Boots and Boats

John and I recently had some time in a wet field - time to make boats and float them in puddles.

Well, to be perfectly honest, John was first drawn to the playground.  I really didn't feel like chasing him around, lifting him onto zip-lines and trying to squelch my height advantage in tetherball.  I personally prefer to spend my time making boats out of grass.  Fortunately, John is a pushover when wearing his "puddle boots."  

So, I lured him into the temporary pond.  Then I got to enjoy taking pictures and thinking about how dreamy he appeared as he made floating objects out of reeds.  Actually, to be perfectly honest again, he stomped on the "boats" the second that they hit the water.   

Anyway, I got my idyllic scenes.  And I do think John had fun with his boots, and his boats.

 

Making Things: A Coat Rack

I am thrilled with our new, homemade coat rack.  It isn't actually functional, but somehow that seems secondary.  It was a collaboration primarily between Clara, John and myself.  Here is what we did:

1.  Clara whittled a huge stick / branch.
2.  I found the base of an umbrella that lost its umbrella to a windstorm probably ten years ago.
3.  Clara's stick / branch fit perfectly into the umbrella base.  (This coincidence inspired the rack.)
4.  John hammered holes in some strips of wood.  (See hammer above.)
5.  From John's holes, I screwed the wood onto Clara's stick.

The wood strips are a bit small, and they flop down under the weight of a coat.  Yes, I know the purpose of a coat rack is to hold coats.  But, some of John's jackets are light enough.  And, Jeff's windbreaker hangs on the top of Clara's stick.  Anyway, we made it so who cares?  At least three in this household consider it art.

Cranberries on Cedar

Today, amidst the cold and snow, Clara and I laid a bright red strand of cranberries on my favorite cedar tree.  Brave, bold colors await a brave, cold chickadee.

Just a few feet away, our warm home feels like a messy blur of color and tone.  Yet, we have our own clear contrasts: little joys and little sorrows, affection and anger, late night quiet and mid-day screams, cuddles and kicks, vegetables and sugars, sweet costumes and temper-inducing socks, dreams and worries, fears and hopes.

I remain inspired by the red on green and white.  Its beauty, its contrasts, and the clarity it inspires.  A nice vision for the new year.

Wimpy Kid

I have long taken the parenting position of "simplify," "take away pressure," "make things easy," "slow down."  I have done so often to make things easier on me, but also to encourage a peaceful, even thoughtful state of mind when facing the world.  Life is complicated enough already.

On a recent trip to the ski slopes, however, I began to question the long-term benefit of my approach.  I watched as other parents pushed their kids to ski, laid on the pressure, ignored cries, dragged them down the mountain, kicking and screaming.  Honestly, maybe these kids will be tougher in the face of pressures in the grown up world.  Maybe they're developing a thick skin when it comes to immediate challenges, whereas my kids might dodge the pressure altogether.  After all, these kids do seem to be skiing.

On the one hand, I want my kids to know how to navigate, even minimize pressure, but what about the times they can't avoid it?  Will they stand strong, or run for their Boulder yoga mats? (Not that I find anything wrong with that...)

To be perfectly honest, I can push right up against that pressure threshold, too.  We were out there skiing.  I could have easily prompted (or exacerbated) a panic attack had I not:

• Offered endless pieces of gum throughout the day;
• Dangled the promise of "hot chocolate" in front of them so much that they don't even want it any more!
• Picked John up after almost every fall, rather than let him lie there and fend for himself;
• Strapped on John's little cross country skies, rather than let him take forever doing his own;
• Taken great care not to touch John as he dismounted the magic carpet ("ALL BY MYSELF!") even if all those behind him had a look of terror, anticipating a domino effect pile-up of bodies should he fall;
• Carefully orchestrated an advanced math turn-taking system for who gets on the magic carpet first;
• Lied a little.

Who really had control in our overall situation, they or I?  Honestly, I'm not sure.  And with all my accommodations, am I heedlessly dodging pressures or subconsciously still throwing my kids to the wolves?

With four kids and ten years of parenting, I don't know the answers.  In fact, sometimes the answers become less and less clear.  I just know that most of us follow our instincts and hope they are good ones, at least a good part of the time.

Bang Your Head

For some time, John has insisted that he does NOT live in Boulder, Colorado.  None of us do.  That town is not this place.  It's in California.  There's no arguing this point.

On another front, someone has taken to shouting "Mom!" as her head is down, with sound-proof headphones on.  I might as well ignore it because she has no chance of hearing my response.  It's non-sensical.

However, to balance out the lack of sanity, John recently asked longingly when he'll be big enough to clean the toilets.

Ritual: Pizza

We are regulars at a local pizza place called Proto's.  Our visits there have earned "ritual" status because:

• We always go there on the weekend, after a North Boulder hike.
• We arrive around 3:00 and have the place to ourselves.
• The kids get to watch the pizza makers through a glass window.
• The pizza makers most always throw dough at the window.
• We always then go for dessert brownies across the street.

So many indulgences.  We count our blessings.  But, the greatest attraction is the pizza makers.  The chefs rival fire throwers, with their drama and their agility.  Only it's pizza. And you can throw it into windows, right at the gawkers' faces.  This and good pizza keep us coming back.

Off the beaten path

Parenting seems often to be on a beaten path.  Our lives revolve around so many rituals and routines, close to home.  There is an element of protection and shaping, but also of pure practicality.  We don't move with perfect agilely through the world, all six of us.  So, home is a nice place to be much of the time.  But, that's not to say that we don't break out.  

Recently, I took my girls up into the mountains, and the day turned out to be all quirk.  The birthday party that brought us there was at a surreal carousel, magically set up in a small mountain town.  Its very existence was spawned by a dreamer.   Then, during the party, Clara and I went to a used bookstore, coffee shop, ice cream parlor, jewelry store hangout across the street.  A heavy, mystical aura hung all around the place.  Along with the smell of books. We read funky sayings on the walls, picked out some treasures, patted the resident cat, read at a wobbly round table, licked ice cream and drank hot tea.

Thinking back, we could have been anywhere in the world.  And sharing that feeling brought us close together.