Family

Gleek Doodles

By / October 11, 2011 / 3 Comments

“I need this mom!” said Gleek intently “It is a Doodle Journal!”
I’d already planned to buy her something from the school book fair, so saying yes would have been simple, except that she had already displayed four other items which she also desperately needed. Patch had a similar stack. I sat down on the floor with them to examine their finds. The winnowing process would have been easier if they had been less selective, but I could see how each item was perfectly suited to the child who selected it. The needs of my budget required me to force them to make hard choices, and we put some of the things back. The Klutz Doodle Journal was one of the things which came home with us. I didn’t think all that much about it. Drawing books are common fare around here.

A week later and Gleek is still carrying the Doodle Journal almost everywhere. At random moments, in the car, at dinner, mid-afternoon, she spouts bits of information about doodling “You just let your mind and your pen wander.” “Pens are great for doodling, cause there’s no erasing in doodling.” “Doodling has no mistakes, you can’t get it wrong.” I watched how Gleek grabbed her doodle book and drew an angry little picture when someone at school made her mad. She doodled during movies, on car rides, and before bed. Once when she was off doing something else, I picked up her doodle book to look at it. She loved showing us her doodles, so I knew she did not consider the book private. I thumbed through and realized that once again the folks at Klutz have demonstrated brilliance. It was full of starter doodles, idea pages, and little messages about having fun without stressing perfection. Gleek found exactly the book she needs right now. I fully intend to support her doodling by supplying a blank paged doodle book when this one runs out of space. I sort my psyche with words, Kiki uses art, Gleek now has doodles. It is good.

A Greenhouse Realization

By / October 9, 2011

Four kids steered through pre-church preparations, two kids helped to weather emotional upsets, dishes, Sunday dinner, and Family Home Evening preparations were all done. I’d earned some quiet space. I thought that the me-of-now should get to do something she wanted. So I gathered my journal and scriptures to retreat to my room. I also carried with me a printed article that I’d read on the internet that morning. I’d skim read it in the last moments before the pre-church rush. Something in it called to me, so I printed it for a more in depth reading. Or perhaps for clipping and taping into my River Journal. The events of the day had left no time for pondering until that moment.

The article told the story of a woman who had an invigorating, well-paying, and rewarding job. Yet one evening she discovered herself crying without knowing why. Something about her job did not fill her soul. She realized her life did not give her chances to nurture. I could see why the story resonated for me. I too have cried and then had to puzzle out why. I began to write a journal entry to puzzle out how her experience was different than mine. I started the sentence “I nurture all the time” but stopped halfway through, suddenly not sure that the sentence was true. I spend all day most days creating a family structure optimized for the growth of everyone inside it. Yet building a greenhouse is not the same as tending and fertilizing the plants within it.

There in my room, away from my family I realized that at any free moment my first thought was to retreat, to spend time alone. All day I maintained the structure of the greenhouse and then fled from it rather than relishing the atmosphere inside. As I scratched away with my pen, my four children were downstairs engaged in reading, drawing, and playing. I put my pen down and grabbed a deck of cards. At least I could sit in the same room with them playing solitaire. I could be part of the quiet togetherness that they were having. Within moments of the first card shuffle, Kiki offered to show me a different game. She and I played several rounds together while the other kids played their own games. We laughed a lot. I once dreamed of the time when I could play cards with my kids without having to adapt for young players. I almost missed out on it.

I need to remember that the point of the green house is the flowers.

Fall Parent Teacher Conferences

By / October 7, 2011

Parent teacher conferences are always fraught, not with peril, but with the potential for high emotion. Sometimes I enter with worries and exit with new reassurance and confidence. Other times I have no particular concerns going in, but leave reeling from how much more that child needs than they have been getting. It is my chance to speak with teachers who have alternate viewpoints upon my child’s development. They see things that I don’t, not because I’m unobservant, but because school is different than home and different aspects of my children rise to the surface.

Last week I had conferences for my older two kids. Today I had conferences for the younger two. I now have a laundry list of needs which require me to adjust the family schedule (yet again) so that they fit. The adjustments are minor, but time and energy must be spent on them. Mostly the things which turned up in the conferences are not surprising. We’re having new iterations of familiar problems, nothing new or baffling. This means that the solutions are new iterations of old solutions. In a way the familiarity of it all is reassuring. The kids are all exactly where they need to be for steady growth.

I’ve never seen parent teacher conferences from the teacher side of the desk. I know how tired it makes me, even when there’s no major issue to address. I marvel at the stamina of those teachers, who have 25-30 conferences in two days and a laundry list of issues they hope to address. They must face varying levels of indifference, anxiousness, over-protectiveness, and outright bewilderment from the parents who show up. Teachers are expected to find all the trouble spots and provide solutions, often when no easy solutions are to be had. I am constantly impressed by the efforts of the dedicated teachers who work with me for the benefit of my children.

