Waking up

"It is never too late to wake up from a nightmare" *

This morning I was surfacing from sleep gently, listening to the sounds of the world waking around me, and in those moments of drifting in and out of dreams I found myself smack dab in the middle of a terrible, terrible nightmare: a family vacation, a misstep off a very high dock over very deep water, and I was desperately trying to rescue my son from sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Just writing this brings back the feeling of desperation and helplessness that I tried to shake immediately upon waking. So why on earth would I rehash it here? Because it started me thinking. It's true that lately I've felt like I was drowning—drowning in a sea of things that need to be put away, of chores that are getting away, of things that must be done versus things I want to do, of missteps and frustrating moments. That nightmare? It might just be a wakeup call: something isn't working.

Of course, I've known that something wasn't working for a few weeks now. Be it the heat, the late nights, the age, I've mentioned before that we've all hit a wall as far as congeniality goes. Calvin is wonderful. He's sensitive, he's motivated, he's interested, he's bright, and in the past few weeks he's also started to show himself as strong willed. Now a strong will is a great thing, but without thinking about it my initial reaction was to demand compliance, and that made me grouchy, that made him grouchy, that made all of us grouchy. It was a vicious circle. Then I wrote a week or two ago about trying a more definitive weekly plan as a way of handling this, and honestly it's been going just fine. Peace is returning, but defnitive and authoritarian just isn't the path we wanted to take. It's not even the path we were on just a few months ago. It's hard to tell where we took the wrong turn, and the change in direction happened so gradually I think we didn't even notice it right away, but now it's time to find our way back.

This is a hard thing to write about. It's hard to admit to making mistakes, to being lost, to taking wrong turns, but I've always maintained that I have the right to change my mind, and it's time to do that now. On a recommendation from an unschooling mom I greatly respect I've started reading a new book: "Raising Our Children, Raising Ourselves" by Naomi Aldort. I'm only one chapter in and already I can see the difference I want to make, the change I want to be. It won't happen overnight, but I believe we can go from being the authoritarian parents we've become, to being the teachers and partners in learning that we once were and still want to be. I'll be spending the next few days on the first chapter of Aldort's book, moving from "reacting" in situations, to sharing in them, and then on from there. I guess you could call this our newest journey, a journey back to the family we knew we wanted but somehow stepped away from, and I want to share some of that journey here, in case our experience can motivate someone else the way that other moms have motivated me.

*from Raising Our Children, Raising Ourselves, by Naomi Aldort

Eight years

Eight years of marriage means that you celebrate with clean laundry and an easy meal at home, didn't you know? And sparkling wine to boot.

That someday may never come

We have been busy lately, but mostly under the radar since I've been tired at night and haven't the energy to go through the pictures and edit them, and then to write and post here. From birthday Legos to birthday books Calvin has been as busy as busy can be, and that's a good thing while I sort and price and sort some more. I'm so far behind that it's Thursday and I have things yet to share about Monday. That's the old blogging me, not the new blogging me. I will be so, so glad when this garage sale is over.

Our week at a glance: lots of sorting and cleaning out, a science experiment about acids and bases, the final swimming lesson of the spring session, beautiful weather with warm (but not too warm!) sunny days and cool (but not too cool!) breezy nights, new recipes (which will be blogged later), a very first library card and a mommy-made library bag to go with it, and a return to volcanoes.

For a good time compare the shot below to this one from 2009

Eye protection for the win...

I can't get over the fact that it looks like these cute little owls are afraid of my iron...

There are many, many more things I want to say. The experiments were great fun, and I'll get to them on Live and Learn in a day or so. We have more books to review. There are other thoughts I have to share, too, about motherhood, about growing up, about learning. Tomorrow is the first of the two days of the sale, and my intention is for things to slow down after that and then I'll share all those thoughts. Sound good? It does to me. Some day I'll be caught up, if someday ever comes.

I can change my mind

Spring was late this year, and slow to arrive along with it was my annual need to clean up and clear out. Purging is good for the soul of a house. We spent a lot of the last couple of weeks doing just that, focusing on the garage, then on the basement, the two places in our house that collect those things labeled "I don't know what else to do with this" throughout the cold, feet-dragging winter months. We re-stored a lot of things, re-labeled a lot of things, sent more things on their way to new lives elsewhere, and even started a pile for the community garage sale, taking place this weekend. I'm tired just thinking about it.

