Every conflict has its peak, after which it deescalates, eventually leaving us with an equilibrium once more. You and I are reading plenty about the escalation of conflict on the international arena and so I needn't add to that discussion here. Ah, but farmette life too can offer a valuable study of small deals resolved sometimes with much ado. Sometimes over nothing.
The interesting thing about conflicts is that oftentimes, you think they've fizzled. Phew, what a relief. Done.
But no.
I wake up and I fret. How do you share grandparenting with someone who hasn't shared parenting with you (or with anyone else for that matter)? Someone who has the love, dedication, and energy for the task, but who brings completely new ideas to the childrearing table?
It's not that I do not know my guy. I know to the core that Ed has a solid belief in letting people, especially your best friends and lovers, fashion their own path in life. It is what drew me to him from day one. If I should wish to embark on a Great Writing Project that would take on the topic of the mating habits of a particular insect species in Zimbabwe, he will encourage me to do it. With total willingness to help me figure out how I might get there.
That kind of laid back support from the sidelines is not all bad for dealing with kids, but it gets complicated when you believe, as I do, that kids do best when they learn to empathize and care about the wellbeing of another (say, for example, a grandma cooking dinner for her family).
And so this morning, I'm thinking that the discussion Ed and I had last night about Snowdrop's play while dinner waited is not over yet. We're still crescendoing.
Ed and I eat breakfast together, but my camera is on the flowers...
My, but it's steamy outside!
We really do reach the peak soon after. I use many words, Ed, as always, uses few, but we exhaust ourselves and in the end, Ed lays that gentle hand on my hardened shoulder and asks -- it's hot outside, but do you want to go out for a while and dig up that invasives in the side yard? It's a big project, but maybe we can get started on it?
And this is how we regain our equilibrium, digging, sweating, digging together, pulling out roots and tendrils and after an hour or maybe it's two hours, we are inside again, enjoying the cool air of the air conditioning, discussing politics and gardens in our usual andante melody of calm.
In the afternoon, Snowdrop is at once happy and tired (one of only two holdouts in the nap department at school).
(At the park...)
(Not so tired that she doesn't give me her very best rendition of a story before climbing into her car seat. She is one hell of a great story teller!)
(... and a dedicated baseball player!)
In sum: on this Monday, September 25, the sun rose at 6:49 a.m. and set at 6:49 p.m. A balanced day indeed! Calm prevails. All is right at the farmette.
The interesting thing about conflicts is that oftentimes, you think they've fizzled. Phew, what a relief. Done.
But no.
I wake up and I fret. How do you share grandparenting with someone who hasn't shared parenting with you (or with anyone else for that matter)? Someone who has the love, dedication, and energy for the task, but who brings completely new ideas to the childrearing table?
It's not that I do not know my guy. I know to the core that Ed has a solid belief in letting people, especially your best friends and lovers, fashion their own path in life. It is what drew me to him from day one. If I should wish to embark on a Great Writing Project that would take on the topic of the mating habits of a particular insect species in Zimbabwe, he will encourage me to do it. With total willingness to help me figure out how I might get there.
That kind of laid back support from the sidelines is not all bad for dealing with kids, but it gets complicated when you believe, as I do, that kids do best when they learn to empathize and care about the wellbeing of another (say, for example, a grandma cooking dinner for her family).
And so this morning, I'm thinking that the discussion Ed and I had last night about Snowdrop's play while dinner waited is not over yet. We're still crescendoing.
Ed and I eat breakfast together, but my camera is on the flowers...
My, but it's steamy outside!
We really do reach the peak soon after. I use many words, Ed, as always, uses few, but we exhaust ourselves and in the end, Ed lays that gentle hand on my hardened shoulder and asks -- it's hot outside, but do you want to go out for a while and dig up that invasives in the side yard? It's a big project, but maybe we can get started on it?
And this is how we regain our equilibrium, digging, sweating, digging together, pulling out roots and tendrils and after an hour or maybe it's two hours, we are inside again, enjoying the cool air of the air conditioning, discussing politics and gardens in our usual andante melody of calm.
In the afternoon, Snowdrop is at once happy and tired (one of only two holdouts in the nap department at school).
(At the park...)
(Not so tired that she doesn't give me her very best rendition of a story before climbing into her car seat. She is one hell of a great story teller!)
(... and a dedicated baseball player!)
In sum: on this Monday, September 25, the sun rose at 6:49 a.m. and set at 6:49 p.m. A balanced day indeed! Calm prevails. All is right at the farmette.
