Just a minute

30 Days with a Grateful heart - Day 1

2011-12-01T23:56:00.000-06:00

Ah, beautiful gratitude inspired by the beautiful Jote Khalsa and carried on by so many women I know. I'm in. 30 days of gratitude. day one. I'll start off with something pure and simple. I am grateful for 42 years of life with my sister Alma. I miss you Alma. I cry everyday that you are not here in the physical form I knew and loved. But I am grateful that I had you from the day I was born. And grateful that your lessons in this life go on and on. My heart is bigger and my life is more full and beautiful because of you. And if you want to talk to me, I'm ready.

It's not you, it's me

2011-11-04T16:13:00.000-05:00

I grew up in a big family. 9 kids. In the summers always more as we'd have 1 or 2 or 3 from the Fresh Air Fund in NYC and a few cousins sprinkled in here and there. It was messy. Chaotic. Fun. And exhilarating in the truest sense of the word as in animate, inspirit, elate. As a kid it was never a dull moment. As a parent I imagine it was also never a dull moment but in a different way. It was I know a lot of work, but my mom swears she'd do it all over again just the same.

Now in my own little family of 4 kids, the modern day big family of 6 people, and now with a special older cousin guest star bringing out household total to 7, there is never a dull moment. Not for lack of trying. It is a special kind of chaos that is sometimes fun, sometimes funny, sometimes loud, sometimes maddening, sometimes frustrating, sometimes ecstatic, sometimes overwhelming and well, you get the idea. It's a lot. A lot of emotions, people, activities, and everything else.

My man and I try hard to keep things easy for ourselves and for everyone else in the household but even that isn't always easy. We try to make sure that there is family time. We limit activities. We limit outings. And because there are just so many more people and so much more to do we have a lot more rules than smaller households. (based on our observations of those smaller households that is.)

Sometimes those rules feel really tight when we explain them to others. Things like no playdates after school on a whim. Playdates have to be prearranged and they have to work for the household not just for the person going. Very few sleepovers and when I say few I mean almost not at all. We have pretty early bedtimes, random chores and one day each weekend we try to keep for family only. No friends. Just family.

I feel bad sometimes explaining to others that no our daughter can't come over after school today. I know they mean well and I know my daughter would most likely have a great time but that means that instead of her riding her bike home with her brother and coming home to play with the youngest member of the household, the youngest is home longing for her, and one of the parents has to go get her at a time when the household really is starting to spiral towards the blitz/dinner hour. Sometimes I think people take it personally and I know that might be me projecting but, regardless, it's what I think. And other times people kind of insist and push us a bit even when we first say no, in a "oh come on, they want to, you know they do" kind of way and I feel like a rule mongering heavy who doesn't want their kids to have a good time.

It's hard to keep a household of this many afloat. It's hard to handle all the comings and goings. It's hard too to make sure that it doesn't turn into just a bunch of people sharing a house while all going in separate directions at the same time. It's hard to make sure we don't feel as parents like we're really just chauffeurs and event planners and maids and cooks.

So, if you're out there in our bubble of friends and you have asked for the attendance of one of our people and we say no, please understand that really, it's not you, it's me. It's us. Just trying to keep this family thing feeling like a family thing.

And also, thanks for being there. We love our bubble and we love having you in it.

Is this thing on?

2011-09-20T09:29:00.001-05:00

I don't know what you know about me but I sort of collect blogs. I have several. 3 main ones: Slow Family Living, Future Craft Collective and this one. Each one sort of holding a different position in my life. One crafty of course. One about slowing down family life and about events and such. And this one. My personal blog. The blog that started them all really. The one that will forever be, My First Blog.

As time goes on I find the line that separates them all becoming more fine and less defined. The craft stuff has crept into the slow world and the slow world has become personal until I really feel like many of the posts could really be interchangeable. Family, craft, slow, personal - all mixing together to make up the many parts of me.

This has sort of been a pattern of mine all my life. This sort of separating of parts until, little by little, they get all stirred up together and become not separate parts but one whole.

When I was about 18 I went to the Jersey shore for a week with my 7 older siblings and their various partners. No kids. No members of the generation before us. I think at the time we said no adults even though technically we were all adults. We just maybe didn't feel quite adult (and we certainly didn't act it that week.)

I was sitting on the beach one night where we had all gone together. Little by little they had all scattered - for a walk along the water, or a trip back to the house or wherever. And I found myself sitting in the sand all alone. My head was sort of overwhelmed being there with all these amazing siblings of mine who had had a hand in raising me after all. I wanted to be like all of them. And in some ways I was. Like all of them.

But then I had a revelation and realized, while I was like all of them in some way, all of those pieces together, all the pieces they had contributed to making me, me had stirred all together with the essence of me and had become, not them, but me. And I realized too that for years I had wanted not just to emulate them but BE them. And that wasn't really going to work because how could you possibly be 7 different individuals? Hello Sybil.

From that point on I felt free to be me. Sounds corny I know and rather Marlo Thomas-esque. But it was so huge for that self on the beach on the cusp of true adulthood. And I was so grateful that they had all played a part in the making of me and I was also grateful that now, at age 18, I could step away, stop copying and just be myself. Just. Be. Me. Just be. Me. If memory serves I may have even done a little dance right there on the beach and I certainly went around pondering deeply this revelation of mine and sharing it with anyone who would stop long enough to listen.

My point being, that this is what feels like what's happening with my blog world. All my various parts coming together more and more and becoming one. Or at least two. I certainly won't get rid of this part of that world but I probably won't be posting here much anymore. And I hope you'll check out my ponderings on both Slow Family and Future Craft. Because I just may have a revelation as big as the one on the beach that night and then, well, surely you'll want to be there to witness my proverbial dancing on the beach. Right?

Pencil nubs and other random school supplies

2011-08-25T13:47:00.000-05:00

Last year I went into my daughter's second grade classroom to talk about a pencil. I thought about pencils often when I was on the school campus because everytime I walked across campus I picked up AT LEAST one brand new pencil. Often never sharpened, almost always full length with an intact eraser. I had actually started to make it a point - to always pick up a pencil on campus. There were times when I walked across that 20 yards of grass and picked up 3 or 4. It started to seem like people were planting them there because they knew of my obsession. But alas, no, it's just the way it was.

So when my daughter's teacher said there was a shortage of pencils in their classroom last year I was confused. We had all bought a lot of them before school started. And surely so had the teacher. And yet there were no pencils. Anywhere. Not even crummy pencils - which I should add here I kind of hate - or rather I should say, I like a good pencil. A Ticonderoga black for example. One of my faves.

When I got the request, I volunteered for storytime, with full disclosure to the teacher who was with me all the way. Even in regards to good pencils vs. crappy ones. And I told them all the story that my mom told so many times from her own youth. How in 1930s, depression era New York City, a kid would have one pencil. That was it. Just one. They would have it at all times and use it until it was a nub and then some. They kept track of their pencil and if they did lose it they tried to keep it secret so nobody would get mad or so their parents wouldn't have to buy a pencil with money they didn't have. On your birthday you most often got a pencil for a present. Or maybe win a spelling bee in school and get a pencil for a prize. Sometimes perfect attendance would give them the coveted new pencil. Or maybe they would FIND one. Actually find one that someone had dropped. "Then," my mom would say and always with a delightful sigh, "then you would feel so lucky!"

So I think of pencils when I walk across the campus and I think how lucky my mom would have felt if she were a kid walking across these grounds. One a day. 150 or so a school year. That's pencils for a lifetime. Or for a whole school.

I challenged the kids in the classroom that day to try to keep their pencil as long as they could and use it well and keep track of it and don't just think of it as a simply disposable tool which was easily replaced by another. I think a challenge like this is definitely made easier by having access to a good pencil - one that really feels good in your hand and writes smoothly on the paper and looks good when you've put on the paper what you want to put there. The kind of pencil that kind of makes you feel like drawing even when you're writing.

For the rest of the school year some of them would tell me they still had their pencil. They were loving it and they were proud too! To be so resourceful. And to feel a sense of ownership to this tool rather than just feeling like it was yet another disposable item at their ready disposal.

Last week, when everyone was purchasing their school supplies there was a lot of discussion about pencils and crayons and other school supplies. And everyone kind of felt like we were buying too much. And I wondered why we always needed new stuff each year. New crayons. New scissors. New pencils. Where were all the packs from last year? And why does everyone need their own box of crayons vs. the giant bin of multi-colored crayons all mixed together in a shoe box? Why buy lots of the crappy supplies vs. less of the good supplies. What if we actually gave the kids less so that there was a sense of ownership in each item and less of a feeling of disposability?

We bought a pack of black Ticonderogas this year. I gave each of my school kids 4 to put in their pencil case. Really 2 probably would have sufficed. We etched a little mark in each one so they could keep track because they're challenging themselves to keep them all year. It's fun for them. And interesting too to see their sense of responsibility around this simple item.

I think I'm going to go in the classroom again and tell that story. Maybe I'll challenge the class again. Maybe I'll be the crazy mom who gets the reputation for telling the same pencil story year after year. And with one that hasn't even started there yet, I've got a few years ahead of me!

Calendar Girls (and boys)

2011-08-15T13:52:00.001-05:00

It's time here to start settling into routine. And start figuring out schedules. And supply lists. And bedtimes. And alarm clocks. And lunches. And homework. And sneakers that fit so that the PE teacher will let our child run. And bike locks found. And backpacks readied. And wowee. Really?? Already?

Yes. It's true. School starts a week from today. Monday. In August. Before Labor Day.

We start off with clean notebooks which always feels good, like having a clean slate and getting a brand new chance to really make it work for everyone. Some old ideas and some new ideas too.

This year's new idea is a weekly calendar meeting, which we're adding to our family's list of must-do's. Now that folks are getting a little older and getting more in charge of their own schedules and events and plans, it's even more crucial that we all get on the same page and figure out where and when and how everyone's going to be wherever they need to be. (And of course we'll ask why too which isn't always a liked question but imperative nonetheless.)

So we started last night with the giant office calendar off the wall and on the table. Who's got what? And it all gets penciled in in order that we can all help each other get what we need. And want.

I think it's going to really work for us all and give us a good sense of being on the same page, even when we're all running in separate directions. What do you do to keep everything in order?

Gratitude

2011-08-11T11:21:00.000-05:00

Words from my sister Alma, on her birthday. I wish us all this feeling of gratitude as we make our way through our days and weeks and months and years...

I am filled with gratitude for the abundance of life and for the gifts I have been given and continue to receive.

I am the giver and the receiever.

My gratitude pours out of my wide open heart, creating a golden path for me to walk along.

It brightens the dark road ahead so that I may see more clearly.

I am filled with light.

I am filled with gratitude.

I am gratitude.

I am grateful for you Alma!! You have made my life so beautiful.

My Path

2011-08-06T23:26:00.002-05:00

These words are from the journal of my sister Alma. She would have been 58 this week. I am going to share some of her words here because she was so thought provoking and profound. And because her ideas and her words are the part of her that lives still...

