Growing Versions

They could slip past me at this point.  At this stage, they might slink up the stairs to their rooms, build forts and worlds until it is time to leave. They could have and have already begun to hide between the covers of a book or get sucked into an extracurricular activity that doesn't include me or get surrounded by a web of friends. If I weren't so tired, worn out from my labours of the first few stages, I might not notice.  Nodding off on the couch, bingeing on another world created for me might keep me comforted just enough. So, I deciding to slip into a lower gear.  Clear more space on the calendar, empty the toy box and replace the toys with empty space and spare parts that might just tug them back for a while longer. Lower gear is not as tiring.  I still feel like they are picking up speed in another direction and don't want me to follow, but there are just enough times still when I can still walk along side them, and watch the car slide off the tr...

One day when my son was in preschool, I noticed he was playing with one child, but not another of his close playmates. When I asked him about it, he responded "Mama, I only have 2 hands." Those words have remained in my mind all this time.  Now I know why.  Now I finally understand what he meant. People who you love and care for need care and concentration.  Loving is a kind of concentrating. When I was breastfeeding, I was constantly astonished at how consuming it was sitting on the couch in front of Law and Order nursing an infant.  I didn't expect it, but it really demanded a lot of concentration.  I was so busy, I forgot that the reason I was busy was that I was concentrating on attending to the needs of another person, deeply connected to me. The breastfeeding relationship is long over, but not the tending. The little ways we nurture the little people in our lives. The noticing, the re-framing, the encouraging, the timing it all takes time. On ...

 I returned to my kids this weekend.  I did not go far, but I went far enough for long enough. Our meeting point was well-lit by the moon.

For the past few months, my son has been having a tough time. He was struggling with both seen and unseen things and it was making him grumpy; what was worse, he stopped being playful. I longed for the weekends of yore when he would spend hours upon hours making elaborate marble runs out of cereal boxes and slides off of the couch ("I love the physics Mama").  His spark was flickering and I was worried.  I was not sure how to reach him. I also started to think, if he feels unreachable now, how much further will he be from my grasp when he is a teenager? In the past couple of weeks, a combination of things got solved medically and socially. Some of it was parental/teacher initiative, but a large part of it was his own (with the additional help of several days home due to storms) .   The results over all are a happier, lighter spirited, more playful boy that we have come to know and love. One morning, after I thought things were more or less settled, my son burst...

I have often come to new understandings of parenting during my down time. It is understandable that at times when I am at rest, I have a little time to put things in perspective.  The beach and ocean are special places of reflection for me. The kids and I love the water. Getting them out of the ocean after an afternoon of swimming is always difficult, mostly because I hate getting out too. A few times last week, when the hurricane warmed waters allowed, we started a new habit of swimming at night. The first night, it was pitch black. Foggy and dark, there was no moon to illuminate things.  We jumped in and were delighted to discover plankton can be seen when it is that dark, we emerged from the water, with neon dots all over us, the fairy lights spread out from our ripples.  But the waves were dark and unpredictable. Out of nowhere a big wave would suddenly loom in the darkness.  At first this was thrilling, but one by one, it spooked each of us until we eve...