Making Time

Today was a nice, slow Sunday. First we made waffles and eggs. Then during "family art time," Will drew an exploding volcano, while Clara, June and I made flowers, birds and butterflies. (No gender stereotypes there!) June and I did a big grocery shop for the week. Clara read a lot of Bob books before she went swimming with a friend. Jeff and Will were especially glued to the US v. Canada hockey game. I squeezed in a run. We ended the day with a big Sunday dinner, and then everyone, including little John, went to bed peacefully. It felt good to make time for things today. Something to remember.

A Worm Home

Today, Clara and June made an eternal home for a worm. As I sat rocking John to sleep in the low light of his room, June's face peeked in, with great expression and big eyes, to say that she and Clara found a worm. It was big. Really big. And it was dead.

After John succumbed to his crib, I found the girls outside on the sidewalk, rolling, poking and measuring a worm then dropping it into a mason jar. The jar soon broke, of course, and shattered the glass all around, but they then diverted their attention to a burial. They pulled out shovels and pitchforks and weeders and spades and gloves. The works. After digging it a special hole, the worm went back to the earth with a farewell from June: "I love you."

Another Scarf

Today's creation was another scarf. Now the family set is complete, and I am without any excuses for not moving on.

Seeds

Today, we made seeds. Actually, we put out seeds for birds (wearing rubber gloves and a black velvet evening gown), and...

....then we cooked up some seeds in the form of granola for ourselves (with colorful feet in constant close proximity).

Splashes and Tracks

This weekend, we made splashes...

...and we made tracks.

We Made Noise

The Culprits:




Today, what the kids made was NOISE.

It blows me away. Every night. Are other households this loud? I cannot imagine.

I encourage our kids to express themselves freely - maybe too much. It has to be balanced out with some control, and I'm not very good at intuiting that dividing line. For example, Will is a great whistler. He's been doing it since he was three or four. But, he REALLY loves to whistle, and often REALLY loudly. We've set limits - like no whistling at the dinner table, in closed up spaces like the car, in restaurants - but I hate to tell him to stop or to be quieter.

Anyway, in addition to loud whistling, here are the sounds that bombarded me one evening as I tried to make a simple dinner:

John is in my arms, or on my back, squaking at best, crying at worst.

Everyone surrounds me to get John's attention. Clara snorts like a pig; Will claps loudly and shouts "Surprise!"; June skips in circles around me and shouts, "Skippy hoppy!" I am not sure what trigger in their brains says "shout super loudly and make pig sounds - that will make him feel really peaceful." Again, I'm holding him, so the John show is actually in MY face. When I put him down, then he really screams, and I just want to get dinner on the table - fast - to end this phase in our night, so the noises gather around me like flies.

Clara somehow feels wronged so she throws a tantrum, shouting "I want to get adopted from this house!" or "Know what I'm going to start calling you? A stinky mother. You are a very very very stinky mother!"

The other kids then disperse. The outside door slams shut numerous times, then pops back open, so I'm shouting, "Somebody close the door!"

June is still tugging on John (in my arms) shouting, "I want to touch baby!"

The rattling hoola hoop goes round and around. (Why did I buy one that makes sounds?)

Someone is banging on the piano.

June keeps singing "Skippy Hoppy" as she dances all over the house.

Everyone is shouting "WATCH, MOM" at the same time, every two minutes, over some gymnastic move on the couch. Then June directs me to move John so HE can watch her, every two minutes.

Clara is constantly asking me, "What did June say? What did Will say?" She fancies me her translator.

Will is making robot sounds, loudly.

Will is singing, loudly.

Will is whistling, loudly.

Will is dribbling a ball all over the house, loudly.

Clara and June are wrestling and then giggling, loudly, and then fighting, loudly.

June is screaming "Owweeeee!"

Clara and June are making something in the kid kitchen and the pans are rattling and falling and crashing everywhere.

John is shaking a rattle on my head.

Then, for a brief reprieve, they all go into the bathroom with Will. I don't know what Will offers them, but Clara and June always join him for his afternoon 30 minutes. Thank God. I bounce John to sleep and down some girl scout cookies for relief. The elder three are still loud, echoing in the bathroom, but at least they're far away. Then, I hear a constant clink of the metal toilet paper holder dropping on the ground. Whatever. Then, June comes in smiling and asks for a plastic bag. Fine. I'm not even going to ask. Then, all too soon, they parade back in, ready for dinner. June hands me the plastic bag wrapped up in TP. Oh, gross! They dropped the holder in the toilet. And they're all in here smiling ready to eat. After my peaceful reprieve, all I can say is, "Did you wash your hands?" Of course, the answer is no.