"I am writing the book of collective consciousness. The perception of time is an illusion. There is only the ever expanding now. If my past lives in my memory and I create my own reality, then I contain the universe as I create it. In the pause before the response, lives all possible futures of the world. As I pause in the synapse between action and inaction all I can choose is my own response. I put my action into the universal energy pool, knowing that it will indeed matter. I am pleased with the effect I have created. I have done my best to consciously choose my path."

Happy birthday Alma. Happy was the world the day you were born.

Calming the physical first. Letting the emotional follow-suit.

2011-07-27T13:43:00.000-05:00

I approached my teen last night with an issue I had. I stormed into the room. I laid right into her with my problem. She sneered. I paused. And I asked for a do-over. I walked out of the room again. Stood outside the door for just a minute and took three. Long. Slow. Deep. Breaths. It was 60 seconds max before my body calmed and my emotional state followed.

And I walked back into the room again.

This time calmer. This time more ready to approach with a solution in mind rather than seeking a fight. We talked. We solved. And we talked some more. Getting to the core of the issue as opposed to just touching on the obvious display of behavior we could both do without.

As I emerged from the room my mom sat at the dining room table. "Good job," she said. "You made a friend instead of an enemy."

I laughed and I agreed and I vowed to do it again. Next time. And if I forget I hope that it's just for a moment and I'll be given a chance for an immediate do-over. Wherein I can calm my body first and let my emotions follow suit.

One. Thing. At. A. Time.

2011-06-23T07:57:00.001-05:00

And time is still marching on. And it's feeling a little bit crazy these days just how fast time does march. In my head I think school just ended then I look at the calendar and realize we're just shy of a month out of school. A month is not "just ended". And so rather than spiral into the panic of time's velocity...

I. Take. A. Deep. Breath. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

Come on. Do it with me. Just one or two or three deep beautiful breaths.

And then I make a list. Of all the things I need to do in the next 5 days before phase 2 of summer begins. Before our big book release party. Before camp this morning. Before our journey east. Before the weekend. Before bedtime. Before the toddler wakes from his summer siesta.

And when I make the list I realize it's all quite manageable and not at all more than I can handle and really, in the big picture of things people need to do in a day, the things on my list are not only attainable and manageable but some of them are actually kind of fun. Sew a patch. Pick up the keg for our book party. (yes, that's right, we're having a keg at our book party) Make flags for another book event. Practice a printing technique for camp. Order a case of books for a signing event. Pay a bill. (okay that one's not that fun)

My point being though that when the things were swirling around in my head they were overwhelming. And seemed like way too much. When I put them down on paper in my book that I always have with me, they were totally under control and not beyond my abilities or time constraints at all.

And it makes me realize too that often this is the case with things that worry us into a bit of a panic. In our swirling heads they overwhelm and sometimes even overtake us and keep us from sleeping properly and make us cranky with our children. We need to get them out of our heads and put them in a place where we can see them. And they can live on their own. Ready to be tackled just one thing at a time.

All we can really do is one thing at a time. (Despite the myths of multi-tasking) So why hold them in our brains as a group when all it really does is stress us out. Just take them. One. At. A. Time.

Nipping away at summer chaos

2011-05-24T08:36:00.000-05:00

Just 7 more days of school counting today but hey, who's counting? Around here we always kind of excited about the end of school. No more rising at the crack of dawn. No more stacks of papers waiting to be examined, signed, returned, filed. No more snacks to be packed and backpacks stacked next to, in and around the livingroom closet.

We look forward to sleeping in. Extended time for all kinds of craft projects. Play time. Reading time. Swim time. And lots and lots of hang time.

What comes with everyone home all day however is that chaos tries to rule our kitchen. With kids waking at different hours and snacks eaten on a whim instead of on a schedule, the kitchen rules must be somewhat tight. And if you've ever seen just how many glasses one family of six can use in a day, you'd understand what I mean.

I believe I may have solved one problem however with my little creation this past weekend. No more 30 glasses on the counter by day's end. No more "whose glass is this anyway?" And one little nip away at chaos' attempts to infiltrate our kitchen. One glass. Each day. Per person...

The Learning Curve

2011-05-19T14:21:00.000-05:00

Today I have no answers. Only questions. One particular question actually. One question that I feel like I've been asking for a long time and only occasionally do I feel like I have the answer.

When will I learn?

When will I learn that when the 13 year old says I need a few minutes to calm down, to actually allow her those few minutes.And by doing so I can avoid a lot of confrontation.

When will I learn that when the 4 year old is running around like the proverbial headless chicken that it usually means he is either hungry or tired.

When will I learn that the 8 year old needs way more sleep than the 11 year old and that even though she's mostly extrovert she also needs to spend some time alone filling up?

When will learn that the 11 year old doesn't need to be told to say thank you. That actually he is quite a polite little lad and has a good handshake and even looks people in the eye without being told to do so.

Sometimes I need to step in. But other times I need to just back the heck off.

When will learn how to differentiate?

When will I learn that a lesson learned one day might need to be learned again and again and again?

I'm just gonna take it day by day by day by day by day.

Mother's Day traditions

2011-05-07T22:01:00.000-05:00

http://www.facebook.com/?tid=1799849713388&sk=messages#!/event.php?eid=189212431124325Mother's day has taken on many faces in my lifetime. There were the cards of my youth to my own mom. There was the pressure on those days to behave kindly to each other and I remember one time we didn't and my mom exclaimed, "Mother's Day, Schmothers Day. It's all BULLSHIT!!! There I said it!!" My mom really wasn't a swearer either so this was big.

For the past few years my friend Lynn has held an amazing mother's day event - for adult women only. Mother's and others but only adult women. It was reflective and therapeutic and super special. But this year, no way. Too much on her plate and life spinning a little too fast and maybe, just maybe, what she and we need from mother's day is different now that our littles are becoming bigs.

I'm reading at an event tomorrow afternoon at BookWoman - Mother, she wrote. A bunch of women writers, mamas, reading about the subject of motherhood or otherhood. I'm excited. It's a new way for me to celebrate and ponder motherhood.

Today I released my children from any burden of motherhood. Sure, a little extra snuggle or appreciation will be nice. The hugs for such occasions are always welcome. But as for burden of gift or obligation, forget it. I really don't want it on a certain day. Instead I'll take it organically as it comes. And on my birthday of course because that was just last week and it seems a little too soon for yet another obligation. Really, this is partly why I gave them dispensation. Because I just had a day, make that a solid week, that was really about me celebrating and being celebrated.

I decided my new ritual will be me appreciating and acknowledging motherhood. What's good about it? What do I appreciate? What has it brought me? I may delve into what's hard too but maybe not. Maybe this will be focused solely on the positive.

I'll start my list tonight - I appreciate the connection of it all. I appreciate sitting up in the evening with a big kid who is becoming an adult and who one night cries in anguish about how hard something is and the next hugs me with deep passion and tells me she is in love with her life. Yes, I love and appreciate that connection.

I appreciate sitting in the alley in the evening watching my lad attempt the "whole" jump. It's amazing to watch his fortitude and commitment to this one task. And tonight I loved being part of that. Sure some nights the "watch this mom" becomes too much but sometimes, when I can truly sink into it, it is a gift of deep appreciation.

I appreciate the ability to sit at the table with water colors and paper and an incredibly creative and art loving 8 year old girl. We can sit for hours and when we do we can talk and dive into our pictures and discuss what's happening in her world.

I so appreciate this final child of mine, this 4 year old who is one minute so tender and so loving, bending my ear, (literally) so he can kiss a particular spot. And the next minute this energy shifts to the 15 foot rope swing in the yard and he is swinging like a monkey and squealing with delight.

I appreciate biking around town with all my kids - whether in a pack or individually. It feels amazing to be able to move about so fluidly and feel such incredible pride at their ability to navigate their way through this city life they are living. They are funny and smart and kind and loving and full of vim and vigor and when they are introduced to someone new I so appreciate how they look right into that person's eyes. I love being connected to these kids who walk this earth and who came to this world through me but are their own amazing beings. It is wild to feel so connected and remember so much of my own youth and yet watch them make their own way. It is hard. But it is lovely too.

Time is marching on...

2011-04-29T14:08:00.001-05:00

...and time is still marching on. I'm older than I've ever been and now I'm even older, now I'm even older, and now I'm older still.

Thanks to They Might Be Giants for the inspiration for today's blog post which holds so much weight/meaning/information for me right now as I cross over for another trip around the sun.

My birthday was full of wishes and handmade cards and lovely gifts and thoughtful notes and even a pedicure for me which is a rare treat indeed. I love birthdays. I love the honoring and celebrating and the idea that all this love is flying around the world directed right at me in appreciation and acknowledgment of the day I was born. And the Facebook birthday just sort of amps up that feeling a big giant notch which makes the love flow even more.

I definitely felt the loss of my sister this year. My godmother. My favorite wise woman on this earth. This was my first birthday without my dear Alma and I thought of her all day. All week even. She was always the one to call and celebrate and honor me all my life. No matter how far away we might have been from each other.

But I thought of her not just for the missing of her. Of which there was plenty. But for the many gifts she has given and continues to bestow upon me. There were the tangibles for sure. The handmade sky blue overalls with the little kitty cat buttons when I was eleven. The handmade woolen authentic kilt when I was 14. The endless cards and letters from South Dakota or New Mexico or Wisconsin or any of the other far off lands she lived when I was home in New Jersey just a kid. And beyond all that was the lifelong gift of wisdom. Which I'm only now beginning to truly see and feel for all its incredible worth. I'm seeing it and feeling it, both for her absence and for the fact that I am getting nearer to my own crone-ness with each passing birthday. And oddly enough now I will catch up to her. If I'm lucky I suppose.

Now at 46 I am experiencing the understanding of a sort of wisdom I never knew before. An acceptance of the fact that life's lessons are gifts to our own growth. A realization that what seems like a wrong direction at first usually turns out to be exactly right in retrospect. A knowing of the fact that in our angst or frustration comes just the information we need towards the next time. And a general acceptance of the idea that all things are connected - whether it's a missed invitation which then in turn puts us exactly where we needed to land. Or a film brought into our view which holds a piece of information we didn't even know we were missing until we had it. Or an introduction to a seemingly random person who becomes a lifelong friend. Whatever, wherever it brings us to the next here and the now.

I am loving this aging process. And this wisdom I feel like I am opening to. And the idea that this sister of mine left me with all these amazing gifts both in her living and in her death. Sure I'd like to see her real self but the part of I'll forever hold in my heart brings endless gifts of wisdom and understanding. And for that I know I am lucky.Happy birthday to me.

Love is the answer

2011-04-11T01:06:00.000-05:00

No matter the question lately, it's feeling like love is the answer. It sounds so corny and hippy, doesn't it? But it's seeming like the truth these days. Not just love of humans we know but love of where we are and what we're doing at that particular moment of time and love of life's experiences and hearts ripped wide open. And so, since that's feeling like the ever present answer, I share this great post on Let the Baby Drive blog. I don't usually do a lot of blog linking, but here it is to read, soak up and ponder...

