and on we go…

I can’t believe the summer’s almost over. We’ve been staying up until midnight watching videos in bed, waking up late, sharing huge plates of food, building fleece blanket forts (ok, I just clean up afterwards), and leaving the house with mismatched clothes and beehived knotted hairdos (or rather, non-hairdos (ok, i just cover mine up with a hat)) – typical unstructured, unscheduled summer life. Now it’s time to emotionally prepare myself for the fall. It’s not just about going back to school, it’s more than that – so many changes ahead and many big changes for my parents as well. Sometimes I think it’s harder for me to look at my parents go through life changes than to navigate through my own ebbs and flows. I suppose it’s the same feeling I have when I see my girls go through tough times. There is only so much I can do, and that’s a hard lesson but a good one. Reminds me of Kahlil Gibran’s thoughts on children…

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

Oh. Another thing the kids have been doing is making up their own fashionable designs. Although they have not been showered with textiles and other designer goodies, they’ve come up with some quite silly and fabulous results. I get a good chuckle out of the fact that they make forts and dresses with the same fleece blankets. If I were to create a TV program out of this, I’d call it: Survivor Fashion Designer Junior.

I’ve included some photos of these fab designs. The first dresses are skirts and hairbands (my poor son – although… he sure seemed to enjoy both the dressing up and the dance party afterwards), and the second elaborate dress is made from fleece and hula hoops. Chuckle, chuckle. This is why I shouldn’t worry so much – look at the innovation. My kids will make a great life for themselves out of whatever I can give them.

very intense concentration required

ok. this is funny. part genius, part deranged idea.

summertime and the livin’ is easy

We went to the beach a few days ago for the first time since we’ve moved back to Vancouver. Baby D was just turning one last summer, not really walking yet, so I skipped all that but this year – woo hoo, we are having so much fun! D made his first ever collection of beach treasures, and he was very proud of himself after he laid out all the goods “just so”!

The girls were loving their summer hats… the kinds that are so whimsical and over-the-top but only seem to last a summer before getting all squished and misshapen from too many playgrounds, heavy cooler bags, leaky sunblock containers, dripping popsicle sticks and souvenir sand, shells and rocks.

How do you know your kids are happy?

When they say, “Mami, take a picture of us jumping!!”, and start jumping and giggling, just because.

she woke up this morning

Maya has the funniest habit of waking up with odd requests. This morning I was taking little elastics out of Chabela’s hair (they wanted curls today so they slept with 6 little buns portruding from their heads – oh the vanity!), and, out of that defining silence between sleepiness and wakefulness, Maya declared from her bed, “I’m going to change my name. Can I change my name?”. “Um… ok honey..”, I responded. What does this kid dream about?!

She explained that there are way too many Mayas in Canada (it’s an odd name in Mexico) so she will now, hereby, from henceforth, solemnly swear to only answer to her middle name “Lucy” (this is actually the English version of her real middle name “Lucia”). Apparently, the soccer coach called her to play yesterday but another Maya ran onto the field instead. Oh the horror. Of course, I forgot all morning, and, wow, sure enough, she was quick to remind me every single time I said “Maya” that her name is now “Lucy”. She always was my Lucy in the Sky anyways….

Sometimes I worry… she’s seven and wants pink hair, skull-patterned clothing, sleep-overs at friends’ homes, and, now, name changes. Hopefully, she won’t run off to Mexico when she’s older. Or maybe hopefully she will?? Pretty wild the push and pull of parenting. I’m always in between wanting them to live life fully and pulling them close to me, safe from the crazy world.

workout

So yesterday I was thinking it’d be so great to have time to work out and stuff like that, and then today, baby D and I went to the library and he decided he didn’t want to get into the stroller or walk but wanted me to “ug” him, so then I caved in and carried him home with one arm while trying to push the stroller with the other arm because a couple of days ago he fell and bit himself almost completely through his lower lip which made it all puffy and thus I was an emotional marshmallow who couldn’t say no to my puffy-lipped, furrowy-browed one year old. Don’t you just love when you ask for something and then you get it in a completely whacked way, and as you get older, instead of getting irritated, you actually start to laugh at the hilarity of it all?!

