One of the things I love most about having Matthew at this age is building up the little holidays with him. The underdog ones. The ones we didn’t have to get a day off from school to look forward to when we were three.
Making fruity-pebbles cereal bars for breakfastThis was actually part of our weather theme -- mixing "raincloud" marshmallows with "sunshine" butter to create "rainbow" bars. Glad we didn't get around to making them until yesterday, because they were a fun start to the day.
Even Scarly got in on the green...
I’d spent the last decade and a half of my life forgetting to notice these holidays until they passed, yet oddly enough, these were the ones I looked forward to the most when my firstborn was small enough to cradle in my arms. More than white Christmas mornings or black Halloween nights, it was busting out the green undies and little clover socks on St. Patrick’s Day; plastering sugar cookies with icing on an Easter afternoon; taking fresh baked, basket-weaved-crusted apple pie to great grandma’s pool and lighting sparklers on the 4th of July… these were the promises I watched flash between us the day he was born.
Yesterday, he stood on the balls of his feet, trying to reach into the top draw of his dresser for the greenest pair of socks he owned. And when we found them together, he bounced onto his bed, flipped around with an untamable grin and seesawed his legs off the edge of the mattress so I could put them on.
He hasn’t let me pick out his clothes or dress him myself since he learned how to get in and out of his own sleeves and pull his favorite racecar shirt off of the hanger himself. He’s been perpetually clad in backward pants and mismatched colors for three and a half weeks now. But on St. Patrick’s Day of this year when I told him we “get” to wear green because TODAY day is St. Patrick’s Day! -- a name that has no more meaning to him than Geraldo Rivera -- he couldn’t wait.
Yesterday was our first time acknowledging the existence of the holiday, probably even saying it’s name out loud. But last night when I carried him off to bed and kissed his warm, soft cheek in the dark; tossed his green cargo pants and clover-clad socks in the hamper by his night-light, I put him to bed with memories stained in rainbow, gold and green washing over his dreams. Little as they were, I put him to bed with tradition in his veins.
But more importantly, at least one matching outfit in the hamper.
Even Scarly got in on the green... I’d spent the last decade and a half of my life forgetting to notice these holidays until they passed, yet oddly enough, these were the ones I looked forward to the most when my firstborn was small enough to cradle in my arms. More than white Christmas mornings or black Halloween nights, it was busting out the green undies and little clover socks on St. Patrick’s Day; plastering sugar cookies with icing on an Easter afternoon; taking fresh baked, basket-weaved-crusted apple pie to great grandma’s pool and lighting sparklers on the 4th of July… these were the promises I watched flash between us the day he was born.
Yesterday, he stood on the balls of his feet, trying to reach into the top draw of his dresser for the greenest pair of socks he owned. And when we found them together, he bounced onto his bed, flipped around with an untamable grin and seesawed his legs off the edge of the mattress so I could put them on.
He hasn’t let me pick out his clothes or dress him myself since he learned how to get in and out of his own sleeves and pull his favorite racecar shirt off of the hanger himself. He’s been perpetually clad in backward pants and mismatched colors for three and a half weeks now. But on St. Patrick’s Day of this year when I told him we “get” to wear green because TODAY day is St. Patrick’s Day! -- a name that has no more meaning to him than Geraldo Rivera -- he couldn’t wait.
Yesterday was our first time acknowledging the existence of the holiday, probably even saying it’s name out loud. But last night when I carried him off to bed and kissed his warm, soft cheek in the dark; tossed his green cargo pants and clover-clad socks in the hamper by his night-light, I put him to bed with memories stained in rainbow, gold and green washing over his dreams. Little as they were, I put him to bed with tradition in his veins.
But more importantly, at least one matching outfit in the hamper.
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3 comments:
Here's my response to your questions about sensory boxes --
looks like you guys had a great St. Patty's day!! : )
@ Alicia,
I keep two or three boxes going at a time in separate underbed style storage boxes. Some friends of mine keep them under beds, sofas, or buffets/tv hutches in family rooms. We keep ours stacked on a bottom shelf of a book case in our playroom. If they're filled with heavier stuff like pea gravel, a lot of rice, or fish tank gravel I have to help the girls get them on and off the shelves. I know some folks who keep a box or two going in their garage (with things like rice/oatmeal/ or sand). We have two boxes, one with oatmeal and one with moon sand that I can just drag out onto our driveway/patio on a warm sunny day, or even out into the grass. Then it doesn't matter if there are spills and clean up is a breeze!
Hope this helps!
Fondly,
MaryLea
(pink and green mama)
It does! Thanks. I'm so excited to get started. :-)
When my girls were little it was fun to celebrate all the little holidays as fully as possible. Valentine's day at our house was always a family thing, and we always did it up! We did very small token gifts and homemade cards, fun themed dinner etc, and even though there isn't a lick of Irish in me, I would do that little holiday up as well, it did help that all the priests in our parish were Irish though, and the girls felt connected in some way to the holiday.
Your kids will have these sweet memories and that is what life is all about, the little moments in our lives.
Your kids keep getting cuter and cuter every time I pop over here ! :)
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