Raising a Child Who Loves Well

Crafting with Children and motherly mantras

2011-04-03T01:16:00.000-05:00

I spent the day down at Art City Austin today under the umbrella, tent really, of Future Craft Collective. The project was super sweet and fun to do. (says I who made it up) Felted wool flowers, (cut from an old wool blanket don't you know) embroidered around the edge, with a button in the middle and a ponytail holder sewn onto the back. I had it figured out in the simplest way to do it, that could be explained to 75 or so children over the course of a day.

Many of them had never sewn before. My pat line, which sounds like such an old lady thing to say, "Have you ever sewn before?" "No." "Well, after this project you won't be able to say that ever again in your life." Hardy har. Little smiles. But the thought bubbles might have said, "Can we get on with this lady?"

Several kids really struck me. For many reasons. Their tenderness. And shining eyes. For their love of the process. Their understanding of the concept (of needle pulling thread!). Their sheer joy in watching their project unfold. And then that moment of completion when they were just about busting out with pride. And I taught them the famous line of Leslie Bonnell, "Thanks I made it myself!" Some in this boat had mad skills. While others were just okay but their love of it all was overwhelming. One little girl was so in love with needle, thread, fabric, project, that I made her a little bundle before she left of needle, thread, wool and patterns all tied up like a little package. I could tell she was going to get home and sew it all up that day. A lifelong sewer perhaps? A girl can dream can't she?

The variety of parents was wide of course. Some really provided beautiful support. Others were hands off and that worked out just fine. Still others seemed to want to rush through the whole thing as if, "c'mon Suzie, time's a wasting. " And then there were a few, thankfully not many but a few that I'd like to talk to again if I could. Their need/tendency to dominate the project. Each choice made was questioned. The needle was taken away while the parent finished. (not because they were asked I might add) And then there was one little girl...who literally sat curled up in the chair while her mom sewed over her head but in a position of outstretched hands in front of the girls face that suggested it was the daughter's project but really it wasn't because the mom took the needle out of her hand after one stitch and told her "remember you're afraid of needles". That little girl was asked by her mom to pick out "her" button only to be told, nope. sorry. let's pick this other one instead. Oh my. Sigh. But that's okay right? Because at the end the mom probably said, "good job." And I wish I had thought to ask the mom if she wanted to make her own instead. And therapists will still need patients in 20 years right?

So, though I usually try not to go to the complaint and I guess I'm still not really complaining, rather I am using this blog to deliver a public service announcement to all the parents out there who tend to be a little heavy handed in the creativity department...

If you have an idea of how your child's project should turn out at the end. How it should look. Or what color it should be. Which string or button or shape or material should be chosen from a pile of choices, which then aren't really choices because you're deeming some of them incorrect. If you want it to look a certain way, I beg of you, please, MAKE YOUR OWN!!! Share the experience of working side by side. And let your child have their very own experience of making something of their own mind and hands.

And if I ever see that little girl again at an event like this, I hope I say something. Gently. But enough so that she gets to make it herself.

And I am reminded of my own necessary mantra, with my own children, I am me. She is she. He is he. And I am me. I am me. She is she. He is he. And I am me.

One minute to the next

2011-03-22T13:13:00.000-05:00

Is it really mid-March already? Are we really just about through with the first quarter of the year? Did you ever pause long enough to ask, "HOW DID WE GET HERE??!!!" (I'm not shouting, I'm just being emphatic)

I try to live an intentional life but with 6 folks in the house I find myself in a reactive state instead. Most days, the only thing I can truly keep intentional is my approach and my mental state. And lots of times, that is more of a "coming back to" as opposed to a maintaining sort of thing.

Just yesterday, I was kind of grooving along. I had finished my work for the day - writing copy for someone's website, making cards for someone else, getting ready for a teleclass, when BOOM! WAIL!!! I hear the scream from the 4 year old. It's amazing how immediately I knew that was not the usual "she took my turn" kind of scream. More of an "oh shit, this is serious injury" kind of scream. I had literally just sat down on the screen porch with my teen gal for a few minutes of quiet before moving onto the next when we heard it. Instantly we knew - emergency room. Big gash over his left eye that looked like an extra misplaced mouth. (one more mouth to feed?) Towel, ice, keys, wallet, and off we went to the nearest e.r.

7 stitches later and less than two hours later we were home. He is fine. Sad and quiet but fine. The tv is on today for his recovery. And we feel relieved that it was only this.

I know that all life lends itself to the possibility of not really knowing what's next. But life with 4 kids seems to definitely bring about a bit more. More trauma. More excitement too. More unknowns for sure. And all we can control really is how we react. And sometimes even that is hard. (ask his siblings who couldn't help but gasp when looking at his injury)

Each night I write down my "intentions" for the next day. Two nights ago I wrote, "Keep doing and enjoying the work that is part of this journey." And funny enough, even the trip to the e.r. felt enjoyable in a sense. I felt calm and comfortable and glad that I lived in a place where the e.r. was so capable and close. And I was glad too to get to offer some comfort to my little guy. And that 2 hours was the extent of this medical adventure. A blip really in the big giant picture of the world.

I think of the moms in Japan right now. Who can't offer the comfort of easing the physical pain. I wonder what their intentions might be. I send them all love and wish them some small comfort in all of their immense pain.

Remembering Alma by Esme

2011-03-08T15:51:00.001-06:00

Alma was my aunt. I liked going to New Jersey and seeing her. I also went to the beach with her. She had to children. She died on October 11, 2010 and she was 57 years old. I liked going swimming with her. She was very fun. I loved going canoeing with her at my grandma's. She was a good helper with fairy houses and we built fairy houses at Snake Mountain.

If at first they do protest, try , try again

2011-03-07T14:40:00.001-06:00

I like to have at least one day during the weekend that is reserved for family time. Most often I like to spend that day at home, in the yard weather permitting. This weekend was no exception. Saturday we were action packed: creek clean up in the morning, party in the afternoon and another party in the evening. All within biking distance but still, a lot of action and a lot of people to be around. We had a blast at each and every one.

On Saturday evening I declared that Sunday would be a home day. No friends over. Nothing big planned. Just a yard day with a few chores, lots of play and maybe an art project too. Groans and protests came up from every child. "That's boring." "I want to see friends." "We never go anywhere." "You're gonna make us work all day." I stuck to my guns though and explained that if we don't do a fill-up day at home then we spend the rest of the week feeling disconnected from each other. To them it sounded like, "blah, blah, blah." Or something along those lines.

And so Sunday morning began. One playing ball in the alley. Another building a "set-up" for his Calico Critters. Two others creating and constructing a toll booth in the yard for all the passers-by from the new cafe next door.

All the while were in and out of each others' activities. All the while I was working on refinishing a chair I had found in someone's trash. And cleaning out the screen porch from top to bottom. And making delicious meals from seemingly nothing in the house. (There's always parmesan!) And everyone was having fun. And getting along. And getting recharged as well. And listening to the ENTIRE JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR UNINTERRUPTED!!!

I knew we needed it. But I almost buckled under the pressure to engage with the world. I was glad I didn't. And by day's end, everyone else was glad too as at dinner time each person's high point, everyone, was "day at home together."

They might protest next week too but I'll just hold onto this as an idea that suits our family. As a whole. And as 6 separate individuals.

One Day Girls Collective Camps

2011-03-01T12:37:00.004-06:00

Our girls' collective has been so amazing and fun. It has been a real treat for me to get to hang with the girls and discover things about life and self that it took me a long time to learn. To get to share some of that wisdom with them, and at the same time get to dip into their own youthful wisdom has been priceless and profound. During the two weeks of Austin spring break I'll be offering two one day camps for girls...

GIRLS CAMP AT AAMP
(Austin Artists and Musicians Partnership)
411 W. Monroe St. 78704

This is a one day camp run by Bernadette Noll for girls ages 7-10 who would like to spend time during spring break discovering, crafting, singing, learning and exploring all that life has to offer. Together we will ponder the power of our creative selves and our connection to the world around us.

We will start the day with some stretching, playing and discussion. Before lunch we will spend a few hours crafting, all the while discussing the beauties of reuse and of being a maker. After lunch we will spend our time outside exploring and working on a natural art project. (weather permitting)

Two one day camps will be held to accommodate the variety of spring break schedules around town:

Camp 1: 9:00-4:30pm* on Monday March 7^th.

Camp 2: 9:00-4:30pm* on Monday March 14^th.

Fee is $60.00 for the day.** All materials included. A $30.00 deposit will hold your reservation and balance is due the morning of camp.

Email Bernadette at: nollanderson at sbcglobal dot net if you have any questions.

Girls will need to bring their own lunch and water bottle.*** A healthy snack will be provided.

If you want to read more about Bernadette’s work check out:

www.futurecraftcollective.com

www.slowfamilyliving.com

www.bernadettenoll.wordpress.com

A portion of the proceeds will be donated to AAMP - Austin Artists and Musicians Partnership.

*Later pick up can be arranged if necessary

**Tuition assistance is available if needed.

***Please no soda or candy

Gratitude revisited

2011-02-26T12:08:00.000-06:00

This note is for a few months ago but lucky for me it is true every. single. day...

Today I am grateful for the bounty of beautiful people in my life. I am continuously blown away by the pure luck goodness I have to be touched by so many hearts-wide-open, minds-wide-open human beings. My circle expands on a seemingly daily basis as these circles of mine overlap with the circles of others who are living conscious, kind, thoughtful lives and we join forces and ideas and spin on this big world of ours. The concentric circles swirl and grow and expand until the universe that is my bubble is beyond belief but then, exhale, it is true. Oh so true. And for that, for the beauty of humanity, for conscious lives, for kindness and compassion and understanding I am thankful.

What life brings our way

2011-02-17T20:48:00.001-06:00

This week life brought me a round trip ticket to Fort Myers, FL to be with my mom who is in the hospital. Thank goodness for frequent flier miles which come in most handy for these spontaneous adventures. I did want to come to Fort Myers, that is true. I've been saying for a few weeks that I'd like to figure out how to get there/here. I was thinking more along the lines of vacation - not hospital stay but as the emergency hospital visit for my next week 86 year old mom kind of forced my hand, I put this into the be-careful-what-you-wish-for category.

I have loved this time with my mom. One on one for 6 days straight thus far and a couple more to go. Another brother arrives tomorrow just in time for a Friday night party in the hospital room. We'll make it fun. A bottle of wine (for us not her as she's on strict nothing-by-mouth orders) and a few hours together and we'll shake this room right up.

