frantically unalarmed
July 15, 2011 § Leave a comment
I woke up yesterday unassisted by the persistent, mechanical nudge of my faithful alarm clock. I had tumbled to bed the evening before, only half conscious having fallen asleep nestled on our couch, the blanket my mother made me keeping out the chill of the air conditioner. I missed a step and my alarm slept unset. It was a rare sleep from which I woke uncertain of the day and obligations. In fact it took me a moment to register I was late. I don’t like the chaotic panic of multitasking morning routines in fast forward so I consciously let go of normal and shifted my focus. This is why I am sharing an otherwise uneventful moment: one small change and my morning unfolded with promise. In slowing down, even with less time for simple routines, I was tuned in to what I was doing rather than going through the motions of the morning. My expectations changed and I was happily surprised. Everything did get done. Everyone was prepared for the day. My morning was alarmingly, pleasantly calm.
the story
July 13, 2011 § Leave a comment
There are beautiful houses, but homes share stories. I admire those who can fill the shell of a house with personality; it is an art form, a language of love. I have been waiting for, passively seeking out, pieces of art for my walls hoping to create such a home. A place of comfort and joy, serenity and inspiration, memories and dreams. Art has always felt very intimate to me and so most of our art are either framed children’s creations or family photographs. Today I bought a simple piece of art that makes my heart smile. This is its story.
My son and I were enjoying a quiet morning together as we sat on a park bench, he with his favorite donut and I with my morning coffee. We watched pedestrians pass and store fronts slowly come to life as we waited for a particular boutique to open. Unhurried and making conversation, I explained we were looking for a gift for his sister’s friend. I neglected to specify. I needed a necklace and it was this search that would lead to the happy discovery, the piece of art that followed us home.
The necklace came before the art and so I must explain. My daughter learned her birthday party was scheduled to coincide with her best friend’s birthday. Mindful that her party not cast a shadow on her friend’s day, she asked me to find a friendship necklace for her friend while she was busy at summer school. This simple request had led me to the boutique, on this morning, with my son as my companion. I was sorting tangled chains trying to decipher the various charms in search of the perfect friendship trinket when my son declared he had found the perfect gift for his sister’s friend. I followed the sound of his voice to the back of the store where he was perched next to a long wooden form, chalkboard black with white stenciled words wrapping its length. He read the words out loud and these words filled the air around us:
you are the cheese to my macaroni you are the horizon to my sky you are the bacon to my eggs you are the laces to my sneakers you are the jelly to my peanut butter you are the smile to my face you are the gravy to my mashed potatoes you are the bubbles to my bath you are the milk to my cookie you are the ink to my pen you are the ketchup to my french fries you are the water to my ocean you are the icing on my cupcake
He read it as printed, rushing from sentiment to sentiment without pause, words filled with whimsy and love. My son saw the plaque as a gift of friendship, but it seemed to exemplify the ridiculously fun, simple, silly, beautiful, imperfectly perfect life inside my home. The bubble baths my daughter lingers in; the laces my son ties clumsily with frustration; summer lunches of macaroni and cheese or peanut butter and jelly; the milk and cookies that signify a stolen moment at the kitchen island before bedtime. I also see the plate of warm cookies and milk from my wedding night and anniversary evenings at the hotel my husband and I were married; the heavy breakfasts of eggs and bacon to ward of the winter chill; mashed potatoes and gravy over declarations of gratitude on Thanksgiving; walking hand in hand with my husband towards our future someplace both familiar and new like the blue of the ocean or a cloudless horizon. Simple and reassuring I see my love for my children and husband as well as their connections with one another and the friends that bring added joy to our home.
Somewhere between family photos and children’s artwork I will find a place for this new, lovely piece of our story.
gratitude
July 12, 2011 § Leave a comment
My heart is fuller and my smile easier when my mind is centered in gratitude. I try to plant my feet in a place of optimistic possibility and so I was surprised today to discover I had overlooked simple blessings.
Watching my daughter swim at the neighborhood pool, happily absorbed in the moment, a good friend appeared beside me. Happy to be in good company I was grateful for pleasant surprises. I had wandered to the pool intending to tire my children with sunshine and play. As I visited with my friend, I learned she sought the cool waters to escape the heat of her home after a storm robbed them of power.
Returning home from the afternoon sun, little things became large blessings. The coolness of our home relieving us of heat. Cleansing showers washing away the chlorine clinging to our hair. Cold drinks and ice cream felt like extravagances in the face of my friend’s discomforts.
Tonight I am thankful for little things and mindful of simple blessings.
big dream, small space
July 12, 2011 § Leave a comment
I have a tiny dream… house. We haven’t met yet, but I have already visited often in daydreams. I imagine a small, single story cottage. The front door would open into a living room from which you could see a kitchen nestled to the side and large windows would draw in muted shades of blue and beige from the beach. The walls would be painted in calm shades of grey capturing the cool waters and drawing them indoors. White cabinets with glass doors would catch the light and eclectic throw rugs in cheerful colors would vie with nature to capture my attention. Sofas would be piled with pillows to better curl up with a book and the walls would be heavy with family photographs chronicling our life as a family in an eclectic collection of frames. Small bedrooms off to the side would wait for the day’s end, ready to welcome darkness after long hours of sunshine.
