Waiting for the Third

This is a strange time of waiting. Summer feels so rich and full. I’ve traded in a cleaner house for occasional morning adventures and lazy afternoons at the pool. I say “yes” more to games of cards when I should be cleaning. We take many walks. Instead of getting things done while my sons play, I find myself watching them more as my energy levels get lower and lower. 

But woven throughout is this expectancy: by the time the back-pack-laden children amble down our sidewalk in August, we will have a new son. 

My first pregnancy, I was twenty-three-years-old and in the middle of my second year of teaching. I was so excited about a baby and also had absolutely no clue. I don’t think I felt nervous until I thought about actually giving birth. At that point, I began to devour books about giving birth to assuage that particular fear. 

Nothing really prepared me for having a new baby, but even with the months of colic, it was such a sweet time. I felt ready to be a mother; I felt in love with my baby. 

By the time we were pregnant with our second son, I was a little older and already a mom to a sensitive toddler. We knew we wanted a baby, but I had absolutely no idea how he would fit into our family. I was terrified of being a mom of two and of how a new baby would change the life we had.

The transition to two was hard. With one child, we had still felt fairly free. But this little baby who arrived in the middle of a snowy winter solidified our status as a family with kids. We stayed at home more. With one child, it’s easier to maintain some of the aspects of the pre-kid life. We went out to eat freely, adventured with our family, and eventually figured out a bedtime routine. With two little ones, all bets were off. 

Being a mom of one made me feel like a good mom; I had the time and patience and energy to really engage with my son and help him through big emotions. We developed a good rhythm and a close relationship. With two (and especially a preschooler), I had to learn how to be okay with not meeting every need, with disappointing my sons. My son had to learn to bond with his dad and not just me. He grew so much through developing a relationship with his brother. And it has been a hard but very, very worthwhile journey for all of us (that I’m sure will continue!). 

I’m convinced that the first year of a baby’s life will always be hard. I don’t know if “hard” is even the right word for the whole year. I think the word is just work. With both my sons, I felt like the first year was a constant state of change, which is hard for a person like me who longs for consistency and routine. When I finally reached the one year mark with each of them, it felt like a rhythm developed (and like I simultaneously realized how absolutely tired I was from that intense and wonderful first year). 

Right now we are in an easier season. Our boys play together, the younger one is almost potty-trained, and I feel like we know them—what they can handle and can’t, what will make their day, when they need days to rest or play hard. We can go for walks as they race ahead of us on balance bikes. We can chat while they splash at the stream or ride their Gator. They both love listening to some of the same books and playing hide and seek. They sleep (mostly) in their own beds and don't wake to every sound. 

I feel ready for a third baby, the one who will possibly complete our family. I feel more prepared for birth and postpartum this time, slightly more confident in my mothering. I couldn’t accurately visualize how the first two would fit into our lives. With my first son, I was overly optimistic, and with my second, I was very nervous. But now, I think I can picture a little more realistically how our life will change and which parts will change forever and which will be temporary.

But there are still days when I realize that nothing can really prepare you for a new baby—for his or her unique personality and needs. Even as I waddle to the end of this third pregnancy, I have guilt about not being the energetic mom I used to be. Yesterday, my second son felt very heavy when I picked him up. I’ve had to say no to some of our rougher games and keep our days a bit simpler.

So I’m trying to hold expectations loosely. I picture the good days—going for walks with the baby in the Baby K’tan while my boys race ahead, outings to our favorite places, days at home reading stories while the baby naps. But I’m consciously trying to remember the harder parts too so I’m not totally shocked—the bouncing baby while I make dinner, the sleeplessness, the need for time to recover. 

I’m ultimately thankful for how God has grown our family and how he has grown us as a result. I read something the other day from a mom who said she was so glad she hadn’t had kids as a twenty-four-year-old because she wasn’t mature enough. I can see many benefits to waiting; each couple and family is unique and has a different journey. 

