- me-36
- Laura had just turned 5 seven weeks ago
- Jasmine would turn 4 in less than two weeks
- Margret had recently turned 2
After collapsing in exhaustion at 6pm this evening I have roused myself to a second wind--at least enough to do the dishes and write my weekly installment.
I was asked to give a Storytelling Presentation with an emphasis on visual aids at Alta High to the Child Development students. Three straight hours of story telling to three classes plus the stress (even though I enjoy this type of assignment) must have contributed to my collapse earlier this evening. The girls helped me rehearse for my presentation this morning. It was especially fun to watch Laura be the peddler in CAPS FOR SALE and Jasmine and Margret be the monkeys.
Every morning Jasmine asks, "Is it my birthday?" or "Is it my pre-school today?"
I love my early morning snuggles (brief though they be) with each of my girls as they wake-- usually Laura first and then Jasmine and then Margret.
This morning Jasmine broke our bathroom towel bar by hanging on it. Little did we know that the grotesquely ornate supports that looked like cast-off breast-plates for a Valkyrie in a Wagnerian opera were made only of PLASTIC! I can't bring myself to feel badly about it. Laura says now our house is getting to be like the old house. (We must have gone a year without a towel bar there, always hanging towels on the shower curtain rod). Hopefully this time we'll be more quick about replacing it.
Margret has developed a fear of moths--of all things. She calls them bees.
The other day we pulled the bathroom heater grate off the floor to discover what treasures might be hidden in the duct. We found a cache of pencils which Jasmine retrieved for us. (We're sure she's the one who put them there in the first place).
Laura's wish this evening was, "I want to be with an adult and do what adults do." She also wants us to have love in our house. I finally told her she could go to bed happy on her own or she could go to bed sad because at 10p.m. I was going to stick with our house-rule and ignore her. (This treatment is supposed to begin at 8). She went to bed. I had been wondering where she'd gotten HER energy as she hadn't had a nap and has been up since 6:30. Sigh.
This morning I overheard Laura say to Jasmine at the breakfast table, "We're going to have to have a talk about marriage. Girls don't marry girls." To which Jasmine replied, "But Angela wants to marry me." The other day Jasmine walked to preschool with her 'boyfriend' Eric. (I'll admit to immense motherly amusement and tenderness as I trailed them pushing Margret in the stroller watching them hold hands). Jasmine said, "I'm going to marry you Eric." To which he replied, "Boys don't get married when they grow up-- only girls do." Which would make it perfectly logical to a three-year-old that she could marry Angela.
All about me are strewn evidences of children. My sponge-capped dispenser of transparent glue is hopelessly petrified. Books with movable parts left within reach of children have felt the sting of curious hands. Pools of milk have been wiped from the table and out of hair. At some point I must sigh and admit to either a distressing lapse in enforcing manners or keeping things out of reach OR discover that some things really DON'T matter and that children really DO need to explore and discover and can be gently prompted to absorb values. This afternoon Jasmine got to wipe off the fridge her magnificent swipe of blue crayon with just a little help from mom and dad.
Often on Mondays I try to run errands while Jasmine is at preschool. (That way I have only two children to encumber me). This Monday I wanted to get some pictures framed, go to the copy center, and visit my sisters-in law. I decided, "Business before pleasure" so meant to go to the frame shop first. But my car took the wrong exit--I was on my way to Gaylene's! To my mild expletive, "Shucks," Laura wanted to know what was wrong. I explained I'd taken the wrong exit. She replied, "Oh well, things hardly ever go as planned." This struck me as funny coming from a five year old. I asked who had told her that. She said, "Dad says it sometimes." As it was, I was glad I'd missed the exit.
Every week when I close my letter I think of a dozen other episodes I could have / should have related. But at least you get a peek into this much of our every-days and at some futre date I can peek back at them.
