day by day

Routine days. The kind you crave come mid-August, the kind that can drive you mad by March. And not just routine; in my life, in this season, routine also means little. Chats that don’t get much deeper than cool battle scenes in Star Wars and what color socks are your favorite and you’re responsible for the arm that just jumped out and hit your sister, even though you swear it did it on its own. Tasks that are not much more demanding then deciding if the aqua dress is light enough to slip in with the whites, or the slightly more complex balance of screaming babe while toddler calls for you after falling in deep snow. Beauty that is as simple and sweet as a perfect freckle and toes that are pink and the sounds of harmony rather than bickering.

These have been my days.

Trench-digging, stone-laying. Sometimes muddy and mucky and awful, sometimes with pretty rocks that fit together without even trying — but still. Foundations. Being faithful day in, day out.

Seeing past the surface and confidently giving yourself completely to the silly chats and mundane tasks and simple treasuring, because it’s about loving people made in the image of God. More, calling hearts to Christ and shaping arrows to fly true.

*****

Football fans with their daddy, watching the Superbowl. I had no idea 5 year olds could watch for 4 hours. But they can.

Sun that shines so often here in the frozen north.

The Susan Constant and Jamestown. Sometimes learning is a bit messier than a textbook and pencil. But so much more fun.

My girlies watch while I do my little morning exercise. Some day we’ll be drinking coffee together in the wee hours, three women serving Jesus. For now, they’re my little princess babes.

Watching and waiting for our paperwhites to bloom. Hurray!

That awkward hour before dinner. All four gathered and entertained for at least a few minutes. (Don’t worry; I’m watching Fiona, although she just doesn’t move much yet, in true Sinclair fashion.)

Always something to amuse: Jameson dusted the table and turned our family of elephants into “shrimp cocktail.”

A snowy day yesterday meant fresh fields of sparkling diamonds today.

Snow forts are the thing.

This one. Growing every day. Reminding me that all of these days really do add up to Time.

today.

Today was a real day.

Real exhaustion.
Real tears.
Real love.
Real need.
Real tenderness.
Real togetherness.
Real correction.
Real forgiveness.
Real weakness.
Real strength.

*****

I almost bailed on going outside. I really did! I was just so tired I was falling asleep standing up. But I figured, if I’m going to do that, there’s no reason I couldn’t do it outside. Right?

Two hours.

120 minutes slipped by while we got completely caught up in warmer temperatures, sun on our faces, exploring the woods, and brushing snow off an “ice rink” on a frozen-over clearing. I stood with my face to the sun, and then looked out over the wide field. Three little people, all in their own little worlds, laying face down in the snow, studying and feeling and being mesmerized.

It was the perfect day for 15 acres of country.

I felt beyond blessed.

*****

She sings. For two hours, she treks and falls and sings the whole time. Then she recounts every detail at dinner time and ends with, “And wasn’t dat pun [fun], Mama?” So, so fun, little lady. Because you are.

William made maze after maze, hoping to stump Jameson and me. He also escorted Beatrice and me back to the house at the end of our day, making sure to clear branches and hold our hands. Gem.

This boy. He just loves me, and it amazes me. He cares about me and notices me. He’s quick to help if he senses I’m tired or down. It doesn’t matter how rough a morning may have been, he’s cheerful and whistling and setting a pace of joy for every activity. He forgives me, long before I repent. A true gift.

And this is what she did for two hours, only zipped inside my coat inside my ergo. Snug as a bug. We “skated” and danced and climbed together. I sang in the middle of the woods at the top of my lungs, and she never stirred. Happy to be near me. Always.

There were toes to be warmed, of course.

…and toes to be examined. Must not have a stray fuzz in there. That would be bad.

Love this baby.

Love all these babies.

Love these babies’ daddy.

I am blessed.

revamp

Another tip: change it up.

This January, as we “hit the books” (in our 2nd grade and kindergarten way!), there was the need for something fresh. A new book wasn’t gonna happen this time around, so a tweak to the schedule it would have to be!

And so we did.

Earlier, quicker breakfast means earlier start to devotions means earlier start to our chore hour means MORE TIME BEFORE LUNCH! Last semester, we only spent an hour or so doing math and English/handwriting/reading before lunch, and then did history and science in the afternoon. Except that I’m at my absolute worst by afternoon. I need to just schedule “Mama totally crashes” into the day around 3pm. It’s all over. Dinner can make itself, because I’m just looking at bedtime. So, with all of those morning tweaks, we now have time to all meet at the table around 10am for a fun, energetic history lesson! We have a nice long hour to read, color, write little reports, look at globes, and whatever else we have that day. Then we have still another hour for the other stuff (stuff that also allows me to bake granola, take a shower, clean my bathroom, or whatever tasks need my attention.)

We all eat lunch, and then, for the best part of our new routine:

EVERYONE goes outside! The boys rush through lunch and clean up, because they know that Mama is coming out with them! We check the thermometer to determine how many hats and socks we should wear, but otherwise, no excuses! That’s the plan, anyway. Fiona slips into the Ergo, and Ryan’s big down-filled coat fits over both of us just perfectly. Beatrice is the trooper-est of a two year old — she’ll tromp through woods and frozen-over swamps and under branches and over fields for the better part of an hour. Altogether, it’s just the right thing to do in this season of our lives.

We come back inside with pink cheeks, exhilaration, and joy — and a hankering for hot cocoa! (Not every day, but as often as it seems okay!) Beatrice gets quickly whisked off to bed for her nap, and then the boys and I have been settling into our sun-warmed family room for a chapter or two of Narnia. I actually can get through a bit of reading without falling asleep mid-sentence, thanks to a good romp in the snow.

Thus ends the “structure” of our days. The rest of the day gets filled with piano practice and lessons, dinner prep, coloring or letter-writing, and good old-fashioned play.

****

Simple days.

So simple that sometimes you have a nagging thought, “I am doing something, right? Right?”

Yes. Yes.

Sometimes it’s as special as seeing them just eat up the exhortation their father shares during morning devotions, their hearts in their eyes, hanging on every word about Jesus. Sometimes it’s taking away a Lego Star Wars book because it’s causing friction in their relationship and we have to love one another. Sometimes it’s reminding a two year old to sit like a lady. Sometimes it’s standing at the counter and not slamming your fist on it, but instead, taking a very long breath and staring at the ceiling and begging for the Holy Spirit to come.

It’s feeding and clothing and nurturing and educating and training and enjoying, and doing all of that while pointing to Jesus. He’s that awesome, that relevant, that needed.

four

Four.

The number of little people in my house.

The number of human beings who exist because of our covenant. A little bit amazing? Yes.

Four:

Chunky cheeks and sweet hands. Cozy in a big brother’s hat, worn for our adventure into the sub-zero sparkling world.

Three:

She stands and looks quietly at my Carl Larsson book, and then stops. Caressing the page, she says, “I want this one.” Good taste, love. I’ll take that room, too.

Two:

A sweet little boy who clutched his new light saber toothbrush all through tonight’s viewing of Episode One.

And one:

A best big brother who happily makes room on his bed for a little brother. I close the door to the sound of giggles and more giggles.

Fiona girl

Sometimes you lay in bed next to your sleeping baby. You examine every little feature for the millionth time by the light of your phone. And you just can’t believe how amazingly special and precious and a person she is. You kiss her fingers and risk waking her because it’s worth it. Then you just can’t get enough, and you post all the photos you took today. Because goodness, you love this girl to pieces.