All Hail, the QUEEN!

I'm such a Drama Queen.

No matter how hard I try to quit, I keep finding myself mired in the muck.

Oh, well. I guess a mud bath is good for you now and then. Doesn't it help exfoliate? Maybe a good wallow will help scrub off some of the old, dead emotions that are just hanging around, clogging the soul.

Just so long as we don't stay stuck in the muck, right?

That's why it's handy to have someone hanging around, ready to help pull us out when the sticky slime tries to suck us back in.

Someone strong.

Someone smart.

Someone funny.

Someone who doesn't mind getting his shoes a little muddy.

Everyone needs a Knight in Shining Armor.

Mine drives a Honda and wields power tools.

Confession

It's my birthday. I wish it wasn't.

I don't feel like celebrating.

I don't want to slap on the "happy face" and act all excited.

I don't want to answer the phone or see my email box full of Facebook notices about all the people who wrote on my "wall".

I don't want to figure out where to go for dinner, or how to spend my birthday money. It's just more pressure to make more decisions.

I don't want to pretend it's a special day when it really isn't: there's still work to do, laundry to put away, dishes to be washed, food to prepare, chauffering to do. Life still has to go on. I can't put everything on hold just because it's my "special day".

Birthday is just one more "to do" this year. I'd rather make it a "to don't". That's what I really want for my birthday. A day off. From EVERYthing. Every social obligation, work obligation, family obligation, home obligation, decision obligation, church obligation, a day off from my To Do list.

I feel like such a jerk because people are genuinely wishing me a good day and I just want it all to go away.

I'm such a cow. Moo.

Troll Tirade

Something has been bugging me lately. It's an itch I can't scratch so I'm just going to say it and let it go.

I'm a fan. I'm a fan of certain books and movies. I get a little crazy about my fandom sometimes, but it's just fun. Trust me, I'm most definitely grounded in reality. Sometimes crushed by Reality. Which is why I enjoy my fandemonium.

I get that not everyone is a fan of everything. I get that not everyone understands why someone could like something that they themselves don't like. Tirade alert: THAT DOESN'T GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO CRAP ALL OVER SOMEONE ELSE'S EXCITEMENT!! Just because you yourself do not care for something doesn't mean that you are better than that person. It also doesn't mean that you now have free license to call them stupid or dumb, or worse, launch into a list of why that person has bad taste, or try to change their mind!! Because frankly, some of the stuff that you like, I think is dumb and in bad taste, but I think it's cool that you have something you like and get excited about. Go, you!

SO, let's all just quit being trolls, shall we?

Thanks, and good day.

Tirade over.

I should just keep my big mouth shut...

I just reread my last post. All optimism for the next big adventure after graduation. All bright shiny hope for what was on the other side of that Door of Opportunity. Well, I found out all right. And, it's been kicking my rear ever since. Why didn't I keep my wonderings to myself? It's almost like inviting the universe: "Come and get me, please!"

In the last month and a half I've feared for my sanity on a daily basis. That balance thing I was looking for when I started this blog all those months ago....yeah, that dream's been pretty much vaporized. But, the most amazing thing in all of this is the fact that I actually wouldn't change it if I could. It's been pretty amazing at times, and, in this moment, I think it's all worth it.

But, check back with me tomorrow. I might be ready for the men to bring me that nice white coat with all the shiny buckles....

Pomp and Circumstance

Two years ago, The Mr. came home late at night buzzing with energy and some excitement.  It was the first of two years worth of late nights he would spend working towards his MBA.  Nights and weekends were now defined by projects, presentations, conference calls, and team meetings.  Our week revolved around class nights and sometimes class weekends.  

Drama.           Work.            Stress.

Last night he came home late. 

Buzzing again.  

For the last time.

  

He's finished.  

Hallelujah!

It's bittersweet.  He's thrilled to be done with homework and presentations, late nights and projects.  I'm delighted to have the Mr. back full time.  I miss him when he's buried in school. However, he will miss the people.  The stimulating and challenging nature of working with intelligent and driven colleagues.  I'll miss having an evening or two a week where I can get away with PB&J for dinner and have the remote to myself, guilt-free.  

Once again we will both have to find a new rhythm, learn new steps, make a few adjustments.  So, it really isn't an ending, it's just another new beginning.  

I wonder where we'll end up this time?

