Month: November 2012

Patterns and Shoes

“Here Link. These are the shoes we got last time.” I pointed to the box with grey and blue tennis shoes. Link was in need of new ones and he’d told me he liked the last pair.
“No. Those are different.” Link said.
“They’re exactly the kind you had before.” I said, looking at the price tag.
“They have a different pattern on them.” Link said. Then he pointed to a pair four boxes over. “These ones are exactly like the ones I have.”
I glanced from one box to the other not seeing differences, then down at Link’s feet where the old pair were in use. It took me a moment to see the slight difference in decorative pattern.

When I examine the shoes, differences are obvious. But I have to be paying attention. Link turned in the store and started pointing.
“There’s a pair like my old ones. And that one. This is the new pattern, and that one and that one.” Often we were standing three to five feet away from the shoes he was pointing out. “Huh. That’s interesting. The old pattern is only in sizes eight to nine. The new pattern is everywhere.”
I looked at the wall of shoes and boxes on either side of the narrow aisle. In less than thirty seconds Link had identified a dozen pairs of shoes by their patterns and noticed a larger pattern in the distribution of the shoes.
I pointed this out to him and made a joke about his “Pattern recognizing brain.” Link smiled, pleased to have an newly discovered super power. We got him the shoes he needed in the new pattern.

Busy Days

Gleek was romping. She was giggling and playing with her brother and when I required him to do his homework, she attempted (unsuccessfully) to coax our cat into romping with her. The trouble was that I was burned out. I’d spent all afternoon running around, making extra trips for kids, fulfilling promises that I’d made to them and to myself. There was still a long list of promises still unfulfilled. These were things that I was disappointed with myself for not getting around to doing. As much as I did today, I felt scattered, like I’d not used the time well. I needed quiet and space to sort my thoughts, to turn over the accomplishments and non-accomplishments and make peace with the day’s choices. Instead there was romping. I’m afraid I was not particularly patient with it. Somewhere around the fifth or thirteenth command to Gleek that she find a book and read, my fatigue tipped over into grouchy.

Now it is quiet. The younger two had their snacks and are reading in bed. In a minute I’ll have to begin the lights out arguments. There will be new negotiations and possibly I will have to find the energy to listen while a child sorts feelings out loud. I hope not. Not today. I’m not sure I have the emotional energy to find my therapist hat, let alone wear it for the necessary length of time to listen. But I will if it is needed. That has been the theme of the past four days, doing the things that are needed.

Somewhere in the last week I switched over from a holding pattern into one which is full of projects. I can tell that we’ve hit November because sales have picked up in the store. They did so even before we opened pre-orders on the 2013 Schlock calendar. I also got working on layout for the 2011 family photo book and for The Body Politic. Both are progressing nicely. Further layout work awaits after those are done: the 2012 photo book, my 2012 One Cobble book, and Cobblestones 2012. And I’m trying to write every day. All of which is why I picked this week to begin requiring chores of the kids again, because the clutter is closing in on us and it is time to attack it.

Tomorrow will bring a scout troop meeting in my back yard around my fire pit. Link will be leading this meeting. At this point I think he is kind of looking forward to it. He’s prepped notes to read from. He has brochures of places to suggest as High Adventure camp destinations. He’s even put together a flyer of possible stops for the trip. On Sunday leading this meeting seemed completely impossible to him. Tomorrow he’s just going to do it and probably won’t even be particularly nervous about it. He’s grown by doing this. Yet supporting him and helping him has eaten up a significant portion of three afternoons for me, not because I did things for him, but because Link needed a spotter while he learned how to prepare these things for himself. I will be quite glad when the meeting is over and we can move onward to the next challenge. Which is probably helping Gleek design and sew a stuffed turkey for a book report.

Kiki came home from the convention yesterday and spent some time talking to me about all the excitement, fun, and hard things. She is quite tired today. I am extremely impressed that her fatigue has not turned her into a puddle of despair. I don’t know whether the increased emotional stamina is a result of additional maturity or the fact that she’s getting regular exercise. Whatever the reason, I’m glad of it. I’m glad for her sake and because listening while someone sorts thoughts is far more enjoyable than scraping up a puddle of human despair and making it better. She’s picked her college. She’s been accepted to it. Now we move forward with seeking scholarships and other forms of funding.

Gleek has done her homework in the afternoon for the last two days. She’s been quite delighted to be able to announce “All my homework is already done!” when I declare homework time: hence the romping. She’s also got to choirs which are performing holiday concerts, so music is a big theme lately. I think she may also be teaching herself how to recognize pitches by hearing them, because she’s been playing with a pitch pipe she found in our music cabinet. At her fall choir performance there was a girl her age who played the harp with a high level of competence. I listened to the beautiful music and felt glad that my children have been generalists in their childhood. They sample lots of things and only begin to focus as they hit their teens. Gleek might be one who continues to generalize through her teen years, not picking a single thing, but instead doing half a dozen things in rotation. If she does, then at twenty she will be discouraged when the kids who picked a single thing hit professional levels while she has not. But watch out for her at thirty when she is professional in all of her dozen things.

