Tag Archives: play

Friendship Friday ~ Cousin Day

Yesterday was a special day. It had been written on a calendar block, cleared of all else. We spent all day with the Boston little boy cousins and their amazing parents.

My anxiety about having little people around for the day was alleviated quickly when this little one walked in, grabbed a recorder, and began playing while his brother accompanied him on the piano.

recorder

Uncle B patiently listened to Little Mae tell all about King’s Dominion adventures using her map of the park.

Mae and Uncle B

My baby and my sister’s baby smiled at each other a lot, which was a huge milestone for anyone who knows my baby and her thoughts about babies.

Baby B

Baby B won her over.

Mae and baby

Meanwhile, lots of creating happened. The cry of Guys, Guys! Look over here! caught my attention. I looked to see this little one with his airplane.

airplane

My much younger sister was caught wearing my perpetual mothering face in this picture. I so know the feeling.

mothering face

With everything happening at once, there were problems to solve, like the one of figuring out how to find all of the pieces and get this track to stick to the green board. Daddy to the rescue on that one! Problem solved.

track

It was sweet for my littles to get an opportunity to experience the life of their big siblings. Here Coco gets to feel like her big sisters when the littles were being born, holding a babe in arms.

Coco and baby

And these eyes and little chewing mouth. I could not get enough of them.

chewdalee chew

And this snuggly sleeper. I might have cried a little.

sleepy baby

Of course, a day with littles (or bigs for that matter) is not complete without some down time with a screen and a cuddly blanket.

screen time

This day was so full, pictures don’t do it justice. I finally had to put down the phone and just be in it, because everything was so much to take in.

I want to remember the moments of sweetness like a two-and-a-half-year-old cousin wandering into the TV room with his bowl of shredded cheese and climbing up next to Kirk and asking questions about Minecraft. My thirteen-year-old’s patient response and offer of letting him play reminded me of how Caleb treated his little brother, and my heart swelled.

I want to remember the conversations with my brother and sister that felt natural and relaxed and made us forget that we live hundreds of miles apart and that this doesn’t happen every day. Moments of falling asleep on the couch or walking out into the yard or playing UNO Attack (thanks, B!!!!) felt like they happen every day.

And dinner time. Oh, the dinner table.

I want to remember shopping with my sister and planning our meal like it’s the most normal thing in the world, all while talking about everything. I want to remember cooking and being together and living life.

I want to remember what it was like to have a full dinner table and the littles getting to be the bigs and experiencing the noise and cries and trauma of food touching other food or too much ketchup coming out of the bottle or corn on the cob rolling onto the wrong place on the plate. Our table was full and loud and fun.

Our day was full and loud and fun.

My body, mind, and soul felt full and tired and happy and sad and grateful, so very grateful.

sister selfie

At the end of the day when, Sister Selfie! was called, here is what we got. Sister selfie, plus one. I am old enough to be this girl’s mom, so I could technically be a grandma. Technically. Not yet.

For now I relish being auntie to this precious little one and his brothers and will hold so many special memories close to my heart.

It was a very good day.

In the Box

This past week was a dear friend’s birthday. We share the same birth month, and several weeks ago went for coffee together. She gave me a card with a gift card to the coffee shop that we often frequent. She also gave me a box.

The box was significant and special, because it was handmade by her. What was inside the box was even more significant, especially at this time in my life.

While reading and preparing for my certificate work this coming school year, much is made about memory and story and processing and trauma. This month was all about the reading. Next month comes the first writing assignment.

Stirring around inside are memories to be curious about and stories to process. Launching another big while continuing to parent four littles middles stirs different feelings now that there are no more babies. I see more of myself in the life stages of my five girls ~ wherever they are.

And also my three boys.

With that background, I was curious about the box. I opened it to reveal this. . .

inside the box

Can you guess the significance? Anyone? Need another clue?

Sunshine Family

It’s the Sunshine Family!

She passed her childhood set along to me for safe-keeping, knowing my love for the dolls and their place in my story.

Playing with Sunshine Family dolls is a HUGE childhood memory. This was my alternative to playing with Barbies ~ modestly proportioned, flat-footed mom, solid, hard-working dad, baby, and even a big sister in one of the sets, this family provided me hours of creative fun.

I only remember having the dolls and some of the baby accessories. Mine were yellow ~ cradle, bathtub, high chair. There was even a tiny bottle. I don’t think I had any of the store-bought big accessories, but that certainly didn’t stop me from creating multi-level houses out of cardboard boxes, filled with hand-crafted furniture.

My dolls had yellow shoes. It’s funny the memories that stick.

