this kid is made for toys of all ages

demonstrating his radio

our driveway doubles as a wagon runway

i have a propensity to give more importance to getting stuff done than to esteeming the value of rest or gasp play. accomplishing stuff is my play.  or so i reasoned.  then i read this article called "getting serious about play".  it caught my attention. stopped me in my productive tracks. i sat. i read it, every word of it. i laid it aside. i came back to it. i re read it. i thought about it. a lot. i talked about it to my girlfriends. then i began to notice that play really didn't have much of a place in my life. there's yoga a few times a week where i play with friends called crow, plow, and triangle. but when i am not falling on my face from poor balance and even poorer upper body strength, play isn't something that speaks to me. i am ashamed to say that when my children call to me, i often postpone play to…well, get stuff done. 

stuff like, ironically, driving my kids to their favorite toy store. my boys adore this little brick and mortar play land. the toys are beautiful. they are smart. they are made by local artisans. the 12 year old had some cash in his pockets and wanted to spend it on a marble maze. as we were driving away he said, "this kid is made for toys of all ages." i laughed. it was brilliant, creative, inspired, playful! so much so i had to accept his challenge to a game of foosball-then i beat him.

you can read the article on play here.

A letter to myself 20 years ago a.k.a.Your life can change in 5 minutes

Are you siting down? Okay. Here goes. 

Dear Future Girl Friday,

You are going to fall in love and marry someone you went to high school with. No not the football player. The intellectual from a crazy family. Yeah. He'll totally get you.

Your wedding vows will be tested when you come down with cancer. He doesn't mind the scars. You can live without a thyroid.

You will work to put him through Vanderbilt Divinity school.

After a short stint teaching kindergarten, you will take an early retirement where you will go on to give birth to 4 boys. Relax. They come every 2 years.

You will move to the inner city.

You will like it. A lot.

You will homeschool. Four boys.

You will have a love/hate relationship with homeschooling. Mostly love, but hate is definitely there too.

You will allow your oldest child to adopt a rabbit.

Those cute jeans will get too tight to wear. (Remember you were pregnant 4 times).

All that smiling (and sunbathing) will begin to show on your face.

Go with it.

You will encourage your husband to quit his job. That won't go so well.

Your family will take off on a wild, Mid-Atlantic field trip that lasts 3 years and counting.

You will have a love/hate relationship with your new home state. Mostly love, but hate is definitely there too.

A dog will find his way into your home. And you will like it. A lot.

You will wax, you will wane, you will whine. Then...

You will rediscover writing. And you will like it. A lot.

Love,

the Present Girl Friday

I hear voices

Sitting at my feet, asking persistant questions whilst I work

The dog needs a friend

And the opinionated 12 year old weighs in on the chaos

today my 3rd born son said, "i can't hear myself think! you people! geez." the room fell silent. it was hard not to feel a little sorry for the guy. we have a lively household. the dog and rabbit don't help matters.

i have noticed something: having children means having no privacy personal space. zero. zilch. my dresser drawers are hiding places for treasured marbles. my makeup is used to paint clown's faces. the piece of chocolate i was saving is squandered on an undeserving, unappreciative palette. i could go on, but you get the picture. surely you understand. or know someone who does. 

just now one child began speaking to me completely obvious of the computer on my lap. another one found a newfangled contraption in MY desk box tucked away in the basement that he desires to keep (even though he has no idea what it is-it's a staple remover). boys running through the room. shouting to me in the bathroom. interrupting my scolds with their wistful monologues of jet packs and planet ownership. i am a nobody to my offspring. a mother in her own home is …o, what is that phrase? o, yeah! jesus said, "a prophet in his own country has no honor". and he was speaking of himself. the creator of mankind. so who am i? not a paranoid schizophrenic-even though i do constantly hear voices. but those voices are real. they are the voices of my children. 

boy, crazy

Utley Academy for Boys resumed for spring semester. 

so far we have accomplished:

• devotions/prayers where the 8 year prayed for "what are their names?" gabe and ryan who just got engaged-yeah!
• nail-biting math x 4 whilst a dog stole our counting manipulatives
• music appreciation (mumford and sons vs charlie keats)
• a dog walk
• lunch-survivor style (you find it, you can eat it)
• handwriting (really? that's the best YOU can do?)
• reading (magic tree house, daniel boone, stephen the martyr, paddington)

and 

about 100 interruptions

it wasn't our best day. for sure.