Patch is enjoying the space at the beginning of each month when the project deadlines are all far away. He’s managing all his homework without complaint, and planning ahead for things like book reports. I’m still doing lots of reminding with him, but I don’t have to argue to get the work done. This is what makes the current academic program possible, the fact that my kids are thriving on the work. They don’t always love the work, but it is not actually difficult for them to do. The one weak spot for both kids is fluency with reading aloud. The solution is for me to require them to read out loud to me, and somehow I’ve yet to figure out how to work that into the day.

And so we continue onward, each with our own sets of tasks and challenges. The quiet of bedtime reading has now slid into the quiet of kids asleep. I should go to bed too. Tomorrow will be another busy day.

Penny Wars

This is the week of Penny Wars at the elementary school. Each class gets a jar in the main hallway of the school. Students add pennies and bills to their class jar to accumulate points. Silver coins are added to opposing class jars, because silver coins are “bombs” and count as negative points. When all is done, the money will be donated to a local charity. This whole thing is Very Important because the class with the most points wins donuts.

Gleek came to me this morning and asked for permission to raid the change jar on top of the fridge for pennies. I was reading email at the time, so I said yes without thinking much about it. Then it occurred to me, I have two kids in the school. If Gleek took all the pennies, the Patch would be sad and I’d need to scrounge up more pennies for him. I came upstairs and saw two bags of coins on the kitchen table. Gleek had carefully counted out the pennies into equal shares for herself and Patch. As far as I’m concerned my kids get donuts whether or not their classes win.

End of the Weekend

I’ve hit a period when I’ve got lots of projects in process and I’m excited about working on all of them. This is much nicer than having lots of projects that I’m dreading. However at the end of a long day, which is also the end of a weekend when I did not accomplish as much as I might have wished, discouragement can show up.

Then I have to sit down and count the things I did. Postcards are ready to go. The calendar test print is ready for approval. I’m well into cropping the recolored images for Body Politic. I’ve reached March in the 2011 family photo book. I spent hours visiting with a friend and walked away both feeling refreshed and feeling like I’d actually been helpful. Twelve black garbage bags full of raked leaves. Updated chore charts for the kids and a plan for incentives which will hopefully encourage cleanliness through the upcoming holiday season. A batch of cookies. Meetings attended. I have to count these things done, because my brain is all too ready to remind me of the things I intended but did not get to.

Time to go to sleep and try again tomorrow.

Sunday Afternoon Parenting

It is, naturally, the day after a teacher compliments Gleek on her much improved behavior at church that Gleek has a melt down. However it is a measure of great progress that the “melt down” would barely measure on a scale which we used in days of yore. On the way home from church Gleek’s tale of woe spilled forth. It had far more to do with not wanting to grow up than anything else, which makes me wonder what arguments were aimed at her in the effort to get her to comply. Or maybe today was just the day for Gleek to stare oncoming teenagerhood in the face and be afraid of it.

Because one emotional upheaval is insufficient for Sunday afternoon, Link had to face down his communications merit badge. He’s recently decided that he does want to become an Eagle Scout and that he wants to do it before he is sixteen. I find this a worthy goal, mostly because I’m so glad to see him picking any goal and heading for it. Link needs some focus right now. Except there is this one requirement where Link has to lead a meeting, and that felt impossible to him, which meant that he felt like he had to give up the whole goal. I could see his despair and I knew that it would not go away. He really wants this. So we talked and I made some calls. And I arranged for the meeting to take place this Wednesday in our back yard, on home turf. Beyond that I can’t, and shouldn’t, make this any easier. I can’t give Link this triumph. All I can do for him is insist that he attempt it rather than giving up without trying. He may fail miserably come Wednesday and I have to let him. I much prefer that my children learn lessons about succeeding over hard things, but lessons from failure can be hugely important.

I’m very impressed with my kids just now. It seems like they are all soaring. Yes they’re periodically crashing into emotional messes because they feel like it is all impossible, but then they get up and fly again. Link can not see how his communication skills are improving by leaps and bounds on an almost daily basis. Gleek is afraid of growing up because she’s already mid-process. Every day she’s taking responsibility for her own work and actions. According to Howard Kiki has totally rocked her first full convention experience. She sold some artwork and may have some commissions lined up. Patch had been taking schedule changes in stride instead of getting upset when things do not work out how he expects. I’m sure we will again find ourselves lost in the woods, wondering which way to go in order to help a child. For now the paths are clear and we’ve got some good gliding straightaways ahead.

Home Scenes

The cat looked up at me and let forth a particularly long and insistent Meow. I followed her as she led me to Kiki’s bed, where Kiki was not sleeping. You see our cat usually sleeps with Kiki, but Kiki is away at a convention with her dad. In her absence our cat has decided that I am the best substitute and I should sleep in Kiki’s bed. That did not happen. I slept quite comfortably in my own bed, in the one room where the cat is not allowed to go. For some reason the cat respects this invisible line in the doorway to my bedroom. She curls up on the carpet just outside my bedroom door and sleeps there. There is going to be a very happy kitty on Monday when my daughter comes home.

