getting gone

Dear Mom & Rod,

Thank you for welcoming us into your house for eight months.
Thank you for putting up with all our messes, literal and emotional.
And all our noise.
Thank you for living with couch cushions on the floor and cartoons on the television.
Thank you for sacrificing your dining room table to serve as our command central.
Thank you for making extra bacon and extra space in so many rooms, for sharing the washing machine and the apple cider.
Thank you for taking the big kids to school some days, and for keeping them all here so many times when we needed to run out for cabinets or grout or door knobs.  Or sanity.
Thank you for raking leaves and ripping out honeysuckle at the new house.
Thank you for taking care of all the grocery shopping and so many of the meals.

Our boys have benefited so much by living with you.
You know the Dorothy Law Nolte poem, If children live with this, they will be that...?
You guys are solid examples of good humans, calm and flexible, optimistic and patient, persistent and curious. Thank you for sowing seeds of peace and love and kindness, and even scattering a few that look like People get mad when you bite them and kitchen drawer handles are not ladders, too.

This has been a bonus year.
And we all love you both so much.

anything

Like lots of little boys, he makes spears and swords and arrows out of backyard sticks.
He created a tomohawk from modified found objects held together with dental floss, which turned out to work a whole lot better than expected and required adult supervision or risked actual injury. Fortunately the only foul was to a case of Diet Coke, and he helped clean that mess.

When a cardboard tube becomes a rifle to be used against imaginary enemies, it is not difficult to imagine the rest of the storyline, to feel the anticipatory anxiety. I've read novels and seen films and know about the knock at the door. I understand that it may be unwise to borrow worry over this now. Fighting a war and finding a career are choices for children who get to grow up. I am grateful for his growing. Even the part where he's learning to fight with language, wielding sharp words.

Right now I try to remain neutral on his military interest; I mean, I can't even begin to formulate a lecture on the convoluted and not always conscionable history of American interventions in the world. He does know about folks - family and friends - who have served honorably and bravely, and I don't mean to disparage their commitment. But I can expose him to other kinds of activities I’d love to see him pursue: art, nature, science, literature. I can impress upon him the need for seat belts and ballistic vests. I can pray for his safety, and for his growing up. And I can remind him, with sincerity, that he can be and do anything.

a crowded place

A crowded place, a merry mess, long cold days, no lack of love...

December, so far

While it's easy to get carried away valuing fun and excitement in the form of lots of shiny new things  this time of year, we're leaning toward simplicity and connection, wonder and tradition. There's nothing worth more than time with friends and family. We're looking forward to more of this in the month to come...

full of ideas

There seems to be a fine line between creativity and mischief.

being busy

It's December, and our to-do list might be longer than Santa's toy list.
Remembering, though, that there's a big difference between being busy and being overcommitted. Everything changes when you realize there is exactly enough time for the important stuff.
When the things you need to do aren't happening, it may be because you value what is happening instead.

SaveSave

you've been "thumb-oned"

Unless he's eating, Hank needs two thumbs at all times: his own in his mouth, and somebody else's in his other hand.
Sometimes he just wants to hold a thumb and snuggle, other times he grabs it to show someone what he's working on.  RoRo calls it "being thumb-oned."
He's going to be sad when there are fewer folks in the house for him to sit with or summon.

photo credit to Aunt Sally... so grateful she captured this