Mother's Day, Part 1: An Idyllic Time

There has been magic in my family this year. I turned around the other day and caught sight of it. Good thing, too. I might have missed it entirely.

My Sonars are getting bigger, getting more independent, doing more and more things to take care of themselves and to take care of me.

In August, Sonar X7 started going to and from school on his own, on his bike. I’ve facilitated his transfer only a handful of times, during rain and illness. After a couple of weeks of anxiety, in which we followed shortly behind him to make sure he didn’t need to be scraped off the sidewalk, the pride settled in for me. I was proud that he was able to negotiate the bike, the helmet, the backpack, the half-mile, the crossing of the big street, the parking, the locking, and the satisfaction of arriving under his own power. His joy at going fast, or slow, or meandering, or whatever way he decided to go, was so apparent and so infectious.

One consequence of his independence was the other two Sonars not having to get up and get ready as early in the morning. Through kindergarten and first grade for Sonar X7, we all got up at the same time, all ate breakfast, all rushed and flurried out the door to walk or drive up to the school. Then the preschool pack and I would come back and settle into our routine. Now though, Sonar X7 is up and off before the other two even crawl out of bed. So our mornings start off quietly and gently, sometimes one at a time. I love this because there are unexpected moments of quiet snuggling, sleepy morning questions and dreams.

Another consequence of Sonar X7’s independence is that the rest of us get a leisurely quiet time in the afternoon, not interrupted by the packing up and heading off to school to pick him up. So we each settle into a spot with books or puzzles, or as often as not for me, the computer, for a while. Some of us sometimes go to sleep. Then we wake up and color or draw until Sonar X7 gets home. Our afternoon then tumbles into a flurry of snacks, homework, and playing outside until dinnertime.

Tucked away in the spaces in between, Sonar X5 is learning to read. Watching him figure out the way the letters and words work to make meaning is one of the coolest things ever. I’ve been here before with the biggest Sonar, but it’s still magic. Each of them has stumbled toward literacy in his own way. Sonar X7’s reading acquisition reminded me of childbirth. It came later than I expected, and then it was sudden and messy and violent and then he was a reader. Now he reads anything and everything he can lay his hands on. His bed table holds the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and encyclopedia of the weird, a comic book, and he’s lying in bed reading Dragonrider by Cornelia Funke. Sonar X5 is sneaking up on literacy. Quietly working out the words that are all around him. Cereal boxes. Some of his books. An activity page here or there. A question about how something is spelled or pronounced. And now he can read all the words on a kindergarten readiness page. He can read most of the words in a few books, partly from working them out and partly from memory. And it’s so delicious to watch how patiently and hard he works at it. Shaping the words in his mouth, listening inside his head, then smiling proudly when realization hits. This is not to say that he doesn’t get frustrated. But he doesn’t let the frustration overwhelm him. When he gets tired, he walks away, knowing in his quiet way that tomorrow he will try again.

In other quiet spaces, Sonar X3 is wondering where he fits in all of this. Nothing so dramatic as learning to read, though he is discovering that he knows most of his letters and numbers, and that feels good to him. He is figuring out how to draw lines and shapes with more intention, which he finds funny. His development though is focused now on the emotional. He sees the things that his siblings are doing, and tries to understand it. He is bold, and a combination of our encouragement and his personality has mostly kept him from being babied by the other kids and most of their friends. But the gulf that separates them is spreading right now. Reading, and very soon kindergarten for Sonar X5 will stretch that gap even farther. And I think Sonar X3 is feeling a little sad about that, though he’s not yet capable of expressing it. I don’t know how this will work itself out, how the two of us will negotiate our time when the older kids go off to school together in August. But I’m excited to figure it out.

Next school year we will likely return to all rising together to accompany Sonar X5 to school. I think there’s a very good chance that he won’t want my company for as long as Sonar X7 did. Seven was forging a new path, with all the anxiety and excitement that entailed. Five sees how his brother has gone before, and has a better idea of what to do. Perhaps after a time the two of them will go off together without me and Three. Three will follow suit in two years, going off on his own kindergarten adventure. And my patterns, my negotiations and requirements will shift again.

I am feeling profoundly lucky today, as a mom, for this right now. For the reading, for the independence, for the emotional development, for the relatively calm and quiet transitions, for having time with each kid that is just mine and theirs. For being able to be here and see it with the confidence that our family is secure, that Partner and I are in agreement about how we want things to work, that each of us is doing our share on the team as we all grow together.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the beautiful women out there, wherever you are in your negotiation of life.

Comments

[Ileana]

Once again you bring me to tears. You are so awesome.