Pajama Day… Just do it!

In my family, Pajama Day is an institution. When life presses in and moves too quickly, the best remedy around is to lock the doors, turn off the phones, and stay comfortably ensconced in your most comfortable sleep attire. A day spent reading, surfing the web, watching old movies or daytime TV can be just what the doctor ordered. The five of us each have our own version, developed over time to bring maximum relief and renewal to stressed out lives.

This pajama day tradition was established by my mom who is actually a Zen master when it comes to Pajama Days. She has been known to refuse calls from her long lost daughter (me) because she is fully consumed by a movie she has seen 117 times. She has always had a wardrobe for these occasions, usually consisting of baggy sweatpants and oversized t-shirts (usually with bleach stains, worn spots, and best if purchased in a prior decade). Over her lifetime the pajama day has evolved into the pajama vacation (which she would classify as the best of all possible vacations) in which she would not have to put on outside clothes… even once.

My sister, Kristi, would describe a perfect pajama day (which I don’t think she has had in the last 7 years) as a day that she did not have to wake up… at all. She might roll over and watch TV for a bit, stumble to the kitchen for a bit, and head right back to the bed for a bit more sleep. When she finally awoke from her pajama day stupor, she would indulge in a bath… because she knows “There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.” My Aunt Billie, who confessed to not having a pajama day since she married Jim, remembers fondly days spent watching QVC in the recliner. My own pajama days do not happen nearly often enough, but I have been known to check out of the world for a morning or a whole day on an as-needed basis, to write or read or watch mindless TV.

When my kids were little, I established Saturday as a Pajama Day ( I like to think of it a Sabbath rest Boucher style). Keith worked on Saturday, we only had one car, and everyone else had a dad at home. Allie returned from a long summer visit to Grandma’s house and announced her discovery of Pajama Day, just like Grandma. So, for several years the Boucher clan enjoyed a Saturday tradition of pajama clad activities. We watched movies, played board games (well, they played board games- until someone cried), and established pajama day foods including pancakes, grilled cheese sandwiches (another mom tradition), and tacos… all food Keith didn’t consider real food.

Now, with (almost) adult children, if I press their lack of ambition on a given day, I will inevitably receive the reply “it’s a Pajama Day”. Steph has been known to completely take over the living room for such occasions. Allie might not come out of her room, now that she has a fancy new computer, and although Brian might not as readily admit to a Pajama Day, he will spend his whole day off rambling between the Netflix movie on demand in the living room and the Xbox in his bedroom. Rosie, a dog who never missed a nap, has a keen eye for anything resembling a Pajama Day, because she knows there will be lots of horizontal time, snuggle time, and maybe even some snacks involved. Our youngest member, Waffles, hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it, but I’m sure she will adapt over time.

The common thread of our pajama days were that all activities revolved around things that we didn’t do with dad home. As the kids grew, and we did too, even Keith joined the fun. He has been known (pretty regularly) to assert his right to a Pajama Day when I returned from work to find him happily playing Farmville while still in his pajamas and slippers. Keith and I enjoy Pajama Days together on occasion, where we might spend an entire day snuggled on the couch playing Bejewelled on our laptops with food network playing in the background.

Today is a perfect pajama day. There are lots of things I could be doing, should be doing, but no one will die if I check out just a bit. Keith and Rosie are upstairs napping, Steph is laying on the sofa in the den watching reruns of Full House in an old tee shirt and baggy shorts, and I’ve been surfing the internet for hours in my night gown. Later, I might get dressed and go out to engage the world, or not, but I know I will be more ready to engage my life when I wake up tomorrow because today was a Pajama Day.

Traveling with dogs…

We waited twenty one years to travel just the two of us. Our children are (almost) grown-ups, with lives that demand their attention. We planned a family vacation, very near home, so that they could squeeze us into their busy schedules. When they announced that they wanted to go to camp/ Foxwoods/ work we didn’t even bat an eye (who remembers "the great camping revolt" of a few years back?)

