This past weekend (okay, it’s a three-day weekend and we’re still in it, so Saturday to be specific), I went to see Remy in a Capoeira Kids’ Batizado. He practices with Omulu Guanbara Capoeira Western Massachusetts (led by the quite amazing Joe Seitz). To say I was impressed by Remy, who started Capoeira in January, is an understatement. Capoeira is a Brazilian martial art (that’s the short version; I leave the actual explanations to those who really know about it).
If I were to say—from a total outsiders’ perspective—what Capoeira has to offer, I’d say community, a sense of your physical center—and strength—and a highly attuned capability to play (while working hard). That’s tip of the iceberg; watching the way adults encourage the kids and the way kids rise to the occasion of the roda is inspiring.
Watching my kid feel so enveloped in community, so willing to take risks and to see how happy he is moving, well, that’s also pretty exhilarating.
On Wednesday, Saskia and I took a road trip to visit my sister—and help with nephew Ian. He’s not quite 21 months old and he was on the cusp of becoming a big brother. I kept thinking about how much his life was about to change.
Friday, it changed (welcome to Caleb!).
Pregnancy is fleeting. Infancy, toddlerhood—even childhood, as in pre-adolescence—are all fleeting (although childhood lasts longer than those other periods combined, truth be told). Adolescence is fleeting (so they tell me). The learning curves are so steep: with newborns, with babies, with making the transition from one child to two children. If we are fortunate, and practice noting the moments rather than freaking out about the big picture, we can brave the center of the circle to dance and play and be pulled by the rhythms of the song we are always creating.
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Some days, of course, we are lucky—we are in the moment—and others, not so much.
Maybe now, as I hold—as I got to do this morning—infants (this morning, just one of the cutest I’ve ever, ever met and also to pick up his willing sister, very near to Ian’s age), I found myself thinking about whether I have regrets as a parent, now that I’m in teen-dom (times two—plus more kids). I decided that I wish for two (or maybe three) things:
* I wish that I never let the eldest become a baby night owl (what if that’s why he never falls asleep in a timely manner at night?) and perhaps more broadly that I’d been more regimented about bedtime in general
* I wish that I’d made the kids pick up after themselves and help more than I do or did
* I wish that I’d known with the first two I’d really appreciated the importance of tummy time
You know what? Not too bad. I’ve spent some good portion of our holiday weekend on my long-term (and very, very slow bordering on meandering or even lugubrious) clearing through and cleaning up project (in militaristic terms on Memorial Day, Operation Quell Chaos). My eldest two keep asking why I bother, as in there will be more chaos and more mess and more laundry in no time at all. If I’ve learned anything four kids in, it’s this: they are entirely correct about the there-will-be-more-chaos-and-laundry part.
Even still, I’m feeling better and better as I sort through (and toss out, by giving to friends, mostly) stuff. By stuff I mean baby clothes (and blankets), overflow toys, and that good old etcetera. Ezekiel has been gifted boxes upon boxes of new (to him) books, so that’s going to present a challenge to integrate (note: if you are married to a book dealer of any sort, you probably have to accept overflowing bookshelves and a reticence to throw out books as a condition of the union).
And I’ve decided that beyond just feeling better—satisfaction enough, for the record—I am modeling this industrious behavior and eventually, who knows, it may catch on.
