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The Aardsma Weekly
November 9, 2008
Writer: Rachel Aardsma
My Oldest Child Sunday
I've never been the oldest child. I've always been number eight, waaayyy at the bottom of the line. But this Sunday, I got to play oldest child almost all day.
I didn't start the day out as the oldest child. I started it out as the second oldest. I woke up late as I'd stayed up until almost twelve the night before, and thought about life for two hours as I lay in my oh-so-cozy bed. I rarely sleep in past six o'clock, even on Sunday's, so this was a nice treat for me! I thought about Beka and how much I missed her (she's in Virginia right now for two weeks), I thought about my new friend I've been corresponding with all week, I thought about a very strange book I'd gotten from the library, and I thought about scores of other things.
I only got up when Matthew knocked on my door at nine o'clock to give me my sunglasses. Then I emerged, ate breakfast, and spent the next hour following Matthew around and being child number two. I watched him train his dogs (I love doing that), and offered my opinions on all kinds of things. And then I picked up my other library book and became instantly engrossed in the plot of a very interesting novel. I read that until it was time for church.
Timmy drawing a face on a pumpkin. Photo by Mom.
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After only twenty minutes of church, Matthew had to leave for some event. So, he left and I became the oldest child (instant transformation!). I didn't think about it like that at the time. I just thought about how small our family was getting! After church, I went to my room and read my engrossing novel some more. At lunch, I ate quickly, eager to get back to my book. When I did, I continued reading it until it was completely done. Then I just sat down and felt a little bewildered. I wanted to tell Beka all about the book I'd just read, but she wasn't there. I could have told Matthew...but he wasn't there either. I was the oldest. If I was going to tell anybody it would have to be those younger then me. That's not something I do very often.
Mom, Dad, Timmy, Caleb, and I left soon after for a long bike-ride in the country. We pedaled single-file along long empty roads. Timmy and I chased each other to the cornfield and then stopped for some water. I turned around and went back to ride next to Dad. We discussed tractors, cornbread, and crops. I rode up ahead by myself and thought about life some more. And all the while I was doing this I kept thinking, This is so weird. If Beka were here I would have spent this whole time talking to her. Instead, I've spent this bike ride talking to everybody, and thinking about things. This is so weird.
We stopped at a park on the way home, and instead of asking Beka, "You wanna go play on something?", I played on the different toys with Timmy and Caleb. We bounced each other up and down on that strange-bouncy-thing, climbed on the half-dome climbing-thing, swung for a while, and sat on the top of the half-dome and discussed the three strange boys who had suddenly appeared from behind the library. Then we rode home.
Once we got back, I experienced that bewildered feeling again. I did, admittedly, usually spend most of my Sunday afternoons being bored, but I spent them being bored with Beka. This time, I was being bored all by my little self. That's twice as boring as being bored with somebody else. I didn't have anybody to talk to, I didn't have anything to do...I wandered around the house feeling absolutely lost. And then I went into my room and decided to mail a letter I've been putting off mailing for the last month. Once it was mailed, I ended up in my room again, bored and bewildered. I'd never realized how much I depended on Beka!
I started rooting through the drawer full of mementoes I have, and decided to get the drawer into something resembling order and neatness. So, I found an old binder and started filling it. As I worked, sorting through literally piles of old letters, I added another strange feeling to the ones I'd already experienced: I started to realize how much time I've lived. I flipped through diaries I wrote when I was nine. I read letters from my grandma for my tenth birthday. I laughed over the comical spelling mistakes and silly romance in my first-ever-story, written when I was all of eight years old! The plot has something to do with an orphan girl who goes to live with a boy in his home in the woods, and he ends up adopting her, and they get married eventually and have eight children! But I didn't really start to realize just how much time I've lived until I came across a stack of four different birthdays cards, for my tenth, eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth birthdays. I just stared at the cards and thought, My word. Is this what it is to grow up?
I finished putting all of the old stuff...cards, letters, poems, stack upon stack of unfinished stories, my feeble attempts at art, numerous colorful letters from a young friend and my sweet nieces and nephews...into the folder and then put the stacks of diaries, old school notebooks, and my book of poetry back where they belong. And then I went out to supper feeling very sober, lonely, and old. I'd never really thought about how every minute is a minute that will never come again. I'd never thought about life as something that can't be repeated. I wished Beka were there so I could try to explain to her my new thoughts. But she wasn't.
Me with a foreign friend of mine: a Canadian deer! Photo by Beka.
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After supper I was sitting in the rocking chair in the living room when Timothy came over and made himself at home in my lap. Soon all somber thoughts were gone as I tickled him and he screamed and we both laughed until it hurt. Caleb soon joined us, and we ended up in a heap on the floor, laughing helplessly. Then I suggested a game. For twenty minutes we took turns trying to slide a pillow across the floor to hit the feet of one of the other two. It was a hilarious game that brought plenty of laughter.