But for me, becoming a mother at twenty-four has grown me in a way nothing else could. It’s how God has shown me grace and tempered my intensity and taught me to not be paralyzed by fear. It’s how God has shown me to ask questions and how he has shown me the depths of my anger yet also made me a kinder, less angry person. It’s how he has taught me to truly understand time and keep an eternal perspective. It’s how he has shown me I still have a long way to go, but he will continue the good work he began in me. It's how he has taught me to be a better wife and friend. It’s how he has taught me to pray. 

I’m thankful for this journey, thankful to meet this little baby in a month or so. And I hope that this third time, I’ll be more open to the growth that will come through impossibly hard moments and wonderfully beautiful ones all mixed in together. 

Counter-Sitting and Contentment

We’ve been stuck at home a lot this winter. Between sickness, exceptional cold (for where we live), and just general pregnancy exhaustion, I haven’t ventured out alone with the kids much. Even our weekly grocery store trips came to a halt for a while. It has been hard in many ways, and part of that is the guilt I’ve felt. I’ve wondered if I’m depriving my kids by keeping them at home so much. The other part of it is that twelve-hour days at home with little ones can be lonely and draining.

Many days as soon as he wakes up, my two-year-old asks, “Sit counter make coffee?” He sits near me while I pour hot water over the grounds. His four-year-old brother wants to sit on the counter just as much. All throughout the day, they ask to sit there while I stir batter for banana muffins or make a new batch of pink play-doh. It's often not without squabbles, but generally they make room for one another. 

The kitchen used to frequently be my space for little snatches of alone time. I would listen to podcasts and chop or scrub. The boys would chase each other through the house or play in the other room, only needing my occasional intervention. But in this season, they want to be near me. The other day, I asked if they wanted to watch a TV show while I took a shower, and my son said, "No, we'll just sit on the bed and wait for you." They did. 

There are always little hands that want to help or voices that want to tell me something or arms extended proudly with a picture they drew. At one point, I grew resentful that I was constantly pausing whatever I was listening to (which sometimes felt like most of the adult talk I would hear in a day). So for a while, I stopped listening to anything in the kitchen. I lifted my boys up on the counter to watch many times a day. I scooted in dining room chairs so they could help me wash dishes. I poured countless cups of cinnamon milk and found favorite straws and tried to do it cheerfully. 

I used to think that if I really poured myself in to play with my children, they would be more “filled-up” afterward. So I felt resentful when they needed me again so soon, especially when laundry or an essay was waiting for me. I felt like every imaginary game required so much of me—so much creativity and energy. I didn’t realize that they just wanted me to be there and bear witness (and often just play whatever role they had given me). Sometimes I was even interfering in their play in attempting to be the best playmate.

Certainly there are phases when children need more of us. That first year of life can be exhaustingly hard. A baby’s needs—and cries—are often urgent. I remember picking up my own infant sons with wet, soapy hands and wrangling them into baby carriers that were already covered in flour dust just so I could finish cooking. But that season isn’t the one we are in right now. 

Right now we’re in a season where mostly my children just want me to be present. They are masters at being fully present. “What does 'bored' mean?” my preschooler asked me the other day. They spend their days trying to experience the world. They love for me to read them stories and poems while they snack. They love to help. They love to run through the house naked. They love for me to watch them ride their bikes. They love for me to sit on the bed and draw with them. It’s not as complex or even as effortful as I sometimes make it out to be. 

I’ve been reading Charlotte Mason and realizing how beautiful childhood is and what children really need in the early years of their life. Mostly they need to be pointed to Christ and shown the beauty and riches of this world. They need time to play and think. They don’t need as many words and lengthy explanations as I used to think. 

This has surprised me:  our days, simple and imperfect as they may be, are enough for both me and my children. 