***

“I really just want to go with you.” Patch said with his eyebrows furrowed. We were talking about going to see Wreck-It Ralph, a movie that all of my kids want to see. Patch knew the other kids would want to see it, and he felt conflicted for wanting to leave them out, but he really wanted it to be just a special time where he had my full attention. I gave him a hug and told him it was fine. So today Patch and I will go to a movie. Then I’ll probably see the movie again when I take the other kids. I hope I like Wreck-It Ralph.

***

I meant for this morning to be focused with chores and leaf raking. Instead, I’ve slept late and barely begun my work. Perhaps I’ll find high gear later in the day.

Quiet

My house is quiet. Three kids are at school, the fourth is away at a convention with Howard. Not even Howard is here making tick noises by typing. No feet walk across the floor above my basement office. Miracle of miracles, the phone has not rung once all day. Even the cat has spent the day napping. It is only on days like this one, when I can begin tasks and follow the steps to completion, that I realize how very often I am interrupted. I am interrupted all day long almost every day. Most of the interruptions are short, most of the time I can go right back to what I was doing. Yet there is a profound difference when I can enter deep focus on a project and stay there until it is done or I am to tired to continue.

I surfaced at lunch time and pondered the luxury of being able to decide which task I should pursue next. Not only is my day empty, but I am in a space between urgencies. I have lots of important tasks but the deadlines are not yet imminent. I listened to my quiet house and realized that what I wanted was a short kitchen chat with Howard, one of the cheerful ones where we compare the odd things we read off the internet that morning. The emptiness of the house also made me look ahead to the years which are coming. My house is going to be empty increasingly often.

Of course the afternoon made up for the quietness of the morning. It was full of extra errands occasioned by Gleek forgetting her homework at school and Link forgetting his photo ID when he went to play racket ball. Later I’ll have more quiet, but this time I’ll gain it by departing my house and heading to visit some friends in Salt Lake City while the kids stay at home. The quiet feels good today.

Comparisons

I’ve been working on putting together my family photo book for 2011. This requires me to skim through the blog entries from that year so I can pull snippets of family stuff to put into the book. I found it very interesting that everything before August 2011 felt like it happened long ago. The kids were all needier, younger, less self-sufficient. Once we hit that August, when my two youngest switched schools, when Kiki started hitting her stride with responsibility, when Link started taking control of his homework, that is when it starts feeling like recent history. It really highlights for me all the little shifts we’ve made in our family culture. Each shift was small, but the accumulation makes everything feel very different. I like things now. Kiki is almost ready to fly out on her own, a thing I despaired of in early 2011. Link is daily maturing, making realizations, deciding who he wants to be, and telling me about his thoughts and feelings. We have conversations now, all the time. Real conversations about friends, school, and plans for the future. Gleek manages her own homework so effectively that I barely even know what the assignments are. Patch spent this evening sitting next to me and carefully applying stamps to post cards. “Don’t do any while I’m at school tomorrow. I want to help with all of them.” He said.

Obviously we have our bad days. Yesterday everyone was cranky and inclined to argue with everyone else over little things. But I still like these days better.

Struggle and Growth

The retreat was in a house on forested land. I took my head full of stress and emotion out wandering in the mossy woods every day. Each morning, each walk, each conversation, each dinner, I kept watching and waiting for a moment. I didn’t know what it would look like or when it would happen, but I was waiting for the moment when I would think “Ah. This is why I came.” I wanted reassurance that all the emotional turmoil had a purpose, a use. I wanted to be able to see the good coming from it. I waited all week long and never had that moment. I had good memories and hard ones, but no single moment strong enough to redeem the struggle.

My house sits in a valley reclaimed from desert. I sit in my back garden looking up at the mountains and at the trees I planted with my own hands fifteen years ago. It has been a month since that retreat and I can now see the multitude of ways that the retreat has been useful. Pieces of experience are repurposed into stories. Realizations and thoughts from the retreat have sent out tendrils into my life causing tiny shifts. The effects of those shifts are only just beginning to show. Since the retreat I have had a dozen small moments where I think “Ah. That makes sense now.” Individually these moments don’t outweigh the struggle, but they continue to accumulate.

I knew this already. Even in the middle of the retreat, when I was waiting for a moment, I knew that the value of a struggle lays in what comes afterward. In the midst of my radiation therapy all I could do was manage a day at a time. Later those experiences gave me the tools I needed to help other people and survive other things. That medical struggle reforged my marriage and taught me spiritual endurance which continues to help me. I’d already learned that when I struggle to keep going beyond the limits of my strength, then for ever afterward my limitations are further out than they were before.

Today Link came home from school and described a mile run that he participated in during his PE class. It involved alternating sprints and walks. I listened to Link describe how he’d tackled the run and I heard the confidence in his voice, because he knew that he’d pushed himself to his physical limits and was surprised to discover that they were further out than he expected. He is now a person who passes others when running instead of being passed. “I didn’t know I could do that, Mom.” Link is finally seeing the value in all the sore muscles he’s experienced in the past two months.

It is hard in the middle of hard times to believe that anything good will come out of them, but growth is born from struggle.