Missed Time

It's been a long time since I've sat down to chronicle the life and times of our young family.  I didn't mean to drop out like that, but it's been a whirlwind since Aaron graduated, and we've all been trying to find our new balance.

Last year Andrès was in 2nd grade in home school with Evergreen Flex Academy, Cub Scouts, soccer, and choir at church.  Raph was in preschool in Ms. Audrey's class and his nemesis, Braxton, who according to Raph, was a real trouble maker, and he always updated us on what sorts of naughty things Braxton did at school.  Both of our boys were in a Spanish class on Saturdays in Portland, right next to a really cool up-cycled art supply store named SCRAP that had yarn-bombed trees in the front and jelly-fish hanging from the ceiling inside made of bottle caps and rummaged plastic parts.  And from February to May, both boys were in a Christian-based home school co-op on Fridays.  It was--needless to say--a very busy year.

Raph turned five (!!!) this spring, and since he's in love with a pair of cowboy boots, we decided to have a big cowboy party.   He hadn't had a big party since his 3rd, and this one, the big 5, needed to be memorable.  Everyone came and we were so glad for it!  He's starting kinder this year, but I intend to have him in kinder next year too, as he's so young.  I'd rather have him graduate a young 19 year old than a young 18 year old!  He's having a blast and loves Ms. Poston.  At home we do calendar work, practice writing, counting, sounding out letters, and have just starting reading.  He's not yet there, but I'm sure next year he'll be rocking!  I'm amazed at how good his handwriting has gotten, and how well he knows the sounds of the letters, and even learning to count up into the teens and twenties on his own.

Andrès turned nine this summer (again-!!!!) and had a small celebration for his birthday with his friend Nat and an apple pie rather than cake and ice cream.  Simple and small.  It was exactly what he wanted, but I hope that we can do something really sweet and special for his 10th next year.  He's started 3rd grade with a new teacher this year, Mr. Peterson, who seems to be a good fit, so far.  Andres is doing great in math!  I've been so worried for the past three years, because 1st grade he hated it, 2nd grade wasn't much better, and this year we both had found that he gets it and might even like it a little.  He's done a great job catching onto multiplication, which I was totally scared of teaching, but he's caught on quite fast.  He's learning Latin, and doing a superb job, and still loves history and all things Roman.  We've started doing geography and blob mapping in the classical manner, as well as started cursive handwriting.

I can't help but feel distracted by the pressures of the day, mostly financial, and try so hard to focus on my little boys.  They're just growing so fast, and I'm dizzy at the speed at which time flies.  Honestly, living as we do as homeschoolers on one income with one car has been a massive, unspeakable financial sacrifice.  And the stress of making ends meets has not only burdened us, but crippled us at times.  I wish I could ingore it, and just focus on my little guys, but it impacts them and what we're able to give them.

So far this year, we've held back on signing them up for any extra curricular activities, other than Andrès in choir and K2 at church.  This is first year in K2, and he LOVES it.  Meanwhile, Raphael is in the nursery playing with Abram and Joshua and he LOVES that.  I've been wanting to get Raph into basketball and Andrès into flag football, but our money situation has been so dire that it's all been put on hold.  I struggle with the guilt of that, like maybe we've hindered their growth somehow because they're not in all these activities like American kids are these days.  But for our family, and for so many reasons, it's just not in our cards.  And not once, for the record, have they ever asked to be in a sport, so it's not that they are pining for it, but I feel it's my job to expose them to skill-building opportunities, and as a homeschooler, I feel extra pressure to "socialize" them, too.

Aaron's searching for a better job, and has been since the summer.  He's looking for something in the non-profit sector, something that not only gives him a raise which he needs and deserves, but something that he can believe is doing good work in the world.  I pray that he lands that new job soon, for his sake and our family.

