It’s been a long week. Time for some Quick Takes.
One
I read this excellent post about how to bring up boys, and then this one, about generational patterns through history, a day or so apart, and found the two together really interesting. In all the discussions of Free Range parenting, and the whining over Millennials, and why are we stuck with Trump and Hillary, it’s marvelous to consider history as a circle, spiraling up and down, and gender roles, parenting choices, and politics within the circle. Maybe I’ll blog about it next week (don’t get your hopes up) but both those pieces were so thought provoking I know I’m going to be waving my arms about it all weekend.
Two
Also too because we’re reading Ecclesiastes in the Tuesday bible study. It’s alarming to read that there’s a time for everything, for the ordinary things of life, like eating toast, and for the extraordinary crises, like going to war. We are always stuck where we are, and don’t want to shift on to the next thing. We become fond of and attached to the current moment, or stuck in the past, or obsessed with the future, and so are not ready or interested in any change that may be required for contentment and the exigencies of life.
Three
I say we but I really mean me. Maybe I’m the only one that doesn’t like change. I like things to go along in the quietest way possible, not being jostled by unforeseen or alarming circumstances. Except when suddenly that becomes too boring and I start raging that we never Do Anything. But then we do do something and I complain that I wish I was sitting quietly at home. Whatever it is that I’ve got going on, I am ready for it to be that other thing.
Four
Witness the business of doing school. I want the children to hurry up and learn to read and write and be wonderful, but as soon as they become independent in some way, I go around feeling mournful for the cozy old days (which I nevertheless hated) when they were all little and we did everything together. Elphine and Alouicious have worked very hard this week, without any reference to me, and seem to have hit their stride. Which Is What I Wanted. But now I don’t know what to do with myself.
Five
Gladys is about to be nine and, of course, she is very excited. She wants a heat up blanket and a sword. Well, a nerf sword. She didn’t even ask for any art supplies, or clothes, or sparkly shoes. She seems to be beating her way into these last years of childhood with determined enthusiasm. Every Monday I haul her out to an hour of acrobatics where she twists herself into a pretzel. It is the happiest hour, for her, of her week. I can’t imagine wanting to twist myself into a pretzel. I never would have been happy to sign up for such an activity. I used to stand on the soccer field, near the goal, languid, hoping the ball would keep as far away from me as possible. If I had to run I would sort of lumber along, miss the ball, and return to my petulant stance near the goal. Which shows you what a good parent I am, not trying to recreate my own childhood for my offspring. I let them be who they are, or try to be who they think they want to be.
Six
Gladys and Marigold are both October babies, and their birthdays are tinged with the agony of autumn. Of course I can’t let this whole month go by without my usual anxiety over the quality of the fall foliage. Is it dimmed at all? Will the Reds be truly Red and the Oranges be heart breaking? Will some trees refuse to change and just drop their leaves to wither on the ground, or worse yet, turn brown. Will God be God? Or will he fail me this autumn?
Seven
And now I must arise and concoct some sandwiches and scones and a mango cobbler, all for a fancy tea in celebration of Gladys making it this far. Whether I will survive the acrobatics of this next year, only time will tell, but in the meantime you will find me gazing anxiously out the window, peering at each individual leaf, waiting for the apocalypse.
Oh! And go check out more quick takes!
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