I'm Mollie.

Dear Henry,

You just completed your first Cross Country (XC) meet.



Then my Eyes burst into tears! My Brain and Heart were all like, "What is wrong with you????" but my Eyes kept spewing.



Then my Heart started racing, and my Eyes and Brain were all like, "Dude, for real?"



Then my Brain started calculating distance and times and elevation and traffic and nutrition and digestion and my Eyes and Heart were all like, "Not important, MOM. That's what Henry and the coaches DO, like for their JOBS."




So I was a mess.
And you were amazing.
And I hope you get to do races like that which bring you joy and challenge all in a messy bundle and remind you what it feels like to be ALIVE.

Choose life, buddy.
Run hard.
You got this.
Even off the trail and track.

We love you, Boo,
Mom

One hour, 60 minutes, 3,600 seconds.

Nathan Foster, of Renovare and The Making of an Ordinary Saint, was confused by the act of "submission" and so, decided to study it. He asked his 9yo daughter and 5yo son, if they could have an afternoon with him, what would they want to do?
He asked himself, can I truly turn myself "off" and do what my kids want to do for a certain amount of time, within a reasonable budget? Like, NOT check his phone, double up on errands that serve him too, add in a treat that would ease his submission-ing discomfort, etc.
He did it. It was hard. (His afternoon involved a trip to Chuck E Cheese, among other things. Bless...)

So I thought, what about an hour???

Could I do an hour with each child, ONLY what they wanted, within a budget?
I asked all three of them if they could have an hour with me, what would they want to do? Then I asked them to think about it for a day.

Corinne wanted to go first. I set a timer on my phone and Henry and Svea pulled up a chair to watch.
Corinne wanted me to get IN the pool with her and not only STAY in the pool but PLAY at whatever she said.
Henry was delighted and grabbed my phone to take pictures. Mom was going to PLAY! Svea got in the pool with us.
The only time I got out of the pool was to make her some orange juice (it was past 10am so she had already had a Fanta).


Henry eventually got in too, and Corinne forgot that she was only allowed to be in charge of what she and I did, not what Henry and Svea were doing. Her siblings may or may not have mentioned that "she was trying to boss everyone in the world like Donald Trump." Ha.

Svea had pity on me and checked the timer several times as I engaged in jump-off-the-pool-wall-dance-routines, bounced, splashed and swam back and forth in the shallow end.
The hour ended. I survived. It was hard. (There was no Chuck E Cheese even mentioned.)



Svea was next.
She wanted me and her to go to Hobby Lobby and buy materials to create something! With styrofoam heads! And paint! And feather boas! All for under $20!
So we did. We listened to the radio and sang loudly (maybe with hand motions) with the windows down.
The hour ended. I survived. It was hard. (Wouldn't you know that Chuck E Cheese is next door to Hobby Lobby??)



I had to lie down on the couch for a few minutes before Henry's turn.

Then we went to another store to hunt out Superhero items (costumes, posters, accessories, sheets, cups - there are no rules, people.)

In under $20, we found two posters for his room, a blank poster, 3 canvas boards, paint and brushes. The superhero hour was full. There was no radio played in the car and we used the air conditioner. Quiet and cool, y'all. Room for all his thoughts...
The hour ended. I survived. It was hard. (There are no superheroes at Chuck E Cheese.)



I was disappointed how hard it was for me to focus that long on one child. I'm surprised at how quickly I wanted to check my messages or double up an errand (since we are right here by Whole Foods, let's just run in and grab some essential oils, eh?)

I want to work on this, though. I don't want it to be so intentional and hard. WHAT IF I naturally spent time with them, individually and together?  Is that what you call parenting?
I'll keep working on it. Promise, guys.

This may be my favorite painting so far by Henry.

He said, "This is what the sound of my drumming looks like."

"I am so tired of this. Anyone? Anyone?"




"I can't look...I can't look. Jesus is coming y'all...I can't look."




"Oh, man. Here comes another one."




"Seriously, this is a different yawn from the previous."




"Maybe THIS yawn makes it look like I'm singing. Because I know the words. Even though I won't sing."




"Sneeze or yawn? Sneeze or yawn?"




"Wait! It's time for me to play the Orff thing. Big Xylophone. Whatever."



"Now I'm back up here yawning."




"I think I passed my yawn to the girl in front of me. Contagious, y'all."

He's on the far left in this one and he just shot the ball that's at the top of the photo.  I can't remember if it went in. Let's say it did and call it a 3, eh?


He's on defense here with his back to us, left hand reaching out to stop the ball.
We let the guy by and he scored, but that's okay. We're building character here, people.


Um, I think he fouled that dude in this one. Oh well.


Henry taking it down the court for the Diamondbacks!


We have yet to win a game, but I'm feeling really good about tomorrow, y'all.  He has had a great season despite the "no wins" and his parents are totally loud and obnoxious. Saturday mornings are awesome, y'all.

He couldn't talk for awhile so when I asked him how he was doing he wrote me this note:


Great.

Bring it, Sheldon.

This one time, Henry got a skateboard for his birthday.

And Daddy was so excited.

And Henry said, "Maybe next year you could get ME a skateboard, Daddy."


Then Daddy got a Beatles Rock Band and played it like crazy.
Then it collected dust.
Then Henry got interested and started playing and playing. Then he WON against Daddy. So Daddy couldn't rest until balance was restored.

Maybe next year...

THIS, my friends, is why we will be playing SOCCER next season and NOT flag football.


(At Henry's final game, he kept drifting from his flag football field to watch the soccer game going on in the neighboring field).

Henry has decided that he wants to do his own laundry.

That means he comes home from school and takes off his clothes, and wants to wash them right then for the next day. Then he goes and makes his lunch for tomorrow.  That's how we had the talk about how a turkey sandwich has to sleep in the fridge.

I didn't discover all of the parts of his routine until a few days into his commitment. I asked if he wanted me to show him how to use the washing machine and he said I ALREADY FIGURED IT OUT.
Duh.

I asked him if he knew where the detergent was and he said WHAT'S DETERGENT?

So I made him a check list and taped it to the door of the washing machine. He doesn't read it, but it made me feel better.

We also ran out of detergent due to the number of secret loads he continued to start.

So I got a recipe to make our own detergent!
It's supposed to be less expensive, it had been on my list of things to do, and I was worried about polluting the earth with all that yumminess in the smells of Gain and Tide.


I ordered the ingredients off Amazon and got an old Pretzel Stix container from Corinne's preschool: