busy body
September 14, 2012 § Leave a comment
The past two weeks have felt a little frenzied, my predictable pattern of activities adjusted to accommodate additional commitments. The experience of stepping outside my routine lent me an occasion to reflect on the busyness.
The first adjustment came in the form of a fall fundraising activity for my daughter’s elementary school where I joined Kindergarten classrooms, encouraging pint-sized Picassos to create concrete manifestations of their limitless imaginations. Colorful conversations over crayon sketches were charming compilations of curious questions and unedited statements of self. This happy diversion from my daily tasks shifted the balance of quieter, individual pursuits and I quickly sacrificed morning runs along with errands.
The sound of the school bell seemed to mock me as I then raced to scavenge our kitchen for meals. Having lost the time I often use to gather ingredients for a more spontaneous menu, I found myself planning ahead for family dinner. I was planning my time and moving more productively, but something was missing from the new routine.
I cut short the nagging at my subconscious that I was overlooking an essential piece of my days and pushed forward determinedly. Our long standing quiet school nights were turned upside down by enrolling both children in extracurricular activities. In an effort to create opportunities for individual interests to balance the expectations of academics we allowed each child to select one physical activity and one social activity. We are learning to divide our time between homework, family dinners, play, and practice. This adjustment has underscored my need for patience and the absence of stillness.
As we approached the weekend, we supplemented lazy afternoons for time with friends in an effort to recapture lingering pieces of summer. After a busy week this meant letting go of housekeeping expectations for homemaking efforts, spending more attention on the quality of time shared rather than the appearance of a perfectly maintained house. I relaxed into time with friends aware the work of our home was undone.
Last night I attended a committee meeting for a school-parent topic, finding my way into another new experience. Facing a personal fear of public speaking, I set aside my nerves placing myself in a more vulnerable position in the interest of an honest dialogue with strangers. Where normally I weigh my thoughts in writing, in this new setting I am trusting others to listen while I sound out my uncertainties.
Returning home from the meeting, at the end of these busy weeks, I measured my tired mind, body, and spirit conscious that despite my best intentions to challenge and inspire each of my family to embrace full days I had lost valuable pieces of my routine that lend me resilience and center my actions; simple acts of self-care amid the busyness of the day. I have learned I must create an unbending structure of care allowing therapeutic moments of stillness and meditative movement. Time among friends must be balanced with time alone; pausing to exercise, read, and write are essential to my well-being. In the busyness of these past weeks happy discoveries and an appreciation for change has fostered a greater awareness of self. I needed to make room for new activities to appreciate the absence of activity. I needed to make peace with discomfort to become more comfortable with new endeavors. I need to allow myself moments of happiness on busy days ever mindful of the value of time.
bedtime stories
August 28, 2012 § 4 Comments
Last night my son was performing his weekly chore of taking the garbage and recycling to our curb. I joined him curious to see how he wrestled the weight of the bulky containers over the patch of grass. I knew he was capable, the containers are present and accounted for most Tuesday mornings. After maneuvering the first container with his own well established routine of rotating movements my son stopped and stared at the sky. Look Mom, isn’t the moon particularly beautiful tonight?
I couldn’t see the moon for the trees and had to move to find the brilliant ball illuminating the sky. It was a small moment, but a lovely reminder of my son’s blessings. This is the piece of his personality I am humbled by. Regardless of the events of the day he finds beauty and shares the moment eager to connect.
As predictably as my son finds beauty in everyday routines and meditates in a moment of appreciation, my daughter creates laughter and music.
Bath time is a lengthy and often messy production. My daughter plays beneath the shower and under the bath water with an eclectic collection of household items and toys. Last night, while handing her a towel, she proudly exclaimed, I hid the dirty elephant. I mean the evidence. I didn’t find the elephant, but I wanted to clap for the happy accidents of childhood language that linger in our home.
