Hallelujah, the summer days are upon us! School let out 6 days ago and though it feels like it's been much, much longer than that, it's (surprisingly) not because my family has been driving me nuts here at home. In fact, they've been dreamy and by dreamy, I mean half of them have been gone. 9 is working a job up at a summer camp in Big Bear, PG is at her third year of camp at Hume Lake, and Mr.C has been at a three day planning committee thing that he's repeatedly explained the purpose of and I've repeatedly forgotten. So, it's been me and the littlest of the littles and they spend most of the day deeply entrenched in imaginary play. Here's a pic I snapped of them this afternoon:
Part of me worries that J is getting too old to get so lost in his imagination. I wonder if he shouldn't be a little more self-conscious or embarrassed to don the crazy outfits he comes up with, if he shouldn't play more sports, if I should ask that he spends more time here in the real world with us. Then I remember that I am an advocate for stories and storytelling and that I have a son who spends most of his time bringing all the stories in his head to life and that most of the famous and talented artists and storytellers that I know of speak of spending their childhoods in much the same way. When I remember that, I feel better about it. (Not much, but enough to make me worry less. Because worrying is apparently what I do. I know. I'm just as annoyed by it as you are.)
Anyway, I got off track. I was explaining why this week has felt so long. It's not because being trapped in the house with the kids has made it feel long......as has been the case in some past years (ahem, I'm looking at you 2004-2011, aka "the baby years"). It's just that the lack of schedule has turned my time into a long, meandering tunnel of no demands that opens up into a vast, sunny meadow of no obligations. With this, I have no problem except for the fact that it's messing with my writing. Without a schedule, my brain is on like a hippie free-flow drive and I can't focus on getting one common theme to thread into an interesting post. So, forgive me this twisty-twirly post. It's just reflecting summer's effect on my mind.
I guess if I had to pick a theme for this post, it'd be hair, which I know is cheap because my last post was about hair, but I can't help it if the Universe chose this week to make hair a theme in our household. Besides, part of what made hair a theme this week was the aftereffect of the great bang massacre that I wrote about last week, and I'll explain all of this in a moment (I'll be honest with you- it's not that interesting, especially now that I've built it up), but I first need to point out that if hair was not a theme before, it most certainly is now, if for no other reason than the fact that I've now typed the word "hair"SIX times in just this one paragraph.
So. Let's talk about hair.
Roo crawled into bed with me the other morning. I happened to be Googling "Rockabilly Bandanna Hairstyles" because I was looking for a way to hide my bangs and a bandanna seemed like a good place to start. (By the way, my sweet friend Alisha commented on the last blog that I should just "sweep my bangs to the side" until they grew out. Dear Alisha, "sweep" is a word that suggests an element of elegance, and I assure you, there is nothing elegant about what happens when I try to "sweep" the hot mess that lays on my forehead to the side. I'm sorry. And I love you for trying to help.)
Anyway, Roo watched a few tutorials with me and asked me if I could give her "Rosie the Riveter" hair for the day. I have to say, I love this about my Roo. She Loves (capital L intentional) hair and makeup. I remember exactly when this obsession started. It was Halloween a few years ago, in which we dressed the kids as Lock, Shock and Barrel. She was Barrel, the Skeleton, and as I sponged the white face makeup onto her face, she was absolutely enthralled. Not like giddy, happy enthralled; more like serious, all of her senses open to the experience, taking it all in enthralled. She loved the nearness of the other person's face as they patted her makeup on and filled in her eyeliner. She loved following my directions of "blink" or "close your eyes" or "stick out you lips". For months after, she relived all of it through her play. I spent quite a lot of time letting her apply fake makeup to my face, the soft puffs of her breath on my nose as she ran a soft brush across my eyelids, giving me directions on opening or closing my eyes and alternately holding a mirror up to my face. She a girly-girl for sure, but for her, it's about the transformation. She loves it. So naturally when she saw the tutorial for Rockabilly Bandanna hair, she was interested. And when I did it for her, I nearly died from the cuteness.
I've always regretted not being part of the Rockabilly Movement (was it really a movement, or just a trend?). I may be able to live vicariously through my Roo though.
Here's the other part of hair in our household this week: J got his head shaved. Here's the before and after.
When I was looking at this picture, I realized that the before picture is exactly how I fear J is going to look in the future after he's moved out and doesn't have to listen to me tell him how to take care of himself: scraggly hair, food on his face, and wonky eyed. I think it's his default look, lord help me.
Now that I've written close to a thousand words about pretty much nothing (I'm so sorry), let me leave you with this one last thing. Yesterday I was vacuuming PG's room when I came across a ring of index cards filled with quotes. I guess her teacher had them write a quote a day and keep them on a ring in their desk. Maybe I'm just feeling extra sentimental from missing her while she's away, but reading that ring of quotes made me just fall in love with her teacher. That one little activity didn't have much to do with math or reading or writing, but what a beautiful way to teach children perspective. I got a little teary-eyed reading through them. No one should dare say anything against educators to me for quite a while- this one act has made me feel fiercely protective of them.
