New Routine: School to Home

These days, I pick up my oldest three kids from school on my bike, with little John in tow.  It is a dynamic moment, for everyone, the exit from school and transition to home.  Our sequence is as follows:

• burst out the school doors, 
• eyes search for family members, 
• run together to the bike rack, 
• hop quickly on bikes, 
• ride freely - wind blowing through hair, feet pedaling fast, 
• conquer the bridge, on or off the bike,
• wind through streets,
• arrive at the Big Green Ash Tree
• drop bikes, 
• breathe deeply.

As the kids gain distance from school, and zero in on home, the park gives us refuge and space to transition.  There are school stories, spastic flips on bars, flinging bodies on swings, snacks, trips to the proverbial bathrooms, pick-up soccer games, and escapes into the trees.  Overall, it is a safe place to shed stress, reunite, get space if you need it, or come together if you need that instead.  

When the older ones are nourished and ready for what's next, they hop back on their bikes and cruise home through wide fields and big trees.  I follow with the little ones.  I like to think that path gives them vision.  It's just a matter of looking up from their fast-moving feet.  But, the vision may be all mine, watching them all fly home.

 

Old Routine: The Library

I always feel like a good parent when I go to the library.  Even if I chat excessively with other mothers, get overly absorbed in my own book, or check messages on my phone, there we are.  Surrounded by books.  Listening to Melody, who has read to my kids for 10 years!  Ten years!

Melody is a local celebrity among Boulder moms.  She can make any book intriguing.  Every Monday morning, she sings, stomps, laughs, cries, gurgles, shakes, jumps and humbles us all.

She introduced a book to Will that changed his life, at 4.  After reading "Saint George and the Dragon," he became a "noble knight" for an eternity.  It was his cover.  To this day, he dabbles with covers (don't we all?), but noble knight may forever be my favorite.

Our latest family trends at the library go like this:

• June brings home fairy books.  Anything with a sparkly, enchanted looking nymph on the cover captures her completely.
• Similarly, John brings home train books.  His magnet takes the form of shiny blue engines.
• Clara likes comics, preferably Peanuts, but also Calvin and Hobbs.
• Will gets books-on-tape.  He has plenty of books at home, but to him, the library means vocal companionship.  He has always been a book-on-tape guy.  This summer, he clocked hours, listening and sketching.  It could be his current cover.  It certainly is a passion, and you can't deny that.

I am thankful for libraries, for Melody, and for giving me that time to feel simply like a good parent.

New Routine: Biking to School

School has begun, and we have a new routine.  Each morning, after checking for shoes on feet and food in backpacks, everyone hops on a bike.

We leave at least 30 minutes before school begins for the 2-mile ride.  It is the most feel-good way to get to school, yet not without challenges.  Among four kids, we have four paces.  For the most part, we've narrowed that down to two groupings:  the older two ride ahead, while I ride with (or pull) the younger two.  We meet at a park, then finish roughly together.

Our greatest stress so far is the fact that one rider has trouble carrying a backpack, which means  waiting for me at school.  Her partner, however, does not wait before heading to class.  Even with a beautiful bike ride, this equals uber-stress!

Such is life.  What a challenge it is to feel right in the flow - not behind, not ahead, but content with the beauty of the ride at your own speed.  I think that if all my kids can bike with such contentment by the end of the year, it will be a victory.  A feeling to seek their whole lives long.

An Old Ritual: Running Home

Driving home to our old house, when was beautiful out, or when we'd spent too much time in the car, or when everyone was punchy and hadn't had enough exercise... the kids used to hop out of the car on one end of the street and run the down the hill the rest of the way home.

My pictures from the car are blurry, but the blur actually captures that fresh air, fast energy bliss.  Sometimes, it was a kick out of the car in an effort to shake a bad mood.  Sometimes a bad mood followed when a little one wasn't big enough, or a certain big one was just too fast.  But, it was always exhillerating and freeing, even just to watch.  And it did tend to be joyful.

I love the way those sprints always knocked the kids into the present moment - racing the car, or racing each other, or just racing themselves, to earn a peaceful moment at home before the getting-home rituals began.

A New Ritual: A New Walk

Our new setting has a view.  Not actually from our house, but over a bridge and onto a path just a short walk away.  We have to step away from our comfort zone to catch it.

The walk is not is not yet part of a routine.  But, each time we take it, it feels special.

I'm really happy for that path, and for the promise it holds:  space, perspective, vision, and a view.

 

 

Home

When summer began, I was composing blogs in my head about family rituals and routines.  Then, my family up and moved.  In large part, this explains my 2-month blog silence.

It was a fairly sudden change.  Inspired, but sudden.  I alternate between thinking us brave and foolish.

I was connected to our old home.  Its walls breathed the energy of all that happened within them for 10 years.   The vision I had when we committed to a new place was full of optimism, but a little blind to what we'd be leaving behind.  Like the sweet hill we walked, biked, scootered, wiggle-raced so many million times.  Or the neighbors who have watched, and cared for, and known my kids like no new neighbors ever will.  Or my view from the kitchen of June and John dancing in the living room, Clara racing from the front door to the backyard trapeeze in one big leap, and Will battling some mirage from his post on the roof.

I could stand in the middle of that house and see out a North, South, East and West window, all from one spot.  In fact, this will be my memory of that home.  The vision in every direction.  I could see my children wherever they may be.  Not necessarily a teenager's dream, which is one reason we left.  But as the mother of four still mother-centered children, being in the center of that 360 degree view was exactly where I wanted to be.  Letting go of that position is not easy.  

Mind you, we are not moving into a suburbian McMansion, nor are we headed to gas-guzzling away from the city center.  Instead, school is now a bike ride away and Jeff's trip to the bus station is close.  We do have more land, and chickens are in sight.  And there are more spaces for preteens - and their mothers - to find a little personal space.  

But we left a place I loved.  In our 10 years there, we dreamed up our kids, and dreamed each day with them in that space.  Yet we willed the change by a dream, too.  We will come to love our new home.  And that may be the thing I've learned:  While changing our dreams and rituals and routines can be hard, the important thing is that they continue.

So, I aim to end the summer where I intended to begin, reflecting on rituals and routines.  We are continuing many, spinning some that are new, and letting go of those that no longer have a place.  For that is where we are living, and maybe that balance sits a little closer to the truth.