A Great Big, Scary, Unknown Adventure

Ivy is too young to really understand or care what is going on, but moving is hard on G. He sees his toys slowly disappearing and boxes slowly appearing, but it is a mystery to him. I don’t think he understands that we are leaving this house, the only house he’s ever known, for good. That’s okay. I’ve been emphasizing the “seeing Grandma” part.

He’s starting to act up a bit. Yelling and throwing things and tackling his baby sister. He isn’t sleeping well at all, taking hours at night to fall asleep. Last night I sat with him and told him exactly what was going to happen, with the packing up of toys and other things, and then the boxes going to be stored or shipped so we can have them later. I told him about how we were going to take our bags and go to the airport where we could see the planes up close, and then we would get on the airplane and fly above the clouds and when the plane landed we would see Grandma and he could sleep in the new toddler bed that she got for him with the Scooby dog that was waiting.

I think that made him feel better and he was able to fall asleep. Of course, this morning he opened up a box to find many of his beloved toys that are being shipped. He tried to pull them all out and when I put them back, oh, the yelling. Later, I had him go sit with papa and tell him all the things that were bothering him. Chief among them was, of course, “boxes.”

Well. It’s scary, it is. Scary to me and S, and we know what is going on. Of course, it might be scarier to us because we do know exactly what is going on and we have 37 and 43 years of old habits and ties to break. For G, I think if we focus on the Big Adventure aspect, it will be much easier. Because, you know, we’re going to get to go to the beach in a couple of days, where there will be lots of splashing and digging and running and exploring.

The adventures to come, for all of us, are unlimited.

See more progress on: go on adventures with my children

Now that I have been on a paring down kick

I’m really feeling less and less attached to all the stuff.

And not just having or collecting stuff. I’m not interested in buying. I’m not interested in having or knowing about or searching out the “best” of anything—other than the best ME. I like beauty, I like character, I still enjoy fashion and style and decorating, but I’m finding that I am not in a phase of putting a whole lot of energy into making them happen.

I’m tired of being tossed about by all the things I “should” do or “should” have or “should” be. I don’t really want to be a consumer, anymore, other than of food and art and maybe ideas… I have to think about what it means to “consume” ideas. Well, I do need some new jeans and some underwear, but after that, I’d like to go back to my consignment/thriftstore/yardsale ways, but ONLY for what I need and really want, not for the howcoolwhynot? stuff.

I was looking about online today and started finding all sorts of sites about organizing, simplifying, downsizing, zenifying etc. I sped around from link to link adding favorites, so that I can come back and look into them some more.

That’s the part where I have to see what it means to me to consume ideas. I think I want to focus on the things that are important to me, to think for myself about them, but to also search out others’ techniques and ideas on those things I care about. I DO NOT want to be led astray by all the wonderful things there are out in the world. Organizing and meal plans and simplifying are good. Writing and painting and childrearing, all good, but I don’t want to start waltzing with cool ideas that are not already on my dance card. No, I am not going to start making stuffed animals, or knitting. No, I am not going yard saling for cool furniture items that I can then refurbish. No, I am not going to be sucked into the vortex that is entertainment news!! A big no to that one. No, I am not going to sit infront of the tv all day just letting it play and distract me, even though there’s nothing on I particularly want to watch it.

Focus on the heart of what I want in my life, physically and mentally and emotionally and creatively. Trim away the distractions and the side-tracks and the fringes and the frou frou embellishments.

See more progress on: live simply

The Shortest of Holidays

Mama made a break for it this afternoon.

Papa came back from his errands and took over the kid duties after nap. Mama grabbed up her boots and ran out the door with her coat-tails aflying. Oh, all right, no coat tails, but I grabbed on to my purse and went as fast as I could to the subway, lest someone call me back to tend a crying babe.

I spent a few, non-custodial hours in Barnes and Noble, reading magazines, flipping through writing books and sipping my latte.