So, I leave you with this one quote from my daughter's ring full from her fourth grade year: "Today, me will live in the moment... unless it's unpleasant, in which case me will eat a cookie." -Cookie Monster
I'm going to make that my motto for the summer. No plans. Just living in the moment, and when life gets rough, I'll have a cookie.
Have a great night.
Anyway, I got off track. I was explaining why this week has felt so long. It's not because being trapped in the house with the kids has made it feel long......as has been the case in some past years (ahem, I'm looking at you 2004-2011, aka "the baby years"). It's just that the lack of schedule has turned my time into a long, meandering tunnel of no demands that opens up into a vast, sunny meadow of no obligations. With this, I have no problem except for the fact that it's messing with my writing. Without a schedule, my brain is on like a hippie free-flow drive and I can't focus on getting one common theme to thread into an interesting post. So, forgive me this twisty-twirly post. It's just reflecting summer's effect on my mind.
I guess if I had to pick a theme for this post, it'd be hair, which I know is cheap because my last post was about hair, but I can't help it if the Universe chose this week to make hair a theme in our household. Besides, part of what made hair a theme this week was the aftereffect of the great bang massacre that I wrote about last week, and I'll explain all of this in a moment (I'll be honest with you- it's not that interesting, especially now that I've built it up), but I first need to point out that if hair was not a theme before, it most certainly is now, if for no other reason than the fact that I've now typed the word "hair"SIX times in just this one paragraph.
So. Let's talk about hair.
Roo crawled into bed with me the other morning. I happened to be Googling "Rockabilly Bandanna Hairstyles" because I was looking for a way to hide my bangs and a bandanna seemed like a good place to start. (By the way, my sweet friend Alisha commented on the last blog that I should just "sweep my bangs to the side" until they grew out. Dear Alisha, "sweep" is a word that suggests an element of elegance, and I assure you, there is nothing elegant about what happens when I try to "sweep" the hot mess that lays on my forehead to the side. I'm sorry. And I love you for trying to help.)
Anyway, Roo watched a few tutorials with me and asked me if I could give her "Rosie the Riveter" hair for the day. I have to say, I love this about my Roo. She Loves (capital L intentional) hair and makeup. I remember exactly when this obsession started. It was Halloween a few years ago, in which we dressed the kids as Lock, Shock and Barrel. She was Barrel, the Skeleton, and as I sponged the white face makeup onto her face, she was absolutely enthralled. Not like giddy, happy enthralled; more like serious, all of her senses open to the experience, taking it all in enthralled. She loved the nearness of the other person's face as they patted her makeup on and filled in her eyeliner. She loved following my directions of "blink" or "close your eyes" or "stick out you lips". For months after, she relived all of it through her play. I spent quite a lot of time letting her apply fake makeup to my face, the soft puffs of her breath on my nose as she ran a soft brush across my eyelids, giving me directions on opening or closing my eyes and alternately holding a mirror up to my face. She a girly-girl for sure, but for her, it's about the transformation. She loves it. So naturally when she saw the tutorial for Rockabilly Bandanna hair, she was interested. And when I did it for her, I nearly died from the cuteness. I've always regretted not being part of the Rockabilly Movement (was it really a movement, or just a trend?). I may be able to live vicariously through my Roo though.
Here's the other part of hair in our household this week: J got his head shaved. Here's the before and after.
When I was looking at this picture, I realized that the before picture is exactly how I fear J is going to look in the future after he's moved out and doesn't have to listen to me tell him how to take care of himself: scraggly hair, food on his face, and wonky eyed. I think it's his default look, lord help me.
Now that I've written close to a thousand words about pretty much nothing (I'm so sorry), let me leave you with this one last thing. Yesterday I was vacuuming PG's room when I came across a ring of index cards filled with quotes. I guess her teacher had them write a quote a day and keep them on a ring in their desk. Maybe I'm just feeling extra sentimental from missing her while she's away, but reading that ring of quotes made me just fall in love with her teacher. That one little activity didn't have much to do with math or reading or writing, but what a beautiful way to teach children perspective. I got a little teary-eyed reading through them. No one should dare say anything against educators to me for quite a while- this one act has made me feel fiercely protective of them.
So, I leave you with this one quote from my daughter's ring full from her fourth grade year: "Today, me will live in the moment... unless it's unpleasant, in which case me will eat a cookie." -Cookie Monster
I'm going to make that my motto for the summer. No plans. Just living in the moment, and when life gets rough, I'll have a cookie.
Have a great night.
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