Day Twenty-three: In the Sand

The other day, Leafy drew a picture of me in the sand while we were on the beach, and it looked like this:

I so badly wished I had a camera.

His picture was much better than my rendition, and it was drawn in sand with his finger, which was priceless.  He told me it was me looking up.

You know how there are the natural swings of motherhood; the days of clumsiness and grief, and the days of moment after perfect moment? Or, in actuality, they are much more connected than that…  Leafy draws a portrait of me that stuns me with its grace, and then he cries all the way home because there is sand on his belly. YaYa is so much a little girl that I catch myself staring at her, open-mouthed, because the very fact of her being a little girl makes me feel more free, but then she cries all the way home because I let Kid A take a turn pushing the stroller.

Sigh.

And then I see them bend together to lift the stroller over the loose sand, puzzling out a problem for themselves and finding a way, and I believe again that the shining moments are much more weighty than the others.

Update on the confusing am I or am I not a preschool issue: I think we have it cleared up now.  Chinua was pretty clear (stronger than me? less apologetic?) when the lady got back on the day she dropped her son off, that a) we are not babysitters, and b) she should call before she brings her son over, but they are welcome to come and play. Together.

I think it was a combination of a) a language barrier, b) the fact that many foreigners here *do* open up kindergartens for other international kids, c) the fact that I homeschool my kids, something that is not done in many countries and is very strange to some people, d) the fact that someone TOLD her that I had a school, and e) her own boundary issues.   But she is very sweet, and I’m glad we have it straight now.  It was just funny there for a minute, because on the phone, I’d be saying “I am not a babysitter.  I do not have a preschool.  I do not babysit other people’s kids.” and she’d say, “Maybe we can talk about it when I come to your school.” Oh dear.  Oh dear oh dear oh dear. At one point, I said to Chinua, “Maybe I should just open a preschool.”

This is the way my brain works, which is why it’s good for me to have people around who say, “Rae, you really don’t want to do that.”  And then I say, “Oh, you’re right.  I don’t.”