Sometimes We Have to Stretch (SOLSC Day 7)

There are nights when I wish my arms could hold all my boys at the same time. Instead, I end up feeling too small to be a momma. I can't protect my guys from all bad things, I know that. But tonight I needed to protect them from a good thing. Two of the boys and my husband are involved with Kung Fu and tonight, the younger if the two sons earned a sash higher than his older brother. I know I am not the only parent who has faced this, but until now, the family hierarchy had never been upset and although eventually all was fine, it was a challenge to balance enjoying one son's elation while mending the other son's wounded pride. Since my arms aren't long enough to hold them all together and love them so hard that they have to let go of any negative feelings, instead I had to hold them each on their own and whisper whatever they needed to hear: "Work hard and you will reach your goals," "I am so proud of you!" "I love you no matter what," "You are lucky to have your brother," "Thank you for being kind," and "I am always here for you." Until my arms grow, my words will have to do.

Listening to My Talker (SOLSC--Day1)

My five year old is a talker.  I mean, he talks from the moment he lifts his little head from his Stitch PillowPet in the morning until the last moments of our evening when his eyes are closing and I have tucked him back into bed. He talks stories and questions and what ifs and do you remember whens. Sometimes he talks in pretend languages and sometimes he repeats conversations he has already had. He talks to strangers in grocery stores and characters in cartoons.  He talks when no one is listening, he talks while he bathes, he talks through any song or television show or movie someone else wants to hear.  Lucas is a talker.

So, when I took him to school with me today, I thought chatting with all of the students would be heaven for him.  A five year old on a high school campus garners attention and I thought he would soak it up.

Instead, every time someone said hi to him , he would look at the ground or hide behind my leg.  I kept telling him not to be shy and to be friendly, but he still refused.  He has a stubborn streak, so I thought it might be his way of trying to get his own way.  Finally, as we left campus, I asked him again, "Why are you pretending to be so shy?"

"Mom, I'm not pretending to be shy. I've just had enough of all the 'Hi, hi, hi.' It makes me tired."

I guess just because a little guy has a lot to say, doesn't mean he is an extrovert.  Lucas isn't shy, but he sure does know how he feels.  And he isn't afraid to share it.  And sometimes that makes me fear the years ahead, but today, it just made me smile.

What My Son Said

Wednesday evenings have become my most peaceful of the week. The rest of the family goes to church while I take Nicholas to football practice. For an hour and a half, I don't have to speak to anyone, keep an eye on anyone, feed anyone or take anyone to the potty. I love my job and love my family, and goodness knows I love talking, but that brief respite each week has been a blessing.

And then, I get some time with Nicholas. My middle son, he tends to be the quietest of the three, the least aggressive, the most compliant. On Wednesdays, we get time together uninterrupted by his more demanding brothers (who I love like crazy, too, of course!).

After a dinner at Subway (a shared footlong and a chocolate chip cookie) --which earned me a "You're the best mom in the world!"--we had this conversation as we drove home:
(Passing the pumpkin patch)
Nicholas: Look at all the lights. They are so pretty.
Me: They are! Maybe someday when you get married, you can have a reception with lots of white lights like those.
Nicholas: Yes, and maybe after I get married my wife and I can go to the pumpkin patch.
Me: Then you will have to get married in October.
Nicholas: On Halloween!
Me: Well, whenever you get married, the girl you choose will be so lucky.
Nicholas: I want to marry a pretty girl.
Me: Pretty is fine, but it us more important that you find a girl who is kind.
Nicholas: Boys like pretty girls, not ugly ones.
Me(starting to get a little testy): But kind is the best thing for a girl to be; pretty isn't that important.
Nicholas: Well, you are pretty and Dad married you, so I think I will find a pretty girl, too.
Me (a little less testy): Aww, you are sweet!
Nicholas: Yep, Mom, boys like pretty girls, not ugly ones and girls don't like nerdy boys. Sometimes they like boys who are popular if they only do a few nerdy things.
Me: Like what?
Nicholas: You know, like play the banjo.