Ahh. Just a few moments living a life that I once took for granted. I never thought about it at all when I was single and fancy free. I jokingly called the book store "my office," and was often found there. I would write and write and paint and read and research and sit and stare off out the windows overlooking Union Square.

Today, I only had the energy to read the magazines for free and eat a lovely orange-cherry loaf. And I had the little ones at home to return to. Bedtime, you know. I didn't even bother to buy a book to read, since I have been reading the same book for a month and am only a quarter of the way through. So I cut my afternoon short and came home.

Made a call to Papa before getting on the subway back to Brooklyn. Papa put the boy on the phone to talk to me, and all he could say was, "Mama!" and then broke out, "Waaahaaahaahaa!" He wailed and wailed.

Heart broken boy. Did he get scolded by Papa? Did he miss his Mama? Not quite sure, but when I hung up the phone, I laughed pretty hard.

Oh, heartless Mama.

The Winter of this Warrioring

Right now, it's a cold and wintry semi-industrial Brooklyn that we're warrioring away in. But in a mere couple of weeks, it will be the warm and semi-tropical state named for flowers.

That's right, Warriorfamily will be off on a warrior adventure for a time still to be determined. We're packing up our Brooklyn apartment, storing what we can, tossing what we can, and hauling the rest of it off to Florida. We like to think of it as an extended working vacation.

The thing about being a warrior is that sometimes, you have to retreat. Re-evaluate the situation. Regain your strength.

Is there a better place to do that than on the beach? With Grandma down the street?

There are so many things to reconsider right now. One of the big ones is where we actually want to settle. Do we go back to New York City, or do we head out for the Pacific? I am drawn to both options. There are so many possibilities in each.

I also want to take the time, while I am down in Florida with family about to watch the kiddoes, to pay some more attention to my own writing and art. I want to build up my writing practice again and finish my novels. I want to start painting again. I want to work on my blog, which has been so neglected in the winter of this warrioring. I look forward to sharing projects and stories and photos of all the adventures we will be going on.

Oh, and I wanted to thank elsita for adding me to her roster of blog friends. I find her blog and her art so inspiring. You can find her here http://elsita.typepad.com/elsita/

Cuddles and Reading

Spent some time at bedtime in bed with G cuddling and talking about his day. I was asking about his favorite cartoons and asked if Scooby do was his best friend, his favorite. He said “Mine!” which I thought referred to Scooby, but then he said, “Ivy!” and I realized he meant Ivy was his best friend, his favorite. And then he said “Mama” and then he said “Papa!” And I hugged him and said that he was my favorite too, and so was Ivy and Papa.

Then Ivy started screaming. Usually, I cuddle G then I take Ivy out of the crib and cuddle her in the glider, but she was having none of it. So I took her out and the three of us cuddled on G’s bed. That’s what I want. All of us cuddling in the same bed. And soon, I will be able to read to them both at the same time. Ivy is difficult to read to because she usually gets up and wanders around, so I’d have to get her to go down again… but I think it’s starting to work, she’s getting older and now and won’t just squirm and try to get up while I’m trying to calm G down. I’m really looking forward to the time when we can all read together. I remember when my sister and I used to sit in bed with my mom and read not just picture books, but chapter books and classic fairy tales. That went a long way to foster my love of reading.

See more progress on: Raise strong, happy children

I've been thinking about what I want my life to be

what I have always wanted my life to be, and that is creative. From the top of my head to the tips of my toes, I want my life to be about the creative, and the love that goes into it.

Now that my kids are starting to get a little bit older, no longer itsy bitsy babies, I have hopes that I can get back to that desire.

I’m going to take it easy to begin with. It’s hard to go from lump on a log to exuding creativity from every pore. I know this. I’ve dealt with it before. I think I will start by getting back into my journal. Come to think of it, that’s always been the way I got back into my creativity. I haven’t been writing in my journal for a while, because I’ve spent more time writing on line, but there’s some soul searching that doesn’t feel quite right to have out there in public, so I want to get back to my poor neglected journal.