I look at my boys and marvel at them.  They're smart, handsome, talented, and above all, the sweetest, most tender-hearted little men I've ever met.  I'm so honored to be their mother, and so sad that I can't be the mother I wish I was for them.  And I see my husband, who still makes me laugh and still shows me an unconditional love so profound that breaks my heart.  I don't deserve this sweet, sweet life.  But I am so grateful for it and so humbled by it.

Mastered

This spring was an inferno of stress and distress in nearly every countable way.  It all culminated with Aaron's graduation in the middle of June, and that began our slow but eventual recovery into the world of "normal," as close as our family can ever be to "normal" anyway.

Words simply fail me.  There's no English equivalent to express how proud I felt of Aaron when I saw him in his full cap and gown, his honors ropes, his Greek medal, his dedication yoke...no words.  Not only have I watched this man from the beginning of his academic journey, but I've walked it with him.  From that first quarter we lived in married student housing when he asked me to help him read the notes on a sheet of music for his first year theory class, to now transcribing 500 year old vihuela tablature and rewriting it in contemporary standard music notation for a chorus.  The man demonstrated unspeakable strength, supernatural strength and endurance, as he not only supported this family single-handed for the past three years of grad school, but also worked full time as well--and graduated in his masters program with a 3.9 GPA.

I'm glad our boys get to witness their father's hard work and dedication to pursuing his dream, and I've been blessed to see the man become someone closer to the person God has called him to be.

Four Years

I'm truly baffled by the span of time between then and now.

 How can four years seem simultaneously brief and epic?  So much has changed since you came into our lives, yet I can't imagine our lives without you being part of this family's cataclysmic evolution.  Like a stained glass window with glowing shards of brilliant colors welded together with lead that can only truly show the art when the sun is out--you are that sunshine to me, to this family.  There's a holiness in you, a low, glowing, warming holiness that humbles me.

Since the moment I held you, your soft chocolate curls under my chin, I felt fully content.  You have gentle spirit, like your Papa's, and your grace and pensive nature are lovely to behold.

sweetness

the siren's call

because who needs pants in the rain?

so often there's a halo of light on him... or emanating from within him

river walk

here's my pensive boy

I miss these curls.

My wonderful wild, magical son.

Halo on the 4th of July

Pooltime!  And again, a halo.

One of my favorite images of Raphael.  This when he was about two, and so perfectly reflects his dear and precious soul.

Riding his little trike at three.

This is why I love boys, and he epitomizes BOY.  Wild, free spirited, glowing, and strong!

Making some serious art.  Raphael has an artist core, musically, visually, he sees things lost on most of us.

Winter 2013, he loves the snow, what a daring boy, my Raph.

Giving his homies, Leo, Mikey, Don and Raph (the other one) a shout out.

"I gotta draw, Mom.  I just need to draw."  What he said upon waking up one morning.

Seriously, the angels are jealous of this boy's sweet heart.

You're not super until you're 12th Man Super!

I love this shot of him crooning "Pizza Angel" over the cinnamon while we made breakfast on the day of his 4th birthday.

Canvas is a precious commodity in our house, and on his birthday he got to paint.  He wanted a shark, which I lined in ink and he carefully painted.  He's gotten so good at painting, and he works so hard to be careful and even meticulous. 

Proud artist showing his upside down shark.  What a wonderful job for such a little man on his 4th birthday!  He has a gift, and we're wondering how he'll use it as he grows up.

My little man mocked up tough-looking for the camera.

Opening his gift from mom and dad on his birthday.

Sprinkles and bunting for a four year old boy.  He has the Heitzman sweet tooth!

His sweet face.  

I wish we had been able to have the awesome "Cars" birthday party that I had been planning.  I had created invites, and gotten RSVPs from friends and family.  But with Aaron's testing schedules and school schedules, it was not going to happen.  So for his big 5th birthday, I'm cooking up something special for my boy.