Project Complete: Staining Our Deck and Playset

By / October 1, 2011 / 2 Comments

Wooden structures like fences and decks are, in theory, supposed to be re-stained every couple of years. This protects the wood from damage and keeps them looking pretty. We haven’t done that kind of maintenance in over a decade. First there was no time. Then there was no money. Then there was neither time nor money. However the seeing the gradual dilapidation of these wooden structures was making Howard and I both feel sad about the state of things. I finally freed up the time and sneaked enough money from the budget to make it happen.

This is the playset before we began. You can see remnants of the original stain on it, but much of the wood is bare.

Step one was to rent a pressure washer and blast off all the old paint. Howard handled pressure washing the playset. I managed the deck. Our gargoyle, Winston, had a supervisory job. The washing took five extremely wet and dirty hours.

The water blasted off old layers of stain and also some top layers of wood. There were many places where we had to be careful that the high powered stream did not damage the wood more than necessary. I suspect that would not have been an issue if we’d been properly maintaining our wood through the years.
This is the playset all clean and dry.

Next came staining. We used five gallons of stain and about 22 man hours of work. We decided to apply the stain using brushes rather than a sprayer since our last sprayer experience was…messy. It was a lot of work, but we got it done.

From a distance the structures look like new. Up close you can see all the dribbles, drips, spots where the washer gouged the wood, spots where we neglected to blast off the old stain, and places where the wood is just old. It is not perfect, but now when we step outside it feels nice instead of feeling depressing. I can live with that. On to the next project.

Headed for the Future

By / September 27, 2011 / 1 Comment

After Cub Scout Pack Meeting, Patch and I retrieved his bike from among the dozens clustered near the rack. Patch climbed on the bike and rode ahead of me while I walked. His knees almost hit his handle bars. Time for a new bike. This, along with the switch to the top bunk and the eradication of Blues Clues from his room decor, have made abundantly clear that my boy is not so little anymore. With Link grown taller than his parents, I am quite able to picture the future those skinny legs are pedaling toward.

We rounded the corner into our cul de sac to see Gleek cruising along on her ripstik. This two-wheeled, swiveling skateboard is the latest cool thing among the kids of our neighborhood. Gleek bought hers with her own money and has ascended to a level of grace on it which astounds all of us. She turned and smiled at us, giving her head an extra flick to send her newly-short hair brushing against her face. She swooped down a driveway and in a circle around me before swiveling off again. She too is growing fast and changing daily.

I expected it of my teenagers. Teens are future bound from the minute they hit puberty. I was a little startled today by these younger ones who will join their older siblings so very soon. We’re nearing the end game of this parenting project. I know that in real terms, parenting never ends. I also know that grandparenting lies somewhere in my future. I’m not ready for that yet, but some day it will be a marvelous thing. Years ago, when I was mired in the midst of toddler and preschooler care, I was admonished to enjoy it because some day I would miss it. I replied that I would enjoy missing it, which is an accurate assessment of how I now feel about those early years. Days like today I will miss. I will look back to this time when I had two still turning to me and two beginning to launch toward adulthood. Like Patch on his bike and Gleek on her ripstik, we can not stop; stopping the forward motion makes us fall. Instead I will not be in a hurry. I will try to pay attention. Then at least I will have many clear memories instead of these moments disappearing in a blur of busy-ness.

Of Wood Stain and Bedsheets

By / September 26, 2011 / 1 Comment

The morning began with errands and a list. Successful acquisition of the items on the list would make my plans for the afternoon possible. I was going to begin re-staining wooden structures in my garden and I was going to solve the problem of bedsheets. The beds were something of a surprise problem, because of course I have bedsheets for my kids’ beds. Except last Saturday in a flurry of “make it all clean” I discovered that when I stripped all the beds I only had enough clean sheets for two of them. We have suffered sheet attrition between stretched out elastics, worn fabric, and the fact that everyone refuses to sleep on Sesame Street sheets. It was a problem which a shopping trip could solve and then we could begin insisting upon more regular washing of bedding. A good thing in a house which contains two teenagers and two active kids.

The danger of shopping is all the things I see which catch at my brain and say that I have uses for them. Stores do this on purpose. They place things I might want right next to things which are on my list. This was useful in the hardware store as it prevented me from forgetting paint trays. It was less helpful in the bedding section which is full of soft loveliness, none of which fits into my current budget. The sheets were a stretch as it was.