The whole time we were playing, I kept thinking, If Beka were here I wouldn't be doing this. She doesn't like to play like this. And I guess I just wasn't going to do anything she wouldn't.
Once slide-a-pillow was over, I threw the other pillows around on the floor and announced a game of 'Living Room Baseball'. Pillows were bases. Our hands were the bats. An apple was the ball. We threw the apple at each other, slid on the pillows, swung wildly and nearly always missed, piled one on top of the other at home plate, and had a wonderful time. By the end of the game in which somebody was always changing the rules, we were all very hot. We tramped outside and cooled down. Timmy said, "Let's play a game of hide-and-seek-in-the-dark-outside." Caleb and I weren't sure. "How about hide-and-seek-in-the-dark-inside?" I suggested. They fell for it. We rushed inside, turned all the lights off, and while Caleb paused to count, Timmy and I fled.
My first hiding spot was pushed up against the wall on the top bunk of Timmy and Caleb's bed. I watched their clock and thought about life and time some more. When Caleb finally gave up, I rushed to another hiding spot while Timmy counted. In one of Matthew's closets, I jammed myself into a very small storage container, hid my face behind hanging clothes, and propped the lid of the storage container up against me. My bad ankle hurt as it was wedged tightly underneath me, I started to sweat, and my body protested at being jammed into a space way too small for it. But I leaned against the closet wall and smiled and decided I really didn't mind being the oldest. It was a lot more fun then being third down in the line all the time. I hadn't had such a fun Sunday in months.
When Timmy finally gave up on me again, I tipped the basket over, tumbled out of the closet, and pushed and shoved myself out of the container. Timmy and Caleb laughed uproariously as they watched me untangle my various limbs and straighten up. And then Caleb was IT again, so I climbed up into Beka's bed, slid up against the wall, and pulled her blankets up over myself. And there, sweating profusely, I thought once more about being the oldest. Why did people complain about being the oldest in the family? It was a lot of fun for me! I've been a 'lower' child all my life. I ought to try this oldest-child thing more often!
Timmy pauses for a quick rest in the midst of a reshingeling project. Photo by me.
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After the game of hide-and-seek was over, we started to play sneaking games. We tried walking silently around the dark house. We raced each other around the house, trying not to make a sound. And then we started having real fun: we put shoes, crates, brooms, vacuum cleaners, cups, spoons, pitchers, tennis balls, pillows, etc. all over the place. And then we raced each other around the house in complete darkness. Whoever bumped into anything and made noise was out. Sound easy? Try it. Timmy and I each won once out of the fifteen times we played. But it was so much fun. I can't remember the last time I had such a good time.
Finally I told the boys I had to go write an article. They begged to join me, so I let them. They sat behind me on my hope-chest and read over my shoulder and played with my hair and criticized my writing and laughed themselves sick over the big words I used. Finally I had to kick them out because they made so much noise I couldn't write!
And so that was what I did on my oldest child Sunday. Late that night Matthew came home and I instantly transformed into child number two again. And in a few more days Beka will come home and I'll be child number three. But I really being oldest child for a day. I thought a lot about stuff I haven't thought about before. I did things I've been needing to do forever. I learned a few lessons, and had my perspective changed. And, most importantly, I had a wonderful time with my little brothers, something I rarely do, I'm sorry to say. I liked being the oldest for a change. I enjoyed looking at life from a completely different place in the birth order. Being the oldest child seems to make you think about things, whether you like it or not.
The Weekly Bible Verse
Jeremiah 1:5: "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations."
A Day In My Week
Tuesday, November 4, 2008: At six my alarm sounds, as usual, but I let it snooze for fifteen minutes before getting up and hurriedly throwing my room into order. Then I find the novel I'm reading and relax in the living room with it until seven thirty, when I've come to the end of the book. I check my e-mail, go onto the news to check out what they are saying about the election, do a quick run over my favorite websites, and then start the dishes.
Once the dishes are finished, I clean the house and do the laundry. Mom wants to walk over to the bank to take care of the banking, so we walk into our little village of Loda and talk politics with the attendant at the bank for fifteen minutes. Everybody seems to have an opinion today, the day we can all finally do something other than rant and rave about our strongly-held opinions!
When we get home, I go outside and find Timothy, and we work on moving composted manure from the manure pile onto the garden. We only have time to spread two loads before I have to run inside to fix lunch. Mom lends a hand and it doesn't take us long to put several bowls of leftovers on the table. Nobody is especially enthusiastic abou tthe meal, but we eat it anyway. The candy brought home from the bank and four candy-corn each are definitely the favorite part!