And as I’ve relaxed into this, I’ve found so much more freedom and contentment. I realize that I don’t need to do daily math lessons with my four-year-old or plan so far ahead. I realize I don’t have to be adding something incredible to every imaginary game they are playing. I’m learning how well and creatively they often play without me and yet how much my attention matters. I’m learning not to feel the pressure all around us to be setting up opportunities for my children to learn; they are constantly learning. 

Mostly I’m learning that children aren’t an interruption. Nor are the things I need to get done an interruption from them. There’s not an easy division between the time they need me and the time they don't or learning time and not learning time. I can choose to see these early years as full of mindless drudgery and constant interruptions or as full of wonder and delight. 

I’ve learned that as I give myself to being their mom and stop listening to the idea that I'm not doing enough, I find more and more joy. This doesn't mean neglecting my own growth. In fact, that would go against my desire to be a good mom. However, when I can, I choose to set aside my own wants and plop them up on the counter to watch and help and chat.

I found these words of a blog post so good lately: “But a funny thing happens at my house when I start focusing too much on myself; everyone else starts focusing on themselves too.” (You should definitely read the whole post). 

As I give myself to motherhood lately, I've found more joy. Yes, there have been hard, dark, and tearful days (some that were really, really hard). But there's also plenty to delight in: learning the names of the plants around our house, starting to notice the songs of different birds, chasing the sun around our driveway to stay warm while the boys ride their toys around. I notice more and more that when I choose to speak kindly or do something cheerfully, I see my children doing the same later. 

This season of early pregnancy with two little ones has been hard in many ways. But it has also been a season of counter sitting, of constant company and extra hands to help. I remember how I used to love to have my sister's company while I cleaned my room, and now I have two delightfully chatty companions around quite frequently. I'm choosing to see this as something to delight in rather than an interruption.  I firmly believe this work is important and my willingness to put them on the counter has an eternal significance even when our days feel small. 

On 2018 Goals and a New Baby

On December 1, we found out we were expecting our third baby. The second pink line was extremely faint, but the nausea was not. 

We were hoping for a baby even though it is very clear that our lives are full. I know that we never fully feel ready for the change a new life brings, and yet there comes a point where the desire for a new little baby is so strong that we can’t deny it anymore. 

A couple of weeks ago, we found out that our baby is a boy—a third boy. We hope to welcome our little son in August. So far the nausea has abated, but there’s no glorious second trimester energy I was counting on. 

My first two are 2.5 years apart. Having a new baby in the house was extremely hard for my oldest. That transition was a challenge for all of us. Now our second son will be a little over 2.5 years older than our third. I’m hoping for a better transition but also trying to remember that those first few weeks will be different and often challenging.  I keep asking people with three kids about the transition. The best advice I've received has been this: the first six weeks will probably be hard any way you cut it. I have to keep in mind that it will turn our routines upside down in many ways, but again, I am excited! 

I hesitate to share goals, but I love reading other people’s. I love getting ideas and seeing people make progress. As I worked out goals for this year, I tried to keep in mind my limitations. So here are my goals for 2018, the year we plan to welcome our third baby. I think having realistic goals is so important for my mental health; with no goals, I feel adrift, as though life is just happening to me. 

My word for the year is steadfast. At the beginning of the year, I thought of how happy I had been with the previous year (even though parts of it had been so hard). I wanted to hold firm to what I knew going forward. I keep finding more and more Scripture related to the word "steadfast"--from verses about God's steadfast love for His people to verses calling us to remain steadfast. I love seeing a word become more meaningful to me throughout a year. 

Goals for 2018

1. As much as it depends on me, to grow a healthy baby, have a strong pregnancy, and prepare for a strong delivery. 

With both my boys, I prepared really hard for their births not because I wanted a natural birth (as Erica reminds us in the fabulous book Nurture, ALL birth is natural!) but because I wanted to be as strong as possible so that the labor, delivery, and recovery could be as smooth as it was in my power to make it.

