living in love
February 11, 2012 § 2 Comments
Twelve years ago my husband and I were preparing to join our lives with a new life; marriage and family beautifully intertwined by the anticipation of our first child. Mindfully we leapt from a couple into a family and our decisions were centered in an awareness that our wedding was smaller than our marriage. Similarly, romantic holidays were happy excuses to celebrate the everyday rather than an occasion to remember.
On the Valentine’s Day prior to our wedding my husband and I stood patiently waiting in a quiet office for our marriage license; the date on our application our gift to one another. Practical and sentimental this act created an expectation for our life together. We pledged to make time for romance with small gestures and celebrate our life together not only on holidays, but on overlooked everyday occasions.
I often think that the birth of our first child blessed the early days of our marriage with conscious acts of love and a genuine appreciation for simple gestures of affection. Small details of our wedding day were overshadowed by the greater miracle of a new life. When our son was born early challenges drew my husband and I closer. More than newlyweds, we were friends in love with one another and grateful for daily miracles.
Romantic holidays and anniversaries are balanced against everyday acts of love, kindness, generosity. Roses or jewelry would feel wilted and tarnished without the hours of patience, humor, and care-taking that are hallmarks of a life shared. Arguments where opinions are honored and challenges met with honest endeavors to live our best life create a sense of gratitude that cannot be contained in lines of sentiment on beautiful stationery.
As Valentine’s Day and our anniversary draw near I am remembering little gifts, large blessings, and giving thanks for years of living in love.
changing sameness
February 5, 2012 § Leave a comment
The more things change, the more they stay the same. I like to think the truth that breathes contradiction into this statement of changing sameness is our ability to stay constant in simple principles while gathering life lessons into our consciousness. Without this truth there is an assumption of a stagnant lack of growth.
Recently I celebrated change with an indulgent experiment in web design. This was my second effort to embrace a new design and I was inspired by the little lessons I encountered along the way; opportunities to identify myself with concepts centered in design required a connection to self and choices that resonated as authentically me. As I neared the end of my experience working with a talented and patient designer something happened that I had not foreseen; an uncharted crossroad. One mistake that would require an unanticipated change.
I needed to take a large step away from the familiar comforts of my site and explore a self hosted space. I was immediately anxious. Uncomfortable. Overwhelmed. I wasn’t ready to let go of the familiar. I set aside the expectation of change to consider the decision without the weight of anxiety. The peace that accompanied the absence of change directed me to my answer.
For now, I am grateful for the insight the experience lent me and content to share my thoughts here, in a place of familiar comfort. Despite the lack of change, I celebrate moments of growth and my sense of self; little truths that remain constant inspired and challenged by new awareness and possibilities left to explore when the time is right. Amid the sameness, I am changed and in the space of change I remain authentic to myself.
holding a moonbeam
February 4, 2012 § Leave a comment
My daughter sings an Off-Off-Broadway interpretation of “Do-Re-Mi” intoning Julie Andrews timeless and beloved character Maria while playing independently in her room. I in turn hum a cheerfully content “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria,” the lyrical phrases capturing pieces of my daughter’s spirit in a lovely melody.
She climbs a tree and scrapes her knee. Her dress has got a tear. I have watched my little girl grow from pleading to be hoisted onto a safe tree branch with toddler grunts arms reaching toward the sky to balancing herself in rain boots and princess costumes, tearing her gown while smiling proudly from her perch in our climbing tree. She embraces adventure as eagerly as she slips into costumes; moving with intention and grace all the while unhindered by dirt or scrapes.
She’d out pester any pest. Drive a hornet from its nest. I can imagine her poking a beehive with the same spirited curiosity that inspired willful tugging on puppy dog ears; mischievously and fearlessly testing boundaries. Still, her penitence is real. For all my daughter’s headstrong antics it must be said she does not take any joy from causing harm and her errors are met with genuine tears of remorse. Her heart is as immeasurable as her imagination.
