First, let me link to this - because it sums up a lot of what we've found with our chickens. That and I'm plugging the blog because I love her stuff and the way she spends time with her kids. This also sums up the life I miss from our homeschooling days.
http://havingfunathomeblog.blogspot.com/2011/05/they-grow-up-so-fastan-update-on.html
So peruse the blog as you have time and keep it in mind for spending time with little people.
Today, we are taking things easier than I planned. I had Brian all geared up to help me attack the rest of TBC, but I woke up in a mellow mood (enough sleep and a lie in on a Saturday with one's husband make for mellow vibes). I woke up first (as usual) but having said that it was after 9. The kids stayed up after we went to bed last night and watched movies. B'cup went to bed with me and Ash was out about 30 seconds before. I'd expect them to be first up. Ash had wandered into our room around dawn saying he was having "weird" dreams. This is a massive step up from his night terrors of days gone by. Following the usual routine of either finding a space that doesn't push me out of bed or creating a space in the same room - he then made himself a pallet on the floor and started snoring.
The other 2 stayed up until only they know when watching movies together. They've really bonded over this whole going to camp together thing. They remind me more of when they were both younger and coping with being the oldest together when the other 2 were born. Suddenly, the two of them who had been squabbling all year against everything the other did are now falling asleep talking late into the night about how camp works and what they'll do and what the flight will be like.
When I crawled out of bed Buttercup was missing so I figured she was up, with her breakfast (she forages or has Celia make her something on the weekend days I don't wake up first) and will have found something to do. However, she wasn't at the table, or in the bathrooms. My camera is missing or I'd show you how I found her. She had come out and found the other 2 sound asleep on a mass of blankets they'd dragged from their rooms and she curled up between them and went back to sleep herself. They all stayed like that for another hour or so. Some days I like to let them wake when they wake - despite civilized schedules. As growing children I like to know - for sure - that they are getting enough sleep.
So the day didn't seem to have the urgency behind it that it had yesterday. Yesterday when I thought "I'm so close to finishing TBC - I'm so close!" It felt like an actual magnet, mental-struggle of a pull. Today, it seemed like the essential lazy Saturday - and who doesn't need and or deserve that from time to time.
I realized I'm a bit of a slave driver though because as and when they'd woken and eaten, each of them asked repeatedly what the chores were for today. "I don't care" I'd say. "Go to the park", "go pick cherries", "eh, whatever". This led to them all sitting and staring at me, in turn. They'd hover on the couch next to me and say "but what do you want me to do now?"
Eventually, Ash became overheated picking cherries, so I put him and B'cup in a cool bath (our new favorite thing with the endless sun and our swamp cooler under-performing). Then, it was time for the baseball party.
Ash had been waiting since his last game got canceled for his baseball party. He was so excited, and he was excited to the point he was worried he'd miss the party, or it would not happen for some reason. To aggravate the issue it was pushed back a full week for some reason (I knew, but forgot since it wasn't important to me what day it came).
At some point Ash became interested in Leif's game ball. Ash internalizes a lot so often it is hard to know exactly what he likes and exactly what he's thinking. What he was thinking wasn't fame and glory (like the kind that makes you MVP for a game so you get a game ball) what he was thinking was Leif had a tangible souvenir of his season as a baseball player.
Ash had spent a lot of time with these little 4-6 year olds and he decided they were his friends and he had nothing to remember them by. That's when he found the ball that we'd found lying in an abandoned field in the toy box. He began carrying it around for days and by himself started making a post-it note of the players on his team. I didn't know what he was about at first and I felt sort of sorry and sad for him when I realized what he wanted. I wasn't sure the kids would come to the party, or if the party would indeed stay scheduled. I felt intrigued that Ash felt moved enough to care about remembering his little friends over the course of his life. I told him to hang on to the ball and we'd take it to the party. This became an issue because I chose my words badly. What I meant was don't lose the ball - what he heard was -don't let go of the ball. So he carried it about and slept with it. This worried me because I was worried that he'd lose the ball surely by carrying it everywhere. Finally, I took it away from him, putting it up and assuring him we'd remember it today.
