On growing pains: A Rock Home Companion
Things around here are a little out of shape.
Even though Seth did a tremendous job of keeping up the house while we were gone, we may as well have thrown a grenade before coming in and unloading the van. Between then and now, too, we’ve had a few viruses, so we’ve had long pajama days and lots of piling up around un-emptied suitcases. The messy can be beautiful, too, if we let it be.
Lately Isaac has been really into exercising. He jumps in place for 5 minutes. He climbs the door frame like Spiderman. He does push-ups.
I am so sore that I can’t even squat to tie a shoestring because Isaac asked me to give him some new exercise ideas. I taught him how to bend, touch the toes, touch the waist, and then clap overhead. Let us not discuss any further how pitiful it is that I’m sore from such a thing. We did do so many toe-touches that I got vertigo and had to drink a glass of water.
Ian is still the sweetest, slobbery-est little amazing-grace singer I’ve ever seen, but …
Oh, I hate to say it …. my baby …. He’s,
he’s been pretty naughty. I know. I didn’t believe it at first either, but he says “NO” now before anything. He has his Daddy’s eyes, and his Daddy gets away with a lot.
My spirit, too, feels like I’ve had a personal trainer threatening me up a hill. We’re learning a lot here in the Rock House, and I can’t wait to share it with you as soon as we process it a little more. It’s in the crock pot on low. On Friday, I’ll dish a little of it out.
A glass sits in the kitchen window, and in it is a wet paper towel and a bean. Isaac wants to see something sprout. And so he will. We will. Things are happening beneath the surface, and pretty soon, the sides ache to a split, and then GROWTH, arms reaching where the sun tells them to.