Sunday. We had just come back from a night and day in the woods - our true family re-charge time. Of course I read the Simplicity Parenting book in the car the whole way there and back. Luckily, nature is classified as theraputic and necessary, so despite the busy-ness surrounding the comings and goings to nature, I felt good about the expedition.
I decided to take the entire day, Sunday, to stay home. No email. No phone calls. Really - I stuck to it. No computer of any sort. I let the day unfold. Waffles, maple syrup, Thing One stayed in his pjs until lunchtime -- very unlike him, but showed me that he was relaxing into the flow of the day. I had also "previewed" the day the night before with the kids to let them know we'd be home all day with no plans, no outings.
Thing One wanted to make pajamas on the sewing machine, which he has been talking about for months. We pulled out the machine and got started.
Thing Two just played and played. And played some more. And took a morning play-bath, with knights and weapons and dragons.
Sally played and played and played and helped me make blueberry currant jam.
So it sounds sort of idyllic, right? But guess what, it actually was. Everyone was mellow and into the relaxed swing of the day. I even tried out Payne's "something to do is right around the corner" deadpan response to the "I'm bored" comment coming from Thing Two. It worked after the third repetition. He was off and finding a new game to play with his sister.
The three of them, later in the afternoon, dressed up in knight outfits, with chain mail and helmets accompanied by every skateboard pad they could find in the garage. They found swords and jousting sticks, and raked the leaves in the backyard into the outline of a school for knights, with a jousting area in the courtyard. I am not kidding. And my energy-challenged child was able to joust without hurting anyone for almost 30 minutes! And he was able to stop jousting before he couldn't stop. It was amazing to see. The game evolved, and soon it was dinnertime. I brought dinner outside and we all ate at the knight school, and everyone ate it! And liked it! I was really shocked. I still am.
Even Monday morning breakfast went calmly, and part of after school today. But not the other part. More on that later.
Now it's time to prepare for a calmer tomorrow.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Simplify day one
So I started today. A new approach to simplyifying. This week I was inspired by the author Kim John Payne's talk about "Simplicity Parenting" (his term, and the title of his new book). I have tried I can't tell you how many times to simplify my life, my thoughts, my kids' rooms, my house, the kitchen -- you name it, I've tried it. Or thought hard about trying it. But today I took a new tack. I gave myself one hour, and one rule: No Thinking.
5 hours later, I sit down to continue writing...
My kids emerged from ship building in the basement and I closed the computer. A step more than walking away, it turned the machine off in their minds as well as mine. More on that later.
One hour, one room, starting with only the kids' things. Target: the den, which adjoins the kitchen. Goal: under 10 books to remain, homework space created, toys minimized. Instead of black garbage bags, which Payne mentioned in his talk, I took clear bins. I began putting toys and books in the bins, quickly and without "going through" them. I spied a few favorite books and left them out. Into the bins went masses of books, atlases, playmobile toys, puzzles, wooden cars, matchbox cars, random "guys" & all their weaponry, and leftover pieces. Gone to the basement. Maybe to be gone through later, maybe not, but that decision is for another day. I hauled at least 10 boxes downstairs and shut them in the guest room.
I took a shower, and sped out to pick up my daughter. No, boys first today. Daughter afterwards.
As I drove, my mind felt a bit clearer than it had in the morning. What would the kids think? Would they notice?
I would notice, and maybe that's a big part of what matters. When we came home, an hour and a half and 3 kids later, they came in and went straight for the basement to build the boats they'd started yesterday.
My daughter, who is three, eventually came up and started playing quietly with a little train car on the coffee table. No tracks. She talked and played while I started dinner. One son came up and started talking to me about setting up a lion fish tank. You know, the poisonous, dangerous kind. The other continued to build downstairs. Was I imagining things, or was the lion fish conversation going more smoothly than usual?
Dinner time. They all ate the dinner. I even put out a tablecloth (I was really going nuts here with the calm theme). And candle. I put dinner on the table, including silverware and drinks, before I called the kids to dinner, even though 2 of them were already in the room. My mom has been telling me this for years, by the way. We sat and ate and talked. We often talk, but this was nicer than sometimes.