Aside from the journal, though, I want to document whatever creative projects I am doing. That includes writing and art and cooking and decorating and adventures with my kids and kid projects and craft and whatever else I am putting my creative energy into.

It’s kind of like keeping a list of the things in a day that made you happy—it keeps your mind on the happy things, and allows you to let go of the bad things while paying attention to the good. Documenting the creative projects has to make me pay more attention to what I create, and release the frustration and blocks that frequently lead up to that productivity.

I also want to count the small things that I create. And I want to focus more on creating than on beating myself up for all the “shoulds” I am not doing and all the ways I fall short.

Create. Create the space to create. Allow creativity to enter into my life. Acknowledge the creativity that is already flourishing. Enourage my children to create, too.

See more progress on: find a balance between creativity and motherhood

I've been absent for a while

Not just from here, but from my life. I haven’t felt well and have been overwhelmed, broke, worried about finding a new place to live, all sorts of things. I’ve been feeling a little sorry for myself, too, and have been using excuses about why I don’t… why I can’t… get back on the horse and take care of business.

But I have to take stock and say that this is my life and no one is going to swoop in and save me. Unless that swooper is me.

It’s time to step up and be a warrior—be the hero of my own story. I’m the one who decides the path. I’m the one who takes the steps to get to the end of the path. I’m the one who faces the fears and the monsters. I’m the one who reaps the rewards.

In a way, I think I wish I didn’t have to be the hero. I wish there was a prince in shining armor to take care of me, but even when I found a mate, I didn’t find someone to take me away from what I had to do for myself. All the issues I had before I met S are still there, and would be, even if he was the one who was good with money or organized or whatever…my issues would just be hiding in having someone else take care of them. So even though it’s hard, ultimately, I think it’s for the best.

I think that my life is not meant to be one where my problems are taken care of by someone else, whether that someone is my parents or my partner or the government, or just dumb luck. I think it’s my destiny to struggle with my own flaws and succeed or fail on my own merits.

It’s a scary thought to be responsible for your own fate. I remember when I taught high school, I watched the teenagers struggle with that idea. A lot of them didn’t want to work hard and be in charge of their lives. They wanted some deus ex machina to pop in and change their lives. Get discovered and be a rap star, miraculously become a doctor even though they couldn’t pass science, and never have to worry about money again because they were good people, pass their classes because they were sweet and smart, and they didn’t really have to do the work, did they? It was so easy to see them struggling with this, and so easy to see the path that would take them to real, lasting success… not fairy tale success, but grown up, living the life they chose success. It was a path of hard work and reality, but also of dreams and passion.

I’ve been indulging in my inner adolescent, poor me-ness. I think that’s okay. We all deserve the chance to step back and be sad. There might even be some benefit in that down time. But there comes a moment when you have to tell yourself to KNOCK IT OFF,stop playing the victim, and get back down to the business of being your own hero.

Here I am, standing on the edge, looking out over an unknown land, and instead of woe-is-meing myself into disaster, it’s time to jump. I’ve got to swoop in and save me from myself.

See more progress on: Be a Warrior

I just spent a couple of hours Christmas shopping, sans kids.

I got S a video trilogy that shall remain nameless on the off chance he finds this site. I’m thinking I might give a movie marathon basket to go with it.

Man, I should have gotten the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I would have made a basket with all sorts of hobbity foods—sausage, apples, wasa crisp as stand in for the elven lembas bread, ale, mirth leaf (I think that’s tobacco,) some smoked salmon (close enough to raw fishies,) maybe I could even get some rabbit, or perhaps some kind of jerky would be rough enough to stand in for travel foods. Alas, I did not think of this when I picked my movie trilogy, and the one I got does not lend itself so nicely to cuisine.

