if you were small…

If you were very very small

and you wanted to go somewhere big

would you go here

and see the world like this?

are you okay?

http://www.ruokday.com.au/content/home.aspx

my feeling on this is:

this is a good

good

thing

so good in fact that

why not make it 'r u okay day' every day

if you can

check in with friends and loved ones who might be struggling

let friends and loved ones know you care about them

even when (it seems) they aren't struggling

let friends and loved ones know that they

matter

to you

This simple act

has made a world of difference to me

in my own journey

and

because of that kindness and care

I am

here

today

the beauty of boredom

A few days ago, our local newspaper published an article about holiday activities in the area. The opening paragraph went something a bit like this:

"A whole week of holidays has gone by,

and now parents are looking to find new activities

to battle the boredom until school goes back."

Hmmmm. Interesting…!

It's interesting to me, because two pretty big assumptions are being made here.

1. That kids get bored on holidays (and don't get bored at school… ha)

and

2. That 'boredom' is something negative, something to deal with, battle, fight, and overcome.

I think I might just reject both of those assumptions! Because I can, and because I think there's a whole other way of looking at this.

For one, I think kids LOVE holidays, whether they are filled to the max or not. And for another, I think boredom can be wonderful. It's a brewspace for the mind, an arena for the Stupendous. It can make you lead, not follow. Boredom can make awesome things happen!

Really, newspaper people, it really can.

I remember looking forward to holidays. Like, really looking forward to them. Because I'd imagine the stack of books waiting for me, the long days of having nothing to do but read. I'd think of the nowhere I had to go or be, and all the playing that stretched out in the moments between waking and sleeping. I remember playing with my sister, playing by myself, making things, listening to music, climbing trees, finding little spaces in the garden and making imaginary homes, and reading reading reading. It was magical.

And I liked school, so it wasn't torture to go, but it wasn't torture to be on holiday either. I don't ever remember thinking, "Oh, I hope Mum and Dad have filled my days to the brim so that I'm not bored!" I liked going on adventures with them, but I also liked the potential of a completely unplanned day.

When a day is unplanned, it opens the world up for kids.

When a timetable is cleared, a child is free to fill it as he/she wishes.

When you have days where the only person asking anything of you is you,

then you are Captain of your Dreams.

And that's a wonderful thing.

And yes. Sometimes, you get BORED.

I totally remember being bored. I remember flopping onto the couch and announcing to anyone who would listen that I was Bo-o-o-ORED. And I remember waiting for someone to 'fix it.' And I remember sometimes suggestions being made. I remember irritating my parents. I remember getting no answer at all. I remember then flopping back into my room and reading some more. Those were the still days, the days like an empty wastebasket. At the end of them I'd think, "Nothing happened today! My life is so uninteresting!!"

But the next day, I'd find something to do. Because at some point, you realise it's kind-of up to you to fill your own empty space. Your parents might be busy, or your friends. It might be raining and/or the planned day might be cancelled. You might have actually had your fill of reading. (No! Say it ain't so!).

That's when your creative self steps in. It does. It has to—creativity sits inside you like an organ; it's a vital, integral part of yourself. If you give it enough time, air, space, it emerges.

If you get enough space, enough opportunities to be bored, then something has to come and fill it. 'Something,' can't help itself, whether it comes in the form of you waking up the next day and deciding to ride your bike up and down the street pretending it's a horse, or deciding to write a story, or make a mud pie or draw chalk pictures on your driveway. You might find yourself up a tree and daydreaming, imagining yourself in a tower or flying to the moon.

If you let a child get bored, give them enough empty space (and to be a complete rebel, imagine no tv, no computer, no playstation—gasp), then they will find something of themselves to fit that space. It might be through reading, writing, drawing, music, building, organising, socializing, inventing, fulfilling, baking, fixing, asking, questing or…

just breathing, and thinking, and being.

In that moment, it might look like your child is doing nothing…and maybe they are. Physically, maybe even mentally!

But what that stillness, and silence, and openness provides, is time to brew. Ferment…form…fix…and find. Time to create. Time to be.

And that, I think, is glorious.

(We've had three days of rain.

Inspired by a segment on a Mathtacular dvd, my girl created a board game with a visiting friend.

Then yesterday as it rained and rained and rained some more,

my girl and boy made board games…all day…and played them…all day.

And it's raining today, and my girl and boy are…

you guessed it…

making board games…and playing them… and

drawing and dreaming and being.

Yum.)

a lazy day…

On this lazy day,

a grand bottletop fair was held

by a boy and a girl

who had set up the fairground

just so.

Icecream was made and sold

as were the bottle tops

(with prices varying, said the seller, according to rarity of top)

A bottle top colour guessing game was played

using an ingenious invention

created by a boy and a girl

and prizes were won.

On this lazy day,

a toy house was played with

(which had been built by a dad, a boy and a girl the day before)

and afterwards,

the animals

slept deeply in their little beds.

On this lazy day,

a girl went to buy a bird

(to replace a beloved boy bird, Zed,

who had passed away in his nest three days before,

having worked his little tail off for months

nest making

grooming, and egg sitting

for his girlfriend Zoom.

R.I.P Zed. You will be missed).

Introducing Zip

who then met his new girl friend (the hefty one in the photo)

and was lurved

(resulting a seriously happy little girl!).

