It's been a long three weeks since the last post, filled with final exams, semester transitions, adjustments at home and at work to this and that. We are back, and I have learned that--like Raya's need for her morning book session in the rocking chair with daddy, or Sava's yearning to play at least one game of checkers or "Sorry" before bed on weekends--I need the blog routine. So, nuggets resume weekly as of today. Let's see if a virtual promise is enough to make it happen.
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| Wilder Ranch State Park. Down there is the cove with a "pirates' cave" where we hiked for a morning at the beach |
I've been pondering two things that are somewhat related.
A couple of friends directed me to
this essay, which apparently has been making the rounds on the internets and Facebook (I wouldn't know). It's a funny and fun essay, arguing, in essence, that life with kids sucks except for the rare few moments each day when the heavens open and we see the world in a grain of sand--that trying to "enjoy" every moment of parenting is futile and claiming to enjoy it is at best disingenuous and at worst a lie.
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| Yes, the water is frigid, but they love every moment of it. |
Well, now. I happen to read regularly and enjoy only
one other blog, which belongs very much to the "carpe diem school" of thought that Glennon Melton argues is inauthentic. I prefer to spend my time here, rather than anywhere else in the blog abyss, because I've come to believe--through trial and error mostly--that how we approach things determines very much how we feel about them. Consider, please, that this comes from an erstwhile half-empty-cup Eastern European.
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| Pirates' cave! |
So, if I wake up thinking that today will be a long day, dreading the long meal times, the incessant chatter, and the sibling squabbles, it likely is going to be a long day. If I wake up feeling upbeat about it, thankful for two sweet kids and a loving husband, some moments will feel painful but the carpe-diemable chunks of time will easily prevail.
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| she is watching intently and imitating a "big girl" playing in the sand |
I've been discovering a similar thing about running. Until recently, I'd always believed that you exercise in order to feel better; in fact, experience had confirmed this time and time again. Now that I run again--but I run in a way that I've never run before (different pace, different gait, etc.)--I find that my best runs are those which begin
after I feel better. If I try running at the end of a hard day, while still steeped in a funk about this or that, the run invariably sucks; my feet drag, my breath gives out, my eyes focus on the pavement rather than on the stars above. If, before I start, I make a deliberate effort to focus on the good stuff in life--our kids, our jobs, our parks, our not-so-quiet house--the miles hardly register on my thankful mind.
My point is that parenting, like everything else in life, is all about perspective. I am with the old ladies that Glennon Melton resents who urge her to seize every moment and enjoy every possible minute of being with her kids. Our time
is passing, and before we know it, it will be over. It's more work sometimes to enjoy parenting than not to, but it is oh so worth it.
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| uncle Bob helping with those last bites of the sandwich |
Our weekly Sunday outings never fail to remind me of all that. In the time we've been gone from this space, we've visited Wilder Ranch State Park (all photos above) on the coast of Santa Cruz, Picchetti Ranch Open Space Preserve in Cupertino, and Sanborn Skyline County Park in Saratoga. They've been the best days of the past month.
I think often (and too much) about what I'd like our kids to remember of their childhood. The list changes a bit every so often, but right now it has two main items: 1) living in a family where everyone feels unconditionally loved and 2) spending time outdoors together, religiously, every single week.
The religious part matters to me a lot. I'd like our kids to remember that, just as other families go to church on Sunday or visit grandma once a month, we pack a lunch, put on our hiking shoes, and head out for a park on Sunday mornings.
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| house of sticks at Picchetti Ranch |
Routines matter a great deal.
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Stuff They Say
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| yes, those are Raya's underpants, which she does not yet wear |
Some nights ago, I put Raya to bed and then walked into Sava's room where I found him bawling in bed, with Rado trying to comfort him. When I asked what had happened, Sava was too upset to respond, so Rado explained that the story they had been reading had made him sad. Through question and answer, Sava was able to tell me the gist of the story: a mama bear finds a baby robin in the woods; mama robin is nowhere around, so mama bear takes the robin and raises it until it learns to fly; once it knows how to fly, the robin becomes restless in the bear's house (because bears, of course, live in houses), so it asks mama bear to release it into the world; they agree that the robin will come back and visit mama bear once each year.
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| Mommy, take a picture of me with all my friends! |
As soon as we got to that part of the story, Sava wailed:
But if he (the robin) loves her, then why isn't he staying??....
The prospect of having to leave home and live without us still worries him more than anything else in the world.
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| climbing trees is his obsession these days |
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When I went to pick her up from nap some days ago, I found Raya with one foot dangling from the side of her crib.
Look, mommy, the foot is looking for some snails!
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We are so thankful our kids still use the Bulgarian words to refer to their private parts. At the table two nights ago, after some seemingly serious thought, Sava declared:
Mommy, since girls don't have a churka, it's as if they cut their churkas off! (churka = boy parts, of course)
Mommy's little psychoanalyst.
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Raya asks the most outlandish and startling questions lately. It's hard to tell sometimes whether she is really thinking about things deeply or just keeping her mouth busy. On our walk to the store yesterday:
Mommy where do squirrels sleep? When offered a half-baked answer (where
do squirrels sleep?),
And mommy, where do seashells sleep?
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| with her "best friend"; such lucky ducks we are to live next door to her |
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A couple of weeks ago, one of my big fears materialized when Raya tumbled down a full flight of stairs, in the midst of singing and playing the harmonica on the half-way landing. Somehow, she got up from the incident unharmed, and when I asked Sava what had happened, he just shrugged and said,
I don't know. She just tumbled sideways like a log.
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| hiking Picchetti Ranch |
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Along the line of bizarre questions, Raya asked yesterday while twisting in her dad's arms in order to peer at his face:
Tati, do you have glasses to keep you warm on your eyes?
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| in Phoebe's carrier |
Seriously?
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She also said some days ago, for no apparent reason:
Mommy, I want to be still in your tummy.
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| yes, the book's title is The Berenstain Bears and Trouble With Money |
She is truly obsessed with babies, playing with them, pretending to
be them, wanting to touch the real ones and steal the dolls of all her friends. I need no more convincing that, when it comes to kids, nature frequently trumps nurture.
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Sava, for his part, appears to be every girl's favorite boy in school. . . well, not exactly, but we've now had playdates with no less than FOUR girls, and his teachers report that girls love when he plays with them and often seek his company. He did say one time that they wanted him to be the "dad" in the family and that was "silly," but other than that, seems happy with their friendship.
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There's more to write, but there is also always the next bunch of nuggets coming soon.
Wishing everyone a happy week.
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