Raphael, there are so many ways you bless us each day with your grace, there are so many reasons why I'm so overjoyed that you're my boy and that you are in our lives, warming us with your sense of humor and your tenderest of hearts.  You have completed our family, your are the table's forth leg, and without you, sweetheart, the rest of us couldn't stand up!  We love you so, sweet boy.  God bless you, and may this year, your forth year, preschool and swimming lessons, new friends and new teachers, be a year filled with healthy, happiness, and sweet glowing childhood memories and joy.  

A Leader

This came today in my email box from Andres' teacher at FLEX.  There's no words for the comfort and joy it gives me to see him through her eyes when I'm not there to witness him in his raw spirit.

Andria,

I'm not sure if you know this but Andres is a favorite in our class and students fight over him.  He always leads free choice activities and generally has 4 or 5 kids reenacting Roman wars.  Its nice because he uses his powers for good and often tries to come up with fair ways to divide his time between his friends and always encourages everyone to play together.  You have a great leader on your hands!

Of Phoenicians and Bubbles

As I read from the history book, Andres nestled against me on the sofa.   He stared outside into the blistery snowdrifts scattering about, and the wind pummeling the window.  He was captured, completely still, listening as if there was a movie behind his eyes, which I'm sure there absolutely was, as if he blinked he would miss something.

"Have you ever used a straw to blow bubbles in milk?"  The text prompted me, which engaged him, jolting him out of his reverie.

"Yes!"

"Well that is what made the ancient Phoenicians the best at glass making.  They invented glass blowing, which they used a long metal pipe and dipped it into the sticky, melted glass, then they blow air from their lungs through the pipe into the glass, making a bubble at the end.  And no one else had done it before, and no one at the time was doing anything like that.   They were the best glass makers of their time."

Later at the end of our chapter, there were review questions, and one of the first ones seemed to be the most easy.

"What were the ancient Phoenicians the best at doing?"

Without skipping a beat, he blurted out, "Blowing bubbles in their milk!"

Naturally, we both cracked up, because of course we knew what he meant, but the visual of blowing milk bubbles was too strong of a schematic link, and it came to him without censor.

Later that night at the table, we were sharing our day with Papa over dinner, and Andres recounted the story.  At the line where he fumbled, he burst into a giggle that quickly escalated into a chuckle, then before we knew it, we each were laughing around him, even Raph who was just moved by Andres' laughter and couldn't fully appreciate the punch line.  It was so silly, the idea of these advanced ancient people blowing bubbles in their milk!  The more he thought about it, the more he laughed, and we followed suit.  It's the best kind of contagion, his laughter, and we were all blissfully infected.

It is hard, the home school thing.  It's work, and it's time, and it's a give-a-thon akin to nursing, or potty training or any other intense part of parenting, but can be, and slowly is becoming more fun.  I love it.

When I can remember not to take it all too seriously, when I can remember that being his teacher is my J.O.B., when I can remember that he's still oh so young, and I should be impressed that he not only knows how to say "polytheistic," but can describe the ancient Romans and Egyptians as being such, I am humbled, and fearsomely inspired by who he is.  Not who he will become one day, but as he is now, he is amazing.  He is a marvel.

When he laughs his trademark heart-moving laugh, and his dimples pierce his almond cheeks, and his deep, keen eyes are pressed into dark-lashed crescents, the symphony of him as a person moves my soul.

And it's my bet he's right.  If the Phoenicians were best at blowing glass, then there's a mighty good chance they were also the ancient world's best at blowing bubbles in their milk.

And the Academy Goes to...

Andres has been watching homemade Lego movies since last summer, and for Christmas all he wanted were the tools to make his own Lego movie, specifically Roman Lego Movie.  Well, I can imagine Santa, like us, had a very hard time finding those Roman Legos, and got him Knights and Castles Legos instead, which he plays with as if they're Romans.  When he saw his friend Samuel's cute Lego movies, he immediately had me email transcribe his email message to Samuel via Samuel's mom, Rachel, asking Samuel to teach him how to do his own movies.  So they spent a morning creating this movie at Samuel's house, and then we came home to put it all together!  He's so proud, and eager to make more!