Among my Sunshine Family memories are the pantry shelves that my mom created out of a Velveeta box, cardboard squares, and tape. The dining room table was cut from the bottom of a plastic gallon milk jug with chairs made from paper cups. One was turned upside-down, the other cut in half. The bottoms were glued or taped together, forming a chair with a back. Fancy.

Plates were the flat tops of milk jugs, cups were toothpaste caps, and baskets were egg carton sections cut and woven with yarn. The humble shoebox was a treasure trove of possibilities, most obviously, a bed, but also a closet or stove or counter.

To this day, my sister and I have an inside joke where we say, “It can be a bed, or a dresser, or a table, etc. . .” whenever we see something with multifunctional potential.

In my mind, I spent hours armed with fabric and scissors and wallpaper samples, creating and designing beautifully furnished housing for my dolls. I remember learning a pattern for a tiny bonnet for baby and diapers, as well.

This Pinterest board stirred lots of memories and maybe a feeling or two.

I know that my sister played Sunshine Family with me, and I think some friends did, as well. Did any of you play with or remember these dolls from the 70’s? Did any of your children play with them? I am curious and curiouser!

What about you, Dear Readers? What are some of YOUR significant memories of play? Do share in the comments!

 

 

Drummer Boy

This is it. Graduation day. I am so proud of you.

You broke the mold, Son. So many molds of mine, actually.

You broke my birthing mold.
You broke my parenting mold.
You broke my teaching mold.

You were born with a free spirit, to the beat of a different drum.

I didn’t know it.

I had a lot to learn that only you could teach me.

  • Start each day with breakfast. As you came downstairs each morning, your first words were “Need bekkis”
  • Ask for what you need. “Need kiss” as you took your paci out of your mouth to kiss me with your toddler mouth
  • Laugh in the funny moments. like when a new mattress was delivered, and it looked like my bed had grown two feet taller, and I stood with four year old you as we spontaneously laughed
  • Sing your own song. As I’m changing your diaper and singing your nigh-nigh bed song and you chime in with a “Play toys” descant. At 18 months.
  • Weigh your options. When reading blends and words wasn’t really worth it and made you cough until mini marshmallows were on the line. Then you were a reading pro!
  • Be helpful. As four year old you carried newborn Kirk down the stairs to me because “He was going to cry.”
  • Use your voice. Yours was loud and insistent and challenging, but it got my attention. And that of anyone within hearing range in a parking lot or grocery store as you threw one of those tantrums that “my child would never throw.” And that of the neighbor when you were yelling out of the window with your friends.
  • Love people and make friends. Like you do so well.

I wish I could go back to that 27-year-old mama of four and give her one of the hugs that infant and toddler you so lavishly bestowed on me.

I would tell her that it really is worth it and really is a blessing amidst the tantrums and struggles over raincoats and putting away sandals and clipping into car seats.

I would ask her what she was afraid of and stop to listen to her answer. I would show her the very things she feared she was creating if she didn’t slow down and live in the moment. I miss the moments. I’m sorry that it took me so long to recognize them. I’m sorry that I thought I could control what I feared.

I’ve always said that I wanted things to be what they really are, even when it is painful.

I remember how painful it was to make the decision to enroll you at THMS. That was really hard in many ways due to my background and story, but I knew that it was the right thing for you. Even though the middle school years were messy, it was worth it that day as we were riding to or from high school when you spontaneously thanked me.

Thanks, Mom, for sending me to THMS so that I could meet my friends.

You have always loved to be with people and to have lots of people around, except maybe at the dinner table if they were under three feet tall and in high chairs. The conversation we had that day in the car confirmed in my heart that the right decision was made for you.

And now here you are.

What’s next?

That’s the question of the season. Friends ask me. They ask you. Everyone has an idea. A suggestion.

It’s okay not to know. It’s okay to be real and unsure and to march to the beat of your own drum. It’s okay to live life and be present in the moment and be open to the future and to not have all of the answers, yet.

Whatever is next, know that you are loved. I am proud of you for who you are. Congratulations on reaching this milestone!

I love you, Drummer Boy.

IMG_4901

Remember this feeling. Keep following your dreams and your gifting! You are a rock solid drummer.

IMG_4902

I love the way it ended where it began.

 

 

Productive Stillness

I seize a moment when the clouds part and sun shines to run outside to the strawberry patch. The ground, softened by days of rain, offers up its weeds with no resistance, though an occasional tiny berry is mixed in and sacrificed to their twisted, choking growth.

Extracting myself from the tasks at hand inside is a challenge, but sunshine, fresh air, and moist soil draw me to the present, and white flowers beckon me to notice them. I stop and breathe, accepting the invitation to a bit of productive stillness.

strawberry plants

This is where it started, the inspiration to write for a blog outside of my own, in the strawberry patch. Each year reminds me of that. That, and a number of other things, like the fact that the strawberries were planted by my firstborn when she was still a teenager at home, and the first plants came from my dear friend’s yard before her life took a traumatic turn, exiling her from that home and yard.