And then we danced. Dressed in her pajamas our daughter guided my husband and I in a new song, marching through the coordinating gestures from a music class routine. Off key and out of time we stole a few more minutes of daytime from the moon and I gave thanks for precious gifts of time with my favorite people and the boundless joy they bring me.
full heart, sleepy head
August 10, 2012 § Leave a comment
This week my husband slipped out of his work routine and into an old summer tradition; we piled our children and a few haphazardly organized necessities into our car for a quick weekday getaway to his family’s lake house.
My husband spent his childhood summers in this space. In the earliest days of our relationship we played house on quiet weekends in its empty rooms. Our own children splashed naked in the murky lake water as infants and toddlers. We no longer spend endless days playing frivolously on the beach; still each visit brings old memories, the past and present intersecting beneath the summer sun.
Mornings began with a family breakfast. My husband prepared Eierkuchen, a German pancake made of eggs, milk, and flour topped with applesauce and a sprinkling of sugar. It is a meal my mother-in-law made my husband as a child, a piece of her heritage that we share with our children. A little thing, a simple meal, that feeds our bodies. The act of making a sentimental breakfast, a gesture of love.
On this trip, we explored the trails that encircle the lake. Riding along dusty paths beneath a brilliant blue sky we encountered wild turkeys and deer. My husband filled the quiet by recounting childhood adventures beneath the same trees, noting small changes along the way; the space between stories infused with questions and laughter. This new sharing immediately familiar in the company of old memories.
Navigating the lake water our children reveled in their sense of authority as the captains of our boat. We paused along the way for my husband and son to dive from a familiar rock. Watching my son I remembered similar moments from summers past; fierce declarations of bravery as well as reserved moments of uncertainty as my son gauged the cool depths below. I have never jumped, but I love the sight of my husband and son climbing and diving side by side. For a moment they were more friends than father and son.
Similarly I watched my husband and daughter swim, their playful personalities and easy confidence in the water make them unquestionably modern merpeople. It is as if they speak a language all their own punctuated with noisy, exuberant splashing. I often forget myself, lost to watching them play.
At the end of each day, after the sun had set, my husband and children curled into one of my husband’s childhood chapter books. In this moment, when the people I love most were gathered under the spell of a story, I sent up a silent note of gratitude for the simple blessings of family togetherness with a full heart and a sleepy head.
horse sense
August 3, 2012 § Leave a comment
I have countless mental snapshots of our daughter’s tiny hands clutching bundles of four legged figurines. She stages grand theatrical productions with a cast of colorful miniature horses in her window seat and along the edge of the bathtub, in the oversized sandbox beneath our backyard tree and in the center of our dining room table. Our daughter loves these animals with the blind infatuation of fairy tales and make believe. In the flesh, these same animals are no less adored.
For our daughter’s birthday my husband and I indulged in an afternoon trip to a nearby horse trail for a family ride. Greater than layer cake and extravagant gifts, we wanted to embrace our daughter’s love of horses as an expression of our appreciation for the eccentric spirit that brings whim and wonder to our days. What originated as a gift for our daughter, became a treasured experience rich with joy and humor.
As a family, each of us have ridden a horse before, but riding together there were undeniable parallels for our life together. Challenges and strengths, humor and compassion were as present as our guides.
Our daughter’s position as the leader was altered shortly after we mounted our horses. Without my husband and I intervening, the guide moved our son in front of our daughter. With this one adjustment I acknowledged how often our daughter is shuffled around our son’s needs, her strengths giving her both the freedom born of ability and the frustration of riding in another’s shadow. I saw this not with pity, there are beautiful lessons in these truths. On a horse we cannot pretend strength, the placement celebrated our daughter’s abilities.
My husband trailed us from behind, his placement acknowledging his ability to lead quietly. Content and capable he saw each of us, stopping when we stopped, eagerly restraining his wish to explore the forest at a faster pace. I was situated between my husband and daughter and marveled as I often do at their similarities. Equally in charge and gregarious, I was content nestled between their confidence and good cheer.
