My oldest son emerged into the world training for great capers. Sitting at 4 months, walking at 9 and climbing right away. He’s training for a great adventure. Discovering what that is has become such a huge part of his childhood. There is wonder in the chase for your life’s work, especially for children as they discover the passion of their childhood.
Knights, dragons, castles and kings are currently enchanting to my boys. And here they are, immersed in the wonder of it all.
I apologize for my children’s lack of pants. I ask myself why they won’t wear pants daily. But this is my life! 🙂
I have to be honest, parenting my kids mostly by myself has made parenting into a chore.
I have started to see their little chubby hands as “mess makers” and feel so caught up in the work of getting-there-on-time-dressed-cleaned-happy-fed that I am not appreciating these amazing kids in front of me.
And the craziest part of it all: I am lonely. Lonely in the midst of two extremely social kids.
So a few days ago I decided, if I didn’t like playing this game I would change it.
Enter what I lovingly call 100 days of engagement.
It sounds like a silly romantic comedy but here is what it really is: 100 continuous days of spending at least 1 hour totally engaged with my kids.
One hour where I am not worried about the house, or work, or dinner. That’s 100 glorious hours between a few days ago and Jan. 10.
And while we’re having these adventures I’ll be collecting video to compile into a short film that will literally show my boys grow.
After a few days I already feel refreshed. I can’t believe how easy it is to squander the gifts looking you right in the face.
I think I got six mosquito bites taking this picture.
Everyday when things wind down in our house after dinner and some play, my one year old gets sleepy enough to know it’s time for bed. One by one we each give him kisses to see him off into the land of sleep. And then I take him to the car, say good night one more time, and go on a quiet country drive to lull him to sleep.
The ritual evolved a few months ago, just like all of his other sleep rituals — each lasting a clearly determined amount of time based on his own instincts.
I’ve grown to love this one. Watching the light shine through the bottoms of trees, seeing which wild flowers are blooming day after day and how tall the corn has gotten. I pass the same collapsed barn and stop at the same stop signs.
Sometimes, in the middle of the journey, when I suspect he is already asleep, I stop for longer than I need to at the stop sign and just gaze at the world, feeling the stillness and silence of our day at it’s end.