To my husband, who works tirelessly to craft a home custom fit to four unique personalities, thank you for the house of my reality.
romance and children
July 11, 2011 § Leave a comment
Gone are the days of lazy preparations for anticipated, romantic evenings out. Date nights are subject to chaotic preparations. Read: clean up the house so the sitter doesn’t think we are slobs and attempt to locate an outfit. The latter is usually the undoing of my last tie to sanity; feeling ridiculous wobbling in heels and an uncomfortable outfit that suddenly feels a bit like a costume.
Evenings in are no more romantic. The soundtrack to alone time a persistent knocking accompanied by questions and thoughts filtered through our bedroom door in an effort to prolong bedtime. This is, of course, assuming I am not asleep beside our daughter after snuggling her to sleep. It feels as if we are hiding from tiny hostages.
So how do you create an everyday space or time as a couple to recapture moments from the beginning of your love story?
party planning
July 10, 2011 § 2 Comments
Both of my children were preemies and so I find irony in my inability as their mother to properly prepare for their birthdays each year. I inevitably turn the calendar casually only to panic at the stark realization that I am predictably unprepared.
I toss around ideas throughout the year, fantasizing about spectacular themes and imagining finely organized, charmingly coordinated events worthy of magazine quality photographs. Time gets away from me and suddenly I am bouncing between retail spaces frantically searching out the images from my mind’s eye. Typically these items are fabrications of wished for items not yet available in retail stores or indulgences at the cost of sensibility that I cannot in good conscience accommodate.
Last week my daughter received birthday party invitations from friends that caused me to look ahead at the approaching month earlier than normal. I was happily reminded of my daughter’s special day and pledged to prepare in advance.
My daughter’s theme provided our first challenge. She began with one idea and then jumped ship. I was slow to swim to shore. Meeting her on different ground, disorganized and unprepared, I struggled to switch gears. As someone who is chronically indecisive I continually endeavor to teach my children to embrace their decisions without fear of remorse. I gave my daughter a choice between her ideas and then let go.
Our second challenge came when addressing our list of potential guests. I worried we had excluded children and began to add names attempting to be inclusive. My daughter’s list, short and sweet, helped me focus; I reminded myself that this day was hers and allowed myself to set aside my own rational. Again, I let go.
As my daughter’s party took form I realized we had begun to create a party that was genuine; composed of friends and activities that bring her joy. I am inspired. My little girl made decisions without remorse and I have fostered a spirit of celebration for the unique soul that lights up my days with her own definitive sense of style.
Preparations void of my own opinions has created an infectious sense of anticipation. Looking to the calendar, I am ready to turn the page.
lines in the sand
July 9, 2011 § Leave a comment
Have you ever dragged a stick through the warm weight of sand; etching a line to declare a boundary in a boundless space? This is where my thoughts are today. I keep debating what I share and where. Specifically, I am struggling with the vast space of the internet.
It took me a while to join facebook. I would wander on my husband’s account seeking out familiar faces, curious but cautious. When I opened an account my friends were largely friends whose paths crossed mine consistently throughout the course of my days. I added a few family members in an effort to stay in touch and eventually sought out a few faces from the past. Somewhere between intentional additions I had also accepted acquaintances as friends. The lines between people I knew casually and those I share openly were blurred making me uncomfortably aware of each sharing. I edited my friends in an effort to control with whom I shared freely, but there exists a subtle, lingering discomfort at the ease with which we accept strangers as friends into our lives.
The more I sought boundaries within facebook, I cast my eyes to the newly formed space of my blog. Finding joy in writing I shared this piece of myself carefully with only those I trusted with my thoughts; friends and family. I have attempted to capture glimpses of my children and reflect openly on my thoughts. Now I wonder if sharing so freely in this space is appropriate?
Today I am unraveling doubts to find my way as I struggle with boundaries.
gut
July 8, 2011 § Leave a comment
So often I am torn between speaking out and listening for direction. As my words and thoughts filter into comprehension, questions emerge and a sense of panic ensues. I want the moment back, a do over! I want to sit still and hear what the other person would have said if I hadn’t nodded my head in an instinctive good listener response or abruptly interrupted. I want to raise my hand and confess, I’m lost.
This is my most recent realization: I am still learning to speak up and have faith in that tiny voice that makes my heart race and stomach ache, my subconscious trying desperately to capture my mind’s attention. Today I am trying to follow my gut, worry less about what anyone else thinks, and ask those nagging questions making me uncomfortable.
assigned seats
July 6, 2011 § 1 Comment
In Middle School there was a moment, lunch tray in hand, I had to choose a place to sit. In all the chaos of the moment I struggled with a simple preteen wish to find a place to belong. Watching others tumble casually into groups of laughter and chatter I realized my friends were scattered, eclectic in their diverse interests.
Today, my friends remain a cheerful collection of characters. They brighten difficult moments, lend strength in moments of weakness, inspire effort when goals feel slightly out of reach. Still they are scattered across the far-reaching corners of my life; a friend from high school, others from college, and mothers I have met on playgrounds and my children’s school events. I rarely see them at once, but always save them a place beside me.
