Surreal

Sometimes being an adult is very surreal. When did I get to be nearly 42 years of age? I don’t feel that old. How did I get all this responsibility? When did I start worrying so much about the how dreary the future looks? Is this what my parents’ life was like all my years of growing up? It didn’t seem like it. Obviously, I wasn’t paying attention.

 

Nothing is more surreal that watching my kids at their activities. I remember dance class (a little) or soccer (hated it). Yes, yes, I remember griping about school (for no apparent reason) and conflicts with girlfriends that made no sense (and still don’t – it’s like déjà vu with Emry some days). But lately, I remember playing with other kids at church. I guess because we were there so much. 

 

This year I’ve been helping in Emry’s Sparks class on Wednesday nights. Having never attended Awana growing up (except once as a guest with a friend), I knew nothing about Sparks. I still feel a bit lost, but it’s fun to be in Emry’s class and get to know some of the kids her age. All in all, kids haven’t changed much in 35 years. They even dress the same. Just not quite so much neon…or demin…or curled bangs and side ponytails. But baggy is back. And jeans with buttons instead of zippers – a fashion that never should have reappeared.

 

The Sparks have gym time right in the middle of the rest of their activities. Upstairs we troop all 15 to 23 of them, try to separate them into four groups (there are always one or three who have no clue what color they were just told…the same one or three each week) and the games begin. I participate or observe, depending on what they’re up to…and wonder how I got to be the parent in the room instead of the kid racing across the floor.

 

Some of those kids bring back lots of memories. Like Nehemiah sliding across the gym floor at every opportunity. Or meandering around, present in body but off in left field in every other way. He’s clompy, and a clown, and always wearing a goofy grin. Like Josh Harris, only without the cowboy boots. I can remember girls so spacey you wondered if they heard two words of instruction, scampering off after everyone else just because everyone else is running.  There’s the girl who has one speed: slow. Walks slow, runs slow, always the last in line. I have to resist the temptation to literally push her to hurry up. Another girl always has the answer to every Bible question. She reminds me of someone I new really well…oh, that was me! Or the kids who never want to participate. I never understood why not. I still don’t. In my home, participation wasn’t an option.

 

Just like 35 years ago, relay races are ever popular. They are a good way to keep the kids running, even though some never do figure out why they’re running. Sharks and minnows is the favorite game for these kids. In my day it was Red Rover. That was a dangerous game. I don’t know why some adult never stopped us from trying to break each other’s arms. Or why none of us ever broke an arm.

 

One would think after months of watching these kids run around the gym, tease each other over crafts, or compete to say the most verses; the surreal-ity would wear off. But it doesn’t. Every week I stand in the gym and wonder how I got to be so old…and what happened to all the kids I use to play Red Rover with.

Ethan-isms

Like many kids his age, Ethan can say the funniest things. Usually they have to do with Grandpa’s age. For instance a month ago when we were studying the American flag. We’ve talked about the flag a lot, what each color and the number of stars and stripes represent. When explaining to the kids that each star represents, I told them that when Grandpa and Grandma were young, there weren’t as many stars because they’re weren’t as many states. Ethan points to the picture in the history book of Betsy Ross stitching the first American flag and says: 

 

“Yeah. That was the flag when Grandpa was little.”

 

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One cold morning when schoolwork was finished, he and Emry decided to make a parachute in his room out of his car mat. This required string and a fan (although I warned him that the fan probably wasn’t going to conjure up enough air in his little room). When he came to ask for the string, I wasn’t exactly sure what they were up to yet. So, I asked him how much string he needed.

 

“Just one,” he responded.

 

“Okay,” I nodded. “How long?”

 

He paused for a moment and then said, “About ten minutes.”

 

I started to laugh, although I suppose it’s my own fault he thinks of “long” as only a measurement of time and not size. But we also haven’t gotten to measuring in his math yet, although we had a quick lesson there and then. (And once I knew what they were doing, I just gave them the whole skein of yarn anyway to cut their own lengths.)

