Mistakes are really discoveries

Nico's really into making things with paper. Origami, paper cuts, boxes, birds, you name it and it will be in paper form in a matter of minutes. (As I type this Jason is trying to convince Nico to delay the tape-box he's making for me until after dinner. It's like water off a stone with our determined boy.)

A few weeks ago, I taught Nico how to make snowflakes. A thousand snowflakes later and I am prepared to declare him an addict. Now and then though, he makes a mistake. I say mistake only because that is how he perceives them. I am not sure if his idea of perfection is rooted in nature or nurture but I do know that I want him to relinquish the negativity he associates with mistakes and see them for what they really are: learning opportunities. Thomas Edison said regarding his failed lightbulbs "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work".

Mistakes can also be a source of discovery, as Nico found out today. 

A broken snowflake is really just a pair of wings.


And once one person has a pair of wings...



Colette was happy to be a choucho (butterfly) and immediately jumped off the couch with great hopes. Landing with a thud, she said あれ (Japanese for 'huh?'). I love that she believed she could fly.


I also love that when Sebastian return from playing with friends, Nico asked him if he wanted a pair of wings too. 

 I love that Sebastian said of course.

Home Study Days

One of the challenges of raising bilingual kids is helping them to learn in both languages. For the most part we are more concerned with their childhood experience, encouraging exploration and acts of empathy/sympathy. We try to let them have as much free time as possible in the afternoons so they can play with friends or each other. For the most part, they determine how their time is spent, an element that is crucial as they step closer day by day toward adulthood.



I do want them to be scholastically well-equipped to support their journey through this world. So this year while I have been on maternity leave, we have started doing home study days. We sit down twice a week and do some formalized lessons, either with paper worksheets or more tactile materials. As you may remember, I try to incorporate Montessori methods in our home whenever possible. Colette is using the sandpaper letters and metal insets in preparation for writing. She is super alert to finding her "w's" as she refers to the alphabet whenever we are out and about. During the day I do more practical Montessori activities with her like pouring rice and dressing frames to learn how to use buttons and laces.



Nicolai is into Bob books, the movable alphabet, and math. Yep, math. He walks around counting by threes and fours and loves the hundreds board app on the iPad. The boy sits down and writes out addition problems, filling out the entire page with sums.

For Sebastian, I just try to supplement his school work to help him in what his teacher considers to be his weaker areas. I personally abide by the theories of multiple intelligences and various learning styles. I do not think Sebastian's weaker areas are truly weak but since the school wants well-rounded students, I try to help him to feel more confident in areas that he is not so interested in. I also work with him on his English reading which was really slow going until recently when we switched from phonics to sight words. And he is such a rabid reader in Japanese that I do not worry about his abilities.

We are still smoothing out some of the kinks of home study time (and by kinks I mean resolving disputes sparked by having three very determined and different learners at one table) but that is all part of the journey.

Three months in...

I think we'll keep him.

I Can Hardly Wait

And he's nine. Just like that.
Nine years ago Sebastian was welcomed into the world with his grandparents and our friends (his godparents) waiting outside the door. His was by far my longest labor and everyone had been waiting since the morning of the 19th for Sebastian to make his appearance. He wasn't too concerned with time (a trait he still possesses) and waited until 1:15 am on the 20th to slide into this world. He has transformed from that pale dark-eyed baby to my energetic and dramatic boy, the oldest of four kids.
I am fiercely proud of Sebastian. It isn't easy being our son and being the first child. It isn't easy to be thrown into school where everyone shares the same home language and culture that is rather different from his own. And despite his occasional grumblings, he steps up to the plate everyday.
Happy 9 years together, my beautiful boy.

Thoughts of Transition

Now, it is the pleasure of my everyday chores, the warm sunshine of Spring, the songbirds, the children laughing during their recess in the schoolyard next-door.
My heart is ripe with gratitude. How lucky I am to be here, right now.

I want to chronicle the stars and air and sounds for Luca, the setting of his first chapter. Most important, I want to remember this sweet period right before he joins us so that later (perhaps when he is sixteen and pimply, sneaking cigarettes and breaking curfew) I will have something luxurious and soft to pull from my battered mothering box, a cloak to wrap around my sweet boy and protect him from my easy judgments and exasperations.

Every mother has a pile of these memories, perched on the edge of our minds, at the ready.

These quiet, mundane weeks before Luca is born are now ready to be folded and put away. I can feel a shift occurring in my body and mind. Every minute lived is another minute closer to Luca. Soon I will have memories of woven with details that only a parent can savor, like those tiny, tiny fingernails and the way his eyelids will flutter while he is lost in newborn dreams.

The whole family seems to sense the transition. Every morning I wake up surrounded by my children, all of them quietly vying for my attention, even if it is just passive physical contact. They perhaps sense that my attention will stray for a little while, to be focused on a little one instead of homework assignments and skinned knees. The boys are more understanding but I wonder how Colette will respond to this coup. In these days before she loses the Baby crown, I am kissing those sweet cheeks just a little more often, giving her more time to gather her rocks and dig in the sand at the playground. I think she will like the Big Sister crown just as well, though it might fit a little awkwardly at first.

(3)

Today Sebastian and I made a run to the 100 yen shop for some supplies to make his winter holiday homework craft (a creature made of paper cups and rubber bands that jumps). Since I rarely get that much solo time with my oldest, I asked him the usual checking questions about his friends and studies, about his life in general. He told me that his favorite part of the school day was arts and crafts (second was P.E.). Later on the train, I gave him my notebook so he could occupy himself. He drew a very intricate preying mantis, the final result was something he was proud enough to show his dad when we returned. Then he drew a race car and was not satisfied with his efforts. I said something about not judging his work, about how enjoying the process is what really matters. He nodded and said, "Yes, I understand that. When I am drawing I am not thinking about anything else. I am just drawing and happy. So you know, I want to work on my drawing every day so I can get better and better. I want to be able to draw everything."

The funny thing is that besides for the joyful flutterings of my heart at his words, I also felt a shadow of concern darken my mind. Was he developing a love for drawing trying to please me, as when I am home and not doing chores I am most likely drawing? I want his passions and pursuits to be his own, uninfluenced by me. Of course, I must wonder if this is even possible or even necessary. Maybe it is just part of Sebastian's fate, good or bad, to be born into a family where there are always plenty of drawing pads and charcoal around so that he can develop into who he is meant to be.

Looking at my budding artist as he copied the dragon poster hanging from the train car's ceiling, I immediately put to bed those worries. He was utterly absorbed in his work and had no concern for me, even when I told him it was our station. It is his joy, his passion even if he was introduced to it by someone else. I am glad that I can give him what he needs, including the patience to wait for him on the cold sidewalk as he broke in his new drawing pad with a picture of a neighbor's sports car. Looking up from the page, he said 'I'm going come out here again tomorrow and see what it looks like in the daytime.'. That is all Sebastian right there.