Monday Afternoon
the boy
Chimney Rock 2016
It's been some time since we went to Chimney Rock as a family. K and E went three years ago when L and I were in Poland for most of the summer. Before that, we'd taken L when she was a bit younger than the Boy. But we'd never been there, all four of us, so we remedied that, walking 9,717 steps, climbing over 1,000 steps (L and K counted) in the process. As a result, the kids were asleep just about as soon as they fell into bed.
Saturday
What did I love about today? That E got his shoes on all by himself without much prompting and without help getting the correct shoe on the correct foot. It's a sign of his growing independence that the little things he takes on himself.
That L helped him put on a hoodie that he was dying to wear without me even knowing she'd done it. It must have been a frustrating task, because the neck of that garment does not slip easily over his head. But instead of hearing any fussing, I heard nothing at all.
That they both found a way to entertain themselves. That E did so by working -- his favorite type of play -- and that L still is in love with skating.
That I discovered K is right: watering the flowers can be a delightful job. The Boy was eager to turn play work into real work. And I love that he's always willing to lend a hand.
"Sure," he always says.
That we have a small fire pit in the backyard. With it being so dry, it's always a bit of a risk to have a bonfire, but we keep it small (despite the appearance of this -- it was built up for the picture and for E to help) and have a hose at hand.
That life in our family can be so hectic and yet peaceful at the same moment. That our kitchen is done. That I managed to eat Brussels sprouts tonight.
That the Girl is so interested in crafts. Nana and Papa bought her a small sewing machine for Christmas some time ago (last year? year before?) and perhaps she was too young, because she's just now getting interested in it.
That my family is my family.
Arriving Home
After a long day, arriving home at almost eight because of an open house event at the school, I find my family still all around the table.
“Still eating dinner?”
“No, they said they weren’t hungry, so they saved it for later.”
Creamy cauliflower soup with bacon bits — what’s not to love about that little bowl of goodness? Perhaps next time.
Helping
Evening Snack
"I'm hungry." It can come has a plaintive request, a frustrated fuss, or a simple statement of fact, but come bedtime, come bath time, it's always the same.
It doesn't matter how much dinner they ate. It doesn't matter whether we had watermelon, ice cream, cake or anything else as desert. They're always hungry.
The Boy pulls the step ladder we've added to our kitchen due to the high shelves and begins rummaging through the refrigerator. The Girl takes a yogurt, adds a graham cracker, then tops it off with a mandarin orange. The Boy sees the orange and wants to add one of his own.
It's a moment to offer thanks that we have food for our kids whenever they get snacky.
Drawing
Sunday Lazy Sunday
Sick Saturday with Old Friends
"Door" in Polish is a strange word. Like "pants" in English, it's always plural -- drzwi. It's likely because it's etymologically connected to "tree" and "wood," and since old doors were made of planks, it makes sense to call them something like "planks" (though that's not what drzwi translates to literally).
This morning, the Boy went to tell K as she was getting ready for a shower that he'd heard a scratching at the door, that it was Bida, our cat, who was trying to get his attention so that he would let her in, that he heard it and wondered what it was, that he'd figured it out, and that he let her in. K stood patiently, towel wrapped around her, listening to this whole story patiently, then asked, in Polish, for privacy: "Could you please shut the door so that I could shower?"
He replied, in English: "I'll close them and lock them so no one will come in." He applied Polish grammar to English, pluralizing a word that would be plural in Polish but is singular in English.
The Nap
Some days, no matter how good you feel when you wake up, no matter how bright the sun, how promising the day, the thought of going back to bed just seems to linger throughout the entire day.
It’s not the haze of lack of sleep I speak of, that fog that seems to be almost physically discernible in the mind, as if a heavy set of drapes were spread across your brain. That is something that you shake off with your first cup of coffee, or on cold winter mornings, with that first bracing encounter with the early air.
This is somehow different.
Somehow, but not much.