Uncompromising Balance

Since I've had kids my life has been all about simplification.  Especially lately.  I've been trying to strip things down to the essentials.  To cut through all of the excess and get to what really matters, what is truly important.  I've been learning to say "No" to the extras so that I have more time, more energy, even more money to say "Yes" when it means the most.  It is a liberating feeling to shed the burdens, both physical and mental.  It's even more liberating to release myself from the guilt or even dissatisfaction that goes with the "not enough" philosophy.  

However (you knew it was coming, right?), I am finding that there are things that I don't want to simplify, my whole being rebels at the very idea.  It's probably also some of the things I most need to simplify.  I have jokingly referred to myself as having "Crafting ADHD" because I have far too many hobbies and bounce around doing too many projects and have too many Big Ideas.  I'm a total spaz when it comes to inspiration, and it's hard to settle on one thing for very long.  Most of the time I manage to complete the projects, but until they're done they take over my brain, my life, my house, and my money.  Unfortunately, there are plenty of times when I get the Big Idea, make purchases for the Big Idea, and then fizzle.  It's embarrassing to admit, but I have a whole room full of fizzled Big Ideas.  This is an area of my life that is ripe for simplification, ready to cut out the excess of Big Ideas that take over my life and Fizzlers that suck up space in my brain and in my house.   I know I should take control of those Big Ideas and change them into Little Ideas that don't take over my life.  Or if I can't manage to simplify the idea, then I need to say "No" before it simply becomes another Fizzler.  

I.   just.  can't.  do.  it.

I've thought about this.   A lot.  Why am I unable to successfully simplify here?  

Here's what I've discovered:  my life right now is full of compromises, it's full of accepting less than the ideal.  Not in a bad way.  It's actually very positive that I've been able to let go of enough perfectionism that I can actually live my life and be happy with what is rather than what I think it should be.  It's healthier for me and it's healthier for my family.  It's being flexible and adaptable and it's necessary.  My life and my work right now is so very intangible.  Most of what I do all day every day is not something to be seen or held or measured.  So, when I actually do have something that I've worked on, spent time on, something that will last longer than 5 minutes, I don't want to compromise.  I want to be able to dream big and create big.  I want perfection.  I don't think that's such a bad thing.  It's balance.  It's retaining control or perfectionism in one small area of my life so that I can relinquish control and perfectionism in the areas of my life where those two qualities would do the most damage.  

And, balance, that precarious juggling act of everyday life, is the whole point.

Right?

On How I Became the Warrior Mama

I had another one of those moments today.  The ones where I suddenly realize, again, that I'm on a different path than many of the people around me; a path I never expected to tread.  

Years ago when I thought about becoming a mother I was nervous and excited.  I wanted to be the Ideal Mom.  The one who baked cookies with the children and rolled around on the floor with them,  played games, read books, sang songs, snuggled, giggled, kissed and cuddled, and taught them all of the wonders in the world and out of it.  I had this romantic Super Mom image in my head created from all of my reading as a child about the kind of cool, fun, loving, and Perfect Mother I was going to be.  I thought it would come naturally and easily to me simply because I wanted so much to be that person, I would find a way to make it happen.

When we had a little trouble getting pregnant as quickly as we wanted it was only a little fly in my ointment.  I tried to remain positive as I watched friends bellies swell, went to baby showers, and sat watching these new mothers beam with pride and gloating over their little accomplishments.   The comments about wanting to see us "get started" stung a little, but I tried to brush it aside with the thought that it would happen for us "when the time was right".  And, it did happen, as it so often does, when I had given up trying to remain in control.  When I finally relaxed and committed it to the hands of the Lord, it did come.  And I was happy.  It was exciting to finally begin to plan in earnest.

Fast forward a few months into my pregnancy and all was going well. We had just returned from a fun trip to Disneyland and I was starting to swell just a bit going into my last trimester.  When I walked into my doctor's office that week for a check-up I had no idea that I would not be going home until I had delivered a baby.  The swelling was worse than I knew.  I was dumping protein.  The test at the doctor's office sent me to the hospital for a more conclusive test, which concluded I needed a 24 hour test, which concluded that I had full blown preeclampsia and would be on bed rest at the hospital until I could no longer carry the baby.  For a young couple, embarking on our first parenting experience this was overwhelming and completely new.   In neither of our families did we have experience with this kind of birth drama.  As we navigated the difficult waters of trying to understand our situation, trying to make wise decisions about our situation when we didn't understand it, and trying to reassure ourselves and our families about what we didn't truly understand, I had no idea that this would become a pattern of our lives as parents.

