One. Playing has ramped up several notches in this household. Peek-a-boo and tickle monster remain popular staples but the repertoire’s expanded to hide and seek, toss the ball, and ofcourse pool. He’s a regular hustler at pool:
The playing corresponds with his ramped up curiosity of the world around him. No longer content with rifling through the cupboards [though he still hones this skill daily] he wants to do more. Like draw. On my kitchen walls. His increased desire to explore and play led me to worry about how best to meet his developmental needs so I got him legos and a “stick the shape in the right hole- box” [surely there’s a simpler name but the box had no clear title for said cube] He politely played with each for approximately five minutes, and then stuck the empty lego box on his head and tromped around the house playing soccer with”shape box”
Someone suggested daycare for the developmental benefits of constant interaction and while a part of me thinks there will be plenty of time for regimented play, the other part of me worries that home with me, he’s not getting enough. The other day, too incapacitated to be much of a playmate, I reached new levels of mom-guilt when he bounded up and presented me with a paper cup and an expression that seemed to say Because I have inadequate stimulation you’ve reduced me to wandering the house with a paper cup for companionship. I grabbed a pen, drew a face on it, turned my voice up a few octaves, and made it a puppet. He has so many toys but I’ve never seen him so completely filled with joy as he did when playing with our ‘puppets’ [he made me make one for him too] Silly yes, but nonsense? No. There’s benefit in creativity and stretching the imagination. Plus it was free. This time is fleeting and I know around the bend is a day when rudimentary puppets will not do. Why not focus on the simple pleasures and let the toys, for now, gather dust if they must?
Two. And incase I wasnt aware of how fast time flies, I checked my e-mail today to find an e-mail from a student I taught my first year of teaching. She asked me to review her personal statement for college. For college. I remember her walking into my classroom with a dress and a shy smile. I taught her antonyms and adverbs. College? I remember college. The most difficult part about teaching is knowing you have just that year, and then you must say goodbye. Each year, without fail, when I saw them lined up on the last day of school, ready to leave the nest, I wept. You love them so dearly, you fall into their worlds and their challenges, and then- you let them go. It never got easy. I’m so thankful to keep in touch with some of my students and doubly touched that even now after all these years, I can find a way to help them.
Three. I’m almost done line-editing my second manuscript where I double-check grammar, spelling, and tone. In revisions past I printed out all 250+ pages because staring into the bright light of the computer can get tiring for hours on end. This time? I e-mailed it to my kindle. Reading it on there in ‘book form’ was indescribable. I made my revisions then re-sent it to myself to double check, all without a single tree having to pay the price. Hope is a curious creature. I can’t see it, touch it or taste it. But I can feel it. As I read my manuscript on Kindle, I could feel it coursing through my veins. With Borders gone, and publishers biting their nails, I don’t know what the future holds, but I can tell you that this moment of sitting down with a cup of tea to read a book, my book? One of the most beautiful feelings ever.
The best part of writing these Thursday posts is the sifting. Sifting through all the beautiful things there are. Sometimes its easy to lose sight and it’s my responsibility not to. Hope you had a beautiful Thursday too.