She’s always late for everything. Happily distracted with her own pursuits she is often lost to the boundaries of time, stretching play to capture every drop of sunshine from her day. I can easily imagine her dancing on a hilltop mindless of the passing hours while scavenging for fun and celebrating every miracle of nature.
Many a thing you know you’d like tell her. Many a thing she ought to understand. But how do you make her stay and listen to all you say? Looking into my daughter’s eyes I catch fleeting moments of undivided attention only to have it swept away with the impossibleness of keeping a wave upon the sand. Keeping her still is like trying to catch a cloud and pin it down.
When I’m with her I’m confused. Out of focus and bemused and I never know exactly where I am. Unpredictable as weather, she’s as flighty as a feather.She is gentle, she is wild, she’s a riddle, she’s a child.
My little girl is the heart song that fills my day and I am grateful for the sound of her music; notes of independence and curiosity, creativity and make believe. She’s a problem I do not wish to solve; a moonbeam that shines too brightly to hold within my hand.
eeny meeny
February 1, 2012 § Leave a comment
I am compulsively indecisive. Nursery rhymes help, sometimes. I often resort to itemizing Pros and Cons to weigh a big decision. Even then, with facts lined up neatly like statistics, I indubitably rearrange my thoughts, double-check my emotions, look around me at my options. It is a small irritation that I am determined I will not pass to my children, least they run off into the world scattered and indecisive. There are three things I do in an effort to nurture my children’s confidence in their choices.
- Whenever possible I create an opportunity to gift my children a choice. I do this intentionally. From food to clothing, book titles to movie genres I try to foster an anxiety free moment of empowerment with two simple words: you choose. I do not react to their decisions with terms of judgment like: good or bad.
- What do you think? I want my children to feel comfortable giving voice to the quiet instinctive voices that guide them. It gives me an opportunity to learn something new, but more importantly it allows my children to feel comfortable with their opinions. It has also taught them to ask other’s to share different perspectives, modeling a balance between speaking and listening.
- Take your time so that you make a choice you feel good about. Notice I didn’t say happy. There’s a difference to me. I don’t like to be pushed into something uncomfortable and I like to feel I made a good choice for myself. One day my children are going to be asked to do something they may not feel comfortable with and I want them to remember this lesson.
Small acts. Gentle words. Practical practice at thinking for themselves. Little things I hope help them to move confidently along their own paths.
finders keepers
January 31, 2012 § 3 Comments
If my son has a singular object that best captures his quiet innocence, then my daughter has an eclectic collection of tiny treasures that capture her whimsical and creative spirit. She finds immeasurable joy in tiny pieces; keeping them in small containers, stuffed in corners, stowed away in drawers, and carried from here to there.
As a toddler, my daughter wobbled through the house clutching small figurines tightly for safekeeping. Later she began packing them into bags and boxes, toting them everywhere; doll accessories, pendants from necklaces, Lego pieces, art supplies, family photographs, and miscellaneous objects scavenged on everyday expeditions for treasure. She creates with them, gifts them, unravels stories with them, and ties memories to them.
There are moments I believe she leaves behind as much as she gathers, sprinkling her chaos with charm and cheer. I look upon my little girl’s company of clutter with an acceptance of her fun loving appreciation for little things in much the same way I marvel at her big brother’s innocent affection for a childhood toy. I find little pieces of their personalities keeping them centered with individual expressions of self. Finding their way and keeping true to themselves.
inanimate friendships
January 30, 2012 § Leave a comment
A beige, floppy eared, terry cloth bunny arrived shortly after my son’s birth wrapped in ribbon and celebratory well wishes from a family friend. I do not remember when my son first reached for the gift and I cannot recall a day without the treasured companion. My son’s shadow slumbers each evening in the folds of his bed covers beneath long limbs scattered in sleep.
