Tuesday, March 3, 2009


Sometimes I have to remind myself why I go through the trouble. Loading up all three kids in the car (one napping and another one needing one) to drive the 5 minute drive over to the art center, because it's too cold to walk. I hate structured things - needing to be at a certain place at a certain time, regardless of the current state of our day. But I birthed a child who loves it, so I find myself trudging to his special classes.

It was his art class today - the first time they've had one where he can be dropped off. This is a big deal to Jack. We did the parent/child ones, but he was getting way too old for them. I'll start taking Andrew. I found out they had a drop-off one, and Jack was ecstatic. Over oatmeal, he was discussing at length that this was a class where he gets DROPPED OFF. Never mind that he has those all the time...but this is his first time for an art drop-off. Big day.

We haven't done pre-school with him, just a collection of classes. He developed such specific interests so early that it seemed easier to pick and choose classes for him, and he's got a circle of friends that meant he didn't need the social outlet. He loves science. And art (mostly sketching, but anything messy will do too). Apparently Russian. So we do things the very non-economical way, and sign him up for all sorts of classes we can find. He loves it and wears his backpack and asks his Russian teacher for homework. Adorable.

The painting class was only an hour, but there was about an hour of prep for each end of the pick-up/drop-off with the other two. Nursings and diapers and getting food...and other stuff, I'm sure. When I arrived 5 minutes late to pick him up, I was thinking I was never going to do this again. It wasn't worth the hassle to take that chunk out of the middle of our day.

And then Jack shows me the pictures he made. And the abstract painting with a white figure in the middle of all those shades of purple. "I made a werewolf! To thank Daddy for telling me werewolf stories at night." And I realized that sometimes motherhood is a pain in the butt, but it is unfathomably worth it to see your child's eyes light up. Yes, someone cried all the way there. And all the way back. And 1:00 is the worst time of day for a structured class in our family. But... nothing I've ever experienced warms my soul more than that face of absolute joy. Heck, I'm going to frame that werewolf picture. He paints and draws with such emotion that you can almost see it jumping off the page.

Aw, I love my kiddos. Just love 'em. Andrew might break everything he touches and nearly break his neck on an hourly basis. And his overwhelming need to watch "Peter Parker" might drive me up a wall. But he's got that sweet, sweet soul that makes Simoney giggle from across the room...or that gives me the most glorious hugs I've ever had...or that feeds me popcorn, regardless of whether I want it. The way he puts on underwear so that it doesn't even begin to cover his butt. Or his shirt upside down. How can I get annoyed with someone who can't even accurately dress himself? That teeny-tiny little body catapulting down half the stairs into my arms. What a sweet little ball of destruction he is.

I'm so glad they're in bed. But I do love them to bits.

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