One of the best things about being a mom is getting an excuse to re-little myself.
We love walking, spontaneous walking adventures.
I got from someone once that a home isn't a home until you've explored what's around it.
"We're adventurers! Adventurers never give up!"
M. said this when I suggested she go around the "mountain," which was actually just a 6-ft tall pile of dirt and rocks in the middle of an unconstructed sidewalk.
We found lots of treasures, also referred to as clues: eye-catchingly colored beer bottle caps, dried up corn husks, a plastic letter "Q" from a marquee, and an intricately detailed button.
At every corner, whenever there were "which way do we go" moments, I let them choose. We couldn't move forward until they agreed on a direction. Taking turns, valuing a peer's ideas, staying together were all lessons our walking enforced.
To convince them it was alright to head back towards our house we started pretending we'd been on a 100-day walking adventure. We'd had to sleep on the ground, even when it was wet. We lived in the forest, in the woods.
Really immersing myself in the experience, at one point I exclaimed, "We'll never find our new home! I'm giving up hope, I'm getting discouraged."
As a mother living under the poverty line, the most valuable thing I can give my daughters is Imagination Fuel.
"Don't worry," says Maya. "I have enough hope for all of us. I have enough hope for 100 people!"
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I rubbed little Em's back until she went to sleep.
"Do you want me to scratch your back, Mommy? I'm very good back-scratcher." Her sweet hand touched my face in a way that was more gentle than I'd ever seen her touch anything. She smoothed my cheek skin and gave me a look that reinforced everything good in the whole world.
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The good in them outweighs everything else.
