As I saw Geoff and John off to Cub Scout Resident Camp (and a few short hours later, drove to meet them in Spartanburg with the freshly ironed uniforms they'd left hanging in the living room), I realized that as much as I write, I don't often write about the basic everyday stuff going on in our little white picket life. Some of this is intentional. Life is full of issues of greater import than how potty training isn't going or how I'd like to organize our linen closet. I try to avoid such quotidian matters, aiming to bore neither my readers nor myself with endless housewifely babble. (I may bore everyone anyhow, but hope I steer clear of housewifely babble, at least most of the time!)
But this afternoon I regretted that, just a little. My boy was on his way to his first overnight camp, and that's a pretty big deal. Sure, maybe it's only a big deal to us, but going to camp and millions of less memorable moments are the materials of which our lives are built. As elements of our life they are precious to me. If I wanted to go all philosophical, I'd argue that every moment of every individual's life is immeasurably important, since all those apparently insignificant moments combine to tell the story of human history and all, but I'm not feeling that philosophical today.
I am feeling sadly, happily nostalgic, though. My babies are growing up, and I want to record every moment lest I forget their loves and fears, their passions and weaknesses. I want to remember the tones of their voices, the phrases they use, the words they mispronounce, the games they play, the battles they wage. Years ago, a friend stared at me and told me she was memorizing my face. Slightly unsettling it was, but I kind of wish I could memorize each of my children's faces as they express every passing emotion.
My desires to so preserve these everyday moments are a little unrealistic. I'm going to forget a lot more than I'd like to forget, and it would probably be slightly unhealthy to take more pictures of my children than I already do. (Besides, Geoff had the audacity to take my camera to camp). But I can record glimpses of everyday life - not the whole picture, but maybe enough to trigger a few memories when I reread this post years from now. So you're getting one of those "Here's What We're Up To" blog posts, like it or not. :)
As mentioned, Geoff and John have gone off to camp. John, at first apathetic to camp, could not get on the road quickly enough. He must have asked Geoff a hundred times how high the mountain is. On his way out the door, he gave me a hurried hug and kiss that felt more like a head butt to the stomach. Not exactly what I'd hoped for when I begged for a goodbye hug and kiss. Apparently, boys who go to camp are too old to give their mothers a proper hug and kiss...
Luke, at least, is not so old as to be incapable of lavishing affection on his mommy. He hugs and kisses and zeberts me with the boundless enthusiasm unique to two-year-olds. If hugging, kissing, zeberting and tickling him back didn't occupy my mind, I might have to cry at the thought that it won't last forever.
Other aspects of Luke's life, however, I am relieved to think will not last forever. Colored walls, locked up knives, diapers, and diapers. Did I mention diapers? We have begun potty-training despite lack of interest on his part and lack of commitment on mine. This translates to Luke wearing undies and sitting on the potty every couple of days, and me mopping up puddles every couple of days.
And then there's Luke's near constant companion, Elisabeth. She is her usually spunky self, wavering between wanting to run with the big boys and wanting to mother or smother Luke. She's also been enjoying afternoons with the girl next door, a very sweet young lady who looks forward to playing with Elisabeth as much as Elisabeth looks forward to playing with her.
Finally, Andrew... Andrew is, well, Andrew. He's looking forward to a few days as the only big kid in the house. We have a few fun things planned - swimming and lunch at his favorite restaurant, as well as a not as eagerly anticipated trip to the pediatric gastroenterologist. We're still trying to put some weight on him. I'm wondering how long we'll have to keep driving an hour to be told to feed him more protein and milkshakes. But whatever...
We have also started school. After a relaxed May and June, it's time to get back to work (between camps and a trip to the beach). Andrew is a bit dismayed by the resumption of school. Overall, he's handling the injustice mostly gracefully, only occasionally objecting that summer is supposed to be three months long. For the most part, he and John are having a great year. They gave me a special treat this week, a humorous glimpse at two very different writing styles.
It happened like this: In our writing lesson, we picked three key words from each sentence of a nine sentence paragraph, and then they each retold the paragraph (orally - we'll write it later) using the key words to form their own sentences. Both constructed excellent paragraphs - as in, they followed the outline to dictate nine reasonable, comprehensible sentences that conveyed the meaning of the original paragraph - but their styles were so different - Andrew's sparse and matter-of-fact, John's humorously embellished. I was so thankful to be teaching the two of them, and to be able to congratulate them each on a well spoken, completely unique paragraph.
That's our recent life in a nutshell. I'm happy to add that I had to step away from the computer a few minutes ago to aid a little boy who had stripped naked to sit on his training potty all by himself. He didn't actually do anything in the potty, but I didn't have to mop, either... So we're making progress.
Best of all, he looked up from the book he was reading on the potty to give his me a kiss. And I didn't even have to beg for it!
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