these kids

These kids.

THESE KIDS!

Hubby and I often look at them and wonder how in the world we ended up here.

Yet.

And yet.

The way they live their lives constantly reminds me of how I want to live mine.

Joyfully.

Smart.

Exhuberantly.

Wearing polka dots and plaid and tie dye all together.

And a cape for good measure.

These kids.

They make me crazy.  But watching them, and really seeing, is what best brings me back to sane.

These kids.

Their rites of passage - like a lost tooth - remind me of how I must honor this time in their lives.

That tooth.  That specific one lost.  I'm missing it.  I loved it, and how my son looked with it.  So his loosing it also reminds me of this never-slowing passage of time.

These kids.

When left to their own devices find fun in running up and down and up and down and up and down the sidewalk.  They feed ants with potato chips.  They make messes (and mountains of dirty laundry.)

They play outside in their pajamas.

And bare feet.

With chipped pink toe-nail polish.

These kids.

They remind me to be more spontaneous.  More creative.  More silly.  More spunky.

These kids.

I've had experiences that when looking at them, I get an actual glimpse of them as their older selves.  It is always jarring to catch that moment and recognize that it is rushing towards me.

These kids reveal to me the very worst in myself.  And the very best I work to become.

Their faces melt my heart.  Humble me.  Disarm me.  Remind me that it is I who must be their worthiest role model, their most ardent advocate, their unconditionally compassionate parent.

Recognizing the sacred in their faces reminds me of this divine work of motherhood I've gotten into.

Loud, messy, and difficult.  But full of happiness, laughter, and life.

Plaid skirt, stripey tights, flowered boots are a bonus.

weekending

Busy.  Hard.  Good.  Busy. 

Did I say hard?  And good?

This weekend reminded me so much of what the amazing Glennon describes as "brutiful." Brutal and beautiful.  Those seemingly disparate qualities coming together to make complexity and nuance and texture of this one life.

I spent the weekend vacillating between these feelings of beautiful and brutal.  Recognizing the very good taking place, like this, and the opening of registration for gladsome.  But also feeling deeply the tough stuff going on.  Some challenges coming up, some decisions to be made, much work to be done.  And doing so amongst the pulls and pushes of parenting a lively tribe of kids.

Then I look closely at some of the pictures I took.  The one above is part of a series of photos of these sweet siblings as they tried to swing and hold hands at the same time.  Their laughter was loud and their attention focused as they reached out to one another.  So often missing, but continuing to try, smiles splitting wide open even if just their fingertips touched.

And I want to be like them.  Laughing.  Reaching.  Focused.  Smiling.


~~ Joining Amanda in weekending. ~~

90 minutes

This morning:

And this is a bit of what it looked like:

Bypassing the dirty cups on the counter.  Making a fresh pot of coffee instead.

Shower and drying my hair.  Uninterrupted.

Stepping over dirty laundry.  Going outside instead.

Some inspiration I've been savoring.  (And some tears which means it is hitting home.)

Listening to the birds.  And trying to spot them in the trees.

A walk on the trail.

Discovering the unfurling of plants all along the way.  So many I didn't know would show their beauty this spring.

Adding a twig to St. Seraphim's nature table.  And a prayer of gratitude for his watching over our woods.

Placing a prayer for today at the base of the Peace Pole.  Feeling the breeze like the soft hand of God.

Refreshing my coffee. Breathing deeply.  Clicking "Publish."

 Ready for them to return.

two years, where does the time go

This boy.

This boy.

This boy.

I love him so.  Achingly.  He's into everything.  Persistent, independent, self-assured.  He figures it out, helps out, goes after exactly what he desires.  Climbs on my lap and lifts my shirt when he wants breastmilk, climbs into the fridge when he wants yogurt.  Not so much a boy of words, but a boy of action.

This morning I spilled some coffee on my pajama pants.  He climbed on a stool, got several napkins, came back to me and patted at the wet spot on the fabric.

While he did so he placed his other hand on my forearm.  So gently.

This boy.

I've been thinking about his entrance into the world two years ago.  The anticipation we felt.  The news.  The amazement that followed.  The nickname chosen. (For the record we've called him Squirmy since day one, and still do.  Apt.  See picture above.) 

As I watched his hand on my arm this morning, I felt so deeply that this is my boy.  No longer my baby, but my boy.

