He art-directed this shoot himself.
I am wondering how many activities my friends have their kids in. Before having children (a time when we are all so wise), I was adamant about strictly limiting extracurriculars. But the reality of Sebastian is that he needs to be kept very, very busy or we all pay in blood.
But how busy? Gymnastics and hip-hop make him ecstatically happy and the good kind of tired. Soccer seemed to make him confused and exhausted, so we only did that for one season, but maybe we can revisit it. He can take or leave karate, so we’re probably going to put it on hold at least for the summer, although I think it’s really good for him. (It’s also so tense to watch — Steve and I sit in the parent area and stare at the mat with big eyes, thinking, Please don’t start wrestling that 3-year-old, please don’t flop face-down on the floor, please don’t take off your belt and swing it around like a lasso.) He needs to learn to swim eventually, though I’m hopeful we can teach him the basics ourselves. And I’d really like him to take piano lessons, just because it’s so helpful if he wants to pursue any kind of music when he’s older.
I am the furthest thing from a Tiger Mom — more like a Tree Sloth Mom — but I want to do what’s right for him while still preserving a modicum of butt-sitting time for Mommy and Daddy.
Maybe Henry’s favorite activity will be sitting quietly at home and reading a book. Ha ha ha sob.
It all deteriorated very quickly after this.
My year at home (15 months, actually) with the boys is winding down. School is out and I have a regular teacher’s summer break to go. Sebastian is enrolled in a small variety of summer camps and classes, and Henry is still attached to me like a baby koala almost constantly and makes sad noises and desolate reaching motions if I put him down. That transition to daycare is going to be super-duper fun.
This year has been so wonderful, and yet, so bizarrely unsatisfying. I was so starry-eyed when I started this, and now those stars are burned-out, dead black holes. Staying home with little kids is HARD. Staying home with a kid like Sebastian is EXTRA-SPECIAL HARD. I am chagrined and disappointed to find that I don’t have the infinite well of patience and magnanimity I assumed I did for my young friends.
At the same time, it has been an experience I will remember fondly forever (and perhaps even more fondly with the help of the misty veil of time). It has been undeniably good for Sebastian. He has made up years — literal years — of social and communication development in the last 12 months. He is amazing. And getting to hold a baby all you want while he grows in your arms from a newborn to a toddler is pure primordial joy.
Nonetheless, I will be very glad to go back to the job I love in August, and I will be very sad to put my baby in daycare, and I will be stabbed in the heart — in a good/bad way — to see my sweet firstborn boy start kindergarten. (Via phone pix, unfortunately — his first day of school is also my first day of school. DAGNABBIT.)
So anyway, there we are. I haven’t felt like writing here much because I’ve gotten really squirrelly about the boys’ privacy, and my privacy. (Plus: Brain leaking from ears from year at home with boys.) Steve’s privacy I don’t respect at all, but unfortunately he is .06 percent funnier than I am so he should tell his own stories.