I brought my spoils home and set to work. Setting up beds was clean and soft. Staining was neither. I started with the staining. I watched the paint brush stroke liquid across bare dry wood. Any puddles vanished quickly, soaked in by the thirsty wood. We hadn’t stained the deck or the play set in a decade. The old stain had worn off long ago. It was satisfying to see the new color go on over the bare wood and the remnants of old stain. Stroke by stroke the wood was made to look younger. We could have used a sprayer I suppose, but this method insured that we got enough stain into the thirsty wood. It was slower, but more controlled in result. We did not finish. It is a project that will occupy a pleasant hour or two each day for the rest of the week. The week will be sunny and there is no need to push faster than that.

The kids liked their new sheets. Now no one would have to suffer those scratchy Spiderman fabrics anymore. I helped Patch spread out his comforter across the green sheets he’d picked. His comforter still sports a giant image of Blue from Blue’s Clues. It was Patch’s favorite show when he was four and Link’s favorite show before that. Patch is eight now. That was half his life ago. About six months ago Patch mentioned in passing that maybe he ought to have a new comforter. Three months ago both boys collaborated in removing all of the Blue’s Clues wall stickers from around the wall of their room. That’s not who they are any more. I tucked the Blue’s Clues blanket around the foot of the bed and knew that I have more shopping to do. I must buy a comforter appropriate to the boy Patch is rather than to who he was years ago.

Old things made new, old things which are still good ready to be passed on, and new things to replace those which are worn out. It was a solidly good day. I need to have more like it, although perhaps with less shopping involved.

Sunday Dinner in Process

By / September 25, 2011

Food currently in process:
Rolls -currently rising with the oven pre-heating. I began the dough before church, kneaded and rolled in the space between church and a church committee meeting.
Fudge -cooling. This is the promised reward for Gleek and Patch who have spent the last month braving primary without any toys or distractions. I made it after my committee meeting just in time to start everything else.
Rice -simmering. This will be the basis for the Sunday dinner which Patch has decided to cook.
Hamburger -thawing. Soon it will become beef stroganoff.
Vegetables -canned. Awaiting a can opener and a microwave.

Apparently in this new rhythm of life my Sundays are all about church and cooking. I’m not sure whether this is a problem yet. The minute resentment appears, shifts will need to be made. Today I’m not minding it because I’m focused on the positive benefits of all of us sitting down at the table to eat lots of delicious food. I’m staring at the puffy roll dough right now and they’re going to be amazing.

The other things I do on Sunday are often preparatory for the rest of the week. I make lists, plan meals, remind everyone of their Family Home Evening assignments, and sometimes have time to sit down and work on the family photo books. It is definitely a day focused on family and on being prepared. I am not doing my usual round of things, which I suppose qualifies as a day of rest. On the other hand, I hardly take time to sit down. For now I need to hold the patterns as they are. I really like the results of all the things I do on Sundays and this is the only way I’ve found which structures those things into existence. Any changes would have to be made carefully or important things will fall back out of the schedule.

For now I’ll just stick the rolls in the oven, then call Patch to come help cook while Link sets the table.

Weekly Course Corrections

By / September 18, 2011 / 6 Comments

I sat at one end of the chapel bench and Howard sat at the other with our children in between. We were singing the opening hymn, all of us with books open in our laps. The requirement that the kids sing along for the opening hymn was a new one for our family, but through it the kids are learning that music can bring a special spirit to us. The song concluded and the heads of three kids bent back over their drawings. Supposedly they were also listening while they drew. I’m sure Kiki listened. Gleek listened sometimes. Patch listened if the speaker was telling an interesting story. Link did not draw. He sat quietly, which did not guarantee that he was listening. Whether or not they were paying attention, we were all there together for the first time in weeks. I look down the row at them, I can see the contentment in their bodies. Church is a good place for all of us and we are glad to be there together.

I closed my eyes and asked the same silent question I ask every week. It is a prayer of sorts, almost wordless as I reach out. It comprises several things from “any messages for me?” to “What should I be focused on this week?” to “What next?” or even occasionally a petulant “what now?” I don’t remember how long it has been that I’ve been making this overt weekly request. I think it began last year when I was pounded with unexpected inspiration several weeks in a row. I finally figured it might be better to just ask instead of waiting to be shouted at. I ask, and answers always come. It is a little frightening this receiving of answers. Sometimes I want to wrap myself in a little cloak of sameness. I don’t always want answers which may ask me to change or do some other difficult thing. But lately I have been glad of the answers, they help me set a path for the week to follow. I can’t see much beyond a week right now. However if I can get the week aimed right on Sunday, I can follow through long enough to get me to the next Sunday when I can adjust, change, or continue.

