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sweetbriarpoet
Flower Fortune- Sweetbriar: Poetry and fragrance.
Twenty-Eighth Entry
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Enamoured. With a tightly coloured smell.
That little girl tripped as she jumped across the water,
while the leaves rustled above her in a symphony to
slow motion.
I stayed up all night last night, not able to sleep because of a mixture of discontent and expectation. I expected Harry to walk through the door any minute and find me sitting on the couch. I expected him to come in and say, let's move back home. Forget school, forget money, let's just go back. But he didn't and I was a bit sad. A bit relieved, as well. I have to stick this out, or else I won't be able to respect myself. I complain too much, I worry too much, I want too much more. I should be happy with everything I have and am working towards. So, I feel better, and have gone back to reading my books and having fun with the children.
Ginny has been growing up so quickly, its amazing that she isn't up and walking around with books in her hand yet. Though the more I watch her, the more I believe she might be more of a naturalist rather than an intellectual. She has always loved animals, and coos at them whenever we go out. She also loves to be outside-she happiest when Harry (oh, Harry, I miss you!) and I take the kids to the park.
If anyone has ever thought that taking care of children was a hard job, try taking six children all six and younger to the outside park. Though they've always been good about staying with us, its a miracle they all are in one piece. Especially since one of us has to be holding Ginny, it's a amazing that on the swings, in the open grass, or on the slide, none of them have been injured. Usually the younger twins just stay in the swings, or go on the go-round. The older ones can handle the equipment by themselves, and love to play on the slide and monkey bars. Oliver, not much a drifter, usually stays near me and will only go on the slide if I go with him.
Belle sometimes goes on the slide with her older twin brothers, but Harry (where are you?) watches them. We always bring a disk or a ball to play with, because the children love to run around and play sports. The best about park days, though, is that when we get home, all the children go right to sleep. It's a wonderful way to get them to go to bed. It always frees up time for Harry (when are you coming back?) and I to be together.
But these days, we're reading and painting a lot. I have a big roll of masking paper that I've rolled all along one wall. I give the children different colors of handpaints and they wear little aprons and stick their hands into the paint and make huge handprints all over the wall. (This was a trick Louise taught me. The year before the twins were born and the three boys were just babies, she would roll a large piece of paper on a shed wall and give me paints. Paint what you're feeling, she'd say. And after a couple of hours, she'd come back, pet me, and praise my work.) Another trick I've learned with the kids: making jello or homemade play dough is a perfect way to spend an afternoon. Making shapes and adding the color is always the best part.
I've also been holding "lessons" at home, where the kids will fill out workbook pages or read to me from books. Sometimes, the older boys will even read me my lessons from school (just the words they know). It's quite fun to hear their little half English/half American accents twisting words and trying to sound out the long ones. In the later afternoon, after naps, we usually watch movies or cartoons. If
les enfants
want, we'll read more or play board games or cards or house. Once, Belle and I convinced the boys to play "dolls." But no boy has to convince Belle to play "trucks" or "bang on things like they're drums." No one can "sing" as loud as that little girl.
Right before bed, we all sit around and read one story and listen to one song.
Most of the time, they'll all dance with me. Sometimes, they fall asleep before the song is over.
Even if I don't have Harry at the moment, at least I have six little miniatures of him to play with.
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