Whenever someone asks “How’s summer going?” I respond the same way: “Good, I just haven’t found our rhythm yet.”
I think I need to accept that this is our rhythm. I had forgotten how much stuff an eight month old required and that her ability to endure any activity is equal to her age in months. She lasts eight minutes in the pool, eight minutes in the high chair, eight minutes in the shopping cart, eight minutes in the stroller. She does still loves the bjorn…dangling there, high and seemingly independent. But I have to be moving forward, making progress. She is not fooled by any form of bounce in place.
The older girls are learning the joy of boredom and I’m learning the discipline of letting them discover it. Reading children’s literature written pre-1980′s helps – stories of children playing with rocks and dirt, etc. It’s true. If I leave them alone long enough, they start creating and playing and building and then fighting and crying. There’s an ebb and flow. A rhythm.
This afternoon I laid down on the living room floor to let Leila crawl all over me and Sophia and Olivia were next to me and we laughed and stared at the ceiling and felt for just a moment what it’s like to all be the same height.