My inspiration for this record of my days:

“The biggest mistake I made [as a parent] is the one that most of us make. . . . I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of [my three children] sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less” -Anna Quindlen

Saturday, October 3, 2015

Something about boys

Boys are their own species for sure.  I should know.  I live in a house full of them!

Growing up in a family of mostly girls, I was not prepared for this life.  I have really come to love and embrace their strange world, for the most part.

The super heros and the ninjas; the bugs and lizards; the fireworks; the sound effects; the dirt and the constant food.  It really is quite charming and endearing when you stop trying to understand, and just roll with it.

But there is one thing about boy-ness that I am struggling to embrace.  The never-ending, constant, unrelenting, continual motion!  It's really making me crazy! I know there is a scientific law that says that an object in motion tends to stay in motion.  Boys are proof of that law!

It is really rare to find a moment in my house when all objects and people are at rest.  There are always balls being bounced against the wall.  There are balls and/or NERF bullets flying through the air.  There are rip-sticks or hover boards zipping around corners.  There are hands and feet flashing out to "barely touch" a brother as he walks by.  There are sock skaters and blanket magic carpets.  There are people leaping over couches or jumping to touch every door jam as they pass through... just to see if they can do it.

It's exhausting.  But only for me, apparently.