little superhero

I’m really enjoying lil’ David’s company these days. This week he ran a pretty major errand for me. You see, I was sitting on the toilet and I realized I’d run out of tp so I thought to myself, “Hm… he’s only one, but maybe, just maybe he can do it”. So I told him (he was standing right beside me as he usually does when I’m doing my thing), “David, can you please go and get mommy (yes, I often refer to myself in third person) some toilet paper?????”. I point to the bare cardboard roll for extra clarification. And he was off – I heard his little feet pitter-pattering really fast down the hall and then the pantry door opened. There was a rustle of plastic.. more rustle.. a moment of silence (deep thoughts, I’m sure)… then, the sound of the whole pack of 4 rolls being dragged down the hall towards me. Sigh. My hero. Swoon.

The budding writer

Boo wrote her first story last night. She even wrote the author and illustrator part at the end of her story. How cute is that. Apparently, being a writer is one of her new dream jobs. The funny thing is that her story talked about how three little girls liked the same boy. They fought over him. They called him longingly, “Maaaax! Maaaax!” (yes, that’s a direct quote). The guy was clueless and couldn’t understand why the girls kept following him around. He finally checked in, and liked them back. All of them. And… “they lived happily ever after”???? I never thought my kid would think happily ever after involved sharing a guy with two other girls!!! My neck still hurts from doing a double take at the ending there. My oh my.

I very gently suggested, “Hey.. wouldn’t it be cool if the girls decided that no guy was worth breaking up a good friendship and they moved on?”. Boo: “I want to write the story myself, mami”. I have to agree. Who am I to get in the way of her creative flow? Even if it involves polygamy.

Sanctuary

When we were living in Puerto Vallarta, we stayed in a complex of townhouses and apartments. One day, I walked over to another townhouse to pick up my girls from their play date. When I entered, I saw that the mother of the kids had a lovely little corner of her living room set up with a table, a candle, some incense, a statue and some plants. She told me that that was her own space, where she would sit and think, and find some peace. It was beautiful. I asked myself, “Hm… I’m a spiritual gal… aspiring, grasping, doubting, hyperventilating.. but whatever, yes, I am. Where is my own sanctuary?”.

I remember as a teenager, I would always go to hide in the bathroom. The only room with a lock. There is a lot of escape to be found in a clean bathroom (only repulsion in a dirty one, sorry to say). Oh you laugh, but, what better a place than the bathroom? Where you wash yourself clean and rid yourself of filth? Uh huh, that’s right… extend the metaphor…. yes, you’re there with me.

Twenty years later (did I just say that??)… tonight, I found myself back in the bathroom, and locking the door so that I could actually go to the bathroom in peace. There I was sitting… well, you know…, and, all of a sudden, I heard a little jiggle on the door knob. “I’m GOING TO THE BATHROOM, PUH-LEEEZE!”, I stated very firmly. I know that sounded impatient of me, but, oh man, I’d heard a lot of rick-rack-paddy-whack-give-mama-a-big-headache kinda noise all afternoon. Silence again for 5 seconds. Another jiggle. Then I heard the following:

Chabela: It’s Maya, she’s doing it.

Maya: Yah but Mama, she’s going on a playdate tomorrow and she says I can’t come.”

Chabela: Well, she’s not invited.

Maya: Yah, but she’s going to play “Concert”, and I won’t be able to play.

Chabela: WAAAAAAH!!

Yah, you get the picture. They were standing outside the door, just carrying on as if I was washing the dishes or tidying up. All of a sudden though, the (multiple) burrows between my eyebrows started to relax, and, I felt an irresistible urge to laugh (very quietly so as not to welcome a new tidal wave of questions from the other side of the bathroom door). How silly, this picture of me on the loo, with the door locked, and, still, they continue to follow me as if I am the Granter of All Wishes. A thought came to me then, “Is this maybe part of why we have children? Is this why we ache to have them? To know God/Love Beyond All Understanding? To glimpse at just a sliver of what it is like to (try to) be filled with compassion? To stretch our hearts? To have the chance to understand just a bit more about what it may be like to be God – listening to the bickering and complaining of your children, and still be filled with love, light, and peace especially after they have gone to bed?”. I wonder.

So, like I was saying, the bathroom IS a great sanctuary.