The quarantine has moved the gravitational center of life back into the home. And despite the feeling of calamity—the sensation that we are watching a car crash in slow motion (my Dad’s apt metaphor)—there’s rightness to us all being here, contending with each other, figuring out life within the citadel of home.
Since the schools closed, our five year old neighbor comes over to do worksheets and listen to read-alouds with the girls. The children sit lined up by the wall, their carefully improvised school setups much closer together for than I would choose. I’m loathe to move them apart. They have placed themselves and their chosen tools with care, and arrayed them in this cozy line. The worksheets are done communally and in competition, the two five year olds vying to get ahead in the packet that I printed. In her supervision of the kindergartners, Louisa gives only every seventh thought to her own work. But explaining kindergarten math phonics makes good work for a third grader, and I rejoice when I hear that her patience is tried and holds. It’s a bit of a muddle, and probably not ideal—but it is bringing us through.
Maria observes, and adds words to a story she is working on—an easter story about Walruses making eggs out of ice. Having her sisters home all the time is trying. She misses the long read-alouds of Plutarch and Shakespeare. She misses quiet hours by her beloved pond. But she also likes the convivial huddle along the wall of the living roo, and sets herself in the line.
Louisa and Pippa joust many times a day, with tears complaints, tattles, and recriminations. Louisa has decided that Pippa is always interrupting. She may be right. But then Louisa is always talking. There’s the difficulty. If the clashes are more frequent than on school days, so too are the reconciliations. It’s gratifying to see the entire cycle to its happy (though temporary) end. It’s like having a phoenix in the house—the creature withers, dies, and hatches from and egg several times a day. Maybe with time, I’ll become more sanguine about my girls’ phoenix relationship. Usually, the restoration of harmony comes with Louisa saying. “Pippa, let’s play MamaWeeza, and we are…..” and then they are off in their parallel life of Mamaweeza and baby, at an Asian restaurant if we are eating soup, at an art class if we have paints out. Sometimes, I feel a little sad that I cannot enter Mamaweeza world—but most of the time I am grateful to have a break from being the Mama.
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| Scottish history study --Just kidding |
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| We have loved doing Lunch Doodles with Children's Book Author/Illustrator Mo Willems |
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| More Lunch Doodles |
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| Tales from Shakespeare - Looks like their toes are acting out the plays |
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| Attempt at Nature Study and Homemade Worksheet -- Will we EVER learn the parts of a flower? |
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| Communal Lunch - Please give me lunch ideas! |