At first, the thought of doing it again—the preparation, both mental and physical—seemed daunting. I thought about just letting everything happen this time. But I never regretted the time I spent preparing for birth or the health choices I made, even when they were inconvenient. It wasn’t about bragging rights or some experience: it was about what I thought was best for me and for the baby. This week in particular, I've been trying to be more consistent with prenatal yoga and focus on my posture. 

2. To prepare for homeschooling in the fall by establishing life-giving and joyful rhythms and routines. 

We've already been working on this one through establishing morning time and trying to find a rhythm throughout the day. I believe little children learn the most through play, nature, and reading, so those are the things we focus on. I also have a list of skills I would love the boys to learn before the baby comes. 

3. To love Liam and Walt well and help them cultivate strong relationships with God and one another. To be present and play with them (filling their tanks) daily. 

I'm learning that giving them my full attention makes such a difference in all our lives. It has taken me a really long time to truly enjoy slowing down to the level of my children. I used to be always thinking of all the things I needed to get done. I'm getting slowly better at living in the present and noticing the beauty of the world thanks to our sons.

Trying to help them cultivate their own relationship has helped me being more intentional about how I respond to their squabbles. They seem to be getting along better each day, and I love to see that. 

4. To love and support Jon and cultivate our marriage, especially spiritually. 

We're trying to plan more frequent date nights too! 

5. To continue to write and nourish my own creativity. 

6. To live responsibly and steward well so our stuff and money don’t consume us and we can be generous. 

7. To cultivate my prayer life and be steadfast in prayer and praise.  

A huge part of this has been figuring out how to get back into prayer journaling or a prayer routine of some sort. I used to have days of the week for specific people in my life and I loved that. 

I always love new ideas and “10 habits that will change my life.” But this year, I realize that I need to hold fast to what works, to what I know, and to God’s love for us. I love seeing how these goals have been bearing fruit, even just a few months in. The focus they give me, especially on hard days (which we have had a lot of lately!), helps me tremendously. 

How are your 2018 goals going? 

A Life Update: February 2018

I’ve been struggling this winter. I know I’m not alone. I keep thinking that so much of my struggle is a mental battle I could simply overcome. The cold has really gotten to me and sapped my energy and motivation. I remember reading something about how any type of consistent discomforts (willpower, small amounts of pain, small worries, etc.) can add up and render us unable to handle life.

I feel like that has been the story of this winter. Being constantly cold, having to do so much work to just go outside, having sick children fighting, trying to find ways to entertain us for these long days we spend just at home—it has all seemed really hard more often than not. Having a good attitude has been difficult. I never knew how much sibling squabbles could escalate when you’re all just at home almost all day every day. 

The day the groundhog saw his shadow (which was also a clear and bright Candlemas day) felt particularly grim to me this year. 

But all this is sounding pretty glum, so I’ll move quickly to the good things we’ve discovered in this season (in hopes that maybe you’ll find a few good things too). Plus, today is beautiful, so my sanity feels restored. 

1. Taking a break from non-fiction can be life-changing. First it needs to be said that I am a fast and very literal reader (this has often been a problem!). I had started reading about a particular educational philosophy (in preparation for homeschooling this Fall). I was reading SO much (in addition to being part of Facebook groups where people were constantly asking and answering questions). My brain felt like it was constantly wired, and I began to overanalyze our lives. So I took a break from reading most non-fiction (especially before bed), as well as social media. I just needed less words. It has been so refreshing. And I’m finding my own words come back.

      2. We started a new daily rhythm at home a few weeks ago. It has helped tremendously even if we don’t follow it every day. The big things are:

1.  Breakfast + Bible time with candles each morning
2. After breakfast, the boys help me unload the dishwasher and then do morning chores (brush teeth, make beds, do a little housework),
3. We play.

If we get more of the schedule done, that’s great, but many days we don’t, and I’m fine with that too. Our main goals in this season are to love each other well, play outside, read books, and work on obedience. Our daily chart is pictured below. The cards are from Peaceful Press. 

