1. It’s the season for moving, I guess. My dear sister, Kenneren, just moved out of our parents’ house on Thursday. My grandparents are moving to a smaller place that’s much easier to maintain, Jonathon’s brother’s family just bought a house, his parents are househunting with varying degrees of success, and his sister is seriously planning to move to another state. And here we are, staying in the same place for another year or more. In the past ten years, the longest I have stayed in one place without moving is two years. The three (at least) we’re planning on staying here feel so long, in both a really nice, settled (three years? Ha!) way, and in a grating way. The longer you live in a place, the more friends you make, the more connections you have, and the more it feels like home. But the longer you live in a place, the more irritating its flaws seem. Still, this has been a good home for us so far, and I’m glad we’re not joining the mad rush to go live somewhere else right now.
2. I find it interesting that my boys have no shame about lauding themselves when they do a good job. When Lego learned to walk, he’d clap for himself while walking. Yesterday he was playing his harmonica and whispered in my ear that he wanted me to clap for him when he finished each “song.” If I forgot once or twice, he’d remind me, “Clap, Mommy!” Duplo will say, “Good job!” and “Did it!” when he successfully does something. Even my piano students, aged 8–10, will tell me stuff like, “I know I’m going to pass off all my songs today!” and “I did awesome!” As adults, though, we’re so afraid of bragging that we don’t praise ourselves. At least, I don’t, not even silently to myself. No matter what I do, I think I should have done it a bit better, or maybe think that others do that sort of thing all the time, that it’s no big deal. Instead, I should learn from my little boys the joy that comes from doing something that’s hard for you, and knowing you nailed it. Good job! You did it!