The Night Sky

Bedtime didn’t happen until nearly 10 because of all the summer fun going on after the baseball game. After the kids had been “in bed” for about 20 minutes they both came running into my room to tell me something amazing. They’d been told to go back to bed at least 5 times, but this was something they couldn’t not tell me - so the risked the wrath of the post-bedtime parents and marched boldly to our room. Tommy was the brave spokesman. He took a deep breath – the only way you can tell that the words coming next are coming out fast. “Mom. We found the moon! It’s out there in the sky! And there’s also STARS!!! We can see it! Right out our window! You gotta come see this.”

Apparently they know I’m a sucker for a good sky. I followed them to their room, they ran to the window. I hope that the picture in my head of their mismatched pajamaed bums sticking out just this side of the window while they knelt on the window seat never ever fades. They’re still small enough to fit 2 boys in one open window. They showed me where the crescent moon hung just above the mountains. The showed me the stars and they told me that there were even “moving stars” out there. (satellites? Or perhaps the magic of a real live shooting star….) And when the stars stopped moving you could just keep your eyes open and shake your head back and forth and ALL the stars move. Little John shakes his head like a maniac and Tommy shakes his like a very slow metronome. And lookit! Some of the sky is blue and some of it is green! Plus the moon! Mom! Did you see the moon?! We found it! I knelt over them and stuck my head out the window to join them in the magic of it all. We pointed to all the things we saw and we looked and looked at looked. We soaked in the beauty together.

We talked about other times we might see the night sky. Camping. 4^th of July! Tomorrow!!! It was kind of a perfect moment watching them discover something as magical and beautiful as the night sky. And I loved them for sharing their moment with me.

Then I told them that it was so dangerous to stick their bodies out the window because they could fall and it’s a LOOOONG way down to the driveway from way up here, and it was not ok to bump the screen out of the window and they should never ever ever ever ever open the window without mom there and if they kept playing with the blinds they would break and the sun would come in too early in the morning and they absolutely should not under any circumstance climb out of this or any other up high window ever. EVER. And to get their sweet little bums back in bed because it’s way too late to be up. And seriously. DO NOT GO OUT THAT WINDOW.

Miraculously the lecture about window safety didn’t ruin the moment. They gave me hugs and kisses and got their butts back in bed. And I can only assume they dreamed of the moon and the stars and the magic of the night sky.

Tom Hanks doesn’t know anything….

In general I think I’m a pretty good mom. I have consciously chosen some of the most important things I want my kids to know and I focus clearly on doing all I can to make sure that those are things they come away with. Primarily I want my kids to know that I love them. All the time. No matter what. More than anything. Because I firmly believe that a child filled with love can do anything else they want. So I tell them about a million times a day. And sometimes when I say it to Tommy he rolls his eyes and says “I KNOOOOOW mom.” And I say “oh good! I want you to KNOOOOOW.” And I ask him how come he knows. And he uses his most exasperated voice to say “You tell me EverySingleDay. Mom.”  And I sit back satisfied that I’m teaching him The Most Important Thing everysingleday.

But there are other things I want him to learn too. We value lots of other things in our home. Truth telling, teamwork, service, cleaning up after yourself, kindness, hard work, trying again, forgiveness, but most importantly love.

So when we signed Tommy up for baseball I had big dreams of him learning about doing hard things, stick-to-it-iveness, teamwork, winning and losing, practice, and maybe even how to hit a baseball – though that never climbed higher than 29^th on the list. He didn’t really like it, but he got a cool hat and a “just for baseball” shirt. So he’d go out and play anyway. Then he’d come back exhausted and overheated swearing that his legs would fall off from “toooooo much running!”

During last week’s game he got out after hitting the ball and his little soul was positively crushed. We talked a lot about how even the really good players sometimes get out, it’s just part of the game, not giving up, practicing makes us better, and The Most Important Thing. After sitting out the rest of the game, Tommy was glad to play with dad in our own front yard when we got home, and I thought we were going to have a great baseball experience. Because Josh and I taught him ALL the things! Boom! Character traits acquired! Next?

