Alison Hodgson

Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.

Eleven

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The day of Lydia’s birth is one of the happiest of my life.  She was the bright spot in the midst of a long and dark depression.   I held her in my arms before the cord was cut and wept because I was so relieved that she was here and that my labor was finished.  Of course, in a whole new way, it had just begun.  
I am thinking about this as we navigate, awkwardly, this arduous time which is adolescence.
This picture is my prayer.
May she know that she shines like a light, that she is beloved and that I am always behind her.  Help me to be behind her.
Always.

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Eden is up, though it’s almost 10:00 pm.  She has a cold and after weeping off and on for two hours and begging us to let her sleep with us we relented.  Paul and I were lounging on our bed playing on our laptops.  The second we told Eden she was in, she shot back to her room for her pillow and a blanket.  She snuggled in between us and began to chittety chat our ears off.  I turned to her, looked into her sleepy eyes and asked her if she would like to sip a little “rasberry tea” (a magnesium drink that helps us sleep) and read a little Laura Ingalls.  She did.  As I walked to the kitchen she called after me, 
“I’ll save your spot!”
My heart, already soft, melted.  
That the bed is mine, that it’s always my spot and not in need of saving doesn’t really matter does it?  It’s good to be chosen.
And now I’m going to choose her back.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2008/09/393/

First Day of School

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Here we all are on the way to Lydia’s bus stop, which is at the neighbor’s.  Eden, Christopher and I were already outside documenting her first day, when Lydia came rushing out panicked that we were late.  Christopher shouted something annoying, then Lydia told him to shut up, which provoked him to shout even louder to me that Lydia had told him to shut up and then I shouted at him to shut up and get in the picture.  

Perfect we ain’t.  

Fortunately, we believe in asking for forgiveness and in extending grace, which we did as we walked to the bus stop where we took this next picture.

That’s better.
Do you see that Kindergartner?  Look at that sweet and eager face!  The first day she made friends with every kid in her class and specified Lydia, J.P., Ellie and Sydney.  The second day she was talking about Lydia and Dandy.
“You mean Sydney?”  I asked.
“Oh yeah.”
Today she came home with the sad news that she and Lydia had a fight.  We’re sorting out the details.  Apparently the teacher had to intervene, calling, “Girls, girls that’s not forgive.”
This is.

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It’s been a long week.  Lydia started a new school too – sixth grade.  It hasn’t been easy being the new kid and being her mom hasn’t been a cake walk either.  I haven’t blogged, because it takes time getting up early, packing lunches, waiting for buses, driving Kindergartners to school, neducating homeschoolers, praying on the hour for lonely girls, rejecting plans to beat up would be mean girls and such.

We’re tired.
All of us are seeking comfort and rest in our own particular way:  Eden and Christopher are playing Star Wars Legos on the Wii, Lydia is baking and Paul and I are lounging on our bed laptops propped on our legs.
“Are we being terrible parents?”  I asked Paul.
He paused from his typing for a second to mumble, “No.”
He didn’t recommend taking the long view here, but it was implied.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2008/09/396/

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Today we are preparing for Eden’s half birthday, her “Friend Party”.  She has been busy gathering streamers and rifling though the cupboard that contains all our baking supplies.  Just a moment ago she called out, “I want to use this to put my cake on.”

I had a feeling that “this” was the antique glass cake pedestal that I store on the top shelf of the baking cupboard.  I hustled into the kitchen to find Eden squatting on the counter with the pedestal beside her.  She was smiling widely and seeing her rang a sort of bell, but I wasn’t sure what.  I rifled my visual memory for photographs of her or her sister and then I realized, she was making me think of me.  Squatting there on the counter, a sweet and utterly satisfied smile on her face, she was an echo of a younger me, except with Paul’s blue and sleepy eyes.
I don’t usually look for myself in my children; producing three near clones of their father has kept me from that.  And yet there are times, like this morning, where our likenesses flash out and I see, if for only a moment, that I am not just a conduit, but a spring, a well.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2008/07/419/