I LOUD

I woke up this morning to John throwing a ball around the room saying, "I LOUD."

Yes.  My family is loud.

I don't really consider myself a loud person.  I actually love quiet:  quiet music, quiet walks, quiet places, quiet people...  In fact, lots of noise sort of freaks me out.  But still, I seem to raise very loud kids.

The loudness manifests itself in a number of ways:
1 - Sheer volume.  As in lungs.  Somehow, they've all got them.  Even when calm.
2 - Physical activity that naturally accompanies the noise.  Banging, splashing, singing, kicking balls, batting balloons, you name it.
3 - Drone background noise.  (Possibly a coping mechanism?)  Everyone has their own style.
4 - Repetition to be heard.
5 - Competition to be heard.

On a walk today, I stopped and realized that I was trying to compute four lines of thought at the same time.  Every little mouth was moving fast and was aimed at me for a response:

• Will was questioning me about sharks; 
• Clara was baiting me to see a cat with a stump tail; 
• June was whining about her feet; 
• John was desperate for my "Oh, no" response (for the 100th time) to his story about tripping on the escalator with his dad.

It's too much for even the best multi-tasker (not me!) to keep up with.  But here we are.  My life, at present, is without a doubt one full of needs and of NOISE.

I couldn't find a picture that does our family loudness justice.  But, this one presents a possible solution...

Shower Spout and a Toddler's Mind

I had the opportunity today to observe some simple, unadulterated progressions in John's mind today.  There were no siblings, no parents (Obviously, I was there, but he'd forgotten about me), no friends, no animals.  Just John and a shower spout, easily an object of great fascination.  His thoughts seemed to go like this:

Cool - a shower spout, all to myself!

How do I turn it on?

I guess I'll get the sand off my hands and feet like everyone else does.

 But what if I do this??

And this!  I can make it spray everywhere.

I think I'll get some more sand on me so I can wash it off!

 

I'm thirsty!

Symbiotic Parenting Part II - Simon Says

As I wrote in my previous post, happy parenting in our household often means doing things with our kids that all of us, in our own way, like to do.  For Jeff, this might involve orchestrating games for his own amusement, games that the kids would happily play all day long.   For example, here is a game of Simon Says, Jeff style:

Simon says...

• Line up like the Von Trapp children and sing, very softly.  (Usually, everything they do is loud, so this is a nice change.)
• Pretend you are a granola bar.
• Pretend you are a worm.
• Pretend you are a scrambled egg.
• Pretend you are a glue monster.
• Pretend you are a sizzling piece of bacon in a pan.
• Line up like the Von Trapps and sing "Mama Mia," very softly.

• And finally, give mom a gentle kiss.
• Give dad a sweet hug.

Symbiotic Parenting Part I - The Flower Shop

Much of the time, happy parenting for me means doing things with my kids that all of us, in our own way, like to do.  Recently, John and I had a visit to a nearby Flower Shop that made us both very happy.

The growing season was just approaching, so I was supremely happy to be around the lush plants, the color, the smells, the possibility.  John, was equally happy.  He got to talk to a parrot, play hide-and-seek, put his feet in a little stream, meet a flamingo, run up and down a bridge and generally explore.

I love those time when we each happen upon our bliss, together.

Fairy Houses

With summer here, we are making Fairy Houses.  They serve many purposes:  One, they invite attention to little details from the earth and getting little hands involved.  Two, they inspire creativity, and a sense of magic and wonder.  I have a good friend who is a landscape designer who is sure that her career began with Fairy Houses.  Finally, they are a great fallback.  If we are waiting around somewhere, stalled while someone finishes a hike, stuck while we pick someone up who isn't ready, I can always say "Lets make a Fairy House," and at least three of my kids will be into it.

There are certain places where we build repeatedly: at the nearby park, at the nearby creek, places we frequent in the mountains.  Our methods tend to repeat themselves:

• We pick the spot
• We clear the ground with a good stick or some bark.
• We gather things up and put them in a "storage" place.
• We build, inside and out. 

The houses have borders, sometimes walls, many rooms, little beds, a table and chairs, patios, and if June is involved, lots of baby furniture and accessories.  Here are a few:

Fairy Boats

With summer here, we are making Fairy Boats.  They are a Clara specialty, at a little creek ("ditch," per Jeff) close by our house.  We've gone there a few times on morning walks, or combined with a reading date.

Clara is in her element.  She's creative, consumed, particular, and in charge.  She finds a building station, under a tree.  Then she gathers parts: leaves, sticks, cotton from the cottonwood tree, flowers.  She makes sure if floats, but keeps it close to the dock.  Then she tests its strength and pulls it around with a scavenged rope.  When it survives the current, the experience is complete, and she bikes home with her head high.

Alone Time

I recently had some alone time.  With June, that is.  When each of our kids turn 5, they get a special hotel night with mom or dad.  This time, it is June's turn.  Here's what we did:

• Biked to her favorite dinner spot - Larkburger.  She giggled the whole time. 

• Rode across a full Boulder Creek to a no-waste hotel with a great pool.

• Checked in and organized our stuff.  Big.

• Swam.  A lot.

• Got hot chocolate from the bar and played with stickers.  (The whole impetus here was to repeat the lore from Clara's hotel night.  It was a strange combination: rock band, sticky beer floors, and little smiling June, ordering up.)
• Painted toenails, played the matching game in bed, and read fairy tales.
• Woke the next morning and headed straight for the pool.
• Ate breakfast poolside and then biked home.

It's something special to have one-on-one time.  There was no competition, no fighting, no tears, no waiting for attention, no taking turns.  June glowed. (Can you tell?)

It feels right, here and there, to give our kids a time when they can shine, all on their own, and to let secret parts of them come out from the shadows.