Black-eyed peas, cornbread, playing in the sink, being a gaming gadfly -- thus starts 2015
Southern Beginnings
First Day 2015
"Let's go to the airplane park!" There's a small airport near downtown Greenville which has an aviation-themed park next to it. The far end of the park abuts the runway, and it's a favorite for the kids: you can play on a fantastic playground, ride your bike around the paved oval circling the whole playground, and watch small airplanes land and take-off.
At the far end of the track, next to the runway, there is a significantly steep slope -- significantly steep for a toddler, that is -- and it should be a heart-stopping moment every time the Boy roars down the slope. But he does it so carefully, first going down only half the slope, then a bit more, a bit more, until he's going down the whole thing. He's so cautious that it takes some of the worry from both K and me. But every time we're there without a helmet for him, I think, "Drat -- should have brought that helmet."
After dinner, it's play time. First some family play with E's fishing game he got for Christmas. We try to teach the Boy how to let the swinging magnet slow so that he can lower it to the fish to "catch" it, but he has a more effective way: simply grab the magnet in one hand while holding the rod in the other. Simple. But eventually we convince him.
Afterward, we split up to have some more interest-specific play. The Boy and I head up to his room to play with his cars. Although we only have the sheriff character from Cars, we choose a car to be Lightning McQueen and another to be Mater and go tractor tipping, just like in the film.
The ladies, in the meantime, play Ticket to Ride, a train-based strategy game that enthralls the Boy -- trains, so of course! -- but is obviously too much for his young mind to comprehend.
Last Things
For weeks, he'd been saying it: "Mikołaj is going to bring me a police car!" And since Mikołaj knew of the Boy's fondness for Cars, he brought not just any police car, but the sheriff from the film.
Then, the day after Christmas, he lost it. The Boy is not one to lose things: he has a fantastic memory of where he left this or that, so K and I figured the obvious: it fell out of his pocket at some point when he was in the backyard helping me with the leaves. So the search began. We looked through leaf piles, walked about in the backyard, checked in the house just in case -- no luck.
Today, while out, L and K looked again. And much to everyone's delight, L found the sheriff, then reenacted the discovery for the camera.
I'm not sure who was more excited: E, because his dear sheriff was back, or L, because she found it.
Playing
Cleaning
It's been entirely too long. Our kitchen floor is a complete mess, and I'm itching to rip it out and replace it with anything at all. But I'm also itching to rip out the cabinets and basically everything else in the whole room and redo it all, so for now, I wait.
And we scrub it in a serious way every now and then.
Cuddle
Sleep
Long gone are the days when she was the first to wake up, probably because the days she was the first to go to bed are equally long gone. Nine, nine-thirty has been her wake-up time the last few days.
Christmas 2014
“We’ll take Easter,” K explained, “because we have the big yard for the Easter egg hunt. K and B will switch off with A and P for Christmas.” This year, it was K’s and B’s turn, and since A and P went back to Poland with their family for Christmas, it was a small affair.
K and B have a new attraction, especially for the Boy: Little K has grown up a lot. She’s toddling around, making messes, taking things from others’ hands, being a young toddler.
E tries to talk to her, but to no avail. “She’s not talking,” he exclaims sadly. “She can’t talk. She’s too little.”
For L, it’s a different story. A’s and P’s absence also means F and K are not there. Which means that L is the big fish. Which means she needs something to do.
So she ends her day as she began it: playing with a new Christmas toy.
Dual-Play
It’s fantastic when a single toy entertains both.
Wigilia 2014
Our last Christmas in Poland was ten years ago. I could probably dig through some pictures and find shots from that day. There would be a lot that’s the same. K of course would be there, as would the compote, fish dish and some sort of soup — likely the same soup we served this evening.
There would have been similar pictures of preparation: of ironing, of setting the table, of getting kids ready.
There would possibly have been pictures of someone — K’s father? her mother? — reading the gospel passage about the nativity before dinner.
There would have been pictures of a grandchild (K’s nephew W) cuddling with babcia.
The changes, of course, would be in the people involved. Some present this evening would be absent from pictures of our last wigilia in Poland; some present then are absent from pictures of this evening. Some of the pictures could be recreated with older versions of the photo’s subjects while others can’t occur again in this world.
Certainly that is the draw of traditions: while the world is changing around us, while we ourselves are changing, there are a few things that remain constant, a few things we can count on.
There’s probably some psychological term for this need we have to organize our lives around traditions. Perhaps more than one because it seems that’s what obsessive-compulsive disorder is: taking “traditions” to the extreme. Maybe that’s what people mean when they say we’re all a little OCD in our own special ways.
Wigilia could certainly provide plenty of material for someone excessively obsessed with order as he sees it to get bent out of shape about. K and I used to be a little like that. Perhaps K more, since she did almost all the work and always had this image in her head of what it was all supposed to be like, sort of a Platonic form of the perfect wigilia dinner.
There was a time when, perhaps, our lack of authentic opłatki (how did that happen?!) might have been more emotionally problematic for one of us, or both. Perhaps, or maybe not. It’s hard to tell looking back. But yesterday, looking in the cookie and cracker section of the local grocery story, I found it amusing that I was looking for a substitute for something I could have easily found ten years ago at any number of stores.
Tonight, though, it wasn’t about the food, or the opłatki, or the compote, or the perfectly ironed table cloth, or the piles of baked goods, or even the gifts.
Tonight, it was about the little flashes of joy that the children experienced. L was thrilled, as always, with barszcz. (Not entirely — she prefers the Ukranian variety, made without the fermented beets that give wigilia barszcz its slight kick) The Boy was overjoyed that Santa had brought, as E had expressed countless times, a police car for him.
And everyone was happy about the deserts — that’s a tradition worth being OCD about.
Previous Years
https://matchingtracksuits.com/2010/12/25/wigilia-2010/