Floating Upstream: autumn nuggets: part one

Today we drove twenty minutes to the beach. Let me say this again. Today we drove TWENTY minutes to the beach. Without the October traffic through Half Moon Bay, this is exactly how long it takes us to drive from our house to this.

Some friends introduced us to a "young trail"--only two years old--which skirts past a farm and offers sweeping views of the Pacific Ocean.

Bonus: it is flat and easy on little feet.

It also practically begins at the beach, so after a walk, we loop back where we started, and they've barely noticed that we've "hiked."

Another bonus: along with the ocean vistas, glorious views of some of the most fertile land in North America.

At the beach, the four kids found various ways to occupy themselves. Most notably, the Daniels introduced our kids to "beach glass," and Sava spent over one hour intently combing the entire beach, collecting tiny colored treasures in a Ziploc bag. It's been a while since we've spent most of a day outside, and I was reminded--poignantly--how much we all need the connection. We are never as close to each other as we are outdoors, and I believe--more firmly than pretty much anything else in life--that nature brings out our most authentic selves.

Watching Sava collect beach glass with intention and purpose reminded me, yet again, how powerfully children bring focus and meaning to the tasks which engage them in their daily lives. True, some children are born more focused than others, but I have yet to see a child who, placed in a setting free of distractions, will not find an intensely pleasurable way to occupy himself.

I've been thinking a lot about the connection between intense pleasure and freedom from distraction. For several months (maybe a year? I didn't count), I finally joined Facebook and gave myself every license to explore the potential of social networking. It was quite fun at first. I "friended" people who had been out of my life for years, and I got a peek into the lives of those around me. I found myself saying things like "That looked like a lovely birthday celebration you had!" rather than "What did you do for your birthday?" in real life. I shared a few fun moments with my "friends," and I got book recommendations for my kids. I also learned which two of my 70+ friends like the fiction of Marilyn Robinson (genuinely important information).

That about sums it up for the pros. I also found myself checking Facebook compulsively more than a couple of times each day. I evaluated every lived experience for its potential to be "shared." And, towards the end, I found myself feeling compelled to "like" everyone's every post, lest they should think I was less than interested in their lives.

When I finally sat down and did the reckoning, I had to admit that, indeed, I wasn't interested in their lives. There are the handful of people on Facebook, mostly family, whose virtual "lives" I will miss "seeing." There are also the various articles popping on my newsfeed, many of them pertaining to literature and education, that I will now miss but also, thankfully, not have to read. For the most part, though, hitting that "delete button" felt like taking off shackles that had started to grind into my flesh. For the first couple of weeks after I deleted my account, I felt the literal truth of the metaphor "lighter than air." All that free time to not check how everyone is doing! The beauty of living experiences without wondering if I had to share them! The Unbearable Lightness of Being someone whose daily thoughts (and readings) would remain mostly private.

I don't mean to stand on a high pedestal and suggest that Facebook, or any other social network, is bad for everyone. Some people are far better at managing the things that became burdens for me about Facebook, and for those people, Facebook can be a source of both emotional and intellectual replenishment. The trick is to know what works for us and to say "no thank you" to the things that don't.

yes, she is wearing her brother's outgrown clothes: Rado *adores* her in boy clothes

Which brings me back to the matter of children. I dread the moment when I have to explain all of my feelings about digital media to my older kids. I dread having to watch them learn what I already know but can't possibly teach them through mere words. I dread seeing their ability to focus intensely and experience deep pleasure get dissipated by the allures of every imaginable kind of media. And yet I know that it's all inevitable, and I know that, sooner or later, they'll be the ones teaching me things I can't even begin to imagine yet.

these two found each other in preschool, and even though Katie is already in K, in a school Raya will not attend, we might be looking at a life-long friendship

What I do believe right now, though, is that five-year olds have much more authentic ways to relate to one another than any--even the most mindful--adults I know.

*****
So much for the monthly sermon. On to a whole lot of photos and little text.
Apart from school, which for me means work, for Sava means homework, and for Raya means socializing, here is what our life at home looks like. They have an "art table," but ninety percent of the time they are on the floor. Thankfully, our new house cleaners (yeah!) get the marker stains off the wood no problem.

As her preschool teacher wrote about Raya in her recent evaluation, this girl can draw and write and create all day long.

They also, inexplicably, love reading under the table.

For a couple of weeks, before the time change, we woke up early enough to watch the sunrise from our dining room. Breathtaking doesn't begin to describe it.

I loved their faces bathed in early-morning sunshine, too.

Crazy Hair day at school

yes, they are breakfasting in their astronaut/pilot suits

Speaking of food, we're trying to cook together. I'll admit that ninety percent of the time their response to "does anyone want to help me cook dinner?" is a timid "no," but I live for the other 10%. Tonight I kicked myself in the foot when Sava asked to wash dishes, and I hastened, foolishly, to say that it would be more efficient if I did it. Really, mother? Really? By the time I had had time to reconsider, approximately ten seconds later, he had changed his mind. Dang.

pumpkin coconut muffins

making pizza with her best friend from school this year

Bob, the two below are especially for you; baking cupcakes for her birthday:

Also at home, some of my favorite moments are those when Rado or I sit on the couch and read to them. I know that this, too, shall pass, and I mourn its passing every time I witness it.

Then there is this:

Other forms of togetherness:

The playborhood is turning out very much as expected. While kids are still working out the social dynamics of who plays with whom in a cul-de-sac with twelve (!) young souls, for the most part, our children are out in the street, playing with someone, whenever other responsibilities, like homework, have been discharged.

Halloween happened with a crowd, and Pippi Longstocking and Dark Matter got ~~too much~~ a lot of candy.

Actually, she was going to be Pippi Longstocking first. Then last minute, in the wee hours of the morning, she changed her mind and decided to be Laura Ingalls at school (hello, bonnet) (right around when cows would have been milked). In the evening, she changed back to Pippi Longstocking. A cowgirl by day, a pirate by night.

Sava mastered no-hand bike riding and is currently working on a newly acquired unicycle, gifted to him by our 11-year old neighbor.

He and Rado love nothing better than a basketball game at the courts of our neighborhood elementary school. Sava's energy is truly a gift of nature.

While we have not trekked up the hill over Crystal Springs nearly as often as we should have, the times we have gone remind us why it might be worth the price to live here.

We find that kids will happily climb a hill if the alternative is to go to bed, so evenings, especially with neighbor friends, have been the best for hiking. Who knew?