My son’s comedy of errors mirrored mine and I laughed freely at our expense. If the path veered right, his horse turned left while mine was seeking a snack.We cluttered the language of the reins with thoughts until relinquishing control and allowing our bodies to speak lending silence to our overworked minds. By the time our trail had wound back to the beginning I had found peace sitting present with my companions; absorbing the moment with my family beneath a blue sky framed by a canopy of lush green trees.
unedited happiness
July 17, 2012 § Leave a comment
When my heart is heavy I try to write my blessings in my mind’s eye with large loopy letters that leave less room for unhappiness. Lately the weight of my frustrations and the lightness of my joy have teased my balance as I navigate difficult moments in search of greater peace.
Our son’s anger and sadness create tension and frustration casting shadows between pockets of joy. My husband and I grasp at threads of patience willing our son to see problematic behaviors with the same openness we endeavor to appreciate and honor his strengths. He is twelve; old enough to feel wise and young enough to ache openly. The contradiction of his emotions combined with social challenges and sometimes misplaced comprehension create daily struggles that leave us each exhausted.
As our son’s peers mature, tucking small social lessons within greater moments and growing into independence, our son seems stranded, unable to collect and compile the lessons into different actions. My husband and I watch uncertain if we should give our son greater room to fail, hoping the intimacy of difficult lessons may create a greater impression or if we search out a new teaching style to inform our son before he wanders into harm’s way. The questions overwhelm the answers, uncertainty replacing knowing.
This past weekend our borrowed minutes of togetherness brought both joy and frustration. Away from home certain behaviors seemed increasingly challenging. Just as I would give thanks for the sight of my family playing together noisy, angry moments would chase away smiles and peace. Slowly, painstakingly we moved beyond conflict into a new distraction until without warning we would find ourselves caught in another moment of unhappiness.
I write this acknowledging we carry these truths as a family; we cannot dispense blame or divide emotions. It is a messy, uncomfortable piece of our story. I mark this moment in hopes I will one day look back from a place of greater peace with my children and husband. I want the moments of struggle to allow us a greater value for our moments of joy; a truer measure of our journey.
shadows & light
July 12, 2012 § Leave a comment
Last week struggling with decisions for my son and overwhelmed by uncertainty, I couldn’t find a way to gather my thoughts. Here, where strangers and only a handful of my closest friends read what I could not say, I imagined the words tumbling out of my heart on a deep and broken exhale. I began to give voice to my doubts, casting light in the dark.
My husband and I exchanged worries like mismatched socks trying to find a place for our emotions while looking helplessly for answers. Throughout this process we were ever conscious of our son’s experience. The weight of his emotions helping us step outside our thoughts and leading us to look beyond the chaos toward our son’s truths. Love declutters life’s uncertainties with uncomplicated knowing.
Our son is joyful and kind, loyal and conscientious, eager to please and a believer in things unproven. In waking moments when peace eludes him, his body and mind pulled in different directions, I look past has angry words and frustration allowing love to invite light and lend form to his unrest.
With each hurtful moment I feel a small sorrow, a harm that even forgiven is difficult to forget. A safe place to exhaust his unhappiness, our family weathers each difficult moment wearing our own hurt on our sleeves. My husband and I struggle to understand while our daughter disappears into her own corner of our home.
We each recede in search of comfort only to gather again, reclaiming our places on waves of familiar habits. It is a rhythm to a song whose steps we move to blindly. Loving one another together and separately through out seasons of joy and sadness. Love lighting the dark corners with hope and faith.
mother’s helper
May 11, 2012 § Leave a comment
Motherhood has been a journey of love and discovery I share with my husband. From the first days of clumsy uncertainty and sleepless nights I have been blessed with a genuine partnership in parenting. My husband and I speak a silent code of gestures and tones that reach across rooms of our home calling for a spontaneous celebration, quiet collaboration, or reprieve from a moment’s frustration. This Mother’s Day I am giving thanks for the strength and humor that balances my endless worries.
