Big Boys and Bunk Beds

We're back, friends, and we've jumped fully into the throes of home.  Because Little Brother forced the switch to a big boy bed at the beach, we've finally pulled the trigger and purchased a bunk bed. So now, in the midst of unpacking and re-entry, we're rearranging the boys' rooms, packing away the crib and Big Brother's twin, and picking through what seems like several truckloads full of old toys, books, random parts and happy meal giveaways. We're eliminating junk and trying to move forward (and let's give credit where credit is due: Jim spent about six hours in the sweltering heat of yesterday afternoon assembling the bunk bed with less than clear directions). With the exception of things on the wall and perhaps another Ikea bookshelf, the bedroom is coming together. The new "playroom," however, is more like a bare, white, blank space with lots of shelves and a collection of toys arranged along every wall. At least I got it vacuumed. It is scary, I tell you, to pull out a bed and see what has been lying beneath.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), I don't have a real vision for the playroom yet. Yes, I've gotten lots of inspiration from Pinterest, but I just haven't totally jived with a color scheme yet, and I think that's the first step. I love red and shades of teal-ish blues, but I'm concerned that that's not quite gender neutral enough. The thing is, if we were ever to have another offspring (and we'd love to, one day), and said hypothetical offspring  happened to be a girl (I'm not hiding anything here, I promise, just being a bit of an obsessive planner), I'd like not to have to repaint and re-accessorize the room entirely to make it back into a nursery. You know? It just seems wiser to keep it gender-free.

In the interest of not rushing it and waiting for the inspiration to really come (because how often do you get the fun opportunity to redecorate a room?), we're just going to live with it for a few weeks and then gradually take steps to happy it up, in priority order. First priorities are a rug (eek--the price tags on those freak me out a bit) and a cozy reading nook, because Big Brother will be spending his "rest time" in the playroom and letting his little brother take nice, long afternoon naps for as long as I can possibly enable him to do so. I'm hoping to exercise a bit of creativity for the reading area--I'd like for it to feel comfy and hideout-like, and to encourage as much imagination as our huge stacks of library books can conjure up.  For that matter, I suppose, I'd like the whole playroom to be such that it encourages the boys to pretend, to build, to create, to draw, to dress up, and generally to play in ways that require imagination. But, of course, I'm not a teacher, and so this ambition is leaving me a bit, well, daunted. Do you have ideas? Please, friends, share them!

On to the less pragmatic and more reflective: I'm suddenly a bit shocked by how incredibly quickly my little boys are growing up. With an older sibling to admire and emulate (and perhaps an extra helping of stubbornness from his Maker), Little Brother is doing new things far earlier than his hero did. He seems to have no qualms about joining in with the big kids, and has every confidence that he is capable of the things that they do. This week, for example, he put on his own shoes and insisted upon swimming all the way across the pool. He also walked straight into the middle of a "jumbo slip and slide," only to get leveled, moments later, by a nine year old riding an alligator raft at about 25 mph (sigh).

Fortunately for my mother's heart, his sweet baby voice remains, and when he climbs out of that huge new twin bed, he still does it with thumb-in-mouth and "leep," his treasured fitted crib sheet, trailing behind.

Big Brother, on the other hand, is making less qualified jumps into big-boyhood.  He contemplates things more seriously, has more insightful questions and thoughts, is able to do all sorts of new and fun things (like play bocce with his dad at the beach and comprehend the rules, to some extent), and he's big enough to sleep six and a half feet above the floor and LOVE it. 

There were many instances this past week where I was reminded to treasure these fleeting times with my boys--to snuggle them and tell them I love them at every turn. As we come back into the relative tumble of events at home, however, I'm really tempted to let the arguments, the screeching, the tantrums, and the whining overwhelm my appreciation for their precious youth. So, this week, I'm praying for perspective. A long view. The patience to take a deep breath and ignore the volume, the banging, the selective hearing. The peace to speak softly. The love to keep holding them, nuzzling them, and rolling on the floor with them. 

With God's help, perhaps I can be, in the good moments, a bit of the mother I desire to be this week.  

Happy Monday!