When we arrived at the field the coach gave a great speech about how valuable each child there was, and each child as a player. He said they needed to have fun and stop to actually enjoy the game rather than care about the game itself. Coach said a lot of things that made the kids look like they were really listening. Then, he gave Ash a sharpie and Ash followed all his teammates around until he had every last signature. This was another interesting development. Because they don't do game balls in T-ball, the other kids had no idea what was going on, or why they were signing the ball. They all agreed, in a confused way, and signed their names in huge sharpie - 4 year old writing. Then, Ash intently insisted he needed his manager and both coach signatures. The coaches seemed amused and pleased as they signed his game ball. Then, we put the name, team name and the date on and promised him tomorrow we'll go buy him a case and the game ball will go up someplace in the wall of fame.
Then, the coach called each child up, in a random order and gave each child a little talk as to what made them a special person and player and presented them with a trophy that had their name and date. We read the trophy to Queak and he just soaked it in, it had his name, on a plaque - his name, engraved. That turned out to be the biggest deal of all.
We stayed for the kids v parents game and everyone acted relaxed and happy. People asked who was joining fall ball and who was not coming back. Eventually, it was time to go and Queak clutched his little trophy and his little game ball all the way home.
Some days - lots of days - I think to myself, it's the stupid things, the tiny little things, that genuinely make or fill up a life. It's nothing this trophy, and it will probably mean less to him in 30 years than it means to me then. However, it means everything to him right now - tonight. Tonight, our house is all warm vibed and happy for the sake of a $5 trophy and throw away game ball. I like to think I will remember each child from this team.
I always like to think that but years later I know better. My oldest daughter's preschool picture is a mystery to me. I can name 3 of the 20 kids. I remember knowing them. I remember memorizing each personality and caring so much who threw sand at her and who had shared a toy with her. Those things filled those days and so they are still vitally important to me. However, it is throw away information that won't matter at all in another couple years, let alone now. Same for the names on the game ball. How many of them will I remember this time next year, or will Queak remember in 5 years? None, maybe.
That doesn't take it away from me now though. Right now, I care enough that I don't care how throw-away and random these little moments of joy are. I'm not going to pass them up or act callously toward them. They are my "the small things in life." Like hollyhock dolls or chalk drawings on a sidewalk. It might seem sad, or pathetic or even unambitious but that really is all I'm asking for. Just warm vibed, slow moving days and nights when my 6 year old boy falls asleep clutching a ball with other children's signatures on it.
Perfect.
http://havingfunathomeblog.blogspot.com/2011/05/they-grow-up-so-fastan-update-on.html
So peruse the blog as you have time and keep it in mind for spending time with little people.
Today, we are taking things easier than I planned. I had Brian all geared up to help me attack the rest of TBC, but I woke up in a mellow mood (enough sleep and a lie in on a Saturday with one's husband make for mellow vibes). I woke up first (as usual) but having said that it was after 9. The kids stayed up after we went to bed last night and watched movies. B'cup went to bed with me and Ash was out about 30 seconds before. I'd expect them to be first up. Ash had wandered into our room around dawn saying he was having "weird" dreams. This is a massive step up from his night terrors of days gone by. Following the usual routine of either finding a space that doesn't push me out of bed or creating a space in the same room - he then made himself a pallet on the floor and started snoring.
The other 2 stayed up until only they know when watching movies together. They've really bonded over this whole going to camp together thing. They remind me more of when they were both younger and coping with being the oldest together when the other 2 were born. Suddenly, the two of them who had been squabbling all year against everything the other did are now falling asleep talking late into the night about how camp works and what they'll do and what the flight will be like.
When I crawled out of bed Buttercup was missing so I figured she was up, with her breakfast (she forages or has Celia make her something on the weekend days I don't wake up first) and will have found something to do. However, she wasn't at the table, or in the bathrooms. My camera is missing or I'd show you how I found her. She had come out and found the other 2 sound asleep on a mass of blankets they'd dragged from their rooms and she curled up between them and went back to sleep herself. They all stayed like that for another hour or so. Some days I like to let them wake when they wake - despite civilized schedules. As growing children I like to know - for sure - that they are getting enough sleep.
So the day didn't seem to have the urgency behind it that it had yesterday. Yesterday when I thought "I'm so close to finishing TBC - I'm so close!" It felt like an actual magnet, mental-struggle of a pull. Today, it seemed like the essential lazy Saturday - and who doesn't need and or deserve that from time to time.