The bunny is worn, the nose rubbed flat with toddler kisses. Tiny black eyes peer unblinking, a witness to our everyday lives. I wonder how many confidences his long, clumsy ears have been entrusted with and how many tears are tucked inside his stuffing. I can only imagine the stories the carefully stitched lips could share.
Often I find the limp limbs have traveled into my daughter’s room; she hides the tiny form, mischievously pleased by her big brother’s anxious endeavor to find the borrowed friend. In a world filled with change simple constants reassure him.
The bunny’s name has evolved into an endearment. The familiar figure represents over a decade of bedtime stories and goodnight kisses; memories gathered for safekeeping in a child’s toy.
busy stillness
January 26, 2012 § 2 Comments
I am learning to set aside distractions and create stillness from restlessness with action; repetitive and mindless movements that free my mind while centering my body. Yesterday, as apprehension marked the minutes of my morning, I drew myself into activities that required solitude and movement to better gather my thoughts with clarity.
Unable to sit still and unfocused, I set my car keys aside and switched off the coffee maker. I wanted to run towards distractions and away from home to keep concerns at bay, instead I ran intentionally into distraction. I shed my tension on a treadmill, allowing my body to move with the same endless repetition as my thoughts circling familiar fears. Forward I pushed, gaining strength and sweating uncertainty. I wish I had found this path earlier in life, the physical, mental, and emotional calm that comes when I exercise my demons rather than hiding behind unproductive business.
When I could walk, run, move no more I eased into the quiet comforts of stretching my thoughts and muscles in unison. My heart and mind purged of apprehension and uncertainty, I was left only with feelings of strength and stillness. I looked around and determined I would keep busy with simple acts at home and try to maintain my sense of peace.
I made myself lunch, sitting to eat; completed minor housekeeping tasks to lighten my chores; straightened up corners of our home to make room for time together at the end of the day. When at last it was time for a mid-day meeting, I toted my patience and sense of calm to keep my company.
None of this is revolutionary. Running, meditating amid quiet movements, self-care and homemaking are simple over-looked gestures of affection, generally shaded with expectation and necessity. Prioritizing myself and my home in moments of anxiety was so wildly unassuming and indulgently satisfying that I am hoping to structure more time to set aside errands for stillness and small gestures of care.
nooks & crannies
January 23, 2012 § Leave a comment
This weekend I sifted through old calendars, simplifying a cluttered corner of my life. As I struggled with sentiment and logic, I recalled the words of Albert Einstein: “Out of clutter, find simplicity. From discord, find harmony. In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.”
One project completed, I sought out other pockets of procrastination. Old photographs and a year of recipe magazines stored away for another day were unpacked and filtered by need. Photographs that stirred memories were lovingly nestled in a box with promises of permanent homes on album pages. Recipe magazines that had accumulated over the past year were scanned for old favorites and new possibilities to store in my kitchen organizer.
Inspired I grabbed a notebook and scribbled the names of my cluttered crannies, intent creating tidier nooks with action. Room by room, I sought the spaces that pull on my energy with the weight of tasks undone. Closets, drawers, and boxes unopened were filtered for need. Unused items were set aside to donate, piles of papers were cast to the recycling bin.
I had begun a genuine change, creating an expectation of simplicity and harmony for my home and family. The hidden lesson was one of opportunity. Humbly, I was reminded of something I wrote last year as I reflected on the power of a list, “..concept seems pulled from the pages of possibility into stark reality when pen meets pad.” Seeking out projects in my home, naming the places and items I store out of sight, I looked more closely at where I struggle to nurture order.
The clean lines of my counter tops are false mirrors of hidden spaces. I tuck away pieces of my days for later to lesson immediate distractions and in moments of uncertainty, creating disorder among things left undone. In this I must try not only to sift through old clutter, but to prioritize what I keep in days ahead. Sentimental keepsakes must have a home, important documents must not be buried beneath good intentions.