On this lazy day

haikus were written

by a boy,

who was

inspired by a book

that arrived in the post today

and is awesome.

(and will be used a lot

in writers workshop and at home.

I can't wait)

A haiku

Five syllables start,

Seven syllables follow.

Then five more, the end.

by my boy

On this lazy day

other lovely books arrived,

(this being the big half year books splurge of 2010)

and were pored over by a boy and a girl and a mum.

They included

A Childrens' Homer by Padraic Colum

Seven Wonders of the Ancient World by Mary Hoffman

The Picture History of Great Inventors by Gillian Clements

A Really Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson.

Galen and the Door to Medicine

and

Archimedes and the Door to Science by Jeanne Bendick.

Yum!

On this lazy day

maths dvds arrived

to help us find some maths joy again

and were watched and laughed over

and loved

by a boy and a girl and a mum.

And on this lazy day,

a cat

lay flat

on a man.

It was

a

very

lovely

(not-so-) lazy

day!

drum solo!

My son "trading 4s" (as it's called in the Jazz World) with his bandmates!

It was the first time he'd ever solo-ed on drums in a performance.

The song is "Sonny Moon for Two," by Sonny Rollins.

And the hootin' and hollerin' at the end is me. Sorry about that!

time to breathe

It's the end of term in these parts.

Ahhh, the end of term. I love it.

Funny, someone once said to me, "Oh, but you wouldn't notice the holidays, because you're always on holiday!"

Hmmm…

I guess our life must look like holidays to some…because we're happy so much of the time. And yes, we're able to go most places anytime, if the sun is up and the beach calls or if there's an impromptu excursion to go on, or some exploring to do. We get to live the spirit of the holidays, anytime we choose.

But we also have a lot of commitments—every week there are places we need to be, things we've agreed to do—art classes, music lessons, music rehearsals, tennis lessons, homeschool group, playgroup, writers workshop, and the most recent addition: First Lego League.

We have to be out every day, usually around lunchtime, to get to wherever we need to be. We have two days where we don't have to be somewhere until after 3, and those days feel lazy, indulgent. But they're also filled with a sense of all the things we want to get done. Projects, Science experiments and history days…plus going to the library, walking the dog, and visiting people we mightn't otherwise get to see.

Our days during term are packed full. In fact, kind of overflowing!

(And on a side-note, it now cracks me up inside, when people say they send their kids to school for the socialisation, or ask, "What about socialisation?" We are more busy and sociable now than we ever were in 4.5 years of public schooling)

But in the holidays…

the busyness pauses.

All classes stop, even homeschool groups take a break. In this time, we breathe.

We sleep in.

We read books for hours.

We play without any sense that we "should" stop, be somewhere else, be doing something "important."

We take stock.

And we don't have to be anywhere at any time for anyone, day after day after day.

Now, please don't get me wrong. I am not complaining!

I love our life, the projects we do, the commitments we've made. Because each thing we do brings us joy. Like, real joy, connection to self joy, making a future joy, building a life joy.

And I know that in the holidays we do a lot of the same things that we do during term. Play, visit friends, hike, bike, walk, read, make, do, experiment, learn, be.

And to an outsider it might seem it's business as usual. The holiday you have when you're already on holiday.

But we always feel a change when the term ends. We notice the shift. The release. The lightness.

And I relish both the doing and the NOT doing.

The sense of lightness I feel every single time the holidays arrive tells me that while, yes, we are learning all the time, naturally and co-operatively, and while we are loving that journey, it is also simply good to take a break.

To pause, breathe, and have the only "learning" or "doing" be the kind that slips in, unnoticed, undocumented, and entirely unscheduled.

Ahhhh.

My boy playing in the end of term Jazz Showcase with his Combo

My girl and her friends playing after the last Writers Workshop of the term

To Do and To Don't

Things I am doing

even though I shouldn't be.

Staying up late when my whole body (eyes to knees, hair to toe) says I'M TIRED. Like REALLY TIRED. Please, please, take me to bed.

Worrying over how to help my girl understand maths. Like stewing over, mulling, ruminating, obsessing. Maths has become my nemesis. (But only KIND OF, because my son and I are going to dive into fractions tomorrow, and I think fractions are COOL).

Wishing I could help homeschool some kids who aren't homeschooled, who'd be so so great to hang out with, but aren't mine, and can't be wished over like a cool toy in a shop window. Bummer about that.

Wishing I could fix things I have no real power over. That's a really great wish, and goes in the box with wishing for world peace and the end to poverty. Though you can make quite a bit of noise about the last two.

Things I am doing

that I should be doing.

(Otherwise known as a WIN-WIN situation)

Listening to the quiet.

Sitting beside my daughter's ball of wool and needles, from her new adventure into the LAND of KNITTING. Having a little smile inside about that. She loves her knitting. I need me some needles now, to join her. I need to get my boy some needles. We needs us a knittin' circle!

Thinking of how warm and snug my feet are in their purple UGG boots. Mother's Day present 2010. Everyone should get a pair. Preferably in a colour they'd never choose for themselves.

Listening to the quiet. I know I mentioned it already, but it really is lovely.

Listening to the fridge humming. In F sharp. I know, because I just got up, went over to the piano and checked.

Letting the cat get on my lap in the nth hour, just as I'm thinking I WILL go to bed…

oh…I shouldn't have done that.