I got some videos for kids, too. Not cartoons, but the first Harry Potter and The Princess Bride. I know G likes the first, and I’m sure he’ll like the second, although it is going as a present to Ivy (really for me, but we’ll just say Ivy.)

Then I went to the bookstore and started to get overwhelmed. I really haven’t bought books for the kids in so long there were too many things to choose from. So many lovely books. It started to depress me, since I only had the cash in my wallet and it would have been so easy to go over that limit. Put back the hard cover Madeline book and got the soft cover instead. Put back the multiple Suesses. Resisted continuing to browse. I did get a gorgeous animal book for G, and a couple of books for I, but I couldn’t get the mini library that I wanted.

I think one of the keys to having a merry little Christmas is to not get upset that you can’t have everything you want. I suppose that Christmas, in a way, is about wishes. It’s become way too materialistic for my liking, but it is about wishes, even when they are not materialistic. Wishing your family could be all together and happy with no drama, wishing you could bake more and more cookies, wishing your house could be lit up with festivities and spotlessly clean, wishing you could have another serving of Christmas ham, wishing you could go to a million parties, or wishing you could stay home with a movie and a cup of hot cocoa. And we can’t always get those things we wish for.

I guess there has to be some sort of balance between wishing for all that good cheer and being content in what your life actually is. Maybe that’s why the holidays are so notorious for depression and suicide, because the reality almost never lives up to the wishes and expectations.

Maybe that’s also why we should focus on the merry LITTLE part of Christmas. Focus on the little joys, the little goals, the little life that is going on in the present (not in the presents, but in the present.)

I want to focus on the Christmas lights, and G’s anticipation. The smell of evergreen trees. The holiday movies on tv. Singing carols. Cookies. Taking the time to paint or stitch or bake something by hand, something intended for someone I love.

Merry (little) Christmas

See more progress on: have myself a merry little christmas

Stitch by Stitch, Progress Goes Slowly, but Quick.

Making Ivy’s Kitty Ugly Doll is a little bit of an adventure, although tedious at the same time. I don’t know what it’s going to be like, but I think it will be kind of cool. I have no idea if she’ll actually like it. I hope it will be sturdy enough for a baby/toddler.

So far, after designing it and making my own pattern, I sewed the arms and taill and sewed half of the body. There are a few pattern flaws, but I’m okay with that. That’s where the “ugly” and the freeform come into the equation. I’ll just take a nip and tuck with my needle.

Oh, did I mention I’m doing this by hand? No sewing machine. And I’m not a very pretty seamstress, but again, I don’t care. Luckily, the furry fabric hides all the stitches. That was a lucky accident.

Have one half the body left and two legs. And the stuffing and the stitching of a face. Do I have any embroidery floss?

I hope I have time to finish one for G as well. I think I will make him a monster… a wild thing, since that is what he is. It needs horns and teeth and maybe claws if I can swing it. A mane perhaps.

See more progress on: Design and create my own ugly doll.

I have been watching

G turn into a big boy, right before my eyes.

He’s almost 2 1/2 years old and I can see something in his face and in his body changing from that toddler to that little kid.

It’s a very odd thing. I mean, I saw him go from baby to toddler, and that was pretty dramatic, and I am watching Ivy go through the same transition, but this change is different. This change means he is becoming a real person, not just a baby or a bigger baby, but someone who is getting ready (slowly) to be an individual doing things and going places on his own.

So strange. I can almost see the boy he will be. Almost, almost see the man he will be.

Many moms would be sad to see this change, I think. Sad to feel like they are losing their little baby, but not me. I can’t feel sad about it. I find it more along the lines of exciting. Of course, I think I am really not a very good mom of toddlers. I don’t think it’s my thing, and I think I will have much more of a handle on older kids. I really can’t wait.

I might be the only mother alive who would rather have teenagers than babies. Well, I’ll be getting my wish sooner than I think.

See more progress on: Raise strong, happy children