New
Two nights ago, Mark and I celebrated New Year's Eve by cleaning house. We purged piles of clutter that had been creeping in on us since Thanksgiving; and boy, did it feel good. Then we turned on Christmas lights and sank into the sofa with a book and a bowl of ice cream each, peaceful in our newly straightened "winter cottage." I use this phrase optimistically, since I've been in cottages larger than our house.
Hello 2012, good riddance 2011. I prayed for a joy-filled year for everyone I know and love. Then in classic old-person style, I climbed into bed before midnight and drifted to sleep to the sound of fireworks outside. Fireworks I was too tired to look for out the window. I just imagined them in a half-sleep state.
Yesterday morning we shared a wonderful breakfast with two friends from Michigan that we rarely see. It was a lovely way to start the New Year. But instead of the typical "Happy New Year!" greeting, we just left it at "New Year" and "Hello 2012." Good enough. We'll reserve happy for a later date.
We're already calculating our list of house projects for the year, stopping to measure tables at a furniture store on the way home from the airport yesterday afternoon, planning a half bath for the upstairs, talking finances and saving and retirement.
The days are getting longer.
New Year's is as much a mental shift as a physical one. I find I need the closure of a year; I need a way to store what was difficult or even just a little stale in order to move forward into the future. Looking forward helps me cope with change, gives me hope that maybe, maybe we can handle what is in front of us, even if we have no idea what that will look like. New Year's creates a small break in the march of years, inviting us to imagine ways we can better our little corner of the world, even a corner as small as our "winter cottage."
In honor of the new year, I thought I would share a little of what's new at our house.
K has found mobility. He motors through the house with surprising efficiency. At the blink of an eye he'll be in the bathroom, two blinks and he's in the entry way. He's a ball of energy, quiet when he's cruising the house, so as not to be caught licking the side of the toilet, someone's shoes, the Christmas tree, or, as we discovered at my parents', the dog's tongue. He reserves his raspy boy voice for getting our attention. "Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba!" he'll shout at various pitches when he wants a say in the matter.
A continues to work hard to establish her voice as the middle child. She has one volume: LOUD. And she's learning how to use her gifts to get what she needs or wants. Can't fall asleep? Need a midnight snack? Want to wear a tattered cheerleader costume to the store? Simply tilt your silky-haired head to the side, push out your bottom lip, and flash your big brown eyes out from under a fringe of long lashes, and bam, easy breezy: Cheerios at 10 p.m.! Mark is not so easily beguiled by "Little Pip's" ways, but the mother has a soft spot for each of her Littles and A knows how to work it. She has finally decided that using the toilet is better than using her diaper, and we have been doling out many "numanums" (M&Ms) and doing the potty song and dance many times a day. Big sister E has taken it upon herself to guide A in this process, to which A is responding well. Surprisingly.
E's creative energy has spurred new interest in making art. She's planning an outdoor art show in the spring where she will display her masterpieces on the clothesline outside. She's also using that ever moving mind of hers to make new discoveries in language. We are in the beginning stages of reading and she is regularly sounding out words and inventing her own creative spellings for them on paper. She is the official director of kid activities at our house, often organizing games and imaginary play for her younger siblings. She definitely likes being in charge. Speaking of taking charge, E is instructing me from the living room. It's quiet time--her time with Mom--and she has a stack of books she's prepared for me to read. "Mama, pleeeeeease!"
And with that, I sign off.
Hello 2012, good riddance 2011. I prayed for a joy-filled year for everyone I know and love. Then in classic old-person style, I climbed into bed before midnight and drifted to sleep to the sound of fireworks outside. Fireworks I was too tired to look for out the window. I just imagined them in a half-sleep state.
Yesterday morning we shared a wonderful breakfast with two friends from Michigan that we rarely see. It was a lovely way to start the New Year. But instead of the typical "Happy New Year!" greeting, we just left it at "New Year" and "Hello 2012." Good enough. We'll reserve happy for a later date.
We're already calculating our list of house projects for the year, stopping to measure tables at a furniture store on the way home from the airport yesterday afternoon, planning a half bath for the upstairs, talking finances and saving and retirement.
The days are getting longer.
New Year's is as much a mental shift as a physical one. I find I need the closure of a year; I need a way to store what was difficult or even just a little stale in order to move forward into the future. Looking forward helps me cope with change, gives me hope that maybe, maybe we can handle what is in front of us, even if we have no idea what that will look like. New Year's creates a small break in the march of years, inviting us to imagine ways we can better our little corner of the world, even a corner as small as our "winter cottage."
In honor of the new year, I thought I would share a little of what's new at our house.
K has found mobility. He motors through the house with surprising efficiency. At the blink of an eye he'll be in the bathroom, two blinks and he's in the entry way. He's a ball of energy, quiet when he's cruising the house, so as not to be caught licking the side of the toilet, someone's shoes, the Christmas tree, or, as we discovered at my parents', the dog's tongue. He reserves his raspy boy voice for getting our attention. "Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba!" he'll shout at various pitches when he wants a say in the matter.
A continues to work hard to establish her voice as the middle child. She has one volume: LOUD. And she's learning how to use her gifts to get what she needs or wants. Can't fall asleep? Need a midnight snack? Want to wear a tattered cheerleader costume to the store? Simply tilt your silky-haired head to the side, push out your bottom lip, and flash your big brown eyes out from under a fringe of long lashes, and bam, easy breezy: Cheerios at 10 p.m.! Mark is not so easily beguiled by "Little Pip's" ways, but the mother has a soft spot for each of her Littles and A knows how to work it. She has finally decided that using the toilet is better than using her diaper, and we have been doling out many "numanums" (M&Ms) and doing the potty song and dance many times a day. Big sister E has taken it upon herself to guide A in this process, to which A is responding well. Surprisingly.
E's creative energy has spurred new interest in making art. She's planning an outdoor art show in the spring where she will display her masterpieces on the clothesline outside. She's also using that ever moving mind of hers to make new discoveries in language. We are in the beginning stages of reading and she is regularly sounding out words and inventing her own creative spellings for them on paper. She is the official director of kid activities at our house, often organizing games and imaginary play for her younger siblings. She definitely likes being in charge. Speaking of taking charge, E is instructing me from the living room. It's quiet time--her time with Mom--and she has a stack of books she's prepared for me to read. "Mama, pleeeeeease!"
And with that, I sign off.
LOVE the picture on the right...chaos in the snow. :)
ReplyDeleteWe celebrate the mobility, potty success and creativity that is blooming at the DeWeerds! Miss you guys!