There’s a little bare bum behind that proud smile. It came upon him so quickly, I might not have been to blame for missing the source. After a year of “helping” him learn what no one can truly teach, he figured it out all by himself in a flash. Who knew flush could be a sound which provoked pride? (more…)
I’ve called it a sacred space; I’ve heard it referred to as a womb-room. It’s the space we created in our bedroom after our children were born. It was quiet or quietly interactive, at times light and sometimes dark, filled with love and laughter, wonder and joy. Here, we ate, slept, changed diapers, snuggled, sniffed, caresses, bathed, listened with ears and hearts, watched and wept. (more…)
As he bounces up and down on the trampoline, I can see he’s thinking about all the instructions he’s received over time. Tuck jump, star jump, and seat drop with hands beside your bum. He bounces off the 10 tuck jumps requested by his gymnastics “coach” without out a thought. When she asks him to drop to his seat then bounce back up to his feet, he performs the move flawlessly. When she advances the move to include seat to knees and hands, instead of feet, he tries twice before getting the rhythm. When he looks up at me his faces shines with pride and I can feel him soaking up my verbal encouragement and my clapping. (more…)
In my part of the world the winter is slowly creeping up on us. We’ve moved in the last few days from double digit autumn warmth, to low single digits with many millimetres of rain falling. Our northern neighbours are getting freezing rain, snow and high winds. Clearly it’s time to bunker-down for the true trials of winter: common illnesses. (more…)
Morning should never be T.V. time. Waking rested, bright and full of life I loathe the idea of little spirits getting into the zone of passivity which television invites. Morning should be a joyful, creative, fun time where the family can play while getting ready for the day.
I hear more than the leaves blowing in the early autumn winds these days. As the rain thrashes the soil and pulls at the foliage and its tenuous stems, I hear cries against the routines of Fall. The transition to more serious routines, away from the fancy-free flow of summer is pulling at my kids. And they in turn cling to me, yanking on my heart strings.