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Yesterday we continued our study of pioneers in Emry’s history book. We talked about Daniel Boone, the Wilderness Trail, and wagon trains. Part of the discussion was about what these pioneers would put in their wagons to go west and how they could only take the basic necessities and maybe a small personal item. Ever the practical one, Emry’s first question upon learning they had no stores where they could stop and purchase needed items was if they built stores along the way. And when asked what she would take in a wagon if she were headed west, she said simply, “More food.”

 

I then asked Ethan what he would take if he were headed west. Without missing a beat, he responded:

 

“A bigger wagon.”

Nature Hike!

This month’s nature hike wasn’t exactly a hike. The woman who leads it and her girls had made ice orbs. I’m not sure they worked 100% like she imagined they would (the weather had gotten a bit warmer after being in the 20’s for days), but they were mostly frozen solid, colorful, and the kids loved them. But the best part by far was the ice to play on.

 

Like all rivers the Wabash overflows its banks at times. This last time, the water left in the low areas had gotten caught in the freezing temps and frozen over into the little ponds of ice. The kids thought it was great, running from area to area and sliding all over them. They were much happier doing that than going on any hikes. The most walking we did was to go up to the old train trestle and play on it. I think Ellyson was the only one who took off straight across it, wanting to know what was at the end. She would have kept on going down into the little neighborhood, too, if I hadn’t turned her around so we could go back.

 

Honestly, she was just happy to be outside. She would live outside if she could. But she wouldn’t keep her mittens on, so from time to time she’d cry to be held, curl up next to me with her hands between us. When she figured they were warm again, she wiggled to get back down. Still, her hands were quite cold before we headed home!

 

Ellyson wanted to be right in the middle of the ice, too.

 

Ethan collecting his favorite colors of broken orbs.

 

Emry and Ellyson on the old train trestle.

As we start 2022...

You may have noticed last year that my blogging was always behind. I’d post things days or weeks after the date on the post. I felt like I was always trying to catch up – jotting down notes I didn’t have to time to elaborate on. It wasn’t the only thing I felt behind on. You don’t want to see my to-do list…

 

Life has simply gotten busy. The kids are getting older and that takes more of my time. For Emry, 2^ndgrade is certainly more work than 1^st. And now that Ethan is in Kindergarten, I can’t simply skip a day of schoolwork because I don’t feel up to it. Both of them played soccer, both of them had swimming lessons, both of them go to Awana at church. Emry has dance and Ethan wants to play baseball. Ellyson is just constant motion, requiring a lot of keeping-up-with. With a friend at church, I head up the preschool classes. I volunteer on Wednesday nights. There are homeschool activities to attend to. I do like to exercise 4 or 5 days a week just to keep myself sane. Plus there’s just cooking, laundry, cleaning…and all that stuff to make sure the balls of life I juggle don’t get dropped. Somewhere in the midst of all that, I work nearly 20 hours a week. To be honest, I’m not sure how. 

 

Oh, wait, I don’t get a lot of sleep!

 

The last statement is rather true. As hard as I try to get to bed at a decent hour, I live on six hours a sleep. Until I hit exhaustion and then Ed has to handle it for a few hours while I take a nap. Not exactly the way to live. 

 

Over the last couple of months, I’ve been trying to rearrange some things so I have time to get things on that to-do list done and get to bed at a decent hour most nights. With the new year, I’m continuing to tweak. And one thing I think I am going to do is blog only once a week. Fingers crossed I can accomplish this each Wednesday after we get home from church and I – finally! – get three excited kids to bed. Those nights don’t leave a lot of time for concentrated work, but they would leave me some time to post a blog and get a few other odd things done. I’m going to try it anyway.

 

Another thing I’m going to try is reading past blogs. Every year I want to do that, but every year I put the binder back up on the shelf and forget about it. I think reflecting and remembering the past 16 years of God’s faithfulness to me would be an exercise worth some time each evening when I read before bed. So, that will be my reading goal this year. It will be interesting to see what I have forgotten!