the end of an era

Today is the last day of Eliana's first year of pre-school. I can hardly believe it. The end of an era. The end of my debut performance as a mother of two. A mother of an infant. The mother of a school girl. My first attempts to be a full-time juggler. And I have to say, I've done okay. Not always graceful, but certainly heart felt. In it to win it. Day after busy, busy day.

I can feel the end of the year exhaustion sweep through my family. I went to bed when it was still light out last night. Eliana could have slept in forever this morning. Rain pelts the ground, sucks the relentless energy out of this time, forces us to surrender until the sun returns. I appreciate the rain today. Gives me a chance to hunker. To finish writing my report cards. To begin to deal with the chaos in my basement. To go inward and reflect a bit before we race towards another season. Spring always feels the fastest. I watch the buds change overnight. My cherry blossoms seemed to last but a day. The lilacs are already losing their scent, turning brown. Just when you settle into a new kind of beauty, the view alters.


Like one minute your girl is two. She ignores her brother for a really long time. She freaks out and can't be reasoned with.

Then that same girl has completed her first year of school, full-time. She's almost four. She adores her brother. They play together for hours. She sees what a gift he is.


And that sweet little baby is a sweet little boy. A boy who can tease his sister right back. Saunter right up with the toy she wants and then fake to the left, a giant, still almost toothless grin on his elfin face. She whines, but laughs. Tackles him down. Gets the object. And he's right back up, going after it again.



Sol remains a boy of few words. But boy can he move. And while there's not a whole lot of room in this house to be heard, there's room for him to be seen. He knows every last inch of the abode, has found items I haven't seen in years from the backs of bookshelves, beneath kitchen sinks, shoved in the bowels of my closet. I adore him.

His sister too. She remains full of more words than I can keep up with. Two languages worth, with songs and dances to accompany her every whim or mood. I wish I had a picture of her in her end of the year performance last Friday. She sang and danced her heart out to Shakira. More than one person came up to me and commented on how into it she was. People who didn't even realize she was mine. But of course she is...

This morning the thought of being at home with both of them all day, every day, for three months felt a bit overwhelming. Then after working my tail off organizing files, negotiating with nine year olds through one last day of listening, reviewing reading test scores, it hit me. I get to put all my energy into just two odd, beautiful little people! And they are mine! I'll have the creativity I need, the patience I need, because it will all be going to them. Shift in attitude. Shift in energy. And while it feels a bit premature and Polyannaish of me to say it...I think we can do it. I think we'll succeed.