There is a fence around the strawberries now. It is a nod to trying to keep the dog from trampling them, but it’s not working very well. Dewey has no problem in leaping with excitement over the low barrier if one of his doggie friends happens to be passing by or if he feels a need to defend his turf.

strawberry patch

It is so imperfect, the place that calls me back each year, rising from the ashes, defying proper gardening techniques. Each year I think, I’ll do better at tending this patch and putting it to bed when the season ends. Then I don’t do better. Each year strawberry grace meets me again.

I don’t know what this year’s yield will be or when we will eat our first shortcake or if there will be an attempt at jam. That remains to be seen. What I do know is that today I was met in the strawberry patch with kindness and grace and hope.

Tips for Hanging with a Teen Boy

One Thursday afternoon in April,I finally had some time to intentionally connect with my youngest son. In the mix of my children, the boys are all 4 years apart, meaning that I have had a teen boy in the house since 2007 and will until 2023 when this one enters his 20’s. That is 16 years of teenage boy.

Without further ado, here are my tips for hanging with a teen boy.

  1. Go somewhere where food and drink can be purchased. Allow teen to peruse the menu. Use the word peruse. Take a discreet picture of the back of his head for future blog or social media post.

son

2. Allow him to purchase real food, even if supper is only an hour and a half away. Add a bottle of real coke to the deal. You won’t miss the $11.00, and if you support a local business, it’s a bonus. Once you are settled at the table begin some sort of awkward conversation like, Now that you are a teenager, you may notice more of your friends beginning to brag about their escapades. Add a few of your own extra words like I did but won’t print here. Then respect the Ew, Mom, no! I’m eating. At least he knows you are aware and then bring it up later.

son eating

3. Have a device readily accessible. Don’t get offended when he plays something on it. Pull out your phone and check out the way it is blowing up with emojis.

device

4. Don’t react to, in fact, encourage the sprawl by joining in and sprawling on the bench yourself! Snap an under-the-table picture.

under the table

5. Remind him often of how cute he was as a little boy and make connections to current day. Laugh about memories and about how he still knows how to push your buttons as he scrolls on his device.

scrolling

6. End the time together by allowing a final sprawl and gathering of energy before sending him off to his next activity. In this case, piano lesson.

sprawl

7. Take a selfie to document the moment. Use it as the header for the blog post that you write later with the hopes that teen boy will authorize publication. Oh, the power.

 

Small Happy Space

Though spring break was full of challenges, one thing I did in the midst of it was to create a small happy space. It was a moment I grabbed just for me.

First I gathered supplies ~ a repurposed terrarium, small plants, small stones and spring figures. The plants and tiny clay carrot, lettuce, and worm were purchased. The rest I already had.

creating

I cleaned out the terrarium and re-layered the rocks and pebbles, adding fresh soil. Then I planted the small plants and arranged the rocks and figures.

terrarium

I placed it in the front entryway to enjoy and sniff spring. I’m not sure if it will last or thrive, but for now it offers me smiles in a small space and also a place for the tiny animals to live.

terrarium

Here are some up-close views through the glass ~

bunny

The bunny was a Mother’s Day gift painted by Coco several years ago. The little carrot and blue worm are made from clay. You can see a squirrel in the background that was a gift from Roo last fall.

IMG_4606

Here is a little bunny getting ready to grab some lettuce. Yum!

Arranging

I had forgotten how much I enjoy arranging flowers.

Then Steve brought these home for me.

flowers

Just because.

It is going to snow. A lot.

So they say.

The weather models show a perfect storm ready to be unleashed on the east coast.

So we wait amongst the flurries.

Steve did the Costco run on his way home from work.

He came home with flowers for me to arrange and enjoy.

flowers

And a thorn only pierced my skin once.

Friendship Friday ~ Making it Happen

I planned a date night.

This may not seem like a big deal to some, but for me it is. For me it is saying, I really care about spending time together, I know Steve will enjoy this, I know I will enjoy this. Even though there are 1,001 reasons to not make it happen and then feel disappointed, I am going to TRY.

When I saw that Second City was returning to JMU, I wanted to go again with Steve. We attended a show a few years ago with No Strings Attached, and it was fun. I participated in a Second City workshop in Chicago while chaperoning a school trip for my son and learned a lot.

I desired to do this together.

Several weeks ago, I checked out the tickets and pricing. Seats were going fast. There were a few left scattered here and there, mostly in the balcony. Asking Steve what he thought about going, and not hearing clear Let’s do it! in his voice, I let it go.

