In order to document a new phase of our family's life...namely...having three children...and homeschooling one of them... I hereby resurrect this blog.
We're about two weeks from the start of school. I started lesson planning for reals this afternoon after church, spreading out books, planner, phone etc along with the sometimes napping babe, on our bed. I haven't used my bed as a desk like that since college. It was fun and exciting. It was time consuming. It was a little overwhelming, bringing all these different ideas, books, resources together into a coherent plan. I wanted to have the whole MONTH of August mapped out a LONG time ago...but it just didn't happen. Having a new baby has trumped most other stuff recently. But we are getting to the point of sometimes sleeping through the night now, and so more things seem possible. I know it's going to take some tweaking, this whole homeschooling thing. I know it will be a fluid, dynamic thing, a work in progress, for years to come, perhaps. But I've been looking forward to this for so long... it feels GOOD to finally start DIVING IN. Almost. Two more weeks...
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Thursday, February 09, 2012
Big Brother... being nice.
I took Aiden and Willow to the doctor's office this morning for Willow's 9 month check-up. It was the usual long wait which threw off my schedule, feeding and otherwise. I don't know why I even try to HAVE a schedule on days like this - the world conspires against me. The nurse called us back to wait in our own little examining room after weighing Willow in ( and that is a tale all of its own as Willow is not gaining weight as she should- rrrgh - I felt like the most miserable failure of a mother) and we proceeded to wait, wait and wait some more. Aiden popped his head out of the open door and saw another little boy down the hall, doing the exact same thing. He struck up a conversation with this boy, who was about eight years old. It is so funny to watch Aiden interact with people - especially with strangers. He asked this boy all sorts of things, including what color his house was, and divulged strange trivia about his own life, such as the fact that "Brad put a fire in our fireplace." (BRAD?!) Later as we left, he said to his new friend, "See you next year!"
When the doctor came in and began to poke and prod Willow, of course she cried. I did my best to comfort her, but Aiden stepped in between me and the doctor, as if neither of us were doing our jobs right, put his hand on Willow and poured forth a stream of compassion that amazed me. He was saying things like, "It's okay, baby girl. Aiden's right here..."
Then the doctor sent us to a lab down the street, to take some blood from Willow. Oh. Great. I told Aiden what we were doing, and he said, "They have to take her blood? Oh that's so sad!" I quickly explained that they weren't taking ALL her blood - just a little bit to do some tests...but that it would probably hurt her. He was quite adamant that he wanted to stay in the car, because he didn't want to hear her cry. And then when we were in the lab, and the woman was getting ready to draw blood, he turned his face to the wall because he didn't want "to see the blood." He would have hid under the chair if I'd let him. Precious boy. It was a tough morning for all of us.
Aiden's report to Brad later was, "She had blood on her!"
When the doctor came in and began to poke and prod Willow, of course she cried. I did my best to comfort her, but Aiden stepped in between me and the doctor, as if neither of us were doing our jobs right, put his hand on Willow and poured forth a stream of compassion that amazed me. He was saying things like, "It's okay, baby girl. Aiden's right here..."
Then the doctor sent us to a lab down the street, to take some blood from Willow. Oh. Great. I told Aiden what we were doing, and he said, "They have to take her blood? Oh that's so sad!" I quickly explained that they weren't taking ALL her blood - just a little bit to do some tests...but that it would probably hurt her. He was quite adamant that he wanted to stay in the car, because he didn't want to hear her cry. And then when we were in the lab, and the woman was getting ready to draw blood, he turned his face to the wall because he didn't want "to see the blood." He would have hid under the chair if I'd let him. Precious boy. It was a tough morning for all of us.
Aiden's report to Brad later was, "She had blood on her!"
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Swimming in new waters
Went to the pool one evening this week. Aiden has been getting a little bolder about getting in the water, for which I've been grateful.