I love Wednesday night.

Blinking and Bugs

So many things slip away before we are ready for them to go.  We blink, without even thinking, and as our lashes touch, everything changes. 

A friend brought her nephew into my office today.  He will turn one soon and as I took him in my arms and looked into his wonder-filled eyes, I tried to remember what it was like to hold my own boys this way.  It felt so familiar to have his little body tucked into the bend of my elbow, but when I tried to picture my little guys  in the same sweet spot, I struggled.

Each day is so thick with moments -- quick hugs, noisy laughter, hot tears, spilled drinks, broken toys, looming homework, silly dances, jokes that don't make sense, question after question after question -- that distinguishing one from another becomes almost impossible.  Instead, they melt together into one long second.


We could try to keep our eyes open, to capture every second on film, to write every detail in a journal, but it wouldn't work.  The real  loveliness of the moment comes in part from its temporal nature.  Like catching lightning bugs in a jar, remembering it all would eventually ruin what we love.  Sometimes, we have to take the lid off and get our pleasure from watching the fireflies drift away.

Puddle Jumping

After a week of being quickly herded from the safety of one dry building to another due to the rain, the boys were ready to stretch their legs and use their outside voices on Saturday morning.  We trekked across the street to the school playground with our gear -- a football, a baseball, a mitt, a skateboard and scooter.  But the truth is, we didn't need to bring a thing.  Scattered across the blacktop were perfect puddles begging the boys to indulge.

All week they had been told, and rightly so, "Stay out of the puddles!"  Chad has to make three trips a day to the school for drop-offs and pick-ups and trying to do that in the persistent rain with an almost-three-year-old in tow is not a challenge that needs escalation.  I echoed his position when I first saw Lucas headed for the puddles.  As parents we are often told of the great dangers in mixed messages.  If Dad says no, Mom must say no, too, to avoid decreasing Daddy's authority.  If a TV show is inappropriate to watch on Monday, it is inappropriate on Tuesday; otherwise, the expectations for our children are unclear.  If we say do not lie, then we cannot lie in front of our children and still expect them to adhere to our rules.   But this time, I broke the rules.  And really, I don't feel too badly about it.

In my classroom, I notice that one of the struggles students often have is knowing when they can break the rules.  I don't mean the "No gum in class" kind of rules; I mean the "Sentences do not begin with because" kind of rules.  I find that my students have been told so many times by so many people what they need to write, read, solve and produce, that eventually they became almost incapable of functioning without a mandate to do so. Writing assignments are the worst for producing this sort of anxiety in them.  How long should it be?  Can we use the word I?  Where does the thesis need to go?  How many examples should I give?  They often believe life would be so much easier if I provided a neat checklist that they could mark off as they went:  Thesis? Check!  500 words? Check? Eleven sentences in each paragraph? Check!

But real writing, and real life, does not always work that way.  One of the signs of a mature writer is knowing when certain practices are appropriate and when they are not.  Profanity may be acceptable, and even demanded, when crafting a short story featuring seedy characters.  It, most likely, is not as acceptable when writing a proposal for your employer.  One of the qualities of a mature human being is the ability to consider the possible impact of a particular action and then to determine whether or not the action is appropriate, necessary or permissible.

I want my students to go into the world, not hemmed in by rules and regulations, but confident in their own sense of discernment and determined values.  I want them to write with the same confidence, knowledgeable enough about writing conventions, audience, purpose and voice to be able to choose when to follow the "rules" and when to create their own.

I want the same for my sons.  Puddle jumping is not an absolutely negative activity.  In fact, it is one of those childhood pleasures most adults wish they had partaken in more often.  No, on the way to pick up your brother is not a good time to soak your feet and splash everything within three feet of you, including your daddy.  But a sunny, after-the-storm Saturday filled with nothing but time to waste -- perfect!