I am hoping my efforts to organize will foster a more peaceful home. I am sharing my moment of clarity in an effort to hold my intentions present among written promises to myself.
Note: My children are fluent in the language of clutter, their eclectic collections mock my efforts at order. I cannot deny them their childhood discoveries and mementos of special occasions, but I am hopeful my own efforts will inspire a more thoughtful manner of storing these treasures for safekeeping.
calendar days
January 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
January sweeps away the old year with a gust of cool air. Snow flurries cover the ground and the world feels new, a year of calendar days unmarked like untouched snow. I have turned my attention to our home peeking inside drawers and behind cabinet doors, looking for ways to sweep away clutter making room for days to come.
Hidden beneath my children’s carefully printed stories and classroom artwork were a decade’s worth of old calendars piled together haphazardly. The years were out-of-order, some marked in datebooks and others stretched between folded wall calendars. Empty days and holidays, milestones and monotonous moments touching. Carefully printed plans, generously embellished celebrations, hurriedly scribbled notes and coded reminders. Different shades of ink blurring into abstract impressions over time.
I gathered my first moments as a wife and mother and began saving old dates for my children. Sentiment was my companion as I revisited the past. I could neither save the calendars nor list every moment. The practical side of me wanted to let go of old paper; nostalgia tugged at my heartstrings and I attempted to draw my past into notes to keep them present.
I am simplifying and organizing days that unfolded mindless of order, finding distractions in moments forgotten. Recycling faded paper to make room for new mementos, saving pieces of the past for the future. Holding tight and letting go.
patience & persistence
January 17, 2012 § 1 Comment
If I could, I would write these two words in ribbon and tie them to my day, a beautiful reminder in moments of doubt and uncertainty that I must move mindfully forward with patience and persistence as I wade through preliminary procedures for my son’s Individual Education Plan. For those that do not know, my son is diagnosed with Pervasive Developmental Disorder-Not Otherwise Specified an Autism Spectrum Disorder and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. This year my son started Middle School and as his peers settled into the routine of this new milestone, my son unraveled. Months later my husband and I are still searching for answers and guidance.
I have requested a battery of tests to identify my son’s abilities and challenges in an effort to insure he receives the education he deserves. My son has grown tired of tests, my husband and I still have little information to inform our decisions. Like the proverbial needle in the haystack we keep striking blindly into our days reaching out in search of answers, hoping to grasp the yet unattainable.
While we wait on test results, I brainstorm; I read and research various sources looking for pieces of my son in text books to help me understand the simple truths that complicate his days. Interpreting social situations is painfully frustrating. Dividing tasks into manageable steps that can be systematically followed in a timely fashion to complete an assignment requires assistance. My son struggles to stay on task, his mind cluttered with ideas that tug at his attention; light, sound, textures invite him to hide or alternately explore. These truths are ever present and often unacknowledged.
If you were to meet my son, you would probably find him endearingly quirky. He works to make eye contact and contort his face into appropriate responses. At times he will stand in another’s personal space, speak excitedly in run on sentences about subjects beyond his age, punctuating his thoughts with misplaced humor. In those moments you may wonder at his maturity or quietly question if there is something else informing his behavior. My son works daily to navigate unspoken social cues and to meet countless external expectations. I hope a day will come when others will meet him halfway; attempting to understand and appreciate his hidden gifts. Loyal, determined, kind, and curious he is a source of immeasurable joy and inspiration. A new day is on the horizon and I am filled with hope for his future.
My son’s school is organizing an event to educate students about invisible handicaps. My son has offered to lend his voice to the day in hopes of raising consciousness for and appreciation of differences. It will be his first formal act of advocacy for himself and others like him. As he gathers his thoughts, I wonder at the words he will share and how they will be received.
It is a year of growing pains, trying to adapt to change while challenging others’ expectations daily; creating friendships and partnerships in a new school setting. Patiently and persistently we move forward towards answers and acceptance.