A cleaning out is good for the mind, too. I like to think of it as "sweeping away the inconsequential" (which I think is a quote from Atlas Shrugged if I am to give credit where credit is due). The homeschooling/unschooling process is one that is constantly evolving for us and I am routinely throwing away old concepts, plans, or intentions and replacing them with altered ideas. This is not a matter of trading in last year's hot item for the newer model, but my mother has repeatedly told me since I became a parent that no matter what decision I make now I can always reserve the right to change my mind later, and, rules and consequences aside (and sometimes even there), this has become my mantra.

It's the games that have got me really thinking about this on the eve of the sale, because in our clearing out this weekend a lot of games have gone into the "not to keep" pile, some of them games I had listed just months ago as being among our favorites. But I've changed my mind. They are games of chance, and the more I look at them the more arbitrary and inauthentic they seem. And as I watch Calvin grow the more convinced I become that learning can occur in a completely natural and authentic way, that life in general ought to be lived that way. It isn't about following directions, or dice, or spinners, or cards, it's about making decisions and seeing how they play out. So I've changed my mind—I reserve the right to do that— and though we've enjoyed many evenings of Hi Ho Cherry-O, I don't think it will be missed when we're playing Carcassonne in its place.

As for the garage sale coming up this weekend, I really am tired just thinking about it. There is nothing more depressing than watching the world at large glance over your things, discarded though they may be, and passing quick judgement about their worth.

So, next time, stop me before the cliche

The day is as hot as the cat is long...

...and it was a hot, hot day. Temperatures in the low nineties, heat index topping one hundred. That's thanks to ground saturation and the amount of water in the air—it's wet here. I'm loving the heat. The house is open and the breeze, because thankfully it was also a windy day, is blowing right through. With each dry day I gain hope for our new trees, though only time will tell.

Speaking of the passage of time, If you've ever wondered what has become of Calvin, now 26 years later (think: Calvin and Hobbes), I came across a pretty spiffy npr post today that pointed in the direction of that answer...on a blog by the name of Pants Are Overrated. Krulwich at npr wasn't thrilled, but I enjoyed the updates. Calvin marries Susie after all! Although I think naming the little girl Francis instead of Bacon would have been equally as meaningful, and would have kept them miles clear of the whole internet bacon meme, which I can't believe Calvin would have fallen for. Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster maybe, but not bacon.

My own Calvin is four, with five coming on in just over another week. Sometimes I catch myself saying things like "look how big he is" or "I can't believe it's been five years" but I'm not sure I mean those things. They are clichés, things I'm expected to say, things I expect to hear from myself, but I'm pretty sure it feels like it has been five years and I know exactly how those years were spent. I had all the baby clothes up here this weekend, the ones that didn't sell at the garage sale last year, and I could smell the past in them, the sweetness of babyhood and the preciousness of growth, but these did not evoke in me anything more than memory; no nostalgia, no yearning for baby skin, or baby diapers, or baby sneezes, or baby sleepless nights. I don't even miss naps. I have enjoyed every new step and have carefully put away the ones behind me for later reference, but not later tears.

We had a pretty normal day today. He had swim lessons this morning...and jumped into the pool all by himself, something he wouldn't have done even a month ago. Then we went to the library while I sorted books for an hour and he read books to himself the whole time, something he couldn't have done four months ago. On our way out we checked out a book we'd had on hold—The Royal Book of Oz—and he read the title and explained the whole series he's read to the astonished librarian, then read part of the first chapter in the car on the way home. Time, you see, is passing.

We spent the afternoon in the little pool at home (because, as I mentioned, it was HOT), Calvin often with his head entirely under, blowing bubbles, something he wouldn't have done last week. He rode his big bike to the park after dinner and practically flew down the slide.

His feet touch at the bottom now. I don't remember when that happened.

These pictures seem so very boy to me. He looks so very boy to me. Not like a gender thing (I don't go for that) but like an age thing. Boy as opposed to toddler. I'm good with that.