When my precious little girl finally entered this world, 9 weeks early, precariously premature and tiny (3 lbs!), I could only focus on the miracle of her birth and the preservation of her life and mine.  I could only get through one day at a time as we both recovered.  

It was the Mr. who first had to embrace his role as Warrior Dad, to be strong enough to protect me and our child from Too Much of Everything.  He had to deal with doctors, nurses, administrators, family, friends, all who had something to tell us or some decision for us to make, or who themselves wanted Answers from us.  Answers we so often didn't have.  And he did it.  He was our rock.  Our Protector.  Our Knight in shining Adidas.  It was his strength and courage to stand up for us that gave me the strength and courage to stand up for my girl and fight for what we thought was best for her.  The doctors and nurses and administrators didn't always understand or agree with our choices.  I'm sure our families didn't either.  But we did what we thought was best for her, and we did it together because we were a Family now.  Even if it wasn't the ideal picture I had created in my head.  

We had landed in the land of the Preemies, Complications, Developmental Delays, and eventually Autism, and we had a much different journey to take than the one we had planned.  Upon our arrival in this strange new world we had to quickly adjust to new rules, new directions, new skills, and a whole new language.  It's taken nearly 8 years of learning to adapt to this new destination, and I find that I'm constantly making little adjustments all along as our path changes and alters abruptly here and there.  

Today as I sat at the school I felt another adjustment coming upon us.  I felt the drum of my heartbeat as I started to mentally suit up for another battle, another skirmish in defense of my child brewing.  I'm more prepared today than I was all those years ago.  I've got some experience, gained some weapons, and some confidence I wish I had had when this all started.  

At least now I know who I am, what my role is.  

I am the Warrior Mama.  

Bring it on.

A Contest Entry

Being new to blogging I've found that other bloggers often participate in contests, giveaways, and other such giddy madness.  It's kind of like gambling, you know your odds for winning are incredibly small, but a little part of you whispers, "yes, but what if I won?!"  

Well, I've found myself a contest to enter.  Below is my entry.  Thanks to the ladies at TodaysMama!

This is contest entry for those crazy folks at TodaysMama and Cricut. Be sure to check out Cricut's cool new cartridges and the chance at $30,000 in travel for you and your friends at the Great Gypsy Escape site! http://bit.ly/FWcud

Great Escape Meme
1. If you could escape to anywhere in the world where would it be? 

Beachly delights:  Bora Bora, Bali, or Tahiti   

Mountain retreats: Switzerland, B.C. Canada, or Scotland.
2. What song do you play when you are by yourself in the car? 

Right now I'm totally hooked on "Hot Air Balloon" by Owl City.  Funny, it's a bit about escape too!
3. If you had a night to yourself, and money was no object, what would you do? 

If it's just me I'm heading to the spa for the works: massage, mani/pedi, maybe even hair & makeup too.  Then I'd grab the Mr. and we'd go out: dinner at our favorite place,  the Melting Pot (mmmmm, fondue), theater of some kind, find some stars to gaze at and just talk.

4. What is your guilty pleasure? 

OK-I'll come clean.  I'm a TwilightMom.
5. What is the farthest place you have traveled away from your home? 

Farthest East: Berlin, Germany

Farthest West: Oahu, Hawaii
6. Last book that you couldn't put down? 

The Actor and The Housewife, by Shannon Hale
  7. When you want to escape into another time, what movie do you watch? 

Pride and Prejudice (BBC version please) OR Lord of the Rings/Pirates of the Caribbean.

8. What is your favorite local escape? 

Zuma Beach or Griffith Observatory if I don't have a lot of time, Huntington Library & Gardens if I have more time, Disneyland or Big Bear if we have a whole day.
9. How do you escape on a budget? 

I have a library card.  A whole universe of adventure and escape that fits in my purse!  It's like magic.

(Beaches, Griffith, local gardens and open space is all free here!  I know - SPOILED!)

Best food you've ever had while on vacation. 

Single Best Dish:  Huli Huli chicken at Duke's, Waikiki Beach, HI.  Someday I WILL get back there.

Best Overall Food Experience: Disney Cruise Line.  My family would cruise with them again just for the food.  YUM.

And, true to form I can't seem to narrow it all down to just one answer.  Life has too many exciting options, I want them all!  It's good to have dreams, right?!