Dozens and dozens of hospital employees have filtered through my mom's room in her so far 10 day stay: nurses, all manner of doctors, nurses aides, cleaning people, x-ray techs, nuclear medicine specialists, bed flippers, transporters and more. Some she's seen again and again, some just once. Some come in for long stretches, some for just minutes at a time. Of all the ones who have come through, she knows the life story of every. single. one. She looks at pictures of children and grandchildren. She knows that the nurses aide has a 4 year old son who speaks both Creole and English and whom she sees in the day as she lays on the couch trying to get some sleep after her all night shift. She knows that the cleaning lady has one grandchild and on her day off will be spending nearly 3 hours wages to take her to the movies. (my mom's calculation not the cleaning lady's) She knows that the young handsome transporter is finishing up his GED and has joined the Army and will be stationed in Georgia. She occasionally dispenses advice and she tells this young man, and every other young single man whose path she crosses, not to become a father until they're ready. "It'll change your course and you won't have a choice in what you do next."

After staff here meet her once they come in time and time again, further adding to the collection of life stories she has amassed in her nearly 86 years. Being here so long her room has become a sort of destination for the staff. A place they can come when they are tired or wanting to chat or just wanting a chance to connect on a human level and feel like they are making a joyful difference. Even when she is not their patient, even when they are assigned to other rooms holding other patients, they come to see her and check in and see how she's doing and they give her hugs and kisses and even shed a few tears with her for her current painful condition.

It is a marvel to behold this mother of mine. This mother of nine. Even lying in a hospital bed. So tired. And in pain. She is connecting to the people all around her. She is listening to their tales. Hearing their life stories. And marveling at the fact that "see that, everyone has a story." After some stories she cries at the beauty of that life lived. Or at how lucky she feels in comparison to the 60 year old grandmother cleaning hospital bathrooms for 40 hours a week. Or at the amazement that someone could survive such a saga as the one that was just told. She listens. And asks questions. And connects. She dispenses knowledge. And listens and asks some more questions. She honors the idea that everyone needs to feel special. Just by listening. And connecting.

It's tiring to sit in the hospital this many days in a row. But it's something I wouldn't trade for anything. This time with my mom. Spent watching her. Listening. And connecting too.

Feel better soon Mom!

Picturing connection

2011-02-02T14:50:00.002-06:00

My girls are 5 years apart. Sisters of the heart and of the bloodline too. At the younger's birth the older stepped in like a mini-mama. So happy was she to have a baby to hold. So happy was I to have an extra set of hands to coddle and soothe and entertain this third child of mine. Lucky us all around. So great was the connection that the decision to homeschool became clear. How could I send her off everyday when she so loved being at home with this new little life, little sister.

For years the connection thrived and grew. Delightful sisters playing all sorts of games of dress up and house and climbing trees and orphanage. With the big brother/little brother in between. A sister sandwich full of love and light and lots and lots of laughs.

As the older moved out of imagination land her needs in a sibling changed a bit and the relationship grew a tad bit persnickety at times. Still mostly friendly but sometimes suffering from that "you're an embarrassing little sister" thing that can sometimes happen. I saw it. I remembered it. I didn't really feel I had much power to sway it.

Then came the camera. Big sister saved up her baby sitting money for a super sweet camera and started taking photography lessons from an artist/photographer friend of ours. He specialized in portraits and shared that love with our oldest. Her assignments were portrait based - perfectly satisfying to my oldest who had a house full of subjects to choose from.

She tried us all on for size. 4th child was too opinionated. Mama was too busy and couldn't keep her mouth shut long enough for a good pose. Papa was pretty good. 2nd child was good too but tired quickly of the sessions. Little sister was just perfect!

Turns out little sister loves to pose and pose for hours on end. And dress up in outlandish costumes both of her own design and of her big sister's choosing. Wild hats, boots, dresses. And to pose she'll go wherever she's told to go and strike a pose of her own design and of her big sister's dictation. In fact, little sister takes dictation amazingly well. And I don't mean scribing a letter but going and doing and wearing whatever big sister dictates to her. They'll work together for hours on end biking to all sorts of neighborhood locations with wardrobe bag in tow.

And the photos are amazing.

Both in their artistic capture and also in that they show a bond I didn't know could be captured on film. There is a gaze in the subject's eye that is nothing short of adoration. There is a love between subject and artist that is palpable. There is an ability to connect through the lens all the way to the soul and it is lovely to see.

I talked to our photographer friend about this beautiful gift coming from these lessons and assignments. A lifelong gift of sisterly love and connection, a documentation of every step of the way and a collection of sublime portraits of this sweet 8 year old of ours. He smiled sort of knowingly. As if he understood what can happen when an artist photographs those he loves. And as he smiled and I thought of all the breathtaking portraits I had seen of his, I suddenly realized it was about more than just setting or subject. It was about love. Love of the craft and of the vision held in the mind's eye.

I truly believe this moment of time will forever etch each girl's heart and soul with the love that will last them a lifetime. Thank you Leon. Thank you digital photography. Thank you homeschooling. Thank you sisters for showing me the beauty of that bond. And thank you lucky stars of mine.

What a difference a day makes

2011-01-26T22:44:00.000-06:00

Well, this is about more than just 24 little hours but still. I feel like this week was just jam packed with nuggets. Juicy little tidbits of life's lessons just kept appearing. Maybe it was the moon. Maybe it was my own personal planetary alignment. Whatever it was/is, stuff is moving and I am open to it all. And let me tell you, being open to it all as opposed to resisting, just feels exactly how I would choose to feel. Which was lesson number one...

Rather than being attracted to outcome, I have shifted my focus this week to feeling. How do I want to feel? I can't control the physical situation, or the moods around me, or the answers that come to the questions I present, but I can get in touch with how I want to feel. Simple as that. As I move through this day, this event, this great big world of ours, how do I want to feel? And I have learned, thanks to Michael Brown, and my good friend who is a big fan, that when I sort of pre-program that feeling, I'm way more likely to get there.

Lesson number 2. Model what you want to see in your children. Of course I've known this awhile. And I speak of it here and there. But after seeing the new documentary film, Play Again, I realized that if I want my kids to be present, to love the ones they're with, and to turn off their screens and machines in order to really be here now, I've got to do the same. I've got a new commitment to screen-free times and it feels really good. I'm less cranky (because I'd get cranky sometimes when I'd be interrupted while trying to read an email) and I'm less distracted and I'm more present and more able to see and hear when they're willing to show and tell. And any parent knows, especially as our kids get older, if they're willing to show and tell, we've got to seize the moment and be ready to see and hear.

Lesson number 3. Appreciate. I knew this. I know this. But it's a lesson I can't learn too much. Appreciate more. And more of what you appreciate will appreciate. I love this. And I appreciate it too.

Lesson number 4. Understand that all is as it should be. Truly. When something seems like not what we wanted, eventually it brings us what we need. Which sort of goes back to lesson number 1. How do you want to feel.

Lesson number 5. We are free to do things differently than we are sometimes told they should be done. If your child is in school and they tell you homework takes precedence over play, you get to decide when that's true and when it's not. We are part of the communities we participate in but that doesn't mean we have to take all the decisions without any thoughts or input at all. We can ponder. And decide. And we can make the process work for us. Plain and simple. After all, what's education if there isn't a little bit of questioning behind it? And critical thinking too.

We do get to navigate this journey of ours just a little bit. But if we've added humans to the world and they are sharing our abode, they also get to navigate this journey of theirs. And since we are a part of theirs and they are a part of ours, well, we'll all just bring each other what we need to see, hear and learn.

So there you go. A little light thought for a Wednesday night. Happy trails all.

Time has taken on a new feel

2011-01-11T21:21:00.000-06:00

Today. 1/11/11. 3 months since my dear sister died. 3 months that feels like an eternity. And feels like yesterday too. So much has been revealed. So much life has taken place since then. So much pain. And laughter. And wonder. And unknown. And unknowing still more.

I participated in a show last week at Austin's Continental Club. I got to share a piece about that dear sister of mine. You can read it here. At my other blog. (one of my collections don't you know) Not to steal blog posts from one to put on another, but, well, sometimes it's what you've got...

It's hard growing old

2010-12-28T02:53:00.001-06:00

I was helping my 4 year old with some shoes today. We were both frustrated because he doesn't currently have a pair that is easy to put on. As we tied him into some sneakers he sighed a big sad sigh and looked like he was going to cry. "I wish I was still 3," he sad oh so sadly. I asked him why and he told me with another sigh from deep in his belly, "cause then I could still wear my blue slippers. I loved those." Then another sighing pause, "It's sad to get old."

Yes indeed my little old soul.

Girls Collective

2010-12-14T13:18:00.006-06:00

Inspired by my time camping with the Little Green Witches, I'm bringing back the girls group I did a few years ago. With a twist. This time for my littler girl. And for any girls who want to join us.

Girls Collective

Two thousand eleven

For girls ages 7-10

This group, run by Bernadette Noll, is for girls ages 7-10 who are interested in discovering, crafting, writing, singing, learning and exploring all that life has to offer. Together we will ponder the power of our true selves and our connection to the world around us - through weekly and ongoing projects and discussions. In the 12 week session we will…

create, make, and explore ways to bring art into every part of our lives.
discuss joy and appreciation and the importance of living in both
learn how to tune into our own needs – body, mind and spirit – and tend to those needs as best we can.
look at the families and communities in which we live and find ways to strengthen our connection to it all.
explore the earth on which we live and how we can minimize our impact.
discover and practice good tools of communication that will bring us to a greater connection with ourselves, friends, family and all those with whom we share this world.

In these sessions we will write, craft, hike, explore, draw, create, talk, paint, ponder, make, meditate and investigate what makes us, us. And we will come away with a better sense of what it means to let our own lights shine their very brightest, all the while building the greatest connection we possibly can.

When: Alternate Tuesdays from January 18th – April 12th3:15-5:15 + Saturday community service day each month (2:45 start for Zilker students who will meet after school and walk over together with Bernadette)
Where: Sanctuary at Amala Foundation Just off Treadwell and South Lamar
What: Snack will be provided
Cost: $175* Can be paid with cash, check or paypal.
Questions: Contact Bernadette via email at nollanderson@sbcglobal.net or call 512-627-0652

*Arrangements can be made for monthly payment if needed

About Bernadette:

Bernadette is a writer, teacher, crafter and mother of four. She is the co-founder of Future Craft Collective (futurecraftcollective.com) which helps kids understand the joys of making and the thrill of finding materials and building connection through it all. She and her co-founder, Kathie Sever, have a family craft book coming out in June called Make Stuff Together. She is also a co-founder with Carrie Contey, PhD of Slow Family Living (slowfamilyliving.com) which helps families find ways to slow down, connect and find joy in family life. You can read some of Bernadette’s writings at her site: bernadettenoll.wordpress.com or on her blog: bernadettenoll.blogspot.com

Sisters - the ones I got and the ones I birthed

2010-12-12T12:03:00.001-06:00

Oh my sister of course has been the subject here. My beautiful sister who is gone from us now 2 months. And the grief comes in layers, waves, alternatingly soft and sneaky and firm and direct. Her death makes me look more closely at so much including the sisters I have birthed.