At the pool several weeks ago, we ran into his friend Joey, a couple years older than Aiden, and he proceeded to show off to Aiden how well he could jump into the water, and swim. I'm not sure if it was a male thing, or just a competitive thing, or a personality thing - maybe all three ( and maybe it is foolish to try to differentiate/separate these things)- but suddenly, Aiden's tentative movements in the water ( and pleas to get out and go in the kiddie pool) gave way to more daring ones, even going so far as to actually jump and submerge his head underwater. I was expecting more of the same this week as we trotted over to the steps that lead down into the pool...but shortly after his initial splashings were done, he got out and proceeded to launch himself, with radical abandon, from the edge of the pool...fearlessly flinging himself into the water over and over. He probably did this for over half an hour at least. Of course, he was wearing floaties and so every time he plunged in, he immediately popped up like a cork. But it left me totally incredulous and stunningly proud. At his age...well, I don't have many memories of my life at three and a half years old, but judging from my memories of a few years later, I know I was not this courageous. I liked playing in the water, but I hated "going under." I think I was 20 years old before I got up the courage to jump off a diving board. Even today, jumping into a pool takes some mental preparation. (Yes, I am a wimp.) Aiden wanted me to jump in with him, and if the pool had been just a little deeper, I don't think I would have. Being in water over my head just gives me the hibbly jibblies. But I did jump. Well, okay, not jump exactly...but allow myself to step into the water from the edge of the pool, next to my wildly flailing son.
Just thinking about it all now, I feel dazed...and a little breathless...but mostly grateful. Grateful that my child has already surpassed me in one aspect of courage. Grateful that he is already more comfortable in the water than I am.
It makes me realize in a fresh way that this child is not just an extension of myself. I once read something about child development that mentioned something about babies seeing their mothers as extensions of themselves...or maybe it was themselves as extensions of their mothers...I can't remember exactly now. But vitally connected as one entity, in any case. I don't know about him - but this experience revealed to me that I'm the one who unconsciously felt as if he was an extension or continuation of me. As I watched him repeatedly hurling himself into the water, I felt suddenly awakened to the fact that he is his own person - completely separate from me. He has strengths and abilities that I will never have. He will tackle challenges of which I never dreamed.
This has been a summer where his baby ties have been snapping left and right - from finally being successful at potty training to becoming a big brother. My heart simultaneously rejoices and breaks.
At the pool several weeks ago, we ran into his friend Joey, a couple years older than Aiden, and he proceeded to show off to Aiden how well he could jump into the water, and swim. I'm not sure if it was a male thing, or just a competitive thing, or a personality thing - maybe all three ( and maybe it is foolish to try to differentiate/separate these things)- but suddenly, Aiden's tentative movements in the water ( and pleas to get out and go in the kiddie pool) gave way to more daring ones, even going so far as to actually jump and submerge his head underwater. I was expecting more of the same this week as we trotted over to the steps that lead down into the pool...but shortly after his initial splashings were done, he got out and proceeded to launch himself, with radical abandon, from the edge of the pool...fearlessly flinging himself into the water over and over. He probably did this for over half an hour at least. Of course, he was wearing floaties and so every time he plunged in, he immediately popped up like a cork. But it left me totally incredulous and stunningly proud. At his age...well, I don't have many memories of my life at three and a half years old, but judging from my memories of a few years later, I know I was not this courageous. I liked playing in the water, but I hated "going under." I think I was 20 years old before I got up the courage to jump off a diving board. Even today, jumping into a pool takes some mental preparation. (Yes, I am a wimp.) Aiden wanted me to jump in with him, and if the pool had been just a little deeper, I don't think I would have. Being in water over my head just gives me the hibbly jibblies. But I did jump. Well, okay, not jump exactly...but allow myself to step into the water from the edge of the pool, next to my wildly flailing son.
Just thinking about it all now, I feel dazed...and a little breathless...but mostly grateful. Grateful that my child has already surpassed me in one aspect of courage. Grateful that he is already more comfortable in the water than I am.
It makes me realize in a fresh way that this child is not just an extension of myself. I once read something about child development that mentioned something about babies seeing their mothers as extensions of themselves...or maybe it was themselves as extensions of their mothers...I can't remember exactly now. But vitally connected as one entity, in any case. I don't know about him - but this experience revealed to me that I'm the one who unconsciously felt as if he was an extension or continuation of me. As I watched him repeatedly hurling himself into the water, I felt suddenly awakened to the fact that he is his own person - completely separate from me. He has strengths and abilities that I will never have. He will tackle challenges of which I never dreamed.
This has been a summer where his baby ties have been snapping left and right - from finally being successful at potty training to becoming a big brother. My heart simultaneously rejoices and breaks.
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