Sick Bed Sweetness...

I've spent the last week and a half coughing until everything hurt, and then coughing some more.  As I watched the toys, papers, and laundry pile up around me while I sat helplessly gasping for air, I was reminded of my dominant feeling about being sick.  Anger.  The Mr. sat chuckling at me the other night after I ranted about the vagaries of being sick.  

"You're funny when you're sick."  He said.  "You get mad at being sick.  It's funny."

I wanted to shout, "Look around you!  This is what happens when I'm sick; we drown in a wasteland of our STUFF!  We eat chicken nuggets and cereal for dinner!  I forget Important Papers that come home from school!  You have no clean socks or underwear!"  

Instead I had a coughing fit.  

Somehow, in my hyperventilating state, I was able to find some beauty in life, even though I myself was far from being able to provide it.  And, since I'm a big fan of lists (I love lists like Kermit loves Miss Piggy, I could probably write a whole paper on why I heart lists), I shall provide my bits of beauty in list form:

1.  After a particularly bad night of coughing and sleeplessness I woke up with a "feel better" card on my tummy and a bright smiley Big Sis delighted to see me and give me a hug first thing in the morning.

2.  Good friends who showed up bearing delicious food and good wishes just because they heard I was sick and wanted to help.

3.  Ahhhh, Nyquil.  My friend.

4.  The girls both being in school so I could drop them off and come home and go back to bed.

5.  The Mr.  who slept on the couch for 5 nights in a row so that I could be comfortable and get some sleep without worrying about my coughing fits waking him up.  He must love me.

See?  Life is good.

What's in a name?

In my previous post I mentioned Cherry Hill House.  

“What's that?” you say. 

It's the name I've decided to give my house.  

“Why name a house?” you say.  

I'm tempted to flippantly answer, "Because I can."  

Or more accurately, "Because it's mine."

I've always been attracted to the idea of living in a place so distinct that it has its’ own unique name.  Being an incurable anglophile, I swoon for estate names like Althorp, Chartwell, Osborne House, and Kedleston Hall.  As a lover of books, I dream of places like Pemberley, Mansfield Park, Thornfield, or yes, even Hogwarts.

But, I've decided that even though it's not a noble estate surrounded by gracious grounds, or the setting for great events, my little house is actually quite special. It's a special place because we have made it so.  

When we purchased this house a few months ago it was a bit of a disaster.  Abandoned and neglected for more than three years, it was dirty, dilapidated, and seriously outdated. We looked past the exterior flaws and fell in love with the layout, the yard, the location, the trees, the sheer potential of it all.  We spent a month cleaning, scraping, patching and painting, carpeting and planning.  We didn’t finish all the projects we had planned, nor do we have the time or money to get it all done in the immediate future, but by our own sweat, blood, and yes, tears, we have truly made this house ours.  

Therefore, I christened it Cherry Hill House.  

Cherry, for the bright red cherries I love; I use them in decorating, I love to eat them, they are sweet and tart all in one (a bit like me), and they are cheerful - just like I want our family and memories in this house to be.  

Hill, for the hill the house sits on, and for the Hill (me, Hill-ary) who is keeper of the hearth here.  Cherry Hill is also a place in Utah, where I’m from and where our family lived and was begun.  

House, because it’s neither a grand palace, manor house or hall, nor a cottage, cabin, or farm; it’s simply a house, a place for a family to live and to grow.  

I love my little home.  I feel like it’s a bit like me at this stage in my life; not so new, falling apart just a little bit, and a work in progress, but (hopefully!) great potential lurking in the corners.  A place and a person in transition, with great expectations for the coming days.  And, we're getting there, one step and one project at a time.

Now, back to work!

I found this little gem while I was looking around at house names.  I couldn’t resist it!

On Naming a House

(by Christopher Morley) 

WHEN I a householder became

I had to give my house a name.

I thought I'd call it "Poplar Trees,"

Or "Widdershins" or "Velvet Bees,"

Or "Just Beneath a Star."

Or "As You Like It," "If You Please,"

Or "Nicotine" or "Bread and Cheese,"

"Full Moon" or "Doors Ajar."

But still I sought some subtle charm,

Some rune to guard my roof from harm

And keep the devil far;

A thought of this, and I was saved!

I had my letter-heads engraved

The House Where Brown Eyes Are.

