The Crazy:
Last night, we had open house. It was one more thing to fit into our day. The routine has been becoming a comfort, but sometimes when there is one more thing, it throws things off. We got home later than usual. No time for a story. Straight to bed. Today was picture day and I had forgotten to fill out the form. On top of getting breakfast, kids up, etc, I had to figure out the picture thing; encourage the kids to pick out something nice for their pictures and to brush their hair a little better than the usual garbage pail mop expectation. As I was filling out the forms; the toddler woke up and would not be happy if I was not the one to hold her. There was no choice this morning as I tried to fill out the forms, she sobbed and hung onto my legs. At the same time, we could not find the gentle hairbrush. My eight year old daughter would not accept using a regular brush. It hurts too much. She had to find it, but finding it was not realistic. She would not accept reality and continued to refuse to brush with the harsher alternative. Of course, it was missing on picture day. Meanwhile the clock ticked. Fortunately, my son was compliant this morning, dressed in a Minecraft tee shirt, hair wetted down and brushed(for a change). Oh, but where did he go last minute when it was time to get out the door? Finally, middle daughter, accepted her fate and allowed me to brush and braid her hair. Crying toddler, placed in stroller for the walk to school and we somehow managed to make it to school on time(barely). (of course, my hair was hurriedly thrown into a ponytail; and my own teeth unbrushed; and the only thing I put into myself was coffee) This is real life. The crazy rush of morning. Not having even a chance to really say anything to my husband before going separate ways; other than reactions to the harried stress of getting everyone ready; and answering to his frustrations, as he also tried to keep up.
The Contemplative:
But real life is this too: Through the Eyes of a Two Year Old. Walking home from school; after dropping off the kids; we slowed. We walked by the grapevine. Yesterday, we had stopped there after school. Toddler-Kei had noticed a fallen grape, and was very concerned about it. She picked it up and carried it home. This morning, she thought of the grape again, and looked for it, very concerned that it was no longer there. She talked about the grape. "oh no, grape" We walked away, but she stopped. She started to cry. There was something about the fallen grape. Did she want another one? Was she thinking of the grape as a living being, hurt? Or did she just feel hungry for a grape? Or something else entirely? I slowed enough, to walk back there with her to find some small ones still growing and talked to her about how there were more. She reached out to touch them, and picked two of them and held them in her hand; satisfied. I wonder what about it made it better? And why the grapes were so important to her. It was so tender to me how a simple thing like grapes were so important to her.
Then we walked further, and a neighbor had a bunch a blow up ghosts in their yard, "what's that?" she asked. "ghosts," I said. "they goo whoooo whooo boo," and she laughed. We walked closer and she shivered. She was fascinated, but also scared (or cold). She repeated, "what's that?" and I repeated my answer and she laughed again. She was so affected by the ghosts too; both fascinated and scared and humored.
Epilogue:
While I was writing this; my 2 year old, got into her sister's room, rummaged through her things, found a lollipop. I found her gleefully rummaging with sucker in mouth!
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