Undaunted, we took out a map, made a wish list, and did a Google search to find a place we really wanted to go. And then we remembered the dogs…We worried, we fretted, and we packed but after 5 days on the road and in the camper with Rosie and Waffles I’ve decided that travelling with dogs has its advantages. Not once have I heard “I’m bored” they are as happy as we to spend the afternoon napping. There has been no whining, nagging, or complaining about what is for dinner, who gets to sit in the front seat, or when we are going to the beach. They have had a couple of yippy run-ins but, compared to mediating kids… this was a snap. The “girls,” as we call them, happily accommodate our wants and mostly just enjoy time with us. Nice change.

While planning this trip we wondered about how to go anywhere or do anything with the “girls,” but have really been able to go and do quite a lot. We visited the Belfast farmers market, Fort Knox, the Penobscot Observatory, and toured the harbor at Camden with the dogs in tow. We couldn’t eat out at a nice restaurant but we really couldn’t do that when the kids were young anyway. We met interesting people, ate ice cream, and saw breathtaking sights.

Don’t get me wrong… We missed the kids. Just not the little ones, with sticky fingers and runny noses. We missed our big kids with lives and friends and funny stories (well to be honest, Keith missed the little ones). We enjoyed our “girls” and each other. This vacation brought rest and relaxation we sorely needed, but we missed the life and fuss of our family… it’s a tough transition to make. From a pack of people to just a couple. From navigating multiple needs to tending to two. From the noise and drama of a growing family to the quiet of a couple of dogs. We are making the transition, and the “girls” are ready for their next adventure.

Searsport Shores Oceanside Campground

Perfect Maine Lobster bake!

1. Light the fire

2. Add fresh sea weed

3. Add soaker hose

4. Add boxes of sea weed (to hold the shell fish)

5. Pile on bags of steamers, clams, fresh corn, and lobster

6. Cover in wet canvas

7. Let steam for 45 minutes

8. Serve with a bottle of wine

9. Perfect!

Blueberries fresh from the field

The farm stand girl poured warm berries from the plastic cover of a deli platter into the small green ¼ pint container. Her blond hair fell around her shoulders as her stained fingers pushed the keys on the old cash register. “My grandma had a dog like that,” she motioned toward Rosie enjoying the air conditioning in the truck, “she loved ice cream, used to lick one side of a cone while my granddad licked the other. They had to put her down last spring, she was 19.” I gathered up the berries and a fresh tomato for dinner. “Does the dog want a treat?” I smiled and thanked her, she handed me two biscuits and I ducked back out into the sunlight.
The next morning, Keith poured berries into gooey pancake batter as I suggested it needed more water. He ignored me, as he had learned to do so well in 21 years together, and spooned thick globs of white on to the hot griddle. The smell of pancakes on the grill mixed with other camp cooking to create a symphony of flavors at the picnic table. Bacon from the sight around the corner, hardwood smoke, and salt air filled my senses. The blue berries caught my attention a couple minutes later, as I shoved a big chunk of syrupy sweetness into my mouth. The tartness exploded in my mouth, surprising me. After years of avoiding blueberries of any kind, these wild Maine blueberries retained their flavor and bite. “We can add the rest to oatmeal in the morning,” I mumbled as I relished the next mouthful.

A homework assignment

As part of a class in my Mental Health Counseling program, I visited an open AA group which met in the basement of the Methodist Church. The basement was hot and crowded. I was startled by how little interaction people had with one another. They seemed tired and bored. I sat in the front (it was the only seat available) and listened as they began the meeting. The people’s enthusiasm was startling. These did not look like active participants, and yet, they vigorously replied to all the prompts including welcoming speakers and responding when appropriate. It was a bit confusing to connect these people with this response.

A group of visitors from another AA group took turns sharing their stories and their experiences with AA. They all talked about the importance of the “fellowship” and the need to become actively engaged in the program. When they talked about their families, I was interested to hear that some credited their families response for helping them find their way out of drugs and alcohol and some did not. One man shared that his wife threw him out on the back deck because of his drinking and he recognized that as a point at which he needed to make a change. Another man shared that when he decided to quit drinking his wife said he had to leave, and he credited her ultimatum as being a very positive thing in his own recovery.

As an woman who grew up in the din of an alcoholic family, my own emotional response was mixed, confusing. When I explained to my friend Tom that my step-father had begun attending AA meetings last fall. He asked how he was doing. I responded as a family member... we'll see.