Yoga, Knitting, Kids

Me: (wrestling with five double pointed needles as I start the sleeve of Lyla's jumper) Arrgh
Q: Do you actually enjoy knitting, Kath? It seems to annoy you and then you never seem particularly happy with the result.
Me: (now even more irritated) That's not true, I love knitting and I think I'm getting quite a bit better and I'm usually pretty happy with what I make.
Q: Ummmm, ok.
Me: Bleurgh!! (throws knitting to one side, stomps off to get a glass of wine)

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Damn triangle pose


The next morning I grumpily drag myself to yoga, I'm stiff and out of shape, I struggle to get into the poses and I have to force myself not to just give up and walk out.

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We have decided to keep Lyla at the Schoolhouse for another year, but we are already thinking about the numerous kindergarten options (first world problems, which kindergarten should we choose!). I've been thinking a lot recently about the philosophy of the Schoolhouse, how they believe children learn best through play.  Their focus is on the process over the product.  The art projects she brings home are huge splodges of colour, scribbles, stories that are a stream of consciousness, everything is completely her.  There are no hand print turkeys, no Thanksgiving work sheets or anything that an adult would ooh and aah over.  It's all about her exploring, discovering, learning so much.  I don't think she has an end result in mind when she is doing these activities, or if she does, it is secondary to just the pure enjoyment of it.  The splashes of paint all over her, the mud squelches between her fingers, the crazy combination of sand and bubbles in the warm North Carolina November rain. 

How sad to lose that, to learn to sit in a little row of chairs, completing worksheets, listening to your teacher talk at you.  Only half an hour of music this week, budget cuts.  Alright, now we are going to paint turkeys, no not like that, use this colour instead.  We force the joy of the process out of our kids and out of ourselves. We are so focused on the end product and when we finally reach it, it is never good enough.  So here's to savouring the small, every day things, to meeting yourself exactly where you are, to enjoying the feel of soft wool in your hands, muscles stretching just a little bit farther, mud pies and little kids remaining little kids for just a bit longer.

Lyla at Four

I can't believe she is four, insert cliche about the inevitable passage of time, children getting older, I'm getting older too, I think I hear a Stevie Nicks song.  Anyway, I thought it would be interesting to write a little something about Lyla at four.  That's sort of the point of this sometimes blog, something to look back on and help us remember. 

I don't have a picture of this but Lyla at four is summed up for me by the image of her riding her bike ahead of us on the pavement around our neighbourhood.  Her helmet is on a bif skew-wiff, her leggings are covered in paint and mud, her calves are adorned with Strawberry Shortcake and Hello Kitty band-aids, and she is zooming off ahead of us, her long, skinny back wobbling from side to side like she's dancing.  We yell, "slow down, you're going to fast, BRAKE!!" and occasionally she listens and comes to a screeching halt, then she's off again, long legs all over the place.

This gives an idea, although it was taken after the cool weather hit, so the bruised legs aren't in view!

She can't get out of the car fast enough at school in the morning, "Morning Miss Tara, today is Annyuee's birthday and I'm going to make decorations for it at school, is Quinn here yet, I have my wellies on coz it's raining..." I don't know if there is ever a point at school when she stops talking.  She is so confident and easy-going. I'm having a hard time deciding if she actually still need a bit of babying sometimes or if I need to be able to still baby her sometimes.  She wolfs down lunch with glassy eyes then says, I think I'm ready for lie down with a podcast and I pick her up and get her warm milk and just hold her for a while. She can be such a little tomboy, racing around with the boys, getting covered in mud and sand, but then still wants to be a sparkly princess for Halloween.

As she gets older, home stops being her only influence, she has school teachers and other kids and yoga teachers and whole host of other people. I have a strong desire to be a "curling" parent, racing out in front of her, clearing away all the bumps.  Letting her navigate those bumps on her own, and giving her the right advice when she asks for it is the hardest thing I've ever done.