2 girls. Sisters. Friends most of the time. With the ability to be together and work together and play together and camp and sing and share ideas. Sharing a room. Sharing a genetic make up and a sewing machine and the last cookie in the drawer. You split I'll pick first.

Sometimes not all that crazy about each other. But always with an undertone of love. And admiration. And always looking at each other, each one equally amazed, at how different they can be. Sharing so much. Yet? Each one bringing to the table something that marvels the other. Or annoys. Or boggles the mind of the one who is witnessing the bringing. "WHAT THE...?" the mind says as they confound each other with different-ness. But really. always. with an undertone. Of love.

I am thankful when the undertone is allowed to shine. I am thankful when the younger is in a state of total adoration and isn't brushed aside in irritation. I am grateful when the older is in a state of wonder about the crazy beauty of the younger's eccentricities. (And by wonder I mean, Ah!!! Not what the? although that exists too) I am so appreciative when the love shines bright between the two. And I am able to see the gift each has in the other. The yin and the yang walking side by side swinging from the limbs of life.

Yin dresser drawer

Sisters. I love you. Mine and the ones I birthed. I love the love you share. I love your night to each other's day. How you (we) came together I do not know but what you (we) bring to each other is plain to see.

Yang dresser drawer

The Five Agreements

2010-11-28T13:48:00.001-06:00

Before my sister passed away she had told me over the phone one Sunday afternoon, "Read the Fifth Agreement!" It was a common scenario, a Sunday afternoon phone call snuck in while the kids played outside or while I emptied the dishwasher or folded a pile of clothes (with one arm!) And a book recommendation from one of us to the other. This one was different though. More emphatic. "It's all we need to know," she told me.

When she died I found her copy on her nightstand. Perpetual student that she was it was marked up and highlighted and underlined - perfect for my Cliff note seeking self. I took it home with me to Texas and have been taking it in in tiny bites - all I can muster in my nightly reading session. And I think she's right that it really is all we need to know. It holds everything in regards to connection and family and self and mindfulness and wisdom and definitely holds the key for allowing ourselves to be our true and best selves. An ongoing pursuit of my sister, for sure; living the life that was the life of her most true and best self.

Read it if you can. It's short and simple and easy to digest and I believe will have power no matter how many times it is re-read. It's written by a father and son, Don Miguel and Don Jose Ruiz and based on ancient Toltec wisdom so holds thousands of years of knowledge.

In the meantime, for those of you whose nightstand might be overflowing with things to read or whose brain is unfit for consumption of too many words due to the varying effects of small children, here are the Cliff notes...

1. Be impeccable with your word: Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

2. Don't take anything personally: Nothing others do is because of you. What otehrs say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering.

3. Don't make assumptions: Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness, and drama. With just this one agreement,you can completely transform your life.

4. Always do your best: your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse, and regret.

5. Be skeptical but learn to listen: Don't believe yourself or anyone else. Use the power fo doubt to question everything you hear: Is it REALLY the truth? Listen to the intent behind the words and you will understand the real message.

Simple really. And even when it's not simple, seems to me it's simpler to live by these rules than to not.

Children in Nature

2010-11-24T15:08:00.001-06:00

I love this organization which started from the message of Richard Louv who wrote Last Child in the Woods. The first weekend in December, the Texas Children in Nature organization will be holding the first conference at University of Texas to discuss the whys and ways of exposing kids to more of the outdoors.

If there are any bloggers, parents, teachers, writers or other interested parties who would like to attend, let me know via comment, as I have a few passes to the event. I think there will be some amazing talks and conversations being held and a chance too to influence those who are setting the standards for our children.

Words to live by

2010-11-12T08:31:00.001-06:00

Sometimes you stumble across a quote that just kind of sums it all up. Sometimes it's your own. Sometimes you hear it from someone else. And other times you hear it from someone who heard it from someone else still.

This one is just what I needed to hear today. And everyday probably. Thanks to Aimee who heard this from Zeke of Bodhicitta, an artist from North Carolina. My quote of the week...

“We are all interconnected. What you do today, right now, matters the most. You are creating and infulencing the world around you at every momnt so take a deep breath, smile, and shine light into your sphere of influence. It’s how we can all make the world a better place.”

Walking the labyrinth

2010-11-09T13:26:00.000-06:00

Have you ever walked one? In a meditative or thoughtful state? I have been on a few - beautiful ones here and there. Some were on momentous occasions. Just 2 weeks ago I walked one in honor of my sister Alma. It was amazing as 100 or more people at a time walked the labyrinth in her memory. Othertimes though I was with kids who were running through it, treating it more like a race to the center than a process. But there is something to that too I suppose.

Just recently I realized there was one just down the street from my house. A lovely brick labyrinth there for all to see and use and walk and ponder. If you're ever looking for a place to ponder life or to meditate it's meaning or to just imagine ideas, you can find it in Butler Park right near the Palmer Event Center in Austin. You won't see it from afar or find big markings, it's more subtle than that. And it will open your heart to all you need to know...

life and death. old and new.

2010-11-07T23:37:00.000-06:00

At birth I felt amazed at the emergence of a human being. The wonder of a first breath. You weren't. And then you were. With each child born I had the same revelation. As if I didn't know it before. As if each time was the very first time. As if it was a surprise, in each pregnancy, that the end result was a life.

Seeing death I sit amazed as well. The mystery of a last breath. You were. And then you weren't. Though I've experienced it before throughout the ages, it is new this time. I am surprised by how it brings me to my knees.

You weren't.
And then you were.
You were.
And then you weren't.
My heart opens, expands and bursts with the rawness of it all. Life and death alike.

What is old is brand new again.

Eulogy On this Day of the Dead

2010-11-01T15:35:00.003-05:00

Three Rivers Waldorf School was the site of a large memorial ceremony for my sister Alma. It was lovely. Amazing. Perfectly representative of her and her life and the legacy she left behind. And the school was filled with people from the various pockets of Alma's life.

I had the honor of saying the eulogy and I employed a little trick my cousin Francis showed me at the days long memorial we had last week. When you are speaking at such emotional times, when you are breaking down crying when you're supposed to be talking, you ask the audience to cheer. In this case I asked the audience to cheer for our dear Alma and it gave me just the pause I needed to regroup and carry on with the story I wanted to tell. If you are ever in such a position, I highly recommend this technique as it bonds the speaker with the audience in a celebratory and all-in-together-now kind of way.

On this day of the dead I remember our Alma of course, dead three weeks today though in some ways it feels like forever. I remember Aaron Williams, a friend who died earlier this year. I remember my dad too. And my partner Kenny's mom. And all the ancestors and friends who have gone on before me. And I am reminded, yet again, that time is fleeting. So while we are here, let's make it good.

Here is my sister's eulogy. If you start reading it and you find yourself crying, let out a cheer for my sister Alma Regina Noll and for your loved ones who have died also...

I met Alma when she was 12. I was one day old. She was the 2nd oldest, I was the 2nd youngest, with 5 in between. I was lucky enough to have Alma appointed as my godmother - in our large family there was no need to outsource for such positions. It was a lifelong appointment and a role neither one of us took lightly.

In our neighborhood in New Jersey, filled with woods and ponds and dead end streets and other large families, Alma was one of the tribe’s neighborhood elders, all girls. In that role she established herself as a very capable organizer with a creative and motherly heart. The pack of elder girls created and oversaw all sorts of events - extensive backyard carnivals with rides and games dreamed up from their own imaginations and lengthy committee meetings, wintry nights of door to door Christmas Caroling with upwards of 30 kids decked out in red felt capes raising money for the missions in Peru where our Uncle Greg was living. There were plays and picnics in the woods. There were massive games of red-rover and sit on the fence and kick-the-can, all with the elder girls at the helm. There were days of swimming and ice skating and sleigh riding and endless hours playing house and building forts from whatever materials we could find. Alma loved her charmed childhood full of children and real babies instead of dolls and time outdoors and imaginative games and ceaseless magic and wonder. In looking back it was clear it influenced her whole life.

In high school Alma laughed that even though it was the late 60s, the hippy hey-day, she walked a rather straight and orderly path. She wore her school uniform proudly, participated in the legion of Mary, achieved high honors throughout her years there and always did what her parents told her and did it cheerfully. Then, as now, she read constantly and loved books – as objects and also for the information within their covers. She loved, loved, loved the acquisition of knowledge and then, as now, she lived in pursuit of being her best and truest self.

In going through her files these past weeks I found a paper she wrote in high school on world peace. Her summation was that in order for world peace to be achieved, “peace has to be found first of all in each one’s heart. When that is accomplished, when everyone is at peace with him or her self, only then will the world follow.” Alma lived, and died, truly at peace with herself.

Alma attended a small women’s college in Pennsylvania, where our mother and aunt had gone before her. She loved college both for the amazing camaraderie among the women there and for the pure pleasure of of academia. From there she went on to Georgetown University for a degree in nursing. She used this degree to convince us all that words she made up in our many vacation scrabble games were actually esoteric medical terms and of course WE wouldn't know them but we should believe her nonetheless. Eventually we called her bluff but she taught us then that if you say it with conviction, it holds a certain truth.

In her early 20s, Alma came out as a lesbian and very gently yet staunchly worked hard to show others that this was still her being her truest and best self. Not an easy road by any means but one she traveled thoughtfully, intentionally and with great pride. Her example served as a compass for many – in our family and in her various communities, that being our truest and best selves was the greatest gift anyone could offer.

In her years as a nurse and nurse practitioner with the public health service, Alma worked with a variety of Indian tribes, in some rather exotic locations for a Jersey girl like herself. In each place, she embraced the land and the people and strived to learn more about them with the same fervor that she approached her formal education. She was fascinated with the cultures and the customs and found beauty and connection in it all.

When she was living in South Dakota I flew out with my brother Greg to visit her when I was just about 13. It was our first big foray out of our East Coast existence. We went camping while out there and she woke us up in the middle of the night just so we could behold the splendor of the night sky out there in this distant land.

Whether in the woods of our childhood, on the prairies of South Dakota, the deserts of New Mexico or here on Brice Prairie on the banks of the Mississippi, Alma took pleasure in the witnessing of nature’s gifts. She loved all it offered, in each season; the birds, the colors, the sounds and the tastes. She approached it all as a scientist, a poet, an educator, a mother and a mystic too. Alma rejoiced in the spectacles of nature and she wanted to share it with everyone she knew.

Alma served as our family almanac and I was pleased to know she wore that title here at the Waldorf school as well. From our scattered points we siblings called upon her with all manner of questions and she often served as our family medical hotline - our medicine woman. Years after she changed careers she tried to shake off this role, insisting she no longer knew the answers, but we persisted as only siblings can. “Come on Alma”, we would say, You know more than we do. And if you don’t, just fake it, we won’t know the difference.” We just wanted her to tell us what to do.

