Lesson Plans

Immediately, today, I thought that I'd like to catch my intentions and house them in a Mason Jar--dent holes into the metal lid to keep hope alive. And then, as the day would progress (and with that, the weight of obligation, responsibility, and quick reflexes), I could twist open the jar, cup plans into the palm of my hand, and release them, like little lightning bugs illuminating the way with their enthusiasm.

Intention, to me, is like the ramshackle farmhouse that a family buys, insisting that within a year, they'll have turned it into a showplace. Intention, to me, are the stacks of paint cans, rollers, and drop clothes, jumbled like sculpture, into a corner, while the walls continue their patient tribute to taupe (aka dirt).

Intention is what I am full of on this first official day of Summer vacation.

So, I have it scripted: the timeline, the stations, the back-up plans.

I won't bore you with details, but we have two walks scheduled, a K'Nex center (both "original creations" and "guide-book models").

We also have Art and Music Appreciation (music appreciation would be me, turning on the cable radio to a certain type of music station--I'm thinking R & B for today--while the boys continue to throw Matchbox cars at each other). Art Appreciation is the re-reading of this book, which we love--Vincent Van Gogh: Sunflowers and Swirly Stars--brilliant, funny, and a teensy bit graphic ("One day, Vincent went a little crazy and cut off part of his ear. He gave it to a woman as a present.")

We have physical fitness, which breaks down into me, hauling my book, "Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping" by Judith Levine, and a lawn chair over to our swingset/fort, and spotting each child as they leap from higher and higher points off of the sliding board (hey, it's their Mt. Everest).

Finally, we have Quiet Time (Remember this? Remember this from kindergarten, when you had to put your head down on the table because the teacher felt you were overwhelmed, but it was really SHE who was overwhelmed, and when your head was down, you had nothing better to do than lick your own forearm or the table, both of which tasted oddly of sour milk?), which equates to a video in the mid-afternoon while Mom reads blogs or plays The Sims 2.

I've done this--this planning--in the past and it often lasts about three days. At some point, I grow agitated and throw the boys into the car. We head to the mall where we pace in the air conditioning (after lunch at Chick-Fil-A, of course).

However, this year, the first day of Summer vacation correlates with our new financial plan--"Our Month Without Spending" (see aforementioned book)--so I believe that any trips to a mall would be cruel. And Chick-Fil-A would be a "want," not a "need," right?

Let's see where intention takes me today. I sometimes forget that it gets a little moody when it's locked up in a jar.