Menial Labor

Yesterday I spent 30 minutes on whatever individual children wanted to do (which is something I aim to do each week, with varying success). First, I went roller-blading down the street with Tolman, then Thomas wanted me to push him on his swing. As I was pushing Thomas, I suddenly realized that I was doing the same thing, over and over, and there was nothing else going on: it was quiet, and Thomas didn't even feel the need to talk. It was repetitive work, there was little intelligent interaction... and it was nice.

A morning goodbye

This morning, I did something right. Thomas was a bit reluctant to go to day-care this morning, and when we got there he said he wanted to go home. This was a bit frustrating, because I struggled with him a bit getting his shoes as we left and I was already somewhat late for work. But I sat and hugged him for a minute. I held him tight. He was a bit limp at first, so I made him put both his arms all the way around me. He does know how to hold on when he wants! After a minute, his friends started calling him, and he wanted to look around at them, but I kept holding him and I turned him into me so that he would not be distracted from our hug. A little later, he started pushing me away playfully; he punched me softly and bumped my head with his, obviously feeling better. So I let him go, and he stood there, probably waiting to feel more comfortable about running to his friends. (He tends to react to new situations very slowly.) I left at that point, feeling extremely warm from holding him and leaving knowing that we were parting in good spirits.

That's what this is all about.

July 4th with the family

Yesterday was West Bountiful's Independence Day Celebration. Yes, it is still June, but our city does our stuff on a weekend far from the national celebration so as to avoid conflicting with everything else that happens. We're a small town in the middle of a large urban area (we still have horse property all around us!), so we have the feeling of a smaller community. I really enjoyed our little parade, carnival, and then time afterward as a family. The whole day was kind of up-and-down; there was a lot of complaining and crying and disappointment and outright boredom, but there were also a ton of smiles and mingled in our myriad of activities. I was pondering life issues this morning and I realized that it was truly a memorable day, and a fond memory at that, so it is worth recording here.

It began with our city parade. Ella and Tolman sang in the school choir, so they got to ride and sing in a float.









Thomas and Olivia seemed to really enjoy it. Olivia was up and around, cheering for the floats, and waving enthusiasticallythe whole time; between that and chasing after all the candy thrown out, it was quite the interactive event.













Then we went to the park where the first performance was the school choir. Naturally, Ella sang with all her might; Tolman sang some things, though I don't have a picture to prove it. The kids did well... for kids. But it seems to be more fun to watch what they do on stage that isn't part of the performance, especially when they're supposed to be performing.


















Of course, the kids had to go on the blow-up slides and obstacle courses; anyone who knows Olivia, Tolman, and Ellie will recognize a bit of their personalities in each of their styles.





And this is where I have to give a hand to Lynnette, because she took every one of these pictures; Thomas went down a slide, too, but we don't have a picture of it because I took him to the different one that he wanted to go on, and I don't typically take pictures. Sorry about that.












So then the cousins invited us over for swimming, just to make the day perfect. (That last picture is of Ella's legs: she's doing a handstand underwater.)















Yes, I'm skipping over the part where Thomas threw screaming fits at the park, and where I was disappointed at going swimming because I wanted a peaceful afternoon at home. But for some reason it's easy for me to forget about those parts as I consider what yesterday meant to my family. And I didn't even mention how the kids got to stay up late at the neighbor's house (yes, all the kids), or how I helped take down at the park, or how Lynnette and I put together a few bookshelves, and how we quietly watched the city's fireworks from afar on our porch.

Hm. Yep. A heck of a summer day.

A Poetic Performance

Here is a Pop!Tech performance by "slam poet" Vanessa German who impressed me with her imagery and topic and fantastic energy as well as her word-smithing. It's worth 5 minutes of your time; I listened to it on my iPod while doing something else, and it energized me.

"If my hands were anything other than hands!" Her words have illuminated brilliant videos in my mind's eye. Thanks, Vanessa!

