End-of-Year Highlights
With a trip out of town and 2 weeks off of school, December has given us lots of family time. We started the month with a visit to Minnesota to meet a brand new nephew/ cousin. JJ thought the baby was great, but wrestling with the other nephew/ cousin was better. I couldn’t get a shot that wasn’t in motion.
We got home with plenty of time to get a tree from a local farm. Right next to a horse pasture, Panga wandered over to check it out. She’s so tough from this side of the fence, all woofing and pouncing around.
Yikes, someone got too close.
We don’t get a lot of snow here in Oregon, but the mornings have been frosty this month. The nighttime fog is beautiful frozen onto the landscape.
No matter the month, every time we wake up to frost out the windows, the kids cheer, “It’s Christmas!” I guess that’s the conclusion they make from every Christmas book, picture, movie, or show they see. Christmas equals snow, so any whiteness resembling snow on the ground must equal Christmas.
It started to look a little more like Christmas inside the house as we got our decorations up, including two impromptu stockings Elia fashioned for the rats.
She asked Santa to please fill the stockings for the rats, too.
An evening trip to the zoo meant no animals, but plenty to see.
The live animals go in for the night, and the light-up animals come on display.
Hot chocolate is a must when waiting in line for the night zoo train.
A little surprise we discovered inside our tree. What kind of creature did this belong to?
It wasn’t this little friend:
Cookies gets cozy in JJ’s sleeve as she eats a small treat. We did send her into the branches of the tree to climb around for a while and see who might be living in there. Spiders galore, but no small animals in the nest.
My favorite part of the holiday is Christmas eve dinner; soup from scratch and homemade bread. A simple meal that we eat by candlelight and remark on how much goodness and joy we have in our lives. All year round, our lives are rich with the essence of Christmas; it’s nice to take a quiet evening to reflect upon this. Of course, we also share our excitement in giving each other gifts the next morning.
Elia made this candle from scraps of modeling wax and a piece of string. I love it.
JJ enjoys a snack by the Christmas tree, while someone discreetly tries to make her presence known.
Hm, can I get any closer? Or focus my eyes more intently? Maybe I can perk my ears up higher to let you know that I’m very interested in what you have. That, what I’m staring at. I want what you have.
As this season of reflection draws to a close, I am looking toward the new year. We’ve spent so much time at home this month, it will be sad to get back into our regular routine again next week. But back into it we will get, and I have plans, lots of plans. Can’t wait to see you all again in the new year!
Artistic Family Fun
We love the game “Guess My Picture.” It’s very visual, no reading required, and allows for some really creative interpretation. In re-creating photographs with simple geometric shapes, I get to see some fascinating distinctions between each of my kids.
Elia is quite literal; she notices the major shapes and proportions and assembles accordingly.
JJ is more abstract; he accentuates only the most distinguishing shapes of the object in the photo, creating a caricature.
I’m sure there are rules, but the way we play it, there are no winners nor any set end time. We just have fun guessing each other’s pictures until we get tired of it. Which, yesterday, took an hour.
And yes, that is Elia and me on the box. In case you were wondering.
Death, Tears, and Restful Sleep
JJ has been asking many questions about death lately. I’m not sure what prompted this new interest, but he’ll often have a thought about dying “just pop into my head!” as he says, and he’ll proceed to ask lots of questions about it. When will we die? What is it like when you’re dead? Can you move? Can you even move one muscle just a tiny bit? Can you come back as a ghost or zombie? Will we never see each other again?
This is not just a game of a kid playing “what if,” or “let’s pretend”; his questions are serious and tearful. They start off quiet and thoughtful, and as they spill out, his lower lip beings to tremble. In no time, he is overwhelmed with sadness thinking about this difficult concept and crying, “I don’t want to die! I don’t even like to think about someone dying, because that just makes me so sad!”
I do my best to answer gently yet straightforwardly, though it is certainly no easy task. Death is a difficult, emotional topic, no matter if you’re 5 or 95. I know I cannot simply explain it away as I can when answering questions about cooking or the internet or the importance of brushing your teeth.
One day last week, his teary questions evolved into sobs. I didn’t have any concrete answers for my overwhelmed 5-year-old, so I told him that. And I held him. And I told him how difficult it is for anyone to think about losing someone they love. Death is scary. I stayed with JJ while he cried that afternoon. I listened to his tears and fears. I accepted his uncertainties and sadness. It was an emotional day for him.
What I didn’t do was try to make it “go away.” I didn’t try to change the subject or cheer him up. I think that, often, we want to put an end to unpleasant feelings; our own, our children’s, or anyone’s. We want to squelch our sadness and replace it with happiness and only focus on “the good stuff.” But really, life isn’t all good stuff, and it’s important to be able to handle that. For me, this means teaching my kids that their feelings are OK; all of them, even the unpleasant ones. In this instance of JJ exploring his fears about death, I think it was more important for him to feel than to suppress or ignore or pretend that death isn’t something to worry about. So that is what we did; JJ felt and I let him embrace that. My role was simply to be present for him for as long as it took that afternoon. He cried a long time.
That night was the first night in a long time that he hasn’t woken up in the middle of the night to come join us for snuggles. He slept the whole night in his bed and woke up in the morning saying, “Mom, I slept great!”
Was it a coincidence that this happened on a day when he had a huge emotional release regarding his fears about death? My instinct tells me no; that JJ slept soundly because for once in a long time he wasn’t holding on to any stresses, worries, or unresolved feelings from the day. Does he have answers that satisfy his curiosity about death? Not at all. But he does have an increased acceptance of that uncertainty, which is an important step in maturity. Death is confusing and sad and scary. And on that tearful afternoon, what I needed to communicate most to my son, and what he needed to experience most right then, was that those thoughts are OK. It’s OK to feel.
The PFS Blog Logo
In my quest to de-clutter at this time of year, I sorted through a huge stack of my children’s artwork. Got many of the works scanned, some of them framed. I found this one drawn with colored pencils and block crayons by Elia at age 3. Mom, dad, brother, sister. Ah, the simple beauty of a family from a child’s perspective! This one is going in a frame.
Lending A Listening Ear
Sometimes all I can do is listen.
There are many moments in parenting in which I don’t instantly know what to say or do; I don’t know how to react, what answers to give, or how I am supposed to proceed right then.
But, really, that’s not so important because I can always listen. Even if I am momentarily clueless, my kids aren’t. They always have something to communicate, and I can listen.
If I don’t have a solution, I can rephrase. “So, when you showed your toy to the class, one boy said he didn’t want to see it, and that hurt your feelings.”
If I don’t have any answers to give, I can aim for understanding. “You must be feeling disappointed.”
If I don’t know what instructions to issue, I can ask questions instead. “What do you think can be done?”
If I don’t know what action to take, I can focus on gaining perspective. “Oh, so you’re telling me…”
I can hug.
When I don’t know what am I supposed to do as a parent, I can focus on what I can be for my child: a point of understanding, a soucre of comfort, a sounding board for emotional release. My kids have something to say, and sometimes, no matter what other uncertainties may exist, I just need to be there to hear it.
All I need to do is listen.
Parenting From Scratch 