Baby Dirt and the Opposite of War

Now that we’re in our own house and have a little more yard space than we did both at our apartment and our last house, Adam and I have been talking about having a garden.  We don’t exactly have vast amounts of time on our hands, but we are going to at least try to tackle a couple of beds.  When Amelia was smaller, we planted some seeds in a few pots and she adorably called it our “baby dirt.”  She constantly wanted to water it, check on it and of course, play in it.  During that round of gardening, Amelia was the equivalent of Lenny from Of Mice and Men.  Needless to say, we didn’t quite reap what we thought we sowed. 

This time around, Amelia interest was piqued again.  We started our little project today with some seed started pots.  Eleanor bounced between attempting to eat dirt, trying to help and doing her best to escape our porch to get to the back yard.  Amelia, however, stuck with it.  She poured dirt, planted seeds, and watered them all.  I had expected her to tire out or lose interest, but it didn’t happen.  We had a few mishaps of accidentally spilling a couple of the pots, being very concerned about a beetle, dumping almost all of one type of seeds in one pot and insisting on filling up the last few pots with a spoon.   All that aside, she saw it through. 

After we finished, Adam mentioned the “baby dirt” to Amelia and in the true nature of someone who is over three and a half; she insisted that it isn’t baby dirt anymore.  With kids, so much changes so quickly. 

It was a beautiful day to plant seeds.  Amelia made the beginning of a garden today.  Hopefully, if all goes as planned, we will be able to nurture those seeds into plants.  In so doing, she and I were literally planting proverbial seeds (may I remind you that cliches are cliches for a reason) for childhood memories and maybe a new and lasting interest.  

We all want that, in our own way; to make something.  I have hopes to raise my girls to create.  Mark in Rent had it right when he sang from the top of a table, “the opposite of war isn’t peace, it’s creation.” We all work from the spark of our creation towards creation of our own.  My girls will know that they have the power, the value and the calling to make something.  They can make space, make decisions, make art, make a stand, make peace. So can we.

That feels even more significant this weekend.  Tonight, I hugged my girls a little tighter, rocked a little longer, read one extra chapter and deeply felt gratitude that my girls are safe.  There are children (and men and women) who desperately tried to sleep, not to a white noise machine and a harried rendition of “Baby Mine,” but to the soundtrack of an air raid over their home. Don’t let this be just another day; to create space for those who are persecuted, we can’t keep them at arms’ length or only on our social media feeds.  We are called to make true connections and to create peace. 

Being the Little Sister

I have two little daughters.  I know, thank you, Captain Obvious.  Anyone who has Facebook stalked me, read one of my blogs or knows me in any capacity, knows that.  All of that aside, my two little girls are on my mind tonight, as they almost always are.  Tonight though, it isn’t about their accomplishments, their goals, their potential, the world around them or how I am attempting to help them grow, learn and become the best humans possible.  Tonight, it’s just about the fact that there are two of them.

No matter what the circumstance in any family with children, there is an oldest child and there is a youngest child.  I happen to fall into the oldest child category.  I am the older of two children and I happen to be the oldest grandchild on one side of my family.  On the other side I am the sixth of seven grandchildren.  There were times when I wasn’t the oldest at family events, but they were not that often.  So, it’s been extremely interesting to watch Eleanor, as she learns what it means to be the little sister.  Because of that, Ramona, Amy March, Lucy Pevensie, my aunt Susan, or my cousin Kayla would have been able to write this better than I have.

So far, Eleanor is my wild one.  She has little to no fear of anything.  She has Spiderman-like climbing abilities and an independent streak that appears to be ever expanding.  Eleanor likes a challenge, especially those involving finding a way out of anything confining, like a seatbelt on a high chair.  By the way, they should make five point harnesses for high chairs and shopping carts. Sometimes a restrained and screaming child is better than one who is either constantly escaping or toppling out headfirst as their parent reaches for the cereal.

Anyway, very little holds Eleanor’s attention for long at this point in her life.  There is one thing though, that Eleanor finds constantly entertaining and that is her big sister, Amelia.  She would follow Amelia anywhere.  Even now, as a toddler, Eleanor makes every attempt to keep up.  She watches it all and takes it in.  Our house is set up so that Amelia can literally run laps around our downstairs when the mood strikes her.  When that happens, you can find Eleanor toddling along behind, being lapped, but contentedly a part of things.  Amelia has recently learned what it means to “copy” someone.  Thanks, daycare friends.  This has been the cause of many a complaint regarding Eleanor lately, who is unabashedly copying her sister.

I know how tough it can be to be the big sister.  To be the first.  To pave the way.  To be the one with whom parents figure things out.  But, now, I can also see how tough it must be to be the little sister.  Eleanor goes as quickly as her legs will carry her, but she can’t catch up.  She reaches for Amelia’s jewelry or clothes or toys or books only to be told that she is too little.

There will come a day when that won’t be the case.  There will come a day when my girls will be able to share clothes or when they will go to each other with problems instead of me.  At least, I hope and pray that they will grow closer together rather than apart.  I’ve seen siblings who have done both.  I don’t have a sister.  I love my brother and would not change my family at all, but I am glad to have been able to give my girls a sister. 

As their parents, we are trying to plant the seeds of a relationship that could flourish between two sisters.  We are trying to teach them the value of each other, to show them how much family matters, to foster a relationship that is strong and healthy.  As we were driving home from supper last night, I caught a glimpse of what could be.  I turned to look at the girls, who were being suspiciously quiet for two awake kids in car seats.  They had reached across the car toward each other and were holding hands as we drove.   Amelia caught me looking and giggled, but didn’t drop Eleanor’s hand.  My hope is just that; that they will always be able to reach each other and that nothing will cause them to let go.