Happy Birthday Squirmy.  We are so glad you are here.

around here {or, my life with Pal}

It's true, I spend my days following Pal around.  Pal whom we call Squirmy because, well, he has a history.  If I've spent a few minutes doing something else, it inevitably is followed by a look around to discover which drawer, bin, or closet he has been tearing apart.  Seriously.  In the amount of time it has taken me to type these past few sentences he has pulled out the broom and dustpan, gotten a computer cord from the desk and ransacked the drawer of wooden spoons.  Add in a kitchen stool he has easily mastered and I am in heaps of trouble!

This morning after getting two kids onto two different buses at two different bus stops I stood in the front yard for a few minutes and breathed the lovely oxygen given to us by our trees.  Sound silly?  We had some lovely trees in our old neighborhood, but as I looked skyward I wondered if I could ever, will ever, tire of these majestic trees that surround our new house and new neighborhood.  Granted, we haven't gone through the fall leaf raking season yet...

I am lamenting a broken camera lens.  My beloved Nikon VR 18-200.  I am squarely blaming the lens on the mostly blurry, less than inspiring photos of late.  It has suffered a couple bumps on the ground.  Squirmy again.  I couldn't get to him fast enough when his grabby hands were in motion.  Silly me for not storing it in a locked safe on the roof. 

We've had some birthday celebrating around here.  It has been sweet and touching and incredible.  Family and dear friends have been filling this space to the brim with love.  There have been cakes and singing and some can't-beat-it-coolest-real-gumball-machine-presents.  Nevermind that I am finding chewed gum in interesting places.  This kid will remember growing up with a real gumball machine.  I enjoyed a night out with Honey.  A walk in town, sushi, an uninterrupted adult conversation. 

I have been thinking about parenting a bit.  Thinking in a struggling sort of way.  I realize that I need to repair some of the difficulty of the summer and allow compassion to rise again to the forefront of my relationships with my children.  Hard stuff to look at my friends.  But I am looking.  And buoyed by the beautiful artwork my sisters gave me for my birthday.   Glad to have read this post too.

Also in the coolest birthday present department, Honey bought me a Peace Pole for my birthday.  A Peace Pole!  It will arrive later this fall, and plans are underway for a peace gathering.  So it seems the birthday goodness will continue.  Munchkin in providing gumballs for all.

Speaking of goodness and plans and fall.  gladsome planning is well underway.  Oh the great things that are coming together for this year!  Some wonderful women are sharing their talents: Gina and Amy and Annie.  There is still time to register at the early-bird price!

Squirmy has just walked into the room carrying pliers and scissors.  True.

I've been enjoying Twitter.  I resisted it for a long time, but have come to quite enjoy it.  After all, the pace of things right now make it easier to read and write in 140 character increments.  If you want, you can follow me @bcomingclaudine.  It will be like hanging around in my head all day.  Wait, maybe you don't want to be there.  Anyway, I will welcome the company if you do.

Squirmy has just walked into the room carrying a different pair of scissors.  Really?

I've given myself permission to not feel settled on paint colors or decorating or where to hang pictures for the next 12 months.  Instead I've been flipping through the best library books:  Young House Love and Happy Home.  There, I feel better with the stacks of boxes that are in our future family room.

I hear Squirmy talking to Siri on my phone.  He contacts her a couple times a day.  She often responds.  I think they might be in a relationship.  The vacuum cleaner doesn't know.

So, as my oldest has taken to saying, I better Peace Out.

a few moments ago

His first day.

My big kid.

He was excited.

His Mama and Daddy were tearful.

How can it be already?  Already?

Though I know you are ready my dear one.

Sending you into this new world of yours, and yours alone.

With love and hope and keeping a soft place for you to land back home.

Always.

puzzling

I've been listening to the birds.  It's as if they arrived back in town this week, chirping earnestly and early.  At 4:00 AM in fact, when I find myself reluctantly awake.  Thinking.  Praying.  Dreaming.

They keep me company, their cheep cheep and coos whispering to me of the goodness waiting outside, around the corner, soon. 

There was quite a bit of rain mid-week.  I could practically see the grass greening before me.  We've already become used to the out-of-doors, shifting our days to playgrounds and sunscreen and sidewalk chalk, only to be sent back inside by the heavy spring rains.

So I performed a trick that many a Mama has up her sleeve.  I dug out toys that had been stored away, thus making them new.

And the day was spent puzzling.  For all ages.  Puzzles put together and taken apart a dozen times.  Puzzle races.  Completed puzzles lined up in a parade of progress.  Learning to make the border and then filling in the middle.  Puzzle pieces expertly spread underfoot by Pal.

A good, grey, slow, drizzly, puzzly day.

We've since turned back to sun, thankfully.  The grass more confidently green.  Kids more confidently puzzlers.  The puzzles put back in their storage bin.  Mama satisfied.