High-Low

I am desperately trying, as Mama Hen of my little nest, to make dinner hour a more pleasant event in our home. Trying to have a peaceful dinner hour (and by hour, I mean 15 minutes) where intelligent and pleasant conversation is exchanged is just not a reality right now. I have already added this to my list of "Someday We'll Be Able To________(fill in the blank), But Right Now It's Just Not Going To Happen". Usually dinner is a mad dash to the finish where Dan & I hardly get a word in edgewise because Ben just so happens to be the chattiest boy I've ever come across, and Ella barks out obtrusive squawking noises from her highchair to communicate things like, "I love that" or "I hate that", or "gimme gimme" or "I'm going to throw this at you now".  So we duck for cover, we eat, we listen to Ben and we try to give the illusion that we have control over our chaos.

Obviously, this is challenging. I miss the days of knowing what's actually happening in my husband's world. I miss hearing about his day at work, I miss hearing the funny stories (because as a highschool teacher, he's got a bunch). I miss the days of eating dinner sans indigestion. I miss sitting at the table once we're done eating just for the sake of sitting. For the sake of continuing conversation. Sure, I love what the kids bring to the table. I love their humor and their lighthearted little spirits, but I often wonder- is any of this sinking in? Is this special to them on any level? Do they recognize or appreciate the efforts that went into making this dinner possible? I've only ever heard and read about those families who sit in front of the TV while eating their dinner. But honestly, on some night's, that sounds downright heavenly.

So to help bring our individual worlds together, we implemented an somewhat-efficient way to communicate. When we remember, and when we're not too busy feeding our faces at the dinner table, we like to talk about our High & Low points of the day.

Today, my Low was finding my sunglasses and a piece of mail in the toilet, swimming together with whatever Ben left behind and forgot to flush away. Which made me realize two things: 1) There needs to be more strict enforcement of the "FLUSH EVERY TIME" rule in our house, and 2) I should just always leave my sunglasses in the car.

But then, because there is a God, there was a High. A moment I've anticipated for quite some time. Ben towed Ella on the back of his tricycle for almost 15 minutes this afternoon, and they both laughed and enjoyed it. This might not sound like anything special, but I assure you- once you've discovered mail and sunglasses in your toilet, anything remotely positive makes you feel on top of the world.

Some photo documentation of my High for your viewing pleasure (I'll spare you the photos of my Low. You're welcome):