There's No Place Like Home

I have nothing really profound to say today, but I did want to say this: for the past week or so there's been little pieces of me that feel empty, not quite right.  I should say, all of us here at Cherry Hill House have been feeling that way.  The sheer tension of disjointedness has had us all on the verge of meltdown at a moments notice.  And, there were meltdowns.  Oh, were there meltdowns.

But, then last night something wonderful happened.  

The Mr. came home.  

He walked in dragging his suitcase full of dirty laundry and backpack full of bribe offerings for his womenfolk, and we nearly knocked him down with the enthusiasm of our welcome.  We all could hardly sleep for the pure joy of being together again.  Our family is again whole, and so am I.

POST EDIT:

My jet fueled nemesis from the other night made another appearance tonight as we made our way to bed.  Needless to say, my Knight in Shining Armor has chased the octo-beast down and he has at last met his watery end in the porcelain fountain of death.  I can at last rest easy without a fat pillow wedged tightly against the headboard.  Oh, how I've missed the Mr.!  He is always and forever my hero!

Now I'm awake...

I wasn't going to blog today.  I was heading to bed, tired after a day of housekeeping, child keeping, and sanity keeping.  I came into my room and to the side of the bed, over the alarm clock on the wall by the head board was a spider.  !!!  He was big and black and there was NO WAY he was going to be living much longer.  I hhhhaaaatttee spiders.  Always have.  I had nightmares about spiders as a child.  Me and Ron Weasley are kindred spirits.  

As Mom I have to don the cape and swoop to the rescue of my children when the spiders appear.  I am tough and dispatch of them without a quiver under the watchful eyes of my daughters, showing them, "see? Nothing to be afraid of."  All the while inside I'm shrieking and doing the Flip Out dance-----you know, the one with the prancing/jumping on tip toe, hands flapping, saying "ew! ew! ew!"  If the Mr. is home, I make him do all of the spider eradication, no matter how small.  And, it's not enough just to squash them.  No, no.  They must be squashed and flushed down the toilet for insurance.

So, to come into my bedroom and see a fairly large spider on the wall next to my head board gave me the quivers.  The Mr. is still out on business.  I'm on my own.  Gulp.  However, I gathered my courage and told myself to buck up.  I put on my shoes (you choose your armor, I'll choose mine) and a great wad of toilet paper, and with my nightie billowing around my ankles, I carefully approached said spider.  I got close and moved the alarm cord out of the way.  It ran.  FAST.  Aaaagggghhhhahhhhaaaaa!  

I managed to keep the screaming to myself and leaned the headboard back as far as it would go.  No spider.  I shoved the bed out of the way and moved the headboard all the way out of the way.  No spider.  I moved all the bits of things under the bed away from the wall.  NO SPIDER!  It's disappeared.  I can't sleep in this bed with a rogue spider on the loose.  Especially a turbo charged rogue spider.  I'm currently down at the other end of my bed facing the wall and keeping my eye out for the little jet fueled demon to reappear.  

When I came in to go to bed I was already half asleep.  Not anymore.  Hello, Insomnia.

Here We Go Again

Today was the big day.  Anticipated all summer by the littles, anticipated for several years by me.  The day I would install my offspring into their classrooms and walk away a free woman.  

I planned skipping.  And jumping.  Projects.  Cleaning.  Decluttering.  Painting.  I had Big Plans.  There was a list a mile long of what I was going to get done as soon as I had some child free hours to myself in which to accomplish it all.  I was going to relish my newfound free time and really make it count for something. 

I was worried there might be tears.  And clinging.  (I dread the clinging.)  Instead, both children were deeply disappointed to learn that they would be escorted to class this first momentous day.  "Mom," they said, "we know where we're going and what to do, just drop us off."  In the nicest way possible, I said, "Fat Chance."  I could barely keep up as we crossed the playground to drop off Big Sis first, (that may or may not have had anything to do with the two grocery bags FULL of paper, glue, tissues, wipes, and various other supplies for each child, I was carrying; I'm surprised my arms didn't fall off in the process).

The scene was nearly the same at both classrooms: obligatory posing for photos by the backpack, looking around for friends, "K-byemomIloveyouseeyouafterschool," rushing off to play on the playground, me standing there, them turning around to see me with a look that said "are you still here?", me still standing there, standing there, standing there, and finally deciding it was okay to go.   

