cash register at Target.

When we got home, I said, “Iz, you need to give me $6 for the toys you bought.” After I said that, it took all of one minute for the happiness to morph into indignation and disbelief. “Mommy, if I give you $6, then I will have no more money!”

I tried to explain to her that we agreed she would pay for the toys. I hope I don’t sound like an ogre, but I was trying to slowly introduce the concept that “Mommy is not made out of money,” and at this point, it wasn’t going too well. If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn that Iz was about to pick up the phone and call her attorney to advise her on the Littlest Pet Shop transaction, feeling that somehow I had fraudulently duped her.

I was almost ready to say, “Forget it,” but I knew that she was old enough to begin to understand the concept of finance. I explained the transaction to her again, and she angrily walked over to her desk, opened the lid, and pulled out her wallet. She glared at me as she opened it, rifled through it, and pulled out $6.

She walked over to me and said almost in tears, “Here!!!!” How horrible did I feel? I felt like I was mugging her; however, I mustered all my parental I'm-doing-the-right-thing-to-illustrate-a-point courage and I said, “Thank you, Iz.”

Well, Finance 101 didn’t go to well that week. While we wallowed in our girl time on Friday, I knew that we needed to accomplish many things on Saturday like vacuuming, doing laundry, cleaning her room, making cookies for the church bake sale, and running miscellaneous errands. I thought that I might try and go back to Finance 50 with Iz; thus, I proposed the manual labor in exchange for the beach trip scenario.

When I first proposed it, she was eager. She asked about the specifics, and I told her that I’d need her to help me with my list of things to do. I guess it was easier for her to give of herself than of her wallet at this point.

Despite a rough start over the cleaning of the family room, Iz was a very good helper. I asked her to take Monty for a walk around the house a few times, and she immediately jumped up, put on her flip flops, and was out on the porch attaching Monty to his leash in under three minutes. I moved the mixer in the kitchen, and she shot off the couch (heroically prying herself away from America's Next Top Model), ran into the bathroom, grabbed her stool, and dropped it down on the floor in front of the mixer saying, “I’m ready to help you make the cookies, Momma.”

We tackled Iz’s room together. It was funny how she made the mess, but she felt it was my maternal responsibility to help tidy the mess. After 30 minutes, we had cleared two corners of her room, and I deemed the room “clean enough for occupancy” until next weekend.

In general, Iz was usually pretty helpful. Actually, sometimes she might have been too helpful by putting things away that I had just taken out, drowning my well-watered plants in more water, and then feeding (read “overfeeding”) the animals. I always thanked her for her efforts; sometimes her effort required more effort on my part, but it was true that her effort always counted for something.

At 4pm on Saturday, we were ready to run our errands. We had to drop off our chocolate-chip cookies at the parish hall, and then we had to go to Target to buy a new iron. Iz had been a great help throughout the day, even though I knew I had done most of the work. Sometimes you don’t mind doing most of the work, especially when you love being with the one you’re sharing the work with.

If Truth Be Told Note: Earlier in the afternoon, when I put away the last of the dishes from the dishwasher, I noticed the change jar. The last time we emptied it out, we cashed in all the change and bought groceries for the local food pantry. I said to Iz, “Let’s cash in our change,” to which Iz asked, “Are we going to buy food with it again?” Once at Target, I bought her a game for her Ninendo DS with the money; sometimes you just need to say, “I love you, and I thank the Great Cat Goddess that you’re in my life” with Nintendogs.

That night, as I packed our lunches for Sunday's beach expedition, Iz declared, “Mommy, we did a lot today!” I told her that we did; while I was exhausted, it seemed to be unspoken that we didn’t have to go anywhere or do anything “fun” to enjoy a day together. There was no place like home, and it had been happy day for the two of us at home.

On Sunday, we made our way to Maine where my sister-in-law and brother had rented a house a mere 300 yards from the beach. When we got out of the car, Iz asked, “Where’s the beach?!?!?” That’s my girl! When we made our way up the steps of their cottage, I saw this sign over the front door.



I laughed out loud. In the moment, something struck me about the sign, especially given my new found love, George Clooney, err, I mean, meditation! I could see how the happy thoughts would abound here, especially given that you could quite literally spit on the beach from the cottage's front steps.

Thirty minutes later, we made our way to the beach with Uncle Jack and Aunt Lisa. When low tide was at its lowest, the beach was endless and vast, the waves were voluminous, and the tide pools were plentiful and full of starfish and periwinkles. It was a natural and beautiful water park to which the admission was free.

Iz and I walked down to the jetty, investigating each puddle. I said, “Don’t step on the rocks with the barnacles!” At one point, I heard, “Ouch,” knowing that my warning met deaf yet happily exploring ears.

At one point, we found a star fish. I thought it was dead; however, after experimentation, I realized it was just playing dead to the blonde predators it rightly sensed overhead. Iz wanted to take it home as I pet, and I told her that we couldn’t.

She stormed off down the beach. “But, what if a seagull eats it?” she lamented. I told her it would be fine.

I yelled after her bikini bottom, “Star fish are not pets, Iz!” I sensed that this was the end of the happy day. When we got back to our spot on the beach, Aunt Lisa offered to take her in the water.

In an instant, all thoughts of the star fish were gone. Forget meditation! (Though, mediation before bed was working really well for me.) I wanted to be seven again, so all my weighty problems would disappear in anticipation of a boogie board and a big wave.

At 4pm, we left Aunt Lisa, Uncle Jack, and the Happy Thought cottage; Iz plunked herself down in her booster seat and snapped her seat belt shut. She suddenly blurted out, “I’m so happy!” I smiled, thinking that we really had a wonderful weekend together, whether it was cleaning the house or trolling the tide pools together. Then she said, “Because next year I don’t have to sit in a booster seat anymore!!!!” Well, one woman’s happy thought is not always another woman’s happy thought, but it didn’t really matter as long we were both happy. ♥