Sometimes I think I had children to fill up spaces. I've heard people say that when their kids grow up and leave home, the thing they miss most is the sound that fills the house. I see no need to get too sentimental about the list above. I happened to glance at a Thomas Moore book today. In a chapter titled, Noise and Silence, he says, "Silence is a requisite for personal divination, for living with a sense of direction." Well, that explains it!

I will miss individual sounds, like little feet running to our room in the morning (when it's a respectable hour), or the gentle stream-of-conscious singing, or the baby babble. But, the cacophony between the hours of 4 and 6? Just get me through it!

Organized Confetti

For a short while, during our Valentine-making fiesta, we were in the zone. Honestly, I was in heaven. The girls were heads-down focused on their creations. Everyone was doing their own thing, but participating together in a common goal. I felt the pulse of the universe amidst all the painting and cutting and glueing and drawing and glittering and markering and stickering and ribboning and hole-punching. Our long rectangular table was packed! Mind you, we did have some order amidst our big bang-like creations. We had tiny little bowls for various colors and sizes of of hearts, beads, glittery stuff. And we were efficient, even environmentally conscience. We kept a little bowl for all our scraps to use later for dinner decorations. Basically, my role with the Valentine-makers was to organize confetti.

This makes me think about infinity. Oh my gosh, there is NO END to our little-pieces-of-paper creations. Yet I live for this stuff! I think about these little projects all the time. And after Valentines Day, there will be Easter. Then after Easter, we have a quick line-up of 6 birthdays. After all our birthdays, there is the fall (endless outdoor crafts). Then comes Christmas, and back to Valentines Day again. I could literally organize confetti for the next 10 years. And then soon after I'll (hopefully) have grandkids, and I'll be organizing confetti with them! So, maybe this is my life's purpose! But will all this work and energy ever lead to "great art?" Like the stuff you see on my Sunday Morning show? I do want to reach a higher ground.

Then I turn my attention to the music we are listening to as we work, music that inspires June to hum along, even slide from her stool and move her beautiful arms in ballet-ISH poses. Some guy is singing, "I like cool beverages, uh-huh, uh-huh." OK. Our art is just fine. Maybe it's great. Maybe we are right there with the best of them.

Beans, Beads and Braids

We've been making lots of things in our household over the past few days. In the kitchen, we've made black bean soup, a roasted chicken, cookies, more cookies...



With snow on the ground, but apparently spring on our minds, we've made a lot of flower and bird art: Will did off-the-cuff work with beads, while Clara and June made LOTS of sharpee snowflakes. (Any art can become a snowflake when you fold it and apply the scissors.)


We made some special stuff at the pottery store (those pictures to come).


AND, we made fancy french braids and fancy fingernails to go on some fancy girls for the annual fancy father/daughter Valentines Dance. Though I've never been, it's one of my favorite events of the year.

Lately, however, I mostly want to MAKE my sweet baby's ear infections (and his complete aversion to a bed) go away.

A Complete Moment

Tonight, I had a moment of completeness. I was cooking dinner (ok, multiple dinners since no one will eat the same thing), John was asleep on my back, Clara and June were giggling in the bathtub, Will was finishing his homework, and "Over the Rainbow" was playing from Clara's mixed tape, that new dreamy remake. I grabbed my camera and looked for something around me to capture my feeling. Avoiding the clutter all over the house, I looked down at John's little foot, draped around my waist, kicking with what I hope were happy dreams. (Photo to come.) That moment was my little gem, my spiritual vitamin, to propel me to get everyone to bed, to hold my sweet, but sick and cranky baby non-stop all night long (I'm typing with one hand), and to wait for my hard-working husband to get home.

Valentines Day

We are doing a lot with Valentines Day this year. We have the usual decorations, cookies, and cards. But, honestly, I didn't quite do all that I wanted to do for Christmas. So, we are sending a LOT of Valentines Day cards, and are giving heart-shaped (rather than little men) cookies to the neighbors. Maybe it will become a tradition.

And P.S. - Sam the cat is back, now wearing a nice new collar!

Winter Walks

I was lucky to go on three hikes in the past week or so, to three of my favorite places. John joined me on my back each time. Hiking with a baby is one of my favorite things in the whole world to do. When John gets bigger, I'm going to have to start borrowing babies...

Our first trek was out in windy open spaces and around a lake:

The second outing was a quick up and down. We caught it at the last light of the day.

Will joined us for the last and the longest hike. We were tucked in the woods most of the time. He took advantage that it was just us, and he explored side trails, open fields, and tagles of trees. He makes my heart swell.