As I finally made my way out of the school and slowly walked to my car I pondered these independent little gals.  What had happened in the night to transform them from Nervous Nellies to Daring Divas?  Where did that come from?  Surely I was proud of them.  Relieved that we had avoided the tears and clinging.   I kept waiting for the release, for the sense of Freedom to descend upon me, for the skipping and jumping.  

It didn't come.

I returned to the quiet house, waiting expectantly for me and my Big Plans.  I just stood in the doorway, unsure.  In all of my waiting and planning for this day I never imagined that I would feel so...so...lost.  Suddenly I realized that maybe I wasn't ready for this emptying nest.  In all my preparing my children for this day, I had neglected to truly prepare myself.  They were ready and anxious to get on with their new adventure and leave me behind, and I realized that I'm not quite ready for it.  

So, as I struggle to figure out, once again, who I am and what I'm doing in this new stage of motherhood, I've realized that there will be tears.  

And clinging.  

Definitely clinging.

Back to School Bonanza

Today was the last day of Summer at our house.  

Tomorrow we are back to school.  

We spent much of today in preparation for the Big Day.  I cleaned out old clothes, making way for the fresh new school clothes.  We chose the special First Day of School Outfits and they are as bright and bold as the girls who will be sporting them.  This afternoon we spent some time at the school getting to know Big Sis's teacher, classroom, and playground in an effort to help her with the changes.  After that meeting we went to Kindergarten Orientation for Lil' Sis and she was all nerves.  She kept curling up into a ball on my lap.  It's such a strange experience to see my little fireball subdued into a little match flame.  She usually fills up any room with her very presence.  She must be nervous indeed.  

After all of the meetings we went to the PTA Ice Cream Social to have a popsicle and hang out with friends we haven't seen all summer.  It's a nice Farewell to Summer and Hello to School event, a nice way to end the summer on an exclamation point!  Sometimes it's easier to make the transition when there is an event to signal the change from old to new, something in our brain makes the shift more easily when associated with a party or celebration.  

It's all wildly exciting, but tonight as I decorated pencil boxes and packed the new backpacks with requested supplies, I couldn't suppress a little quiver of anxiety.  

I'm nervous for them.  It's a new year with new challenges, new friends, new teachers.  For Lil' Sis this is a big change...this is It.  Kindergarten.  The whole enchilada.  How will it go?  How will they do?  Have I taught them enough?  Have I prepared them enough for the Big Bad World?  I have to hope so, because tomorrow they embark on their new adventure, ready or not.  I should have more faith in my two little spitfires.  They both came into this world on their own terms and in their own ways, and have carried on that tradition.  They'll be fine.  

But, will I?

Feline Felicity

This is my cat, Buster.  

We call him The General, or the War Beast, for his prowess as a hunter of all things small and furry or feathery, and for his general toughness and tenacity when it comes to claiming and maintaining his territory.  Nobody messes with his Royal Fightyness.

He's your typical Rum Tum Tugger cat (and if you don't know Rum Tum Tugger, then you need to make the acquaintance of a little book called "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats", by T.S. Eliot.  I recommend the version illustrated by Edward Gorey).  In essence he's Mr. Unsatisfied.  If he's in, he wants out.  If he's up, he wants down.  If you're busy, he wants a love, but if you have time for him, he wants nothing to do with you.  You get the idea.

He also has the uncanny ability to settle wherever it's most inconvenient for his humans; on my newspaper, my keyboard or mousepad, my book, etc.  His favorite sleeping place is on the legs of his humans whilst we're trying to sleep.  It's almost like it's a game for him to see how weirdly contorted we can sleep or to see how much of the bed he can conquer and claim in one night.  Currently he's sprawled out on my bed right about where my knees should be, making it hard for me to hold my laptop on my lap properly to write.  This, after he stole my spot next to my pillow while I was gone for just a minute.  I should mention that the Mr. is on a business trip right now so there is no reason for my cat to be crowding me in this fashion.  He has the whole rest of the bed that he could sprawl on and claim.  

So, why haven't I kicked him off the bed yet?  Did I mention that the Mr. is away on business? At night is when it's most lonely to have him gone, so it's nice to have some quiet company to provide a little comfort.  Even if he is clingy and has cat food breath.

Another piece of the puzzle

I actually started this post last week and I've been working it over in my mind for a few days now.  I needed to come back to it because I just couldn't seem to get it right.  I think I've got it now.  Maybe.