After family devotions, I go back outside with Caleb and we work for an hour on the manuring job. Timmy then takes an hour shift while I learn about gerunds and the melting pot of America and flounder my way through an amazingly long math test. I take another hour shift outside until four o'clock, and then finish the math test and talk to Beka on the phone for a little while.
I've been craving French toast forever, so I make myself some for supper, while the rest eat scrambled eggs and Italian mutton sausage. After an enjoyable and filling meal (contrasted with lunch), I waste an hour or two at my computer reading poetry by Elizabeth and Robert Browning, interspersed with long periods spent anxiously attempting to understand the early election results!
Bits and Pieces
I am absolutely thrilled to announce the arrival of a new member of the Aardsma family...although technically he isn't an Aardsma. Samuel Hudson Hall was welcomed by his daddy, Steve, and mother, Jennifer, as well as big brothers and sister Joshua, Ethan, and Katelyn, at 5:17 p.m., October 11. Everything went smoothly, even though Jennifer was a little early. Samuel, or Sammy, weighs 7 pounds, 14 ounces, and is 20 inches long. We are so, so happy to welcome Sammy to our family. We love him to pieces already! He is absolutely adorable and I can't wait to share lots of photos with you!
My nephew, Samuel Hudson Hall, one week old. Photo by Beka.
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This month we did several crazy and fun things. We went to Canada for a week for a Filliol (Mom's family) reunion. That was the big thing. We've been planning this for months and months, and I am so happy to have all the planning and everything over with now! It was a huge thing for this family to pack up and leave the country for a week, but I'm glad we did. My grandparents are having their sixtieth wedding anniversary soon, and we incorporated that into the reunion. I enjoyed meeting plenty of Mom and Dad's old friends, meeting Mom's family for the first time, and seeing a different country. However, by the end of the week I was homesick enough to start singing The Star Spangled Banner as soon as I saw the big American flag flying just over the border in America. We have such a beautiful flag!!
While we were in Canada we did plenty of fun things too! We stopped at Lake Ontario on the way up and had a simply fantastic hour or so playing in the water. We collected rocks and fossils and shells. I ignored the fact that if I got my skirt all wet I'd have to wear it until we stopped for the night and went wading out as deep as I could before I started getting wet...and we watched the sea gulls...and ran through the algae...and laughed every time a little wave came in and surged up over our feet. I think that is my favorite Canadian memory.
Beka, Timmy, Caleb, and me wading in Lake Ontario. Photo by Mom.
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We also went fishing on the St. Lawrence River and went to the Toronto zoo. I didn't fish. Beka, Mom, and I sat in a cottage on an island in front of a blazing fire and read musty books and Mom talked on the phone to several people. Then we had Dad boat us back over to the mainland so we could go shopping while they fished!! At the zoo I saw my first tiger, lion, elephant, bald eagle, panther, zebra, otter, and lots of other animals! I'm not a huge animal fan but I still enjoyed the zoo. We got some great pictures. It was a cold day to spend a lot of time outside, but we still managed to see almost the whole zoo before we froze solid.
Dad is at the wheel! Boating on the St. Lawrence! Photo by Mom.
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The morning after we got back from Canada Matthew, Beka, and I left for Virginia....at five in the morning!! It was our first 'solo' trip, but we did fine. Matthew and I spent one day in Virginia with my sister Jennifer and her family before going home. Beka has now been there for a week and she has another week left. She is helping Jennifer and Steve out at their place and seems to be having a good time. I miss her a lot and enjoy talking on the phone with her whenever I can. And I'm looking forward to her coming back. We'll be traveling up there again in a week to pick her up, but this time we're all going, except for Matthew. He is going to stay home, as he has already taken too much time off work and school this month! (I have too, but then...I don't have much choice as far as staying home or going goes.)
The weather here got very cold soon after we returned from Canada, but we are currently enjoying a beautiful Indian summer! I love the warm, very-much-fall days. I feel like this is my ideal climate: lots of sun with a nice cool breeze! But I know that winter will be upon us any day now, as Indian summer traditionally heralds the coming of the coldest season of the year. I think I'm ready for some snow, though. Bring it on!
A Word About The Weather
As much as everybody needed rain just a few weeks ago, none of the farmers here were very happy when we got another inch in these last couple of days. We were quite happy with it, however, because our strawberries were getting too dry, necessitating watering once more. Those who are trying to get crops harvested have a different view of life.
A Word Of Humor
I was reading some jokes last night, including bloopers from church bulletins. Most were mediocre, but this one made me laugh right out loud!
Thursday night - Potluck supper. Prayer and medication to follow.
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