A Pattern of Words

Showing off all the precious tchotchkes in her treasure box to an avid and jealous audience.

Despite the fact that no child will spend time alone in the basement (they’re all convinced a Black Widow lurks around every corner), they’re all perfectly content to make giant messes here together. I’m so grateful to have a room that can stay trashed without me constantly seeing it. (if you saw photographs of this space when we moved in – asbestos ceiling, puddles in the spring, massive centipedes, coal shoot and all – you’d understand my gratefulness!). It took a good bit of money and energy, but having a dry basement that can be utilized as a kid-overflow space is clutch at this stage in life.

R tending to E’s little cuts and bruises. (apparently the walk between our house and theirs is a treacherous one!)

Attack birthday kisses for the birthday Mamele (grandma). It was a low-key celebration this year: V (sister) and I went out for lunch at a downtown, rooftop restaurant with Mom, then gifts and dessert with kids and spouse at our place (D was on a guys’ trip to Chicago).

Mom’s birthday kicks off a lot: thoughts of spring as the weather warms and gardening themed gifts rule the pile of presents, realization that Lent is right around the corner (the day before P’s birthday, this year), the first in an onslaught of birthday celebrations (our family celebrates nine birthdays between the end of February and the beginning of May – the cake overload is real), and now also the annual grief that comes with the anniversary of my dad’s death (he went into the hospital a few days after my mom’s birthday and died on Ash Wednesday). It’s a weird time and I rather wish I could just check out for the month of March and come back at Easter. I’m grateful the grief gets less heavy every year, but I don’t know that I’ll ever enjoy this time of year.

I found this roll of coloring wrapping paper in the basement and E enthusiastically accepted the assignment. By the time we were ready to celebrate Mom’s birthday later the next day, an impressing number of rows had been carefully colored.

In the past six months or so, N’s favorite thing to do has been to perform for others – usually a combination of dancing and acrobatic feats. She usually has roughly forty-eight seconds of solo attention before her siblings discover the exhibition and crash it. This photo came ten seconds before ghost-clad (A) and shark-clad (P) bodies (there was an old Halloween costume interest that morning) zoomed onto the stage and the performance ended in tears.

It was a “makes me think of the good ol’ days!” morning. The kind where I text V at 7:40am and tell her to walk over with the kids for breakfast. She’s predictably late, I’m predictably low on the right toppings, the kids scarf food down and disappear to play Legos after using (predictably) way too much whipped cream, and we both end up sitting on the couch happily chatting until 1:20pm. (oops) I meant to do math with P? But playing hooky was way more fun.

For the first 7 or so years of parenting, I rarely had individual moments with kids (or so it seemed). It was more of a constant, full-pack, jibber-jabber of high pitched voices all demanding my full attention at the very same second for 24 hours a day. In the past year, though, I’ve started having more and more one-on-one times – both intentionally, and as a result of the kids’ having more classes and extracurriculars, AND (thank you, Jesus) because they’re finally hitting ages where I can leave them home alone. It’s rather fascinating seeing, when given solo time with me, which kid talks endlessly without pause (always A), which kid ponders deep life questions (P), which kid chatters delightedly about her own interests (N) and which kid takes the time to demand answers about things that bother her from way too long ago (E). “Mama, WHY did you screw my cup lid on too tight?” (me for the millionth time: “Because you’re spilling things five times a day) “Mama, WHERE are my Frozen pajamas?” (Me: “You outgrew them and we gave them to cousin R last fall, remember?”)

Feeding and watering the chickens is a whole lot less fun when it’s so cold outside, but I love how politely the chickens act with A. (they’re a far less patient with me!) While this chore usually involves a lot of moaning and groaning, today – under the watchful gaze of my camera – A perked up. I think he liked the idea of his every move being documented and would flick his eyes over at me every few shutter clicks.

N: methodically putting on mittens, adjusting her hat, zipping up her jacket.

E: Disgustedly watching the slow pace, alternating between licking the washer’s window, kicking the rug, and whining to “hurrrrrrrryyyyyyyy upppppppp.”