A better life for a Honduran woman in many ways

I post most of the cool, socially-innovative things I find in my "Effective Society" blog. But this interview contained a story about how a group of dedicated friends really improved the life of a woman and her entire family, in not just one way but in many remarkable ways. What a gift! (FYI, that link will play only the 4 minutes of that story, so you don't have to listen to the whole podcast.)

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Do I know any of my neighbors well enough to offer this kind of encouragement and help? I'm afraid I don't interact with many of them long enough to hear their stories. Maybe I have a chance with the people at work. Hopefully I'll be listening and attentive if someone close by ever needs support from a dedicated friend.

Tender-hearted Children

A couple nights ago, a bird in our yard got injured by a dog. The kids were fascinated and tried to help it, and Tolman brought it home in a glove (because we've told them how dead animals can carry diseases). Unfortunately it was unable to move very well; it just sat, breathing, rarely opening it's eyes. I put it in the garage and put the kids to bed; I told them that I might have to put it down, but I would look one more time to see if it might survive. It was pretty broken up, and it seemed that it's legs were not going to work any more. I put it out of it's misery. (That was a horrible task that I hope I never, ever have to do again.)

I almost put it in the garbage, but I felt like it deserved more respect, so I buried it in the field in the back.

I went inside and told Tolman first. He was upset and started crying. He asked why, with a little bit of anger; I tried to explain about the bird being in pain and dying anyway, though I don't feel like I explained it very well. I spent a few minutes with him because he was very, very sad. He asked how I did it, and I told him.

The whole time I was talking with him, I was touched: he was extremely distraught over the loss of a small animal, one he had only known for a few moments. He valued that little life, and he deeply mourned it's passing with all his heart, even if only for a few minutes.

I then went into Ellie's room and told her. She sobbed, hard; seriously, it was like she put all her might into crying. She asked why as well, and I tried explaining again. She also asked me if I buried it; I'm so glad I was able to tell her that I did. She, too, asked how I did it; I didn't want to tell her, so I asked if she really wanted to know, and she said "no". I was surprised, but I'm so glad she had the presence of mind to say that. I would have told her if she really wanted, though I don't think it would have been good for her; I think that's something Tolman can handle better.

I spent a while with her as well; she cries over quite a few things, but it's rare that she'll cry so hard for so long. Again, I felt so gratified that the bird's life meant something to this child. I don't want too many experiences like this, but I'm so glad I went through it with them; it's so encouraging that they felt such concern for something meaningful.

A good dinner

Our youngest, 3-year-old Thomas, is our most difficult child because he is very willful and has an extremely short fuse; my sister-in-law has 6 children, and even she says that he's the hardest she's dealt with, so I know he's a special case. In every activity with us, he has at least one fit where he screams or throws a tantrum or actually throws something. He is getting much better with us (or vice versa) because there are times that we can pay direct attention to him and go through the steps of "please..." and then "I need you to..." and then a time-out, and he'll often come around. But it is incredibly frustrating to deal with someone who is constantly contrary.

So it was very surprising and rewarding last night that he came and sat down with us for dinner, and furthermore he didn't complain one time as we ate! When I asked him to move over to make room for someone, he said "OK" and did it right then. He talked to us calmly and said "only a little" as we gave him his salad, and he didn't yell or push away his plate when I put on the second fork-full. He ate all his dinner; he's an interesting one because he usually likes all his vegetables (and prefers them to meat), but he doesn't often eat everything like that.

I found myself pleasantly surprised that we had such a nice time together, and even now it is so gratifying that dinner last night was so... normal. Many good memories are emotional moments in unique situations; this one will be a treasure not because it was so remarkable but because it was such a departure from all our previous experience.

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I realize that I did not praise Thomas for his behavior. How many times do we have a normal interaction with someone and fail to recognize that blessing in the moment, much less fail to express appreciation for it? Yesterday at work, Gordon was remarking on how much pain we've had in the past when making large-scale improvements to our product, and now we reap the benefits and consider our current situation as normal but we hardly recall how much work it took to get to this point. Yes, I feel lucky right now to have the everyday life that I do.