The golds and oranges of autumn are gone now. This calendula plant grows in my backyard. I don’t know why it decided to bloom in January, but I’m grateful to see its sunny face.
I have hopes that it will spread far and wide this spring and summer.
These Nandina (also known as “heavenly bamboo”) berries greet me as I arrive at my front door.
“I Captain Baby Asher. You Captain Mommy.”
“You want to buy something from my store? Like a chocolate milkshake?”
“Whatchu doing, Lucas?”
“I want to watch a program.”
“I need a nack (snack).”
“You like my daddy? You like my brother? You like a baby? Me?”
“I don’t like this dinner.”
“Baby use your red phone?”
“Can we eat at a restaurant?”
“Leave me alone. I need to work.”
“I a superguy. A superhero!”
“Look out! Aliens are coming!”
“I need water. One ice. Two ice.”
“Baby touch your nipples GENTLY?”
My mud monster with eyes like the sea. Lucas spent this day sliding in the mud at school. Because on a muddy December play yard at a Waldorf school, nobody is going to stop you from doing it. I’m grateful for that. And then at home, after this photo was taken, Lucas learned how to put a load of laundry into the washer. I’m grateful for that, too.
We got to spend some time alone together Thursday night and it was so good. Lucas and I attended the Las Posadas celebration at his school, saw some friends, ate a churro, and he got to hit the piñata. At first, it was a little stilted; we were in our own two worlds with our own distractions. But some satsumas and a candy from the piñata, and then some salad, yummy pizza, and conversation helped. We played a few games of Connect Four at the pizza parlor, and then we puzzled our way through a face-guessing game without any instructions. It was fun and got us all warmed up and connected. At home, still just the two of us, we got Lucas ready for bed and read some Christmas stories. We even sang the “Twelve Days of Christmas” with gusto along with the picture book. And we snuggled.
I’m struck by how much my relationship to this boy has changed since his brother arrived. There was a time when Lucas and I were completely inseparable. I love him completely and am reminded that there needs to be time for just us.
“The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads”
This is what I often find after working in the evening: Asher asleep in our room with Ian folding laundry and watching a program.
Gorgeous persimmons are ripening on my kitchen counter top. Last Friday the B children came over after school and we made a batch of cookies with the couple of persimmons that were ripe enough.
I’m really enjoying spending time with Snow in the kitchen; she has greater follow-through than my boys do. I seem to have hit on the magic formula: Every child measures and pours an ingredient into the bowl, taking turns until everything is in. Everybody mixes, counting their strokes. Eventually, the littler ones drift away to do something else and Snow and I spoon the cookie dough onto the pan. Then, she’s off to play with the others and I get the job of waiting for the oven buzzer, switching out pans, and cleaning up—the boring parts.
I’m learning to recognize (sometimes) when I have a need or expectation for a holiday. To me, it wouldn’t be Christmas time if we didn’t bake cookies. My kiddos didn’t think to ask to do this. But I realized it was something I needed to do. So, I set it up, carved out a moment, and made it happen. Of course, the boys are overjoyed at the opportunity to eat cookies. And, really, who wouldn’t be?
I should add another observation. Besides the script in my mind that says, “good moms bake cookies for Christmas,” there is another script running: “Sexy moms don’t eat cookies.” A little conflict there, perhaps.
Work continues at a much more relaxed pace this month. I’m reviewing second pages now of my textbook, making sure all the intense and involved changes we asked for last month were made. It’s looking good and I’m happy that the people down the line were able to do it. This one is not exactly easy for them, I’m sure, even though I’ve done everything I can to make it as painless as possible.
With some professional coaching, I have managed to change my banner image on my blog to my own wintry photograph. I’ve also added a caching plug-in, so now my site will be faster. And that’s just plain nifty!
How my son spent his Sunday morning.
Paper, cardboard, string, and cello tape sculpture of a horse and wagon by 7-year-old Lucas.
On November 1, Lucas just turned 7 and a half. I’m finding I’m feeling more relaxed around him now than I was six months ago, which I think is because the sharp edges of his emotional states seem to have gradually rounded off. He is still more “feeling” at times that I’m comfortable with, but he’s not lashing out in huge outbursts indiscriminately anymore. Many emotions are easy to deal with, but some are hard and have a big impact on those around him. This is a huge relief.
Now, we are seeing a Lucas who is more confident, more comfortable, and more engaged. He likes being in school and having all those friends around him. He likes learning new things and his mind is an amazing sponge. His reading is coming along, and we find we can no longer spell words we would rather he not hear because he can often decode them!
We have been treated this fall to some wonderful tales about saints, and Lucas has been working really hard in his Math main lesson block. I’m told that the children are earning their golden Math Crowns by counting, and then they earn jewels to go on their crowns when they successfully recite their times tables. Lucas has earned four jewels for his crown by reciting his twos, threes, fives, and tens. This is awesome to me. Today we had a lovely discussion of division and prime numbers, although he didn’t call them that. “You know, Mom, 3 cannot be divided, but 4 can. Divide 4 and you get 2 and 2. 5 can’t be evenly divided. You would get 3 on one side and 2 on the other.” He proceeded to break down every number up to 15, determining whether each could be evenly divided.