My book club met here last night and I have to say a few words about it because it was like a puzzle piece fitting snugly into place in the right way at the right time in my life.  I can't not write about it.

We read Viktor Frankl's book, Man's Search for Meaning, and it's about his own experiences in the concentration camps of World War II and how it applies to his theories of logotherapy.  On the surface it sounds depressing at worst and dry text bookish at best.  However, I found it to be compelling and inspiring.  In a nutshell (if it's even possible to boil it down) his point is that we as human beings must have meaning or purpose in our lives; as long as we have that meaning or purpose then we can survive even the most miserable and horrifying of experiences.  He quotes Nietzsche: "He who has a why to live for can bear with almost any how."  When we lose sight of our whys then we start to have difficulty coping with all the hows in our lives.  This is precisely what I have been working on lately; I've realized that in many ways I have lost sight of my "why's".  I'm too caught up in the survival of it all.  It's one of the reasons I started this blog.  I was trying to remind myself of all the "why's" in my life.  To connect with the meanings that give my life purpose and direction.

  The second point he makes is that even when we have nothing left, circumstances are totally out of our control, we do still have one thing.  We ultimately have the ability to choose how we respond, whether we allow our circumstances to control us or whether we are able to turn them into personal triumph.  It really does boil down to our own attitude, it can make or break us.  Which may sound like an easy answer, but in the day to day living that can be very hard.  It was a reminder that I needed.  And, to come full circle, I think when we appreciate the "why's" of our lives and focus on them with greater purpose, we are more able to master our attitudes and achieve that personal triumph he speaks of.

Frankl says it more beautifully and profoundly than I ever could, but these were ideas and concepts that have been simmering in the back of my mind for some time now.  It was one of those rare moments of harmony when external and internal life connect in a more meaningful way.  

There are things in this book that we all need to be reminded of from time to time.  Which is why this book is now on my list of rotating reads, the ones I return to often because they have become dear friends.  We learn something new from them every time we visit with them and we always come away richer for the experience.  I'm always excited to find another friend to keep handy on my shelf, ready for a visit whenever the mood strikes.  

So, welcome to my collection, Mr. Frankl, I believe you'll be around for a good long while.

Kidasana (kid-AH-SAH-NAH)

Tonight we had an excess of energy amongst the wee ones and it was just a little chilly so we decided to do a little yoga.  Now, yoga at our house consists of two giggling girls on a single pink yoga mat and me trying to remember the few yoga poses I know, while at the same time trying to convince my muscles to let me do them.  There's also a lot of flopping around like dead fishes, but I'm not naming names.

The really delightful part came after the downward dogs and mountain poses were all done.  I watched from the sidelines as Little Sis and Big Sis came up with their own poses.  First, there was the Nightstand, followed by the Flamingo (the Flopping Flamingo rather), then we had Lion pose, Snake tail, and The Stretcher.  Last time we did yoga there was the Snowman as well.   I can't even begin to describe what these poses looked like, so fleeting was their existence.  Only the Flamingo was attempted more than once, but only because it caused the biggest giggles.  

It was mommy nirvana.

Caterpillars and Butterflies

Our family is in a bit of a transition lately.  We've been in survival mode for so long that we've sort of lost our sense of direction a bit.  It's a bit like being lost in a sandstorm or a blizzard; we've been clinging so tightly together to get through the endless barrage that we've kind of gotten off the track.  There's nothing wrong in this, we just need a little reorienting, a little moment to fine tune our coordinates so to speak.  In a way we're experiencing growing pains.  

In our children's lives and often in the teenage years we recognize these moments of change and growth, and the excesses of emotion and struggle that accompany these changes, for what they are: growing pains.  They are phases we must pass through to enter into the next stage of life.  What we seem to forget or ignore is that we keep growing and changing our whole lives.  We don't suddenly become a Grown Up one day, and that's it.  We continue to evolve and change as our life experiences mold us and shape us on a daily basis.  We find love, we marry, we have children, and all of these major events in our lives affect us.  Isn't it natural that some of those same feelings of insecurity, fear of the unknown, and even downright panic would accompany these transitions in adulthood?  Not only is there insecurity and fear, there is also some exhilaration and excitement as we stretch our wings a bit and learn what we really can do.  Hopefully there is that wild, out of control, anything can happen,  and "I can make anything happen" feeling too.  It makes us alive.  It's what makes us different from the rocks and trees, the mouse and the monkey.  We learn and grow and hopefully, improve.

