Salt Water Hearts

That was our wedding song. Salt Water Hearts. Tonight, it suits us for an entirely different reason than the original love story behind the title. Tonight, it’s about salt, water, and hearts.

Today I tried the ‘writing in salt’ sensory play idea for the first time. Pretty great concept, actually. Pour a little salt on a tray, show kids how to draw letters, numbers, shapes, etc. Since my three were doing this is the dirt on the side of the road walking home from meeting Big Sister at the bus stop, this seemed like the perfect afternoon learning-through-fun activity. I forgot I am outnumbered.

If you are one-on-one, I recommend this activity. If you are one-to-three, expect to find every surface of your house covered in salt.

Next came water. Bottles of water. Thrown across the room while I was in the washroom. Spilling onto the floor. Mixing with the as-yet-unswept salt still covering the floor.

Then came my raised voice. My whispered cursing. My controlled breathing.

I told Thing One – after he refused to take a cloth and soak up the bottle of water at his feet – to go to his room. I can count on one hand how many times that statement has escaped my lips before today.

Then my heart kicked in. Clenched. Remembered to folllow the frustration with love, to go up the stairs and sit quietly with him. He asked for his pyjamas. His lion. His bedtime story. No supper, just quiet.

Then it hit me. One of the only times he gets my one-on-one, undivided attention in this crazy house of two preschoolers and a kindergartener is these moments. When I force the one-on-one because I’ve removed him from a volatile situation unfolding.

Now it’s 6:30pm. I’ve managed to spend some quiet time alone with Thing One. He’s tucked into my bed, sound asleep.

I’m sitting next to Thing Two’s bed now, glass of wine beside me. (Judge if you like; I’m solid with my decision.) We read our story. We said our nightly “I love yous.” I may or may stay until he’s asleep.

I hear Big Sister in the hall, reading to herself, waiting her turn. She’s changed into her pyjamas and brushed her teeth. I’m pretty stoked about that glimmer of hope for the future.

Hubby is in the kitchen below us. I heard him vacuuming up the salt. Now the water is running. He’ll wash the dishes and make tomorrow’s lunches before I get back downstairs. Our dance is slightly different these days, but we remain together. We are a team and we will ebb and flow like an ocean tide … even when the salt water is a mess upon our kitchen floor and our hearts are bruised.

(Thanks to Ryan MacDonald Photography for taking amazing photos that you can taste the salt air on, and to Dave Gunning for so many beautiful songs.)