Thank you. Come again.

Today I entertained a workman who came to fix the furnace, went to yoga, tried not to peek at Facebook (I am taking a hiatus), painted my nails-dark purple (see previous post), made a simple dinner of coconut milk/spelt pancakes for some cute boys, found a few thrifted treasures, called one of my best friends, finished a cup of hot coffee (the operative word is hot), enjoyed our clean dog (who the boys bathed!!!), encouraged the oldest to finish the laundry,  tried to train the dog not to chew the shoes, drank some delicious red wine, ate some even more delicious dark chocolate, watched a few episodes (okay an entire 6 episodes) of Portlandia, observed the dog almost maneuver a door knob (he's a genuis!), made snarky comments about my husband's running tights (or maybe i just thought about it), wrapped birthday gifts for some of my favorite girlies who are (almost) 10 and under, bought a pair of tap shoes, watched the 10 year old demonstrate how to make a radio with some basic circuits, fussed at the 12 year old for not finishing the laundry, snuggled the dog, washed my hair (and blow dried it!!!), removed 5 pairs of shoes from the dog's jaws, brushed the 5 year old's teeth, did nothing in the way of preparing for school, glazed over as the 10 year old showed off his vintage game console, delighted in Daddy/boy story time (Across Five Aprils),  watched a 5 year old wrestle a 4 month old-dog, listened to the 8 year old tell me the Beatles t-shirt is his favorite as he proceeded to wear it again, threw  tucked 4 boys into bed with a cuddle, cradle, kiss. And collapsed into bed. Tomorrow promises to be busier. School starts back! 

Good night, gorilla

Zoo lights at night

We brought Flat Rose along to see the tigers.

We came prepared-outfitted in rain gear.

Seeing the zoo lights at the National Zoo has been a wish of mine. We were delighted to meet some friends for the last night of zoo lights. A little rain did not quell our enthusiasm.

A fetching friend

C.S. Lewis wrote, "Friendship is unnecessary like philosophy, like art. It has no survival value rather it is one of those things that gives value to survival." When we first moved to this strange land I knew no one. Then I met this girl.

Have you ever heard the saying, "opposites attract?" I have. I believe it. I see it in my own life with my friend Joli. She is kind and soft spoken and gracious and appreciative and wears pink nail polish. I am fickle, loud, opinionated, quite selfish and usually have my nails lacquered in black. She was raised the oldest of 10. I am the youngest of 5. She saved her money at age 12 to buy her own grain mill to make bread for her family. I squandered my quarters at the skating rink. We are a fetching match (She uses words like fetching. Me? Not so much). She was raised in a family that rivals The Little Women of Louisa May Alcott fame. Mine was like something off an episode of Jerry Springer.

For some crazy reason she likes me. If I were her I would stay clear of this sarcastic spend thrift. It's clear to me why she is a necessity to me. She brings a little kindness and civility to my madness. Whenever we spend time together, I leave a bit tempered. That usually lasts about 15 minutes.

Yesterday we had coffee. I had a nonfat, extra hot, double shot mocha to her simple green tea latte. We laughed. We cried. I gave her a bleak forecast to future parenting as mine are much older than her little darlings. She asked thoughtful questions. I reveled in her wholesomeness.

I feel so undeserving of this altruistic girl who clearly is a poor judge of character, bless her heart. But until she figures out better, I am going to enjoy her winsome ways as long as she can handle my wildness. Friendship is essential to survival. As John Donne once wrote, "No man is an island." The same is true for mothers.