Tonight Lucas recited his birthday verse to us for the first time. As is customary in Waldorf schools, his teacher created a verse for each child in the class, who practices it and recites it in front of the other children. The verse is meant to speak about the child, but also to the child to encourage and nurture in the child a quality or talent.
This is the verse she created for Lucas. I wept happy tears when I heard it.
Let us make a thing of beauty
That hungry souls may feast upon.
Let us make a thing of beauty
That long may live when we are gone.
Whether it be wood or marble,
Poetry, music, or art,
Let us make a thing of beauty
To help set man apart.
He proudly told me that his verse is the only one that mentions beauty.
Despite lots of working for me (12 hours) and Lucas’s case of folliculitis caused by prolonged exposure in the lake last week, we managed to have some lovely moments this weekend.
* early-morning walk by myself
* clay play
* dinner out with Papa and Grandma S for her birthday
* yummy BLT sandwiches made by Ian
* watching Asher dance and sing, “I like my Mom and Dad”
* an evening walk through the neighborhood all together
* finding our first green and brown acorns of the season on the ground
* watching nimble Lucas leaping to and fro across the drainage ditch (and hoping he wouldn’t fall)
* a quick trip to the thrift store for school clothes for Lucas: four pairs of pants (including two lined pairs) and nine shirts (both short and long-sleeved, one sweater, and a hoodie) for $50
* a quick trip to the used book store to recirculate a bunch of old books and find new ones for the whole family: five novels for me and Ian, five or six books for the kids
* playing a new game Asher invented called “shopping,” in which an old computer keyboard became his cash register, and flat Lego pieces were dollars. He’s pretty great about making change.
* a tad of reading Torpedo Juice, by Tim Dorsey and Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
It was a fine day today. Except this time, I’m being facetious. It was fine up until about 3:15 or 3:30 when Lucas completely lost his mind. You see, I wanted to put Asher down for a nap, but Lucas wanted to play with Asher instead. So, naturally, Lucas started hitting and kicking me. Of course. That’s what you would do if I tried to put your little brother down for a nap.
I took Lucas by the arm and led him to his bedroom, saying something to the effect of “It is not OK for you to hit and kick me. Now you may go to your room. I will be putting Asher down for a nap now.” Lucas tried to punch me nearly all the way to his room, until he went limp and collapsed on the floor. So I bodily pulled him into his room and repeated my message. Then I closed his door.
Much screaming and gnashing of teeth ensued. In and out of his room he went; every time he came out, I put him back in his room. At one point I held him really close so he couldn’t deck me. That’s when he spit at me.
And that’s when I lost my temper. I shouted. I even said “fucking,” as in “YOU WILL STAY IN YOUR ROOM FOR THE REST OF THE FUCKING AFTERNOON!”
I left, went to soothe Asher, and quickly realized that Lucas had won. There was no way in hell Asher was going to relax enough to go to sleep now. He was crying and fussy and confused about all the drama. Of course. That’s how you would feel if I tried to put your big brother into his room for being a shit.
So, I just lied there beside the baby, listening to Lucas’s tantrum run through its predictible phases and thinking how pissed off I was that he took us to this place and, damn it, I should have handled it better. Somehow. See, there’s really not all that much you can do to a child when he decides to be an ass—that is, there is not much you can do if you’ve already decided that spanking isn’t right. Lucas may not be a big kid yet, but he’s plenty powerful and when one of his blows connects—damn! It hurts. I thought about how convenient it would be if there were a lock on his bedroom door so I could ensure that he stayed put, but then I remembered a friend’s story about how her parents used to regularly lock her in her room.
The screaming changed from “You’re a mean mommy! I hate you!” to “I forgive you, mommy!” to “Do you forgive me now, mommy?” Eventually he got quiet and miraculously he did not leave his bedroom. I peeped in after a while and saw that he had turned off the light and gotten into bed. Another time I noticed the door open a bit, but saw him still inside.
He stayed in his room for an hour and a half. That’s the longest time out ever. I felt I had to make a lasting impression—it is unacceptable for him to hit and kick and spit at me. If it happens again, he will stay the rest of the day in his room, until 5 o’clock comes and he can apologize to me and then explain the day’s events to his father, who doesn’t take kindly to news of Lucas beating on me.
When I finally let Lucas out at 5 p.m., he was all sweetness and roses. He apologized profusely and clearly explained to me what behavior was unacceptable and why he was in trouble. He seems to have gotten the message.
It’s been a long time since he pulled this type of shit with me.* Somehow, turning 6 has made him insane. Fortunately, the book (Your Six-Year-Old: Loving and Defiant) says it will pass in about six months.
* Since he was 4, I think.