So I sat with my eyes closed and asked “What new thing shall I undertake this week? What am I to do with my time and energy?” Sometimes the answers are loud and clear, almost like being spoken to. Other times it is like I have to sort them from my own thoughts and it takes most of the meeting. Today the answer was so quiet I almost missed it, rather like a hand waving gesture which indicates “carry on.” I opened my eyes and looked down the row of my people. We’ve set a good course and it is time for us to do some calm sailing.

Rites of Passage

By / September 3, 2011

I’ve heard it bemoaned that American culture is lacking in rites of passage. I find this amusing as it seems like my oldest daughter, Kiki’s, life is currently made of mile markers. She turned 16 last May, which means she is now old enough to date. We’re working on driving practice so that she can get her driver’s license. Three days ago we put a cell phone in her hands and declared it to be hers. Since that time she has spent many hours texting her friends using this shiny new device. I watch with amusement, confident in our unlimited texting plan. With the phone, we gave her some rules and made sure that she knows phone ownership is a revokable privilege. She is still in the giddy/grateful stage. When things settle down I’ll know for sure whether she needs help balancing her device habits. Being around to help her develop good phone etiquette is one of the reasons we got her the phone now. One of the reasons we waited so long was to make sure that she could be responsible with small electronic devices. The biggest reason we decided to get her the phone was because we realized that she was missing out on some of the social interactions with her circle of friends because they were reluctant to contact her on the family line. So my teenage daughter has a phone.

Kiki also has a formal dress. Homecoming is next Saturday. She has not been officially asked to the dance, but The Boy has already discussed with her (via text on her shiny new phone) whether attending with a group would be okay and said that he has something to talk to her about on Tuesday. This prompted an urgent hunt for a suitable dress, “just in case.” We started at Savers and Decades, where we found two inexpensive second hand dresses which we can alter into amazing dresses. Then Kiki confessed that she really wanted to go look at brand new dresses. Dillard’s had a dress that we both spotted in the same instant and headed for. It is perfect. We bought it. I then informed her that for at least the next year, her formal dress options are limited to the ones already in her possession or to ones she can borrow. She came home happy.

Next Saturday I’ll get to send my beautiful daughter off on her first formal date.

Beginning of School Status Report

By / August 31, 2011 / 2 Comments

This school year is like a new pair of shoes which I can tell are going to be excellent, but are still pinching and causing blisters because I haven’t yet finished the break-in period. I’ve internalized all the check-points: drop-offs, pick-ups, breakfast, dinner, homework hours. I haven’t missed any yet, but I’m still counting carefully to make sure that I don’t. The rhythm doesn’t flow yet. Did I just change from one simile into a different metaphor in the space of two sentences? Why yes I did. I’m to tired to fix it. Sorry.

One of my regular tasks this week, one which will become less onerous as we adapt, is regular checks into how Patch and Gleek are adapting to their new school. I ask leading questions about recess, kids in class, and happenings. When a name comes up, I try to remember it so that I can ask about that person again. All of this is prodding for trouble spots, pockets of suppressed emotion. So far I haven’t found any. Patch admits to missing his old school, but the specifics are mundane and he relates them in a very calm voice. He doesn’t yet seem to have any particular friends in his class, but we’re barely in the second week.

Gleek has many emotions, mostly expressed as anger. She’ll walk up to the car with scowling eyebrows and I casually ask questions until I can ferret out the reason. Thus far all her real worries have been based in fear that she won’t be able to keep up with the homework load. It is a reasonable fear, but one we have lots of power to address. Fortunately for Gleek, I have learn something from Kiki’s adventures in an academic program. During Kiki’s soujourn I was trying to figure out whether fifth grade was when I should start letting my kids keep track of their own homework. I knew homework management was a skill they would need. Hindsight says that 7th grade is much better for this. Locally 7th grade is very light on homework, making it ideal for kids to learn to manage their own work. It is such a relief for me to just organize everything instead of having to hover without touching. Gleek does all her work, but I tell her which work and when. I make sure that the work ends up in the back pack. This is perfect, because it gives me a sense of control and relieves Gleek’s stress because she has clear parameters for her responsibilities. It is also a sharp contrast with my older two kids, whose homework I rarely pay any attention to.

Link decided to opt out of a scout merit badge pow wow. I am glad. Just now I don’t want to do anything which will upset the balance we are trying to create. I’m trying to establish normal, not tackle new things. I still haven’t caught up on all the laundry from before our trip. There are still suitcases in our front room. A glance out my window shows me gardening tasks yet to be done. And then there are dozens of small organizing and cleaning projects around the house. Also I’ve got to figure out how to fit Family Home Evening, and kid chores back into the schedule. There is time for them, the necessary emotional energy has been lacking.

Over all, things are good. I can see that we’re headed toward calmer days.