Alma always knew she wanted to be a mother and the adoption with Melani of Zoe and Maia made this dream a reality. She was forever grateful to their birth mothers for offering this ultimate gift to our family. Alma loved making a beautiful home with and for Melani and the girls. She loved sharing her love of life and her love of making and her love of finding connection to the daily rhythms of life with her girls.

Alma embraced her role of mother with awe, love, curiosity and a continued pursuit of being her best and truest self. Through her interest in the love and education of the whole child, and by following her heart and her instinct, Alma was led to Waldorf education. That then led to the creation of this wondrous and inspiring school and community.

Her vision for the school and her belief in its very existence is evident in every piece of what we see here today – the people who have gathered, the building in which it is housed, and the land on which it sits - all hold a piece of the passion and beliefs of Alma.

Alma believed, here at the school and everywhere she was and in everything she did that life was a process and the purpose was joy. She believed that the right people would show up when they needed to. That the answers would come when you presented the question. That the money would arrive. And that the things we bumped up against were merely part of the process. For the past several years especially, she lived in the full and complete belief that everything was perfect. As it was. And as it should be. And even the rocky parts were part of life's perfection.

I am searching now for answers in Alma’s sudden death. I imagined all along that we could grow old together, with a lot of joyful journeys along the way. I am filled with sadness, but truly, in these past few weeks, I have found a lot of amazing gifts as well. And this display here today of love and the remarkable quilt she wove threaded by all the worlds she touched, is yet another example of these gifts.

This summer, like every summer, we gathered at my mom’s amazing lakeside home in New Jersey – all of us siblings and our partners and our children and their children too, and a whole slew of cousins and other kith and kin. All year, each year, we looked forward to this time of coming together to connect, converse and hold counsel around the subjects of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. This summer it felt like utter perfection and we hugged and rejoiced and took notice of this utter perfection - with everyone bringing what they could, taking what they needed and enjoying the process through and through.

At the time of Alma’s scheduled departure she decided she couldn’t leave just yet. She needed more. And so she stayed. She called up the school and home and everyone responded, “BY ALL MEANS, STAY!!!” And so she did. And again we marveled at the completeness of it. And the luck we felt at having each other. "Lucky us!" we said and we hugged and laughed. And ate another bagel. Today, as I hold that summer in my heart, I am filled with the amazing gift of joy we received - not just in the gathering itself but in the recognition and acknowledgment and appreciation of our connection..

One night we wanted to go out in the canoe – 5 of us who were sitting down by the water under the full moon. But we didn’t want to split up in two boats as we were loving the connection we felt. So we loaded up the big canoe, me in the back, my partner Kenny in front of me on a low chair. My brother Damien in the front and his partner Sophie right behind him. Then, in the middle, like the queen of sheba, Alma placed a tall beach chair. None of us questioning. As she stepped into the boat onto her perch, the whole boat, with all of us in it tumped over as if in slow motion and all of us were dumped into the 3 feet of water. We laughed so hard we could barely stand. We laughed until we cried then we picked up the boat, dumped out the water and started all over again. A low chair for Alma this time and off we went, our boat's lip just inches above the water’s surface. We paddled slowly around the lake, under the full moon, all of us ecstatic to be there together, appreciating our connection and finding tremendous joy in life and what it offered.

And that’s what Alma brought to this world. Appreciation. Connection. Joy. And laughter so big you could hardly stand up.

My almost 4 year old wanted to know these past few weeks how I could cry so hard one minute and laugh so hard the next. Because I will miss her so much but I find utter joy and perfection in the fact that she was here with us at all.

There are no answers for why Alma died here and now. But why she lived was clear. Let us all serve as witness to the life of Alma Regina Noll here and now. Let us serve as witness by all of us being our truest and best selves. Living in appreciation, connection, joy and laughter so big we can hardly stand up.

The Thing Is

2010-10-22T23:01:00.002-05:00

The Thing Is
by Ellen Bass
to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you've held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.

Oh my soul

2010-10-22T09:41:00.000-05:00

Grief doesn't sidle up next to me and sit quietly holding my hand. Grief rises up in me and wraps it's coils around my chest, tightening, tightening, tightening until my gasps for breath become racking sobs. I drive down the road past the points of memory and try to glimpse into a future that is suddenly, drastically altered from its former view. My three year old says "don't cry mama." It scares him to see this form of mother he has never seen before. The manual for grief says don't hide it from the littles. As if this could be tucked behind the heart somehow. My ten year old reaches over from the back seat and pats me softly, steadily on the shoulder. He understands sadness. But doesn't quite know what to do with this new form that has gripped his mother. His gentle pats are what he offers and I kiss his hand like some magic tonic.

We focus on the joy in moments when the labor of grief is quelled. All was perfect. That's how this sister of mine walked. In the belief that everything was/is perfect. She said it over and over. And we shared that belief. "It's all so perfect." And we hugged. Again and again. In this summer of perfect joy.

In a week and a half my whole self has been altered. I am older and more raw than I even knew was possible. I miss her so much I want to become her. But she was she. And I am me.

She is gone. And she is everywhere too.

And her perfect name was Soul.

Alma Regina Noll

2010-10-15T16:31:00.001-05:00

Alma Regina Noll

August 11, 1953 - October 11, 2010

Alma Regina Noll of Brice Prairie, WI died suddenly on October 11th, 2010. Alma was born in Paterson New Jersey, the second of ten children of Dean and Liz Noll. She is survived by her life partner of 23 years, Melani C. Fay and her two beautiful daughters, Zoe Bernadette Noll Fay, age 18 and Maia Carolina Fay Noll, age 16. She is survived also by her mother Liz Noll, her sisters Gabriella Babbitt, Ave Maria Miller, Bernadette Noll, Cheryl Black and Loretta Noll and her brothers Thaddeus Noll, Justin Noll, Damien Noll and Gregory Noll. She leaves behind 25 nieces and nephews, 6 great nieces and nephews and an immeasurable extensive, loving tribe.

Alma was a devoted mother, partner and loving creator of a home for her family. She truly believed that family life was the well where she could go to be nourished, strengthened and renewed. She was forever fortified by the deep well of love that she found in her immediate, extended and chosen family and in her vast circle of supportive, loving and passionate friends.

Alma held a deep appreciation for nature's wildness and lived simply and truly according to the seasons. Alma's home overlooking Lake Onalaska offered her an amazing glimpse into these seasonal changes and she enjoyed participating in many ways: birding, building, backyard sugaring and simply serving as witness to the abundance and the gifts that nature delivered.

Alma was an old-fashioned maker with an innovative mind. She enjoyed a wide variety of traditional crafts and took great pleasure sharing her love of these crafts with children and adults alike. She was the inventor of MAMZ butter, which has slathered farmer's hands and baby's bottoms around the world.

Alma was highly self educated and loved the acquisition of and sharing of knowledge. Her avid involvement, interest and inspiration brought unity to the communities she touched and she possessed an unlimited capacity to connect people and communities.

Alma received a BS from Misericordia University in Pennsylvania in 1975. In 1978 she received a BS in Nursing from Georgetown University. After five years of working as an RN and commissioned officer for the public health service in South Dakota and New Mexico, she went on to receive a Family Nurse Practitioner's degree from the University of Colorado in Denver. Alma continued her work with the Bureau of Indian Affairs as a Public Health Nurse Practitioner for several years after, in northern Wisconsin and eventually for the Ho Chunk Tribe in the LaCrosse area.

A few years after adopting her two daughters, Alma met with some other inspired minds to begin the creation of The Waldorf Iniative. Through years of concerted efforts and unceasing dedication, this iniative became the now Three Rivers Waldorf School, located in the lower Northside neighborhood of La Crosse

Alma was deeply committed to ensuring the diversity of the school. She embraced each individual who wished to ascend in their inner development. Her passion was to provide assistance to families in need, so Waldorf Education could be accessible to all who sought it. She spent countless hours with individual families to find ways the school and families could come to a sustainable financial balance for all involved. She knew the importance of this task.

She dearly loved and cherished the children at the school. Alma took great pleasure in seeing young children grow and develop over the years into mature, capable, joyful adults. She delighted in the opportunity for playground supervision once each week, and often shared her observations of individual students. Her nursing background served the school well over the years. She removed splinters, held children having seizures, diagnosed chickenpox and checked for head lice! She taught many a child to make sure to drink more if they had headaches, and to try ginger for upset stomachs.

It was her example that is her legacy. We deeply miss her and support her on her journey.

A memorial and labyrinth ceremony for Alma will be held on October 30th, 2010 at Three Rivers School from noon to four pm. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made into an account towards the future education of Maia and Zoe at Citizens State Bank 625 Main Street Onalaska, WI 54650 and also to the Three Rivers Waldorf School, 901 Caledonia Street, LaCrosse, WI 54601 and

Alma's never ending credos echo in the lives, minds and hearts of all who knew her. She lived simply and truly and joyfully and she especially appreciated the abundance of life. She was a true visionary and her ideas and work will continue to serve as inspiration to those whose lives she touched. We are filled with sorrowful inspiration.

Alma Regina Noll

2010-10-12T14:49:00.003-05:00

This summer, like every summer, we headed east to be at my mom's on the lake in NJ. To gather with cousins and siblings and nieces and nephews and aunts and uncles and in-laws and friends who also came east, unless of course they were coming from Europe, which some did. Or already there. Which some were.

My sister Alma came, with her family, like they do every year. They stayed their 2 weeks and then it was time to go home. But Alma wasn't ready. She wanted more. And believe me, there is so much there to want more of. So she sent home one teenaged daughter. And her partner went home too. And Alma stayed with one other teenaged daughter. An extra week in NJ with us, with my mom, with the various kith and kin who gather there at that amazing lakeside retreat.

She called work and said, "I'm not coming back just yet. I need to stay. I have no explanations or excuses other than that." She just needed to stay. to spend more time with the ones she loves. Because she said, "We never know how many times we'll get these summers." And she stayed. With us, with my mom, my kids, and my siblings and the various kith and kin who gather there.

It was a stolen week for sure. She stole it from her life at home and from her work. She stole it from the list of to-dos and needs. And she gave it to herself. And to us. All of us who were there still. And we had the most amazing time together. Swimming. Talking. Eating. Talking. Sitting around the fire. Going out in the canoe. (tipping over the canoe!) driving to the ocean. And we all agreed it was the absolute most perfect time together. There was no urgency to any of it. There was perfect ebb and flow of food and people and conversation and naps and all of it. Everybody giving what they could and taking what they needed.

And now she is gone from us. Our dear Alma Regina Noll 8/11/53 - 10/11/2010.

I am so grateful for that week she stole from the rest of the world and gave to us. I will miss her everyday. And I will remember to steal some time here and there to be with the ones I love. And I will always think of her.

Life's better outside

2010-10-06T14:39:00.002-05:00

Well, to steal a line from Texas Parks and Wildlife, I'd really have to agree that family life is definitely better, easier, smoother, kinder and certainly healthier outside. With a lot less fighting too.