My Raphael

The problem was this.  Raph didn't want to do school with us.  He's only three, after all, and although some research shows that early academics within certain social-economical demographics as soon as a kid has cut his first tooth does help with overall academic success later in life, I feel that for our family it's not necessary.  I wanted Raph to have a sweet childhood, and allow him to be little and play without choking him full of data.  That will come, surly, but now, right now, he's only three.  And I want to honor him by letting him have this golden time to be just a little guy, and discover his world on his terms.

He wanted to play with Andres, but couldn't when we were doing school.  School, three solid hours at least of focused and dedicated teaching, meant Raph was playing by himself or watching PBS.  I've usually been pretty persnickety about screen time, and letting him watch three hours of TV a day, even having the TV on for that long, drove me absolutely nuts.  Also, there seemed to be a massive inequity, while Andres got all my attention for that length of time, Raph was required to play by himself or indulge in TV.  So we changed our home school plan back to FLEX, allowing Andres all day on Wednesday to be with friends, and a day for Raph and I to connect and do some fun stuff together.

It's been a good change for all of us, although I won't use the curriculum FLEX gives us, and plan to purchase the curricula from CVA, because it's just that good.  Andres has become madly fascinated with ancient Rome and Greek cultures.

"Mom," he said one day, "I don't want to study Spanish anymore.  Can I study Latin?"

Sure thing there, seven year old son.  You want to study Latin, let's do it!  So I found him a wonderful curriculum at our local library, of all places.  What luck!  It's been fun for me, too, and to see him giddy to learn this new (ancient) language has been nothing short of wonderful for the both of us.

But the transition has been best for my relationship with Raph.  Wednesdays while Andres has been at a brick and mortar school,  we've been able to do things just he and I, and I feel that connective thread between us is viable again, less fragile.  We have so far created the little practice of going to the library, then going swimming at the gym.

Our Raph, as I've said before, is designed to be in water.  It's his favorite place.  He's taken baths close to two hours long, until the water is chilly, and his fingers have pruned, but it doesn't bother him in the least, with his selection of Batman toys and a random Hot Wheels, he's content as any fish.  It's a vision to behold, since he was less than one year old, when we took him to Seaside when he saw the ocean stretching to the horizon, he waddled towards it as fast as his newly used legs could carry him, an expression of determination and focus I hadn't seen in his eyes until then.  And he rushed into the lapping waves like a baby turtle, propelled to go there, driven by some innate command to run into the water and relish it.  

Now we go to the pool, his most favorite thing in the week, and we play in the water, and ride the river, and he rolls around as stealthily as an otter, or sea lion.  His need to be submersed in water hasn't lessened over time, in fact, it's grown more independent, and there are times that he pushes my supportive hand off him, and he doesn't struggle or flail in the water, he just sinks, his beautiful brown eyes wide under the surface and staring at me as he slowly descends to the floor of the pool, his curls billowing around his cherubic face, little bubbles escaping his open mouth smile, before finally reaching our for me again to be pulled to the surface where he sucks in a gulp of air.  You must breath air, my little fish.  I confess it's a little disturbing to see him like that under water and sinking with his eyes focused on me, and I always feel relief when he finally reaches for me, ready to surface.

His new thing that I've rather mandated he learn is to hold on to me as we count to three before sucking in a breath, holding our noses, and with him on back and his arms around my neck, we submerge, swimming a length of the pool before finally popping up at the other wall. He amazes me, and I wonder how God will use his passion for water, what purpose will it serve this little man, or the world?

