|note the floor this morning, and what's not on it|
Yesterday, I sat down before the kids arrived home from school and wrote up a little list for each child of "Must-do's." I'm not 100% confident about my punctuation of that title, but I'm very very confident that each child can easily accomplish his or her tasks. I've loosely linked the tasks to their allowances, but we'll approach this on a case-by-case basis, rather than a flat-out charge per task undone. Basically, I'm going to go on the assumption that the kids can and will accomplish these tasks. I'm going on trust.
Everyone seemed open to the plan. There were no outliers or complainers, though several suggested we use other methods they've heard about from friends' families, where loonies are lost for infractions or dimes put into jars. To this I said, No. We've tried such methods and failed miserably. We lose track. We have no dimes on hand. The IOUs get confused or misplaced. It's hard enough to remember to dole out allowances on a monthly basis. Therefore: trust.
The must-do's are as follows:
Albus: practice viola 1x/week for half an hour (he rarely brings his instrument home, so this would be an improvement); brush teeth; homework; place all electronic devices outside bedroom at night; and, of course, put dirty laundry in hamper
AppleApple: practice piano 3x/week; brush teeth; homework; put dirty laundry in hamper; pack swim and soccer bags
Fooey: practice piano 3x/week; brush teeth; homework; put dirty laundry in hamper; swim lessons; walk CJ to school
CJ: practice reading 1x/week; brush teeth; put dirty laundry in hamper; place electronic devices outside bedroom at night; swim lessons; no throwing snow balls on walk to school
|the basket is where the electronic devices shall be placed; this is also a new night-time reading nook for Albus (so as not to disturb his sleeping brother)|
I added a few "sometimes-do" suggestions to the list:
* walk dogs *help make lunches *read books *play with each other * carry dirty dishes to counter *hang up coats and school bags (yes, those last two should probably be must-do's, but I'm focusing on being realistic; I want this plan tailored for success!)
|Fooey's floor this morning|
|AppleApple's floor, also this morning|
We're into our second month without a working oven. This has been less horrible than I would have imagined. It's also forced us to think about our priorities, and make some choices. We've gone the long-and-drawn-out but definitely less expensive route of digging up old paperwork, talking to the manufacturer, and ensuring that when the stove is fixed, its replaced parts will be under warranty. (And by "we" I mean "Kevin," who's done all the legwork.)
On the subject of priorities, we've also scaled back our AppleApple's swimming schedule, somewhat, in consultation with her coaches. This was not easy, and I sense it will be an ongoing process rather than a problem neatly and definitively solved. The larger question at play is: why do we do what we do? Why get up early and work out? Why run? Why swim? Why be on a team? Why challenge oneself? Ultimately, it can't be for some imagined competitive outcome -- for the ribbons and medals and wins, for far-off goals, for numbers and times. It just can't be. It has to be for the joy of the process itself. I'm not against high personal expectations, as you can probably tell, but I know that high personal expectations can kill the love of the thing you're practicing, if not tempered with realism, kindness (toward yourself and others) and fun. Play. The joyous expression of the self. I don't get up early and sweat because I'm going to set any records. I do it because the challenge makes me feel good, mentally and physically.
How to nurture the child who is ambitious and competitive and loves to challenge herself? How to make sure she doesn't burn out or over-do? I think this is something to be lifted up daily, just as I lift up daily the question of how to motivate and support and nurture each of my children, each with such different ways of being in the world.
|frozen world out my window|
I'm spending my days, recently, reading. Right now I'm reading a book my dad gave me called This Bright Abyss, by Christian Wiman. I'm not ready to start writing something new, but I'm ready to begin thinking about writing something new. I'm ready to reflect on what intrigues me, what I want to know more about, and how to illuminate that in fiction. So I'm reading. It couldn't be cozier. Unless we had a wood stove.
We're meeting with a builder on Thursday to discuss just such a possibility. A house is a lot like a family. It's always changing, too, to meet different needs. We improvise. We use what we've got. We purge. We add. We experiment. We're remain both flexible and committed to what's before us. We're in motion, and so is our house.
I'm comforted by the thought that my work is unfinished.
|"I am thankful for ..."|
Labels: chores, house, kids, parenting, play, swimming, work