I intended this 7 Quick Takes to be all about the kids, but first I have to share a piece of really exciting news……
My novel, The Wine Widow, made the finalist round of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association’s inaugural contest, the Rising Star! All novels are a labor of love, but when you’re trying to write one around the edges of paying writing gigs and musical composition–oh yes, and raising that gaggle of destructicons, I mean boys, and a chromosomally-gifted girl…well, let’s just say this is an affirmation I cannot even put into words.
So how does one celebrate such a moment? Well, if you’re Kate Basi, you:
- don’t have time for a shower after your Jazzercise video
- take four kids and go visit a friend and her adorable baby
- take four kids to swim lessons
- practice for a flute recital
- watch 11 kids at choir practice because the regular sitters are out of town
- fall into bed and lie awake for hours because you can’t sleep.
I know. You all wish you were me. Admit it. 😉
So–on to the kids. Michael’s speech therapist wants him using three-word sentences now. So last weekend, he somehow hurt himself following Nicholas around the basement. He came upstairs wailing. Christian made him say “I want booboo.” As in booboo kiss. When the fireworks were over, we said, “Did you fall down?”
Michael said, “I…want…faw.” And we all laughed.
From such moments are born games like the I-Want-Fall game, which has become all the rage in our house:
We cleaned the upstairs this week, which might have gone faster if I hadn’t discovered the archaeological dig of clothing in the boys’ closet. By the time we were done we’d found all the missing dress clothes and gotten Nicholas’ new(ly rescued from the uniform closet) school uniforms hung neatly: summer clothes, then winter clothes.
This got me thinking about something counterintuitive I’ve discovered in the four years since Alex started at the Catholic school. When the kids have a non-uniform day, I cannot find anyone. You would think the clothes being distinct would make the people more distinct, but the reality is the opposite. I’ve come to the conclusion that when they’re in uniform there are less distractions from faces. Has anyone else experienced this?
Speaking of archaeological digs…this morning while putting away dishes, a Corelle-type lid slipped out of my hands and smashed spectacularly on the counter/sink/floor/drying dishes/spice rack. As I was sweeping up the pieces, Nicholas (who else?) asked, “Why don’t you glue it back together, Mommy?”
“Oh, there’s no gluing this back together, honey,” I said. There was nothing bigger than a thumbprint left of that thing. “You can’t put things like this back together.” Then honesty compelled me to waffle. “Well,” I added, “archaeologists put things like this back together sometimes, to see what things used to be like.”
And suddenly I had this vision of some ancient Greek woman dropping a pitcher, cursing a blue streak as she cleans up the mess and throws it in her trash heap, and then looking down from Heaven and face-palming as those foolish post-modern scientists try to put her trash back together.
I was trying to get Michael to come to me one day this week. He’s reached the stage where he doesn’t come just because you say so. It has to be a game. So I said, in my best jokey voice, “Michael, bring that bottom over here.” A beat. “Oh, I suppose you can bring the rest of you too.”
Nobody got the joke. Sigh.
Oh yes…Alex has joined the ranks of the vision-impaired.
Have a great weekend!