OUR COMMON HOURS

17 // 52

17 // 52 // Lillia
17 // 52 // Zane

“A portrait of my children once a week, every week, in 2015.”

Lillia: This week you have been really, really sad. Or, at least I think you are sad. I haven’t been able to get you to talk much about it. Fifth grade hasn’t been the easiest year. You are doing well, academically, but I feel like you are really disconnected from your peers and even from your family. I wish I knew how to help you, but I don’t know exactly what is wrong and you aren’t very forthcoming with information. This week was a particularly difficult one, anyway, because Daddy was out of town at a conference so it was just the three of us for days and days. The rhythm of the home is completely out of whack when he’s gone. If you read this, which I know you do sometimes, just know that we love, love, love you and we’re here anytime you need or want to talk. On a slightly more uplifting note, your spirit really seemed to brighten when we went to the zoo in Boston this weekend. You were so interested in all of the animals, and you were often several steps ahead of us. You have always loved animals and I can really see that you connect with them on a deep level. Your high regard for all creatures, great and small, is one of the qualities I love most about you.

Zane: This week your behavior was, shall we say, very much that of a textbook three-year old. I know I have really lucked out because you are usually a very good boy, but with Daddy gone you were a mess. You were hitting, and crying a lot, and throwing fits, which is just not like you at all. On Tuesday when I tried to drop you off at school you had a total meltdown, which you have never, ever done. Even on the first day of school you didn’t cry! I ended up leaving you sobbing with your teacher, and told them to call me if you didn’t stop crying (thankfully, you were fine after a few minutes). Then, on Thursday, I told you that Daddy was going to be coming home, to which you replied, “Do you see Daddy anywhere? No. That’s because he’s never coming home!” Poor little thing — I know it’s confusing, but sometimes parents have to be away from their children for a little while. And, despite your uncertainty, he did come back! You seem to have mellowed out a lot since things have returned to normal. My favorite Zane quote of the week (during one of your fits): “You’re not taking me to the playground right now, so YOUR GOOSE IS COOKED!” You slay me…

16 // 52

16 // 52 // Lillia
16 // 52 // Zane

“A portrait of my children once a week, every week, in 2015.”

Lillia: This week was school vacation week. As soon as you learned that many of your friends and classmates were going away for the week, you expressed your displeasure at the fact that we never go anywhere. I remember this a little bit from my own childhood; my mom stayed home with us for a long time so for most of my childhood we lived on one income, meaning that we couldn’t go to Disney World or the Caribbean during every school vacation. And, your dad and I have made the same choice for our family. This is something you probably cannot appreciate now, but I hope that someday you will look back and feel that the trade-off was worth it. We can’t travel the world just yet, but you do have a mom who picks you up from school everyday, who is home so that you don’t have to go to school when you are sick, who is home during the summer so that you can go to the pool instead of going to camp. I hope you will find some value in that someday.

Zane: This week was your school vacation week, too. The weather hasn’t been stupendous, but we have been getting out as much as we can. You’ve been working really hard on learning how to use your scooter. I swear, nothing in the world is more adorable than a tiny little guy zooming around on a scooter. You were helping me do yard work, too, with your new wheelbarrow. We finished clearing out all of the flower beds, and we raked the whole backyard so the new grass can grow. I appreciate your help so much, and I love that you just instinctively want to be helpful without being asked. In fact, I think sometimes I could use a little less help…no, not really, I’m just kidding! Your desire to help seems to grow out of your desire to be involved in everything I do, to participate, and to learn; that is a wonderful thing.

today is my birthday // i’m 34

today is my birthday // i'm 34

All night my heart makes its way however it can over the rough ground of uncertainties, but only until night meets and then is overwhelmed by morning, the light deepening, the wind easing and just waiting, as I too wait (and when have I ever been disappointed?) for redbird to sing. — “A Thousand Mornings” by Mary Oliver

I’ve been dreading this birthday for weeks, even though thirty-four is a very minor adjustment from thirty-three. And, yet, something about the even-ness of the number, it just seems so much closer to forty, and forty is unbearable. I’m sure all of you who are over forty and reading this are hating me right now, but does it not seem absolutely impossible even to be thirty-four? I recently spent a couple of days going through all of my old school papers, and it caused me some distress. Surely this little girl, who was me, would be beside herself with despair to learn that that she hadn’t accomplished anything of note by the age of thirty-three (now -four). The whole exercise plunged me into a sort of mid-life crisis.

That’s not to say I regret all of my choices. I’ve been home with my kids for almost six years now, and it is the most precious gift that my husband could have given me. Truthfully, I never want this part of my life to end. But, the end is terrifyingly close! I am thirty-four, and I have no career and no idea what I’m going to do with myself when my son starts school in just a little over a year. I am thirty-four and there are so many things I have not done, and probably never will do, and that is heartbreaking.

Thirty-four feels ominous. Thirty-four feels like panic.

Still, there is this: when I was making my coffee this morning, the sun was shining on the surface of the pond behind our house, and everything was sparkling, and the birds were singing, and it just felt glorious to be alive and to be part of this astonishingly complex and beautiful creation. So, I’m going to tell myself that whatever God has planned for me, I will take it. I will try not to panic or despair, and I will look forward to the moments of jubilation that exist amidst the uncertainty. I will try to keep my heart and mind open to the possibilities that still lie ahead, without dwelling too much on the path not taken. None of that will be easy, but it is my best option.

Today is my birthday — I’m thirty-four — and, despite the ambiguity of my current situation, I am very happy to be here.

* I wrote a post on my birthday last year, too.

at the park

This weekend we visited the Ashuelot River Park in our hometown of Keene, NH. We used to go there frequently before we moved to Walpole, but it’s been a long time since our last visit. Spring is slowly arriving in our part of the world. At the park there is a gorgeous white magnolia just starting to bloom (which may be over-represented in these pictures…I couldn’t help myself), along with daffodils, forsythia, and the most adorable carpet of glory-of-the-snow that reminds me of the bluebell forests in the Lake District in England. [Lillia took the photo of me and Damian.]

at the park
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our week // vol 7

Even the prick of the thistle,
queen of the weeds, revives
your secret belief
in perpetual spring,
your faith that for every hurt
there is a leaf to cure it.

— from “In Perpetual Spring” by Amy Gerstler

our week // vol 7
our week // vol 7
our week // vol 7
our week // vol 7
our week // vol 7
our week // vol 7
our week // vol 7
our week // vol 7
our week // vol 7
our week // vol 7