I have a lot more to say about all this (honestly, when don't I have a lot to say?), but for now I'll content myself with a quote.  I'm a word collector and when I come across the exact word, or phrase, or way of expressing a thought, feeling, or idea I swiftly scoop it up and hoard it like a precious jewel.  This is one of them:

"Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a beautiful butterfly."

I'm still trying to find that butterfly.

Back in the saddle again...

For the first time in a whole week I finally feel like I'm getting back together.  Why is it that even an overnight trip seems to throw off the whole delicate balance of laundry, meal preparation, and general care and keeping of creatures?  I felt off kilter all week, like I had all the puzzle pieces but they went to several different puzzles.  

Unfortunately, in my quest to reconquer my domestic abode post vacation, I lost that sense of renewal and immediacy in the moment.  By the end of the week I was desperate to reclaim that feeling of peace and gratitude for the small things, even joy in the small things.  I tried to remember what the small things were this week.

A crazy day with friends at the free summer movie, Charlotte's Web.  I watched my girls generously share their popcorn and excitement with a bunch of friends.  They even watched most of the movie quietly on the row in front of the mommies.  A small wonder in itself.  The image I have in my mind is this gaggle of about six little girls all holding hands, jabbering wildly and walking out of the theater together, the energy and excitement of the moment buzzing around them like a swarm of bees.  

I also spent time with my friends, learning to make porridge.  Sounds strange, but it was fun to have four of us crammed in my little kitchen, grinding, mixing, and talking as fast as we could in between the interruptions from the dramas of the play-date outside.  It was so nice to exchange ideas and thoughts with other moms, to know we're not alone in our frustrations and concerns.  How helpful it is to feel the support and strength of others.  As an added bonus I learned how to make something not only delicious and healthy for my family, but extremely economical.  I love finding a good recipe that's not going to break my bank account.

I finished a little project for my girls that I hope will improve all of our lives.  It probably won't sound very exciting, but it's a big deal at our house.  I made them some potty charts for our new potty incentive program.  It's a long, gruesome story, but needless to say I have high hopes that this new program will clear up some very long standing potty drama at our house.  The fact that they are both awesome and attractive is highly satisfying.  I love it when a project works.

As I have sat here writing this, my little family has all drifted in and settled.  Daddy and the girls are sitting together at the table with me, painting.  Oh, for this one golden moment to last!

The lesson to myself is that despite this being a difficult week, with the pieces not quite matching up, there have been moments of perfect harmony.  Now, it's just noticing the daily harmonies around me.  That will have to wait though.  You'll have to excuse me because I feel a watercolor masterpiece coming on....

Are we there yet?

We took a short camping trip to Big Bear this weekend.  What crazy person invented camping as a "vacation".  A vacation from what?  What other vacations require you to haul lodging, bedding, food, kitchen, and clothing all for a short trip to the woods?  And, then once there you must erect your own shelter and kitchen, cook all your food with the barest of essentials, protect said food from furry beasts with big fangs and claws, and hike for five minutes to get to the nearest restroom "facilities" (don't forget your flashlight at 2am!).

Now I sit here trying not move so my muscles won't scream in protest.  I'm also trying to ignore the pile of laundry that smells like campfire, and the scattered bits of equipment that still need to be put away.  So was it worth it?  All this work and effort?

Well, this was our view yesterday:

And, as we were on the peak I was able to watch my daughter overcome her fear and climb a boulder with her friends.  She didn't think she could, and she trembled and worried, but she did it.  I was proud of her.  

I also got to enjoy a delicious dinner cooked over a grill, seasoned by fire, fresh air, and the scent of pine.  

For some reason s'mores always taste better in the mountains with a chill in the air and smoke in your eyes.  I had three.  

Last night while the lantern made the tent glow, Daddy told two sleepy bears a bedtime story just for them.

This morning I woke up and had a warm snuggle with my little girl and we giggled and laughed together before rolling out into the cold fresh air and huddled around the fire before breakfast.

The time and planning along with the work to shelter and feed us brought me into the immediacy of the moment.  The sights of nature and family at play, the sounds of animals and children laughing, and the smells of pine, smoke, and freshly cooked food were all made sharper by the lack of distraction.  So, while I feel weary of body, my spirit feels renewed and strengthened for the struggle.  We did it.  So yes.  Yes, it was worth it.