My favorite moments as a mother are greater for witnessing my children and my husband together. Playful and patient, my husband feeds their natural curiosity with the same ease I curl them into my company over a book or in the event an unfortunate moment robs them of their smile.
An oversized adolescent he startles our children out of slumber with play while I run through an invisible checklist each morning. Where my responses are often measured, my husband laughs sincerely and heartily with a boisterousness that invites humor in moments weighted with worry. Quite often he is the raucous force inside the picture frame while I hold the camera to capture the image.
At the end of the day I look forward to unraveling our experiences into stories, drawing him into our timeline from the mundane to the miraculous. I could measure our life in the expressions my husband and I exchange over the tops of our children’s heads as we give thanks for a life well shared. It is a story of simple joys and unconditional love, sprinkled with humor and kindness.
house & home
May 6, 2012 § Leave a comment
My husband and I have always spoken of change with an expectation that each occasion presented an opportunity to realize the promise of an abstract sense of possibility. We dream out loud on subjects ranging from work and children, to hobbies and home. Some subjects we address with a romantic sense of whimsy; our dreams alluring for their stark contrast to reality. There are dreams that if realized I might miss their uncertain possibility and other dreams more beautiful once weighted in reality.
Our first home remodeling project came to fruition in the glow of newlywed ignorance. The absence of expectations created a sense of adventure that helped the days pass with tolerance for temporary inconveniences. Years later in our second home dust and disaster were equally acceptable as we converted my husband’s childhood home into something of our own. More recently I began to dread the reality of our remaining remodeling projects with the same measure of anxiety as enthusiasm for the anticipated expectation of change.
Fine layers of dust and the disharmony that accompanies the chaotic atmosphere of construction left me with all the patience of a two-year old. I wanted to sit on our narrow stairway, blocking the path and halting the progress of a much needed renovation. Even the wallpaper is ready to retire, curling self-consciously from its seam. It is time for my vision to expand and encompass a moment my husband and I have dreamed of; the end of a once long list of house projects.
As we near this moment I pause to give thanks for the generous spirit that lovingly makes our house, our home. Long hours between work and play were devoted to each room of our home. My husband tirelessly transforming his childhood home into our children’s home.
I have happy memories of our kitchen floor, bare concrete filled with chalk outlines of our children’s forms; beneath my office carpet there are painted footprints in the pattern of our daughter’s toddler steps from her eager endeavors to paint; the memory of my son proudly demolishing an old brick fireplace with the awkward weight of a sledgehammer balanced by the twinkle in his eyes; tiny scratches in our hardwood floor stir memories of our puppy. The strength of each room’s walls keep us safe and the love inside them guards our dreams. Without the company of my family and the possibility of dreams, our home is just a house.
note to self
March 28, 2012 § Leave a comment
Seven days. The withdrawal and quick clicks from a smart phone to check in on my life on-line revealed a hard truth. I wasn’t missing much. My mail was steady, but impersonal. My friends on Facebook didn’t send for a search party. My blog is a journal.
In the time it takes me to keep up on-line, I caught up in real-time with my husband, children, and parents. Every morning my husband and I slipped out for a long walk to savor a quiet cup of coffee. Our days were filled with movement in the sunshine. Evenings were spent huddled together over leisurely meals and movies. It was indulgently unglamorous and in the harsh light of day my on-line distractions were reminiscent of childhood toys fraught with the distinction of loved, unused amusements. Like a pull toy that followed me rattling for attention, I rested old habits in the corner of my mind.
Our vacation is over, but I hope to hold tightly to this small moment of consciousness as I settle back into the routine of home.
hands free
March 20, 2012 § 2 Comments
Family vacation, time away from daily routines and the distractions of technology for simpler joys.
Our hands will be free for: holding a book, holding a pencil, holding hands.
Our time will be marked by: restful stillness, curious exploration, unhurried conversations.
We will slip outside the predictable routines of: homework, paperwork, housework.
I am logging off, shutting down and reconnecting with my family. Grasping the moment tightly with both hands.
scribblechic 