     3.Play-doh can change the direction of a day. I love making play-doh, and both my sons (4.5 and 2) find it so soothing. It sometimes feels less mentally taxing for me to sit on the sunny window-seat and play play-doh with them than help build things or make up games. It’s been a good way to spend intentional time with them even when my own brain feels fried. (We have this set of Play-doh tools and this is always the biggest hit). 

     4. I need a new perspective. On a particularly rough morning, I read this in the Slant letter, one of the most encouraging writing newsletters: 

“In the liturgical calendar, this quiet, wintry span of weeks from Christmas to Ash Wednesday is a far bolder invitation than it so unassumingly seems. It’s called Epiphany, meaning simply “to bring to light.” 

This season summons us to watch and to witness—historically, to the spectacle of God among us and creatively, perhaps we might also find here an invitation. 

Come and see, Epiphany says. Come running, in fact, senses flung wide to wonder and awe. It is a season of seeing, and perhaps one worth extending throughout the year.”

Those words totally changed my perspective. Instead of looking at this time as something to get through, I've been trying to see all the good and beauty, all the storing-up and noticing I can do. Just like the trees, we go through seasons where we may look (and feel) dead, but life is still happening, and the season will come for blossoming and fruit. My word of the year is praise, and I need to look more at all the beautiful things I can praise God for even in a time that seems depleting. 

I read this short book and began keeping my own Happy Journal, which has been such a fun way to notice things around me and exercise my creativity, even when the boys are running around. I've also been taking more time to write and am reading through the Bible with my favorite reading plan at night again. 

Other little things we are loving:

• These tiny, jam-filled pancakes
• Music to fill our days (Seeds is our current favorite, and we are listening to lots of Tchaikovsky too). 
• Chicken pot pie (this turned out amazingly!)
• Beans in the Instant Pot (or really, anything in the Instant Pot!)
• Pillow piles (basically you take all the cushions and pillows in the house and make a huge pile for the kids to run and jump into, or climb, or turn into bear caves). 
• I'm reading these books for each of our kids (four and two). They always help me more than words can say as far as knowing what is developmentally normal. Plus the authors just seem to love kids and help me see the best. 

How is this winter going for you? 

Five Minutes at a Time

Last year I read Alain de Botton’s The Course of Love. Near the end of the book, the main character, Rabih, takes a picture: “Wanting to capture this moment, Rabih calls them to gather for a photo, then sets the camera on a rock and runs to get into the shot. He knows that perfect happiness comes in tiny, incremental units only, perhaps no more than five minutes at a time. This is what one has to take with both hands and cherish.”

I was deep into a hard year of adjusting to having two small children; it was a joy-filled year, but I often had to fight for the joy. This quote resonated with me--tiny increments of perfect happiness at a time--as it might resonate with anyone who has small children.

I often found myself laughing so hard at something my children were doing and breaking up a fight in the next breath. By the time I ran to grab my coat, the joyous time we were having outside ended when someone tripped and skinned a knee. The fun preschool activity I planned lasted much less time than I had hoped. The car ride, which had such potential for being fun, was mostly listening to our little one scream and our older one complain. It felt like life was constantly disappointing me--like good and beautiful times were just outside of my grasp (and my children’s capabilities). I started to get resentful until I began turning this quote over in my mind.

A couple minutes of perfect happiness  at a time seems reasonable. And yet it bothered me: was I settling for too little? Shouldn’t I set my sights higher?

But I’ve found that accepting (not expecting!) five minute bursts of pure happiness does indeed lead to more contentment, more true joy. It’s an attitude that acknowledges that those beautiful peak moments come and go. And it’s okay--it’s necessary--to embrace them and capture them and celebrate them. But we can’t expect to live our lives in those bursts.

In a conversation recently, a friend pointed out that we tend to want all our lives to be full of those peak moments--the ones we imagine when we look at someone else’s snapshot. The whole vacation must have been as filled with joy as that beautiful moment captured by the canyon’s edge. The adjustment to two kids must have been so easy because look at the adoration in the big sister’s eyes. There were no awkward moments or bad moods at that family gathering--just look at that happy photo!

