Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Déjà vu Day

Activities are starting to run together.
Last night, planning for softball practice for one child, I felt like "didn't we just do this?"
As the kids grow and have more activities, no matter how hard I've tried to regulate keeping the "busy-ness" to a minimum, they are definitely beginning to dictate time.
I'm feeling like I'm on this endless cycle of "it's time to head to gymnastics practice", and "it's my turn to drive the carpool for Children's Choir".
Last night I was noting (probably in song!) to myself that my day has lost it's Margin.
(Google Margin by Richard Swenson, 'cause I, sadly, don't know how to add a link yet)
Margin is the time you have left over...the time you INTENTIONALLY carve out for what's really important.
Time to have a real conversation with my husband.
Time to spend in devotion to God.
Time to reflect, plan, and think about what is of eternal importance.
Time to gaze in my children's eyes while they are telling me something from their hearts, and to really hear what it is they are saying to me.
Time to sit on the porch swing outside and feel the warmish spring breeze blow on my face as I catch up on reading.
Carving takes energy...I think it's time to get out the tools and begin knicking away at my calendar to start creating my margin again...
before the activities of life start overtaking!

Music Fills the Head

I sing. A lot.
You might not know this about me. But I get through my day singing.
I use already-written songs as a sort-of soundtrack about my day.
Usually nobody hears these songs. They just go through my head all day long.
They're mostly annoying.
It goes sorta' like this: The Beatles song "All You Need is Love" gets stuck in my head.
Next thing I know, the song is illustrating my life: "All I need is...to get up. All I need is...to get dressed. All I need is to brush my hair." You get the idea. Or maybe not.
Perhaps songs don't get in your head this way, compelling you to sing your day with them.
My brother and I used to tease my mom because she seemed to have a song for everything.
It drove us crazy!
Strangely, I can't even come up with one example, but believe me, there were days when we were having a conversation and she would interrupt with a song that was about the topic.
A few seconds later, another song.
She must have had songs going through her head all day long, too!
Right now I have a series of annoying little ditties going into my ears.
"You are my Sunshine"
"Should old acquaintance be forgot..."
"...Red River Valley..."
"doo do do do do doo dodo..." (that's what the song sounds like when there aren't any words...some classical tune.)
Anywho...yep, the six-year-old found her long-ago-hidden Christmas present from the Grandparents.
You know the one.
The noise-maker.
A violin that "plays the songs for you".
Grandpa even campaigned for it this year.
Yeah, you heard me right...I KNEW ABOUT THIS IN ADVANCE.
What in the world was(n't) I thinking?
I didn't protest.
I said, "That sounds cute."
So, what will the day-illustrating songs be for me today?
Maybe it will be "Green Sleeves," although that song always comes out as the Christmas song "What Child is This."
So, I'll be singing about Kyle,
"What Child is this...
That lays to rest
Instead of doing his school work..."
Sometimes I have to work extra hard to get a song out of my head.
I have to concentrate really hard on another song and try to "record over" the other song.
It only works half the time.
The fiddle-playing six-year-old has now officially gone to school, so...
you know what that means?
I know YOU would do the same thing.
It's time to play "hide the violin."
Here's the hiding song of the day (Auld Lang Syne):
"Oh, may my Carly soon forget
She has this violin!
So my Mommy-guilt will be dissolved,
and I can throw the thing away!"

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

I watched my baby go to school today. She's six. She's in kindergarten. Don't get me wrong, I didn't just enroll her in school. In fact, she has walked to the bus stop for more than 100 days (apparently...they celebrated the hundredth day of school a couple of weeks ago). It was that hat she was wearing. baby colors. pastels: pink and blue. Little loops on the two jester corners. Just yesterday when she was again captivated by the looping slideshow of pictures on the computer screen, she said, "Look, Mom!" I hear this many times during the day. often ignoring her request to come, look - another snapshot I want you to admire. Yesterday I came, I looked. She couldn't have been more than two. Wearing that pastel jester hat, floppy on her head. My baby. Today, another wave, blowing kisses, navigating the snowy walkway to the busstop. My baby. little button nose, happy grin wearing the hat, snug on her head now. A few days ago I was watching her in awe - my big girl - long legs...getting taller everyday, it seems. Skipping happily to her stop, yet compelled to turn around every few seconds to blow me another kiss, throw me another hug. "What a big girl," I said aloud to no one but myself. This morning I marvelled at her mathematical skills as she declared that if 30 minutes is a half hour, and 60 minutes is an hour, then an hour and a half is 90 minutes! Baby...big girl...glimpses of genius. I hope she still wears the jester hat next year. I do so like watching my baby walk to school!