When we're all outside I can tolerate the noise, the crumbs are not an issue, there is more room for bodies in perpetual motion and we can all kind of find our own groove when we're outside.

On Sundays for quite sometime now we have found our "church" in the form of a nature preserve in downtown Austin. A quiet place of great beauty with rocks and shade and even some ancient relic of a stone/wood gazebo which really does sort of sanctify the entire place. We have expanded a bit lately and instead of just going to the same place all the time we now find our church in various urban wildspaces around town: creeks, riverfront, fields, and even the lawn outside our beautiful Capitol. While not exactly "natural" for all its mowed lawns and walkways, there is definitely some nature there in the form of ancient trees and lots of birds. And the fresh air too of course.

This past weekend, inspired by the overnight guest of my 7 year old, and by my attendance at the Celebration of Children in Nature, we pitched a tent in our yard for them to play in without being pestered by mosquitoes. The daytime play then segued into a camp out in the yard and the tent got left up all weekend. Sunday night two of my kiddos slept out there and on Monday I made a little fire in the pit and got it roaring before I woke them for school. Instead of groaning about Monday's wake up call, they saw the fire and leaped up, "COOL!!!" We had breakfast tacos around the fire (admittedly cooked inside and delivered). I brought their toothbrushes and backpacks outside and all the school prep was done in the yard. Total camp out style.

this tree is not in our yard. this is the biggest tree in Texas.

The next night we did it again.

It's the perfect season in Austin right now. Cool, clear nights and sunny warm days. Night after day after night after day. Definitely ideal camping weather!

While we enjoy the day trips to find urban nature, this weekend reminded us that we don't need to go anywhere to grab hold of that feeling we get in nature. Just being in our yard suffices when we need a fix.

We are lucky that our urban home has a big natural yard with lots of trees, birds, and more. But I really do think that a piece of any nature at all can give this same feeling of being connected to the outdoors. Sit on the grass or on the roof looking up at the sky. Climb a tree or just sit on the sidewalk at its base. Either way, seeing all that nature has to give us can totally shift our moods and alter our perception of Monday morning.

If you want to get outside but can't figure out where to go, there's a great site that will help you get on your way. It was started by the ideas presented by Richard Louv in his book Last Child in the Woods but was carried out by folks who agree that life is indeed better outside. Nature Rocks Austin will help you find your way to nature and help you find connection to the great outdoors and to your family too. Even on a Monday morning.

The opposite of homework

2010-09-30T08:45:00.001-05:00

I have written about the homework dilemna quite a few times over the last few years. My first post on the subject was in 2007. (wow, really?) And then again in 2007 when we had the very teacher I'm going to write about again today...

A few years ago a teacher at our public school sent a note out to all her families mid-year stating that she had just read Alfie Kohn's book The Homework Myth and from here on in she would not be assigning any homework to her kids. What she expected instead was that each kid would read a bit every night but other than that she encouraged them to play, to explore, to be with their families and to just chill out. She got a little flack from the powers that be but she has stuck to her ideas and her beliefs and managed to continue this method for several years now.

In place of nightly homework she assigned monthly family projects that she fully encouraged families to do TOGETHER. As a group. Participation by one and all thereby making it a fun and connecting tool rather than a divisive one, which we all know homework can sometimes be.

Now that original pack of kids is in middle school (all having lost nothing by not having homework in 2nd grade). And we are lucky to be in her class once again.

We just finished up our first of the monthly projects and it was one of the best, most fun, informative, thoughtful and connecting projects I've ever seen come home from school. In social studies the kids are studying communities and towns and the difference between rural, suburbs, urban, etc. The assignment was a community scavenger hunt wherein the kids had to make a project detailing the various places in their communities: where they get food, go to have fun, natural areas, where the mayor works, a place to hang out on the weekends, etc. There were about 25 things on the list and the interpretation was up to each kid, each family. The food could be gotten at a grocery, a farmer's market, or in their own backyard chicken coop. The idea was to either draw a picture, write a sentence, or take a photograph on each item on the list. And bring some item showing that you had been there. How they were presented was up to each family: a drawing, a power point or poster of some sort.

Given that we had a whole month to do it meant we could leisurely and enjoyably hit them all and we did. We went to city hall and got a business card from the mayor's office. We went to the bakery, the book store, the library, the grocery store, the park, the creek, and lots of other great places that were a part of our little neck of these big woods. A lot of the places were our usual haunts but the assignment made us see it all in a whole new light. And there was a whole lot more learned than a lifetime of worksheets on the subject could ever bring us.

Once we gathered all the necessary pieces we got to work creating a scrap book with drawings, photos, receipts and other remnants. The end result was a beautiful snap shot of our little community in our big (and growing) city. We all enjoyed our participation in the project, all six of us, and it brought up lots of great conversations about the community in which we live. And really made us appreciate all we have as well. The final piece was the cover art which my daughter lettered: AUSTIN: MY KIND OF TOWN.

And now we are all looking forward to the next month's project. What will we learn? Where will it bring us? What kind of family connection will it bring? I never remember asking those questions about any other homework assignments that have come our way. But the monthly projects present new lessons each and every time.

Thanks Ms. Dailey for going against the grain.

Circular thinking

2010-09-22T23:01:00.000-05:00

I'm reading, slowly oh so slowly, a great parenting book right now which I've mentioned before and here I am mentioning it again. It's called Stop Arguing With Your Kids by Michael P. Nichols PhD. Not that there's any arguing over here, oh heavens no! But it's got some amazing nuggets in it for sure and I have highlighted lots of them for future reference. You know, for a "friend".

Here's an amazing excerpt that I am loving and that applies to so much more than just parenting. It applies to partnerships and in fact all human relationships really. It talks about blame and how useless it is to think in such a linear fashion. When we think in a circular manner instead, we can then more easily be in the present moment and move ahead to a solution...

Blaming parents for their children's misbehavior is actually a corollary of blaming the child. If a child is "bad" - disrespectful, oppositional, argumentative - it must be because her parents brought her up that way. Both attributions - it's the child's fault, it's the parent's fault - are based on the habit of linear thinking, according to which relational problems must be someone's fault. The alternative perspective, thinking in terms of circular dynamics, avoids speculation about who is at fault, who started what, who is responsible. According to circular thinking, it's less useful to worry about how problems got started than to see them as reciprocal patterns of interaction, which can be corrected in the present, regardless of what happened in the past. The real question needs to be, once a pattern of persistent arguing develops, how do you break it?

I love the idea of no blame. Though it's kind of hard to live there I admit. But when I do, it feels better - physically and emotionally too. It's a goal. With children, partners, friends, acquaintances and even strangers too.

No plans?

2010-09-17T14:34:00.001-05:00

Some weeks we look forward to the weekend for the chance to gather with friends, go to parties or run necessary errands. This weekend however, after a rather crazy week of work, school, and more, we are looking forward to a (almost) entire weekend of no activities, no appointments, no needs in the outside world. I exhale just thinking about it.

I have to be careful how I phrase it around the kids though. If I say to them we have no plans then they scramble to fill it with people and plans. Instead I have to tell them we are planning a weekend at home to connect and hang out - as a family and also as individuals. I have to be careful how I phrase it to myself too. And I have to be especially careful to protect it from all the amazing things that could be done out there.

It's hard to resist, but it's harder if we don't.

Even when you think they're not paying attention

2010-09-14T06:22:00.001-05:00

I was wandering the yard yesterday evening with my 3 year old. I had some news delivered that afternoon that had me kind of spinning a bit. Difficult news. The kind of news that just sits in your throat for a while before you can actually digest it. I was feeling it for sure but I was trying to let it go.

As we emptied the compost and dug around in the dirt my three year old says, "you seem sad Mommy." I smiled and said "yeah, I'm a little sad." Then I asked him how he could tell. "Is it because my face looks sad?" I asked.
He looked quizzically at my face as if he hadn't really thought of that.

"No. Because today even your happy face seems sad."

Sometimes one sticks with you

2010-09-10T10:53:00.001-05:00

There are a lot of amazing picture books out there, take the newest Caldecott Honor award book All the World for example. (okay it's written by my friend Liz but still, even if it wasn't, I would treasure that tome for all its loveliness and poetic capture of all the world) It's definitely one that sticks with you. And that gives you more than just a bedtime read, it gives a feeling.

Just recently we discovered another, at our brand new neighborhood library where we are going practically every day because it's not only close, it's also quite lovely.

In the kid's section it was sort of cast recklessly onto one of the shelves. The cover attracted me because it was kind of odd looking, a bit bizarre really, I guess, illustratively speaking, it would fall into the oddly compelling category. And because we are now addicted to just checking out books, we threw it into our giant bag already overflowing with selections.

I read it at home one night after bed, sort of sitting at the table in that post bedtime, too tired to really do much but sit and pick up whatever is cast about on the kitchen table. Totally amazing. In just 42 pages it covers fear, life, death, aging, acceptance, belief, trust and the cycle of life and the change of seasons too. Book reviews are not my forte, and I don't know that I've done more than 2 or 3 here on this blog in all the years of keeping it, but this is one that forces my hand. You will love 6 year old Garmann who talks about his fears of entering first grade. And his 3 old aunts who show up like a yearly calendar page and who surely must be his great aunts for they are that old. And truly divine.

So, if you're looking for your next favorite bedtime story. Or a birthday gift. Or just something to read after bedtime when you're sitting quietly at the kitchen table, you might look for Garmann's Summer by Stian Hole.

This one really sticks with you.

Gone but not forgotten

2010-08-31T10:53:00.001-05:00

Wow. It's been over a month since I've posted anything here on this blog o' mine. Not for lack of fodder actually but for lack of time and space and energy I suppose. If you've ever been in Texas in August, you'd know of what I speak. It's too hot to do anything but swim or be still.

But the start of school kind of kicks things into gear whether you are ready or not. And now, nearly midway through week 2 of the new school year, we are in gear with backpacks loaded, snack drawer full, pencils sharpened and bedtime taking on a familiar urgency. And as we enter back into the swing of things, we remember what we had forgotten over the summer.