I want to get to a point where my life runs easily--where the hard things are smoothed out by my exceptional planning and lack of emotional lows. I want to control my own mood as well as the moods of all the other people in my family. I want those times with the potential for happiness--the grand trips, the long car ride, the trip to the children’s museum--to be full of near-perfection.

I want to wait to celebrate until all the ducks are cheerfully lined up in their row (they must be bright yellow, and the paint must not be chipping). I want to wait to rest until all the work is done. I want to hold myself back until I get it all together. And so I miss out on those perfectly good moments of happiness all the time because I want them to last longer or happen more.

The amazing thing is: those minute-long bursts of pure happiness blend together and stand out to make us look back fondly on a season or a trip. They’re why this year’s vacation never seems as glorious as last year’s until next year when we are looking back fondly on it.

And so, I focus on five minutes at a time and consider that a win. Was it fun to jump into the leaf pile for a few minutes? That’s an awesome blessing! Did my sons enjoy a few minutes of painting while listening to Mozart and drinking afternoon tea? That’s a special time! Did I remember to notice their own glee as they slid down the slide even if leaving the playground ended in a tantrum?

When I’m expecting things to go smoothly and be beautiful and near-perfect for a long period of time, I’m always disappointed and resentful. Our hearts long for true and lasting happiness, and one day, we will have it. But on this earth, in this beautiful but very broken world, being thankful for a few minutes of glorious happiness at a time leads to more joy than expecting everything I plan and every day to be a never-ending list of highs.

I read something last year about how the happiest families are those who celebrate not big stuff but small stuff-- who step back from their day to commemorate a lost tooth or a small promotion. These things stick and they matter because they show the people we care about that they matter. Celebrations give us something to look forward to, a time to pause and be grateful and create our own tiny increment of happiness.

So I’m trying to feel the freedom to celebrate more, not just the peak moments but the little things too. Most of our lives are lived in the mundane, and there are often incremental bursts of true happiness scattered all throughout the ordinary moments. It’s all about what I choose to focus on and accept with gratitude.

This season, I’m trying celebrate the fun we have and the memories we create without forcing it all to be perfect and free of wrinkles. I’m happily snapping pictures of these moments to remember and try to pay attention to all the details around me, to really breathe in the smells and hear the sounds and feel my feet grounded to the earth. These are all true gifts, even if they aren’t fully finished or perfect or lasting yet.

Finishing The Peaceful Preschool

We finished The Peaceful Preschool a couple of weeks ago. It is a milestone I want to document. 

This year, I had a big shift in how I structured our days. My husband and I have talked about homeschooling since before we were married (both of us were homeschooled for significant portions of our school careers).

This year I finally realized that if we were going to homeschool, there was no “break” in sight. What I mean is that most of the moms around me put their children in preschool programs for at least two days a week and then start kindergarten not long after. So there’s a break at some point. But if we wanted to homeschool, then we were going to have to find ways to live together each day at home. This helped me see our days as not just a season to get through but rather as a season that could be preparing us for what we hope to do in the future.

When I saw The Peaceful Preschool, I was intrigued. I love that it's a joy-filled guide for all sorts of skills to cover—pre-writing, pre-math, phonics, and practical life, just to name a few. These skills are given in a fun, nurturing framework. What sold me on the program was the creator, Jennifer Pepito, and her focus on simply enjoying these years with our children. I realized she wasn’t trying to make a program full of busywork to keep kids entertained. Rather it was a guide for making memories and special time with preschool-age children. And that is exactly what it was for us. 

The Peaceful Preschool is divided into twenty-six weeks, with one letter of the alphabet designated for each week. But rather than worksheets and Pinterest-y activities, the focus is on real, meaningful, and fun activities at home. Some people take two weeks for each letter, but we generally did one week per letter.