Homework time. My eldest son discovered the homework spot, which is only partly finished but GREATLY decluttered. My daughter and I curled up on the couch and read an old favorite book. Thing 2 (as my second son is affectionately known) took a shower bath combo. I'll call my daughter Sally -- she had a bath. As I assisted Thing 1 with homework, washed Sally, took her out of the bath to dry her off, Thing 2 yelled MMOOOOOOMMMMMMYYY!!! from upstairs... I ran up. The tub, as usual, was about to overflow (he doesn't notice) AND the water had gotten too hot. Sally screams - cold and dripping from the hallway downstairs. I'm about to uncork my own scream, when I hear Thing 1 (homework guy) ask sweetly -- and no, I hadn't had any wine yet -- "Can I help you dry off and find your pjs?" No kidding. I paused, closed my mouth, helped Thing 2 out of the bath, and resumed my calm even thought maybe it was rooted in shock.
Everyone is in bed and I still haven't lost my cool. But the homework spot is recluttered with my papers. Tomorrow I'll read another chapter. Goal for tonight: no yelling, at myself or my husband or anyone else who comes to mind.
5 hours later, I sit down to continue writing...
My kids emerged from ship building in the basement and I closed the computer. A step more than walking away, it turned the machine off in their minds as well as mine. More on that later.
One hour, one room, starting with only the kids' things. Target: the den, which adjoins the kitchen. Goal: under 10 books to remain, homework space created, toys minimized. Instead of black garbage bags, which Payne mentioned in his talk, I took clear bins. I began putting toys and books in the bins, quickly and without "going through" them. I spied a few favorite books and left them out. Into the bins went masses of books, atlases, playmobile toys, puzzles, wooden cars, matchbox cars, random "guys" & all their weaponry, and leftover pieces. Gone to the basement. Maybe to be gone through later, maybe not, but that decision is for another day. I hauled at least 10 boxes downstairs and shut them in the guest room.
I took a shower, and sped out to pick up my daughter. No, boys first today. Daughter afterwards.
As I drove, my mind felt a bit clearer than it had in the morning. What would the kids think? Would they notice?
I would notice, and maybe that's a big part of what matters. When we came home, an hour and a half and 3 kids later, they came in and went straight for the basement to build the boats they'd started yesterday.
My daughter, who is three, eventually came up and started playing quietly with a little train car on the coffee table. No tracks. She talked and played while I started dinner. One son came up and started talking to me about setting up a lion fish tank. You know, the poisonous, dangerous kind. The other continued to build downstairs. Was I imagining things, or was the lion fish conversation going more smoothly than usual?
Dinner time. They all ate the dinner. I even put out a tablecloth (I was really going nuts here with the calm theme). And candle. I put dinner on the table, including silverware and drinks, before I called the kids to dinner, even though 2 of them were already in the room. My mom has been telling me this for years, by the way. We sat and ate and talked. We often talk, but this was nicer than sometimes.
Homework time. My eldest son discovered the homework spot, which is only partly finished but GREATLY decluttered. My daughter and I curled up on the couch and read an old favorite book. Thing 2 (as my second son is affectionately known) took a shower bath combo. I'll call my daughter Sally -- she had a bath. As I assisted Thing 1 with homework, washed Sally, took her out of the bath to dry her off, Thing 2 yelled MMOOOOOOMMMMMMYYY!!! from upstairs... I ran up. The tub, as usual, was about to overflow (he doesn't notice) AND the water had gotten too hot. Sally screams - cold and dripping from the hallway downstairs. I'm about to uncork my own scream, when I hear Thing 1 (homework guy) ask sweetly -- and no, I hadn't had any wine yet -- "Can I help you dry off and find your pjs?" No kidding. I paused, closed my mouth, helped Thing 2 out of the bath, and resumed my calm even thought maybe it was rooted in shock.
Everyone is in bed and I still haven't lost my cool. But the homework spot is recluttered with my papers. Tomorrow I'll read another chapter. Goal for tonight: no yelling, at myself or my husband or anyone else who comes to mind.
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