But this week Tommy didn’t want to play when we got to the game. He hates baseball and he hates me and he's scared of getting hurt or getting out or or or or... and he was too shy to tell any of the million grownups who asked him if he was going to play that he didn’t want to. I reminded him of all the things we knew. He reminded me that he already knew that. He had given me the "right" answers on the way there, “If I get out, I’ll just keep thinkin’ about the next time. And the more I play the more I get way better.” Then he reminded me that he hates baseball. I told him that the people who play baseball games get treats at the end. Every time the team moved from outfield to get ready to bat I asked if he felt ready to play yet. He never ever did. 8 chances he had to join his team and he firmly said no 8 times. Sometimes with tears in his eyes snuggling into my lap looking for love. Sometimes while throwing his shoes. Sometimes while running away. With every inning the warm wash of shame closed in a little tighter on me and I was a total wreck.

It took 2 or 3 innings for me to remember The Most Important Thing. I told Tommy I was afraid that he might have forgotten The Most Important Thing too so I whispered it in his ear I love you more than anything in the whole wide world. And way WAY more than baseball. He looked up at me from my lap and told me that he hated me. I reminded him about treats. He didn’t care. He hated baseball. When we left – defeated – not even one second of participation, I cried. Because there’s totally crying in baseball, and Tom Hanks doesn’t know anything about 5 year olds or coach pitch or rec ball. Nothing at all. Lousy good-for-nothing celebrity spreading lies. Tom Hanks is now a cuss word at my house. There is crying in baseball. And definitely crying on the sidelines of baseball.

When we came home Tommy finished his school work, then went out to play with his friends. Because Hunter Blesshisheart came and knocked on the door to see if Tommy wanted to play. Hunter and his brother are on Tommy’s team. And in all of their childlike goodness they didn’t care at all if Tommy played or sat on the side lines. They just wanted their friend to come and play when we got home. So they invited him. And yes he did want to play. So he went outside and played with his friends on a lovely summer night. They drew with sidewalk chalk and rode bikes and played with squirt guns and ran around and played on the playground and acted like kids. They were kind and loving and welcoming and fun.  And nobody cared one bit about baseball. Thank goodness for good friends. Because I swear it healed my heart a little to see him outside playing with his friends.

I wish I was more like Hunter Blesshisheart. I wish I could go to someone who bailed on my team with my eyes wide open, full of love and hopeful that they’ll join me now. Or anytime really. 

I wish I was more like Tommy, leaving the hour of shame on the field and ready to pick up and face the shame people 10 minutes later. 

But at least I remembered The Most Important Thing. 

Pseudo Weekend

Josh's work schedule means we don't have a lot of weekends together, but it also means we pretend it's the weekend when really it's Tuesday.

Yesterday I came home from work and managed not to fall asleep on the sofa before the kids got to me. Little Big John ran up to me already in his swimsuit and told me "I really really REALLY wanna go swimmin today? kay mom? Now you home, we can go swimmin!"

Josh was standing right behind him nodding and smiling and hoping I'd agree.

So we all got dressed and headed to the pool.

Here's the thing about the pool. I love it. I really really love it. I love swimming, I love the smell of chlorine (gross! I know!) I love the cold of the water, I love floating, I love lazy rivers, and I love watching my babies defy gravity in a safe place. I love the quiet when you stick your head under and hear nothing but splashing. I love it all.

So I batted my eyes and looked at Josh with my very best bribe-face and asked if I could swim some laps while he played with the boys in the kid place and then I'd come and join them. He lovingly agreed and I had the most peaceful 30 minutes of my day.

I love yoga because you focus on your breath.
I love swimming because there's nothing to do but breath. The slow steady strokes when you aren't racing are comfortable and soothing.

After getting my fill of laps, I joined the boys for sliding and lazy rivering and jumping and splashing and kid swimming. Which by the way is significantly less soothing than adult swimming.

As we left the pool and headed for home I realized that making dinner sounded hard, and we stopped to grab Cafe Rio on our way home. We rarely eat there (because holy $ for a salad!) but when we do it creates a special occasion. The boys were sufficiently exhausted from all the swimming and partying and happiness and joy, so after their bedtime, Josh and I played a rousing round of Phase 10. I lost pitifully.

And we were all in bed at a reasonable hour.

So, sometimes, Tuesday is the winning day of the week. Watch out Saturday, there's a new kid in town.