We started in February and finished in August. When we started, my son had no real letter recognition (however, before he was eighteen months old he had been able to identify a number of letters, but somehow this disappeared over time).

As we progressed through the ABC cards, my son naturally picked up his letters, which was such a fun development to witness. By the letter M, he knew all the letters, both uppercase and lowercase. This was not my expectation or intention in doing The Peaceful Preschool, and I’m sure a lot of it had to do with readiness. But I do think that the regular routine clicked with his brain.

The structure of progressing through the alphabet did not seem artificial (as I had expected). Rather, it was a helpful framework that gave us books, activities, and tons of ideas. My son loved to point out how things we were doing connected to that particular letter, and we had so much fun doing phonics scavenger hunts and arranging the tactile ABC cards we made. We also planned field trips so that we had fun outings most weeks that connected in some way to our preschool. 

We planted a garden and painted. We went on nature walks and had bean-bag tosses and played pretend store. We re-discovered finger-knitting and counted ALL THE THINGS and cleaned house together. It was a fun six months and gave us some guidance during  a very busy, often-challenging season.

Here are the three biggest things I learned:

1. I need to focus on the relationship for teaching to be successful. Some of my best memories are the days we spent doing preschool (his too!). He talks often about the day we spent sniffing spices during the letter A week. I introduced sewing to him during the C unit (we sewed a button like in Corduroy), and he discovered that he loves sewing. We spent time playing hopscotch or keep the balloon in the air, not to mention the chores we continued to work on. He also has his own version of finger-knitting now. Plus I have a new appreciation for the types of chores that are age-appropriate. All in all, my son saw it as really special, and we loved including my one-year-old when we could. 

This focus on the relationship means that we never worried about the academic side of things or trying to "finish" something that felt forced.

2. I was in need of a rhythm to guide our days. Our current morning time developed out of The Peaceful Preschool. Almost every day, we have tea time after afternoon quiet time. This guide helped me find natural rhythms in our days and weeks. It helped me be more intentional in including my children in chores around the house and find some sense of peace in the eternal mental debate of housework vs. time with my kids. 

3. Learning happens within a framework. I didn’t want each activity—or each week—to seem random. I wanted it to provide a chance for us to learn new things and drink in all the richness and beauty of the world. This happened because we had a framework guiding us (the letters of the alphabet). The glitter alphabet cards shaped each week. We made our flash cards on the first day. At the end of the week (or the last day of that particular letter), we finished by making the giant letter and hanging it on our wall . The book selection is also really fabulous. Even if we did no activities in a particular day (as was often the case), we almost always had morning coffee on the couch with our Peaceful Preschool books.

I've loved watching my son's focus develop and also learning how much I don't know about the world we live in. We started doing nature walks and keeping nature journals (not super faithfully!). We have tried to spend more time outside and develop a curiosity for the world around us.

I'm surprised by how much these past six months helped our family. We have found such a better groove for our days and weeks.

So what’s next?

We plan to come back to Peaceful Preschool when my youngest is old enough. For now, we’re doing A Year of Playing Skillfully with my now-four-year-old. We are also doing some beginning phonics and a nature program. We’re having a blast! 

I'll always be glad I took the time to start and finish this program with my son. It has given us all a thirst to learn more, be curious, and structure our lives in such a way that these things become second nature. 

Guest Post: Coffee + Crumbs

  Today I'm over at Coffee + Crumbs with an essay called "Mind the Gaps." Here's an excerpt:

I often find myself parenting the little girl inside of me, trying to fix the gaps and heal the wounds of my own childhood. This is why cool, summer mornings make me feel like I should take my kids on a walk and teach them the names of trees as my mom did. It’s why I hate sending my son to his room alone when he’s upset because I remember sitting in my room after stomping off, wishing my mom would come comfort me.

If you're visiting from Coffee + Crumbs, welcome! I'm truly glad you're here. Feel free to check out this page for some of my favorite posts.