Several weeks ago there was also great letdown as a failed communication between us resulted in an anticipated longing falling by the wayside, unmet. I struggled through deep disappointment and wrestled with how to let go of past hurts while communicating present ones honestly.

It was difficult to admit to myself and my husband that I stuff pain and quickly say, It’s okay, or It’s no big deal, when it’s not and it is. I had to acknowledge my hurt, disappointment, and true feelings without accusing, blaming, and attacking. It was a difficult time. We are still learning to communicate honestly and to hear one another in a safe space.

Steve can’t read my mind.

I minimize desire. I long for more together time but don’t take action. I wish for connection but grow busy with distraction.

It was time to make something happen.

Last night, out of curiosity, I logged onto the theater website to see what, if any, seats were left.

The seat map showed two yellow squares at the edge of a sea of x‘s. And by sea, I mean every other seat was marked taken.

Two seats at the end of a row! A countdown timer at the top of the laptop screen ticked away the minutes I had to make a decision while Steve was out walking Dewey. Two seats. At the end of a row! (Can you tell that part in itself was HUGE for me?) The last two seats. My favorite spot in any row.

I took them.

Almost immediately, contempt and sabotage began to creep in.

What did you just do? That was stupid. You don’t even know if you can get a babysitter at this late notice. Steve didn’t act as if he wanted to go when you mentioned it before. You just spent money on something that you don’t know will work out.

And on and on.

I began my usual pattern of faux-not-caring. He can always take a friend if we don’t get a sitter. I can be here with the kids. It doesn’t matter if I go or not.

It mattered.

I tried.

I told Steve when he returned and was met with a positive response. He helped me begin looking for a sitter, which in the end I secured.

Thanks, Mom and Dad!

So tonight is a real date night, not that popcorn and Parenthood at 9:30pm doesn’t count. It’s the fighting forward for fun together that doesn’t just magically happen because I wish it would. It’s being in the moment in our marriage, knowing that it is worth it.

We are worth making it happen!

Friendship Friday ~ Fetching Dewey

Sometimes I get home from school before my children. Today was not one of those times, but last Friday was. If you follow the blog, you might recall that it was the day of the first bus ride.

I arrived to a quiet house, well, quiet except for a puppy who was ready to get out of his crate and play. I let him out, and we headed to the back yard together.

When Dewey was new to us, I began working with him on fetch! Chloe joined in, and it became a team effort. One of us would throw the ball and say fetch! He would run to it, look proudly back at us, and occasionally return it for a treat or tummy rubs.

Sometimes he would miss the ball completely, distracted by a car, or an itch, or another dog, or cat.

Last Friday, I picked up a multicolored ball and tossed it. Dewey, Fetch!

Dewey Fetch

He did!

Bounding to the ball, he picked it up and ran back to me, dropping it at my feet for tummy rubs and another turn.

I threw it again. Several times. We played together there in the yard waiting for his girl to get home. Each time he expertly returned the ball to me, basking in praise and my occasional laughter. And, of course, tummy rubs.

It was sweet, that backyard playtime with Dewey. Not all of our moments together are.

I was grateful for his cooperation with my invitation to play. We had a fetching time.

Friendship Friday ~ Puppy Play

Dewey’s first day with us overlapped with a visit from Wren.

My daughter and son-in-law dropped her off early, giving us time to have a few minutes of conversation about the possibility of a puppy.

If you do bring home Dewey, and he and Wren play together in the backyard, Wren may nip at him, but she is only playing. That’s how she plays with other dogs at the dog park.

I appreciated this heads up for what to expect as she went on to describe other dog behaviors. After our time together, she left with her man, and Wren hung out with us. Sometimes she was in her crate. Sometimes she was in the yard. Sometimes she was chilling around the house. Sometimes, well, that’s for another post.

We left to get Dewey and brought him home.

When we returned, there was much excitement and overwhelm with this new addition to our life. We released the puppies together in the yard to see what would come of it. Would they get along?

Dewey and Wren

Dewey and Wren

Dewey and Wren

Yes, indeed! Their time together was a total success. Much romping and tumbling and barking and nipping ensued, all in the most playful of ways.

One of my favorites to watch was the game of chase that they played in which under the picnic table was Dewey’s base.

Dewey IMG_3712

When Dewey ran under the picnic table, Wren would find a patch of shade and hang out, acting as if she couldn’t catch or get to him until Dewey came running over to be chased again.

My daughter later informed me that Wren is all about the picnic table at the dog park and can get under easily if she wants to, which made their game even cuter.

So Dewey’s first day was full, and by full, I mean, FULL. There is too much to process in a single post, so on this Friendship Friday, it is all about the puppy-cousin love. There is lots of that going on.