Raph's favorite thing is helping me cook.  I remember when Andres was this age and the chair scraped from the table over the linoleum to the stove where he eagerly awaited instructions, and it eventually broke my heart when his interest to help faded.  Here comes my Raph now, when he sees me at the stove, rushes to a chair where he scrapes it across the floor to crawl up and stand by my side, eager and ready to cook.  Sure there are mishaps, such as yesterday when we were making cookies (our favorite thing to cook) and the Kitchen Aide was full of creamed eggs, butter, vanilla, and sugars, when we had just added two cups of flour, a couple teaspoons of baking soda and a cup of oats when he too eagerly flipped the power switch from 0 to 9 before I could stop him and, you can imagine, it looked as if it had snowed in our kitchen, and Raph and I were spooks looking askance at each other through powder-coated eyelashes.  But then there are those small magical moments when last week he and I had made vegan Peanut butter cookies together (vegan because we were out of milk, butter, and eggs, and I happen to have an awesome vegan cookie cookbook for just such moments--they were the best peanut butter cookies ever, btw), and my job was to roll the little balls of dough, and his job, with his long-pronged fork raised and ready, was to embellish the cookies, first this way, then the other way.  He felt so big and grown up, and after I showed him that we wanted the little boxes and lines on the top, he created his own adorable Peanut butter Cookie Calling Card, by gently pushing down one of the tiny boxes left by the fork indents.  One little peanut butter cookie dough box in each cookie, smashed.  He was so proud.  He calls them Cookiebutter Cookies.  And he still talks about that day, and our special moment together.

I'm trying to get better at capturing these moments with him, and so I rushed to our camera where the batteries were dead.   I'm left holding the image of his little pudgy index finger so carefully pressing a tiny piece of dough flat into the cookie as a treasure in my heart.

I've taken to babysitting on Fridays for my friend, Staci, and her sweetheart of a little boy comes out to play with the boys.  It's been a double win for us because we love having her little guy over, but also I get a little cash, which we so desperately need.

One week I was able to take that cash and with a coupon Raph and I went to the zoo, for the first time since he was 9 months old.  And it was spectacular.  He marveled at everything, especially the fish.

Our day at the zoo.  He loved the Arapaima (huge fish) display in the Amazon house.  These guys above are trout.
But still cool.

We had a blast, and he was so fun to play with.  Afterwards, we used some of that cash to actually go to Burgerville for our lunch--I KNOW!  A real restaurant, just he and I, and we had a little date.  We've never done that, and would never be able to afford it had it not been for that babysitting gig.  It was a momentous day for us both, and we loved it.

He's quite a joker, too our little Raph, and his sense of humor is so much like Aaron's.  But this week he's said two little things that I need to jot down to hold onto for years to come because I thought they're cute, and they cracked me up.

One evening I got him out of the tub and started to rub his wet curls with the towel, a thing he has always loathed, and he blurted out "Stop, Mom!"  I looked at him shivering cold and wet.

"Honey I need to dry your hair a bit."

With sudden authority and a touch of gravely tenor to his voice he replied, "Don't dry my hair, I'm BATMAN."

I thought it was a good effort at stopping me, and as I chuckled at him, pulling rank as it were, he shuffled away to his room, his Bat-Hair Bat-Dripping Wet.

Then the other day after lunch I sat at the table with the boys as they finished their salads.  I was annoyed, as it sometimes happens after eating roughage, and covered my mouth to discreatly remove the culprit.

"What's wrong with your mouth?" he asked with a mouth full of food.

"I have something in my teeth," I admitted.

He shrugged and shoveled another mouthful of salad in, then asked, "Is it a spider?"

I laughed out loud at that, and told him no, I didn't have a spider stuck in my teeth.  But he was concerned, and wanted to get to the bottom of it.

"A tarantula?"

"No, not a tarantula."

"A bug?"

Seriously, what does this kid think I have in my mouth?  Finally I told him it was just a bit of lettuce, but he wasn't convinced.  He just kept eating and looking at my teeth with skepticism.   He's a fierce arachnophobe, and for some reason he jumped to the worst case scenario, a spider stuck in my teeth!

It's rough at times, naturally, and Aaron and I are spread very, very thin in all things right now, it can be hard to really enjoy the tiny little miracles, the precious fleeting moments, but I pray that I delight in my boys as they're little for only a short while, and they are indeed from heaven, so rare and special, the sparkling stars of my life.