Seasons of Life

Just as the summer heat finally begins to sink into my bones, the chill of fall sets in.  I hear of back-to-school activities simmering around me, and remember the anticipation that always accompanied this time of year.  I loved school, everything about school.  September brought with it the untarnished hope of new semesters and yet-to-be-filled notebooks.  I loved the smell of clean textbooks, the challenges of projects ahead. 

Even though I loved school so dearly, I don’t want to go back.  I don’t find myself perusing continuing education pamphlets or dragging out my old yearbooks.  I loved school while I was in the school season of life.  And now that the early parenthood season is upon me, I love early parenthood.  I love the similarly untarnished hope of these little new creations in my care, the yet-to-be-filled blank slates staring back at me (although I do admit their slates are not quite as blank as I expected – the Lord has imprinted them with strong natures that are oftentimes unyielding to the press of nurture).  I love the smell of clean babies, and the challenges of upcoming developmental stages.  I love that each season of the year is now accompanied by new behaviors, new lessons learned. 

Of course, there are elements of academia that I miss, such as the duty – or rather, the freedom – to lose myself in books of literature and poetry for hours on end.  I currently don’t have hours of my day free to devote to such pursuits, but I do have a minute here or there.  And recently, I had the pleasure of coming across a beautiful little poem by the late Kim Waller that artfully captured the season of fall as it settles across the Connecticut hillside.  Growing up in California, I don’t recall this time of year being associated with changing leaves or browning hills, but now as a New Englander, even creation itself seems to shed a few layers to prepare for the buckling down ahead.   

Across the general green

some yellow leaves drift down,

inscribing random scratches

on the dying face of summer.

Not yet the reddening patch,

not yet the rampant inflammation

that swells from hill to hill

and undoes creation.

Just as this poem testifies to the transient nature of physical seasons, so to do the seasons of life come to an end.  I chose to close the book, so to speak, on my years of schooling, and the Lord opened the book of parenthood to me.  But that season, too, will one day end.  A friend reminded me this weekend about the importance of grasping the fact that our children are simply on loan to us from the Lord.  He is the one who created them, who gave them life, and who holds their eternal destiny in His Hands.  I have been given the privilege of caring for them for a season.  I must remember that each day with them is a gift from above.  Whether today was in the early spring of our time together, or in the last days of winter, I do not know.  But just as the Lord brings the flowers up from the earth, or causes the leaves to fall from the trees, He is in control of my life, and the lives of my children.  “To everything there is a season / A time for every purpose under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1).  

Ladies and Gentlemen

Our guests this weekend were a family with four teenage boys, plus an additional five teenage boys.  So between my in-laws’ house and our house, there was enough testosterone to outweigh the meager estrogen output (I don’t think my girls’ estrogen levels count for much yet).  I was exhausted just watching the boys consume large quantities of food.  And contemplating the unending loads of laundry their mom, Kim, must do.  But we had a fantastic time with them all – especially Jim, who was in his diesel-powered glory.  But now he must return to the world of headbands, dolls, and, yes, frilly dresses.

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(Rebecca is mimicking her dad’s gagging at all the frilliness).

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But who couldn’t help but love a frilly bum?

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So while we were thrilled to have boat-riding, food-gorging teenage boys around for a change, our friend Kim was thankful for a little girl time.  Although I’m afraid that my girls nearly rival the boys’ ability to generate smelly piles of laundry!

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Guests Galore

We have been blessed with multiple car loads of wonderful guests this weekend.  The guys all did their thing (ATVing and boating)…

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…and we girls did our thing (dressing the kids up and making them wear headbands).

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We were all very happy doing our separate activities- although us girls were quite a bit less wet and tired and sore at the end of the day! 

Book Nook

Thursday, I posted about the difficulty Rebecca has defending her right to read without incurring head injuries.  I think I’ve found the solution:

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Strap ‘em into the stroller, and take ‘em to the library.  Perfect! 

Reading Room

Have you ever heard that corny children’s joke:

Q:”What’s black and white and red all over?”

A: “A Newspaper”

Well, that joke came to mind this morning while I was watching the girls play.  Only I’d have to modify the punch line a smidge:

Q: “What’s black and blue and red all over?”

A: “Rebecca, after Susanna got done with her.”

Rebecca was minding her own business, diligently reading a book, when Susanna decided she was bored with eating puzzle pieces and wanted a playmate (evidently I wasn’t entertaining enough).  She babbled and waved a puzzle piece in her sister’s direction, but Rebecca only looked up, frowned, and continued to read.  Susanna wasn’t about to take no for an answer, so she scooched a little closer and thwacked Rebecca on the head with the puzzle piece.  Unfortunately, Susanna’s attempt to get her sister’s attention backfired.  Rebecca screeched, dropped her book, and crawled away.  I scolded Susanna for beating her sister over the head, but I couldn’t help but think that Rebecca’s going to have a hard time finding a private place to read her books from now on!

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Homecoming

Yesterday evening, Rebecca was looking longingly at the door, waiting for her daddy to come home from his three-day business trip:

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Tonight, she was looking longingly into her daddy’s eyes!  We missed you, hon, and we’re all so glad you’re home!

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The Frown

Many of you have seen Becky’s “Frown.”  If you don’t know what I’m referring to, then you haven’t seen it.  The Frown is hard to forget.  When she frowns at you, you feel like you’re back in grade school, being stared down by a large, mean teacher after you just flubbed what should have been a simple math problem.  Her look says, “You’re a moron.  What were you thinking?”  Becky typically shoots you The Frown when she’s been scolded, or when she’s been injured.  For example, if she bumps her head on a table, she’ll turn and look at you with this shocked, disbelieving expression, like your stupidity personally caused her cranium to get whacked.    

But descriptions don’t do it justice.  You’ve got to see it to fully grasp the impact of the Becky Frown. 

I’ve been trying to capture The Frown on camera for a while, with no luck.  When I asked her to give me The Frown on demand today, this is what she did:

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and this:

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The closest she came to The Frown was this:

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I’ll be sure to let you know if I’m ever able to catch the elusive, fleeting moment when Becky visibly disapproves of the world’s idiocy. 

Who knows where she ever got the look from?

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Porch Swing

The girls and I went over to my in-laws’ for dinner this evening and enjoyed the view from their front porch.  Well, more specifically, the girls enjoyed the scenery, and I enjoyed watching them!

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An Evening Spin

What do you do on a beautiful late summer evening?  Why, go for a ride in a convertible, of course!

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The girls even took a little spin (literally) in their car.  Jim had the bright idea to hook his father’s cane to the front bumper of the car, and whisked them around and around in circles.  It was like having an amusement park in our front yard!

 

Thanks for the Memories

We’re back home, safe and sound…and sad.  We already miss our California family.  I’m choked up just thinking about the fact that I won’t see Grampa when we wake up in the morning, reading a book in the corner by the window, keeping us company while we eat our breakfast.  And I won’t be able to wake up Aunt Angie with the girls’ babbling outside her bedroom door.  And we won’t get our constant Grammie hugs and kisses and smiles all day long.   I loved watching my parents’ and sister’s expressions as they played with the girls, their eyes alight with joy and wonder and adoration.  It’s so hard being far away from my family, but it makes me cherish our precious moments together all the more.  We had a wonderful week with you, family, and can’t wait until we’ll all be together again.  Thanks for the memories! 

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