Summer begins
To close out the school year, Aden's class took a field trip to the North Carolina Zoo. We stuck close by Noah, Levi, and their families and had a fun, but completely exhausting, day.
Awana finished up next. Trey and Aden completed their books for the year, having memorized so many verses and learned much more about the Bible and how God wants us to live.
For the first time in a long time, Trey took the stage for his award. It was surreal - not a word of anxiety mentioned about it, and he didn't go all deer-in-the-headlights or facedown-neck-injury. He acted like a normal kid, goofing around with his buddies, all of them distancing themselves from the girls a bit. So proud of Trey for facing another fear.
The academic year ended in a flourish, with both boys bringing home stellar grades on their report cards, plus awards from their teachers for manners and good behavior. Which, as we all know, is also an award for their parents. Sort of. It felt like it anyway.
In the few days since then, we have dabbled in all things summer.
Oh, garden.
During the month of May we received approximately eighteen feet of rain. And I am so thankful.
Even though a tomato plant has drowned and a good portion of our hilled seeds washed away, some have slowly survived, while the corn and green beans are absolutely thriving. A blessing indeed, given our dwindling supply.
Even though it is far, far too wet to get a tiller into the dirt, the Lord has granted me grace in hoeing beside the plants in each row. For this year, the work is shared. One Trey Isaiah does amazing work with a garden hoe, y'all. And though the space between rows is ugly with grass, the slivers of planted land are pristine and weed-free.
What is not pristine, and won't be until the last veggie has been plucked from its stem, is our kitchen floor. The butterscotch boards caked with mud clods and strewn with old shoes is a telltale sign of summer in these parts.
When it's not wet, or maybe when it's less wet, the front yard baseball has been hopping. Working on skills and losing plastic baseballs in the poison oak and knocking each other out of the way for pop flies. How we roll.
We tried, we tried so hard with the pool. It opened this past weekend and the boys could hardly contain themselves. I mean, nearly breathless.
And then completely breathless when our skin touched the barely-unfrozen water. Not kidding, I had to strain hard to keep just the soles of my feet dangling in. Aden decided to man up and take it, body flailing both in frantic attempt to warm up and in long-suppressed yearning to swim. Trey took it easier, slow steps inching deeper, fists clenched and shoulders drawn up to his ears.
They got used to it at about the half-hour mark. And then the rains came. A light shower at first, growing steadier and stronger as the minutes passed. They swam another half-hour in the rain, pool to themselves as apparently we're the only nuts who swim in frigid water during downpours. Go figure.
We're working on a mental bucket list for the summer, filled with fun and growth goals.
Fun: Water park. Day on the lake. Bowling. Hillcats game. Water balloons. Birthday parties galore.
Growth: Aden's handwriting must improve. Trey's reading comprehension must improve. The entitlement and sibling bickery must improve. Drink more water. Mama no longer does laundry.
Et cetera.
This boy. The one who named me Mama. To say we've been struggling lately would be a vast understatement. He is changing so much and we are trying as hard as we can to learn and stay a little ahead of him, to understand where he is and what he feels and what he is capable of. The polar opposite of easy.
I've mentioned Trey's growing pains here, of course, but honestly I can't tell you the half of it out of respect for his privacy. What I can say is that the house has been a miserable battleground.
But I can also say that after a sort-of-intervention complete with a lightning bolt of wisdom from God, we've had a sort-of-breakthrough. And at least as I write today, my Trey is back to himself. He led us in a long and raucous round of Mad Libs yesterday, and while stories containing the line, "Who tooted in my helmet?" made me laugh harder than I have in years, hearing his belly laugh and just having fun with my son flooded my heart with unspeakable joy.
Bring it on, summer. I think we're ready for you.
Awana finished up next. Trey and Aden completed their books for the year, having memorized so many verses and learned much more about the Bible and how God wants us to live.
For the first time in a long time, Trey took the stage for his award. It was surreal - not a word of anxiety mentioned about it, and he didn't go all deer-in-the-headlights or facedown-neck-injury. He acted like a normal kid, goofing around with his buddies, all of them distancing themselves from the girls a bit. So proud of Trey for facing another fear.
The academic year ended in a flourish, with both boys bringing home stellar grades on their report cards, plus awards from their teachers for manners and good behavior. Which, as we all know, is also an award for their parents. Sort of. It felt like it anyway.
In the few days since then, we have dabbled in all things summer.
Oh, garden.
During the month of May we received approximately eighteen feet of rain. And I am so thankful.
Even though a tomato plant has drowned and a good portion of our hilled seeds washed away, some have slowly survived, while the corn and green beans are absolutely thriving. A blessing indeed, given our dwindling supply.
Even though it is far, far too wet to get a tiller into the dirt, the Lord has granted me grace in hoeing beside the plants in each row. For this year, the work is shared. One Trey Isaiah does amazing work with a garden hoe, y'all. And though the space between rows is ugly with grass, the slivers of planted land are pristine and weed-free.
What is not pristine, and won't be until the last veggie has been plucked from its stem, is our kitchen floor. The butterscotch boards caked with mud clods and strewn with old shoes is a telltale sign of summer in these parts.
When it's not wet, or maybe when it's less wet, the front yard baseball has been hopping. Working on skills and losing plastic baseballs in the poison oak and knocking each other out of the way for pop flies. How we roll.
We tried, we tried so hard with the pool. It opened this past weekend and the boys could hardly contain themselves. I mean, nearly breathless.
And then completely breathless when our skin touched the barely-unfrozen water. Not kidding, I had to strain hard to keep just the soles of my feet dangling in. Aden decided to man up and take it, body flailing both in frantic attempt to warm up and in long-suppressed yearning to swim. Trey took it easier, slow steps inching deeper, fists clenched and shoulders drawn up to his ears.
They got used to it at about the half-hour mark. And then the rains came. A light shower at first, growing steadier and stronger as the minutes passed. They swam another half-hour in the rain, pool to themselves as apparently we're the only nuts who swim in frigid water during downpours. Go figure.
We're working on a mental bucket list for the summer, filled with fun and growth goals.
Fun: Water park. Day on the lake. Bowling. Hillcats game. Water balloons. Birthday parties galore.
Growth: Aden's handwriting must improve. Trey's reading comprehension must improve. The entitlement and sibling bickery must improve. Drink more water. Mama no longer does laundry.
Et cetera.
This boy. The one who named me Mama. To say we've been struggling lately would be a vast understatement. He is changing so much and we are trying as hard as we can to learn and stay a little ahead of him, to understand where he is and what he feels and what he is capable of. The polar opposite of easy.
I've mentioned Trey's growing pains here, of course, but honestly I can't tell you the half of it out of respect for his privacy. What I can say is that the house has been a miserable battleground.
But I can also say that after a sort-of-intervention complete with a lightning bolt of wisdom from God, we've had a sort-of-breakthrough. And at least as I write today, my Trey is back to himself. He led us in a long and raucous round of Mad Libs yesterday, and while stories containing the line, "Who tooted in my helmet?" made me laugh harder than I have in years, hearing his belly laugh and just having fun with my son flooded my heart with unspeakable joy.
Bring it on, summer. I think we're ready for you.
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