Today was not the most wonderful day ever. 

It started with me NOT resisting the urge to crawl back into bed after seeing my husband and daughter off to be truthful. That didn't last long because dogs and small girls found me in short order. And husband soon wrote home to tell me one of our classmates from our tiny town's high school died suddenly. You can be gone from a town of a few thousand people (total, including outlying areas) a really long time and be right back in high school when something like happens. 

Shortly after that the phone rang.  The insurance company is totalling the car that was hit last week. We have to sort out the details and find another now.  Just remembering that night still gives me the willies and I still shudder a bit passing semi's on the road. Ugh.  

 I rallied after lunch though. The littles have been enjoying school lessons. Tess is reading everything she can get her hands on.  They are all doing an awesome job with their bible memory verses.  We are settling into a Waldorf-y rhythm whereby lots of just living is happening and learning is fitting into that context.  I may be rebelling and consciously slowing and focusing since Alannah began her job.  She is working at a child care center and rotating through the preschool room this week.  After absolutely loving the baby rooms she is struggling in this room.  

You should be advised that attachment parenting can render your offspring unsuitable for certain lines of work. Turns out she doesn't yell well. Not loudly and not enough, to be precise.  But she has been assured that it is ok.  If she stays longer, she will "find her preschool voice."  (ie a louder more irritated one)  As it is, she is "too nice to them."  She has a bad habit of allowing 'them' to hold her hand while they walk or of stooping to assist in shoe tying.  

This is against the rules.  This breaks my heart. 

For this reason I suspect she will find herself back in the baby room where they still value soft voices and a certain amount of soothing.  Not an excessive amount mind you. It has all prompted many discussions at home about why we do what we do and how effective the different approaches are respectively.  I shared this article with her by way of contrast with her experience. Just to show what could be, even in a large group. 

It is not always sunshine and roses over here, fwiw. I have been known to nearly pull my hair out over teenaged boys and the fog they seem to wade through at times, or chore chart boxes that stare blankly back at me hour after hour.  But we rally.  There are hugs and books and deep breaths and quiet voices prevail once more. 

I don't often feel like a phenomenal success. And losses like we have seen this past year make you wonder what sort of legacy you are leaving should you be next.  I read the accounts of Zelie Martin's children describing their sainted parents and sigh.  We aren't always that. Then again, we have also raised children who grew up to hold little hands and rock babies and coach troubled kids and read books and speak softly. (mostly ; ))

 Not small potatoes. 

I am holding on to that tonight. And tomorrow, we will read some more.  I will help tie shoes. We will look for a new car and be ever so glad we walked away from the other in one piece. We will bake for the big brothers' Valentine's box.  (which will be late again – a hallmark of their mother's care packages)  We will not worry about spoiling anyone.  In fact I think we will try hard to spoil as many people as we can.   And heck with it.  If they don't hear me upstairs when I call about those bleepin' chore charts, so be it.  I will go get them.  Again.  Because in a world where tomorrow is not guaranteed I do not want to be remembered for "having found my voice."  Not that voice anyway. Not that.