Bedtime is crucial. A child who gets to bed too late, gets up too cranky and is not back to normal until he or she gets a solid 10 hours of sleep.
Snacks are equally as crucial. High protein is our preferred method. Regardless of the list that came home from the Texas Department of Agriculture which offers Vanilla wafers and animal crackers as options for nutritious snacks. Seriously.
Water too. Perhaps more so here in Texas but a hydrated being is an energized being.
Dealing with school papers right when they come in the house is imperative. A pile of papers left on the table will grow exponentially if left untended. A one touch method of school papers is the only way we can keep from being overtaken by the piles. One touch, fill it out and return it. Or just file it away in the recycling bin.
The school needs volunteers. If you are in a school and you have not yet volunteered it's not because they don't need you, it's only because they haven't found you. Ask your teacher what they need. Ask the PTA president. Ask the committee heads. Ask the front office. The school librarian. At any school there is a lot to be done. And the people who are trying to do it would love to have help. Behind the scenes or right there in front of it all. Whichever you prefer.
The more you volunteer at a school, the more you get to implement change. If you are there, ideas and change you bring to the table will be heard and allowed. If you're not, the chances of being heard are less.
Homework kind of sucks. But if you have it, do it right after school. If it is dragging on, tell your child to go out and play. Trying to do homework when a kid is obviously done is pointless. No ground is gained and no lessons are learned. Do it later or do it yourself. Seriously. If it is getting in the way of learning and family connection, once you make sure your child knows the concept, do it yourself with your child by your side. Talk to your teacher about other options.
Go outside after supper. Even if it's just for a few minutes. In our house it puts us in a weird sort of limbo until bedtime if we don't. And we are way more prone to bickering. and whining. If we're outside we're way better off.
Finally, at least for now, never let school get in the way of your education. Mark Twain said it first. My mom said it next. And now I say it yet again. Key to our families success and happiness to be sure.

I would love to know what you all have remembered/learned as you make your way back into the school schedule.

High dives and other risks

2010-07-28T15:15:00.001-05:00

I just returned from the motherland, from the house of my mother actually, where I was lucky enough to sit by the side of the lake of my youth and visit with a whole mess of kith and kin and eat bagels and pizza and talk and swim and talk, talk, talk some more and watch my kids play with cousins of all degrees.

It is a treat to walk the streets and woods of my youth with my own children and my siblings too and their children. As we walk about we tell stories of street games and hide-outs and forts and times we got in trouble and we share tales too of paper routes and canoe rides and crazy neighbors and then we pause for picnics on the very same rocks and shores where we paused for picnics as kids. If I sound incredibly sentimental it's because I am.

One day we paddled over to "the big beach" on the lake of my youth to take a few dives off the diving board. Last year the high dive came down because the big insurance company that insured all the beaches said "TAKE IT DOWN OR ELSE." So what else could they do mid-summer but take it down? After it was up for the past 80+ years with no more than a handful of injuries in that time and none of them from the height rather from the fact that the next kid in line jumped too early and landed on the kid that had jumped just before.

But that day the high dive was BACK!!! You see, the lake fired their old insurance company who made them take down the diving board, and searched and searched until they found a new insurance company that was willing and able to insure them - high dive and all.

For hours and hours the kids jumped, dove, flipped and twisted til their hearts' content. And nary an injury was had. Unless you count their pink bellies which had gotten that tone from the occasional failed flip turned belly flop.

I was beyond happy that the lake made this decision. And that there is an insurance company who stepped up to the risk factor. And that there is proof that people are tired of insurance companies setting policy for the rest of the world.

So the high dives stands now in all its glory, as a monument to risk. Like the 14 foot high slide in our yard. And the trees that kids climb. And the skate board parks in cities across the country. (And the article I had in the July/August Mothering magazine on the very same thing)

Sure you might get hurt. But you probably won't. And even if you do, it'll most likely be minor and then you'll have a good story to tell your own kids when you do a walkabout with them.

Summertime

2010-07-16T14:11:00.001-05:00

Here in New Jersey we are fully immersed in the land of kith and kin. My motherland holds so much and I feel lucky that we get this annual lengthy sojourn to take it all in. It is my mom that allows it all. Who else would allow 20+ people to take over her house, her yard, her lakefront, use all her towels, rearrange her porch furniture and otherwise turn her calm domain into a veritable family free for all. And she doesn't even get too mad when she finds wet towels on a wooden chair.

I love coming back here with my 8 siblings and all their kids and now even their kids.

I love swimming in the lake before breakfast and staying in our swim suits all day.

I love playing scrabble on the deck and sittnd around fires in the yard and staying up talking into the very wee hours of the morning.

I love that "king of the raft" never goes out of style.

I love our "walkabouts" with my siblings and our kids where we talk about memories of that tree or that yard or that secret trail into the woods.

I love that the woods we played in as kids have been preserved as greenspace and that the fairy houses we built last year still stand (somewhat) even though they spent months under many feet of snow.

And I love the connection we all feel to this place and these people.

It is a retreat here. A reunion. A refresher in life, liberty and the pursuit of familial happiness. And a resort of the very best variety.

Thank you Mom for not caring about the mess of it all.

What to do, what to do?

2010-06-23T12:30:00.000-05:00

Since my kids have been off from school there's been a little bit of a struggle for everyone to come up with things to do. The other day I kind of blew my lid, well, I didn't kind of blow my lid, I actually flipped at the fact that my kids were just flopping from chair to chair in a kind of malaise-y way. It was freaking me out that they couldn't find something TO DO. I'm all for laying about on a summer day but when their laying about is under my skirt, well, that gets a little old kind of fast.

"What's wrong??!!" I asked in a not so nice tone. "Why can't you come up with something to do? You're creative. You've got games, puzzles, bikes, art supplies. ENGAGE in something before I give you something to engage in." Yes, I actually said that or something very much like that.

I felt bad later on that I didn't handle it better. Then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized, coming up with stuff to do was a muscle that needed working, just like any other muscle. All year they had been in school (well two of them anyway and the two who were the biggest culprits I might add) and every day had been completely structured, laid out, planned and plotted. And not only was each and every school day completely structured and not only did they know exactly what they were doing on any given day, but they also knew what was coming the next day and the day after that.

So they had to learn to handle the free time. They needed a little prodding. A little engagement. Some ideas for things to do. And a little trusting of the boredom. I have to believe that from their boredom will come their next fun idea of things to do. And if it takes them a while to work that muscle, well, so be it.

Still, if they happen to be waffling under my proverbial skirt, you just might hear me shout, "GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY!!!"

I'm trying over here

2010-06-18T18:09:00.000-05:00

I keep hearing myself dispute feelings and statements made by my children. But I suppose being aware of the fact that I'm doing it is the first step towards recovery. Because I'm working on a little bit of responsive listening, as is pointed out in the book I'm currently reading, Stop Arguing with your Kids. A few more details, including a basic outline of the five steps on responsive listening, are available on the Slow Family site.

The first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem.

It's a process, to be sure.

Take a mental picture

2010-06-15T00:22:00.002-05:00

On Sunday afternoon I went to the grocery store with the four kids. We decided it was such a hot and lazy day that we would just go and peruse and eat our way through all the samples. I mean sure we needed a few things but this journey was more about the destination and less about how much we needed. Although sometimes I tell myself that just so I'll actually go to the grocery store. With four kids.

We're kind of winding our way through the aisles. Having a pretty fun time. Eating lots of fruit including a lychee nut that we asked the clerk to cut open for us. And some grilled fish with curry sauce. And fresh juice samples. And a little wine too. Not much, just enough to make this mama feel sort of fancy for a second or two.

As we wound our way around (that's wow-ned not woo-nd although it very well could have been woo-nd on another day with four kids at the grocery store) everyone's moods were starting to amp up a little bit and we ran into a guy I used to know from my waiting tables days. He works at the store. "Hey" he says. "Is this your brood?" looking at my four kids.

I look over at them and they are all standing stock still, in a line of no particular order, looking right at us with kind of sweet and soft expressions on their faces. "Look at those eyes! They all have the same eyes!" he says with amazement. "Beautiful!"

And I look again, and for a moment just pause. Really, really pause and take them all in. And I start crying just a tiny bit, "Yes. YES!??!!" I kind of exclaim. And then I laugh for the joy of that snapshot taken.

He laughed too, "You don't often do that, do you? Look at them like that?"

And I kind of had to shake my head as if shaking my senses back to the here and now. "No, I really, really don't. And I'm glad you gave me the chance to do so." And we talked for another minute, hugged and said goodbye.

Truly, who knows when we'll get these gifts presented to us. But I do know now that after that particular moment, I might just look for such occasions a little more often. For just that flash of time, my heart completely filled up with such love that it was pouring out.

And maybe my kids weren't actually standing still as much as time was perhaps standing still for just that moment of time.

For the mental picture. And I make a mental note to take more of those. Without the camera. To capture the image of them all.

Burr in the saddle

2010-06-08T11:27:00.001-05:00

It's a theory of my husband's - that with six people living in our household, four of them children, there will be, at any given moment, one burr in the saddle. One dissatisfied, crying, yelling member. Sadly in these few days since school's let out, his theory is proving itself to be true.

Like right now, as I type this, three children and one adult are going to the pool down the street. One adult was planning on staying home and working and having four children and one adult go to the pool down the street. But one child is instead having a meltdown and so, is instead, home here in bed sulking.

Yes, I know in my head that perhaps that's actually what he wanted all along. To stay home and let everyone else leave. And so he's getting just what he needs and wants. Which is what we want for our children right? That they should get what they want and need? Which is all well and good except for the fact that it's actually getting in the way of what I need and want which is work time. Home alone. My most coveted time.

But it's not just today. It's everyday for seemingly every occasion. Especially as we transition from school schedule to summer time. Even the other day when we went to the corner store and got ice cream sandwiches. And everyone was happy. Except for one child who was crying a huge jag, because she didn't want the ice cream sandwich (which was the one on sale which was what I said when we went that we would get whichever one was on sale which the corner store ALWAYS has some kind of sale such as ice cream sandwiches 2 for a dollar or some such) she instead wanted the bomb pop. Or should that be in caps? BOMB POP.

It is my continuing mission as a mom to try to let everyone feel what they're feeling but honestly, sometimes I just want everyone to be happy. At the same time. So I will continue to try to prove my husband wrong with his theory and his belief that the burr in the saddle may be inevitable. Not because I want him to be proven wrong (which admittedly I do OCCASIONALLY do) but because I want us to have some moments of everyone being happy. And satisfied.

It just might be time for us to break out the Appreciation banner. So that everyone can see what's working instead of one person at any given moment focusing on what's not.

Oy.

The view from here

2010-06-02T13:23:00.003-05:00

So my oldest is back from her journey west. 9 wonderful days for her. 9 odd days here for us in the sense that it's strange to suddenly just have one of us not here. It changes the dynamics in a big way whenever one of us is removed from the familial equation. We intentionally didn't call her as much as we wanted to. Or should I say as much as I wanted to. Though I longed to be a fly on her wall, wherever she was, I was glad she was out there having her own experiences, her own connections being made, her own conclusions being drawn. We missed her but were glad she was having the chance to be away from us and with people we love.

photo by 500 pound leon

When she left town she kept saying that this was a time she really needed a cell phone. We thought differently and told her if she was, at any time, in a position of really needing one, we bet she could turn to the person either side of her and borrow the phone to call us or whomever she needed to call. She balked. Upon her return home however she realized this was indeed the case. And, not only did she not need one, she was glad to not have one for she thought then that she would have called or texted home a lot more than she did. (which, for the record was only once in 9 days) Not really getting the true feeling of being away. Her own conclusion drawn.

She had a blast with her aunt and uncle who showed her quite a time on that western coast of theirs. Beach houses, aquariums, city