I realized I'm a bit of a slave driver though because as and when they'd woken and eaten, each of them asked repeatedly what the chores were for today. "I don't care" I'd say. "Go to the park", "go pick cherries", "eh, whatever". This led to them all sitting and staring at me, in turn. They'd hover on the couch next to me and say "but what do you want me to do now?"
Eventually, Ash became overheated picking cherries, so I put him and B'cup in a cool bath (our new favorite thing with the endless sun and our swamp cooler under-performing). Then, it was time for the baseball party.
Ash had been waiting since his last game got canceled for his baseball party. He was so excited, and he was excited to the point he was worried he'd miss the party, or it would not happen for some reason. To aggravate the issue it was pushed back a full week for some reason (I knew, but forgot since it wasn't important to me what day it came).
At some point Ash became interested in Leif's game ball. Ash internalizes a lot so often it is hard to know exactly what he likes and exactly what he's thinking. What he was thinking wasn't fame and glory (like the kind that makes you MVP for a game so you get a game ball) what he was thinking was Leif had a tangible souvenir of his season as a baseball player.
Ash had spent a lot of time with these little 4-6 year olds and he decided they were his friends and he had nothing to remember them by. That's when he found the ball that we'd found lying in an abandoned field in the toy box. He began carrying it around for days and by himself started making a post-it note of the players on his team. I didn't know what he was about at first and I felt sort of sorry and sad for him when I realized what he wanted. I wasn't sure the kids would come to the party, or if the party would indeed stay scheduled. I felt intrigued that Ash felt moved enough to care about remembering his little friends over the course of his life. I told him to hang on to the ball and we'd take it to the party. This became an issue because I chose my words badly. What I meant was don't lose the ball - what he heard was -don't let go of the ball. So he carried it about and slept with it. This worried me because I was worried that he'd lose the ball surely by carrying it everywhere. Finally, I took it away from him, putting it up and assuring him we'd remember it today.
When we arrived at the field the coach gave a great speech about how valuable each child there was, and each child as a player. He said they needed to have fun and stop to actually enjoy the game rather than care about the game itself. Coach said a lot of things that made the kids look like they were really listening. Then, he gave Ash a sharpie and Ash followed all his teammates around until he had every last signature. This was another interesting development. Because they don't do game balls in T-ball, the other kids had no idea what was going on, or why they were signing the ball. They all agreed, in a confused way, and signed their names in huge sharpie - 4 year old writing. Then, Ash intently insisted he needed his manager and both coach signatures. The coaches seemed amused and pleased as they signed his game ball. Then, we put the name, team name and the date on and promised him tomorrow we'll go buy him a case and the game ball will go up someplace in the wall of fame.
Then, the coach called each child up, in a random order and gave each child a little talk as to what made them a special person and player and presented them with a trophy that had their name and date. We read the trophy to Queak and he just soaked it in, it had his name, on a plaque - his name, engraved. That turned out to be the biggest deal of all.
We stayed for the kids v parents game and everyone acted relaxed and happy. People asked who was joining fall ball and who was not coming back. Eventually, it was time to go and Queak clutched his little trophy and his little game ball all the way home.
Some days - lots of days - I think to myself, it's the stupid things, the tiny little things, that genuinely make or fill up a life. It's nothing this trophy, and it will probably mean less to him in 30 years than it means to me then. However, it means everything to him right now - tonight. Tonight, our house is all warm vibed and happy for the sake of a $5 trophy and throw away game ball. I like to think I will remember each child from this team.
I always like to think that but years later I know better. My oldest daughter's preschool picture is a mystery to me. I can name 3 of the 20 kids. I remember knowing them. I remember memorizing each personality and caring so much who threw sand at her and who had shared a toy with her. Those things filled those days and so they are still vitally important to me. However, it is throw away information that won't matter at all in another couple years, let alone now. Same for the names on the game ball. How many of them will I remember this time next year, or will Queak remember in 5 years? None, maybe.
That doesn't take it away from me now though. Right now, I care enough that I don't care how throw-away and random these little moments of joy are. I'm not going to pass them up or act callously toward them. They are my "the small things in life." Like hollyhock dolls or chalk drawings on a sidewalk. It might seem sad, or pathetic or even unambitious but that really is all I'm asking for. Just warm vibed, slow moving days and nights when my 6 year old boy falls asleep clutching a ball with other children's signatures on it.
Perfect.
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