Day 3 of the Outdoors Family Challenge in my house almost ended as soon as it started. When I came in the door, Sprout was playing with his Duplos. I asked him, “Do you want to go outside?” To which he promptly answered, “No.” Fortunately, I wasn’t deterred and he wasn’t being terribly stubborn, so we headed outside five minutes later. The scavenger hunt (PDF) didn’t exactly go as planned, but plans never quite do with three-year-olds.
“We talked about how it was different from the spiderweb at the house.” (The one outside our kitchen window.)
My husband took on the Outdoors Family Challenge responsibilities today! (For instructions on today’s prompt, check out Day 2 – Walking and Biking to a Destination.) I have a long commute and often don’t get home until 6:30, so I knew it would be hard to walk anywhere further than the park (which is literally across the street) before dinner.
Chris decided to walk to our downtown area with the kids, which at a mile away, is fairly ambitious. Here’s what they saw, with quotes from my husband:
Looking up the aisle, I swallowed and blinked to hold back tears. There stood my husband-to-be, my best friend, the person I had spent the last five years of my young life loving. He seemed to be shaking just a little in his tux, his hazel eyes looking back at me.
Walking down the hallway in work today, I hummed Billy Joel’s “You’re My Home” to myself. “Wherever we’re together, that’s my home.” I thought of my husband’s smile and smiled back to myself.
On the day you get married, people say you have your whole life ahead of you. What they don’t tell you is that life is made up of a series of years, months and days, each with their own rhythm. Even though ten years sounds like a long time on your wedding day, it doesn’t feel that way when it rolls around.
Instead, it feels like a collection of the ordinary and extraordinary, the good and the bad, the hard and the easy, with both of you together at the center. At least that’s how it felt to me, when my husband, Chris, and I celebrated our tenth anniversary.
In that decade, Chris and I learned a lot about each other and marriage. We’ve been through hospital stays, international travel, crummy work hours, living in multiple places, graduate school, and having two kids.
Here are a few things we’ve picked up along the way:
My years are measured in seasons now, not months or years. Each brings a flurry of activity and opportunity for growth.
Fall:
Roaming the local pumpkin patch, we find the most perfect bumpy, little pumpkin for our little boy. Around campfires and hay bales, we breathe in the cooling air.
The leaves shift colors and drift down. As much as my two-year-old loves jumping on the bed, he’s never jumped in leaves before. We start with a slow-motion fall, easing our way down with giggles and flailing. After a few jumps, he piles the leaves into the wheelbarrow by the armful.
The week before, we had stripped the garden, pulling out monstrous tomato plants and prickly squash. Now, we empty the composter, scraping the sides of the dark sludge and shreds of newspaper caught there. We break down the straw bale that held our Jack o’lantern, layering it in with the compost and leaves. The pile nearly comes up to my son’s head.
The Victorian-influenced sun and moon wallpaper, that I felt so grown-up picking out. The musical theater posters on the wall, including one from West Side Story signed by the touring cast. The photograph of two manatees kissing at Homosassa Springs that my dad took when I was in third grade. The glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, interspersed with painted clouds. All fundamental elements of my childhood bedroom, now all gone. Instead, it’s some other child’s bedroom, empty and awaiting his dream of what he wants it to be.
Last month, my parents closed on my childhood home in upstate New York so they could move closer to us. They sold it to a young family with two small boys. Like my parents 30 years ago, the mother and father were excited about the good school district and suburban neighborhood. While I’m glad everything worked out, it’s still a bit bittersweet for me.
Some people just hate fun. At least that’s the impression I get from all of the “I have better things to do than Pokemon” posts on social media. But these people are far sillier than the game they’re making fun of.
Play is a fundamental part of human life. It’s the most important for children, who are seriously suffering from a decline in the hours spent in play over the last few decades. But it’s essential for adults as well. In The Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin reports that people who make time to have fun are 20 times happier than those who don’t. Play sparks creativity, provides relaxation, and perhaps most importantly, brings joy.
Dear Sprout,
Just a few days ago, we celebrated your third birthday. You are no longer a baby and will be leaving toddlerdom behind soon. You became a big brother a few months ago, will be attending preschool in the fall, and just went to your first day of summer camp. I think both of us are feeling a bit bittersweet these days.
Geekdom has not had a good reputation lately, with rampant sexism, racism, homophobia, harassment, and a whole slew of other offenses being made public. But attending AwesomeCon in Washington, D.C. this past weekend with my kids gave me hope for the future.
“I want daddy.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Really? You don’t want me to give you a bath?” My voice cracks.
“No, I want Daddy for bath. Daddy, give mommy [Little Bird],” my older son insists.
Sigh. “I’ll give him his bath,” my husband acquiesces and hands me the baby.
I watch as my almost three-year-old (nicknamed Sprout) ambles over to the bathroom, where I usually need to drag him. I’ve always been the one to put him to bed, only relinquishing it to my husband on the rare occasion I’m out of the house. My husband follows him, pulling my son’s monster towel out of the closet on the way.
I didn’t expect it to be like this.
Feeding and taking care of my child is an important, essential job. I need to keep reminding myself of this.
A few weeks ago, a friend of mine asked how I could keep up the blog with a newborn. That answer was relatively easy; I write on the phone while nursing. But the question he didn’t ask – why I’m keeping up the blog – struck me. There are pat answers involving maintaining my audience and SEO, but if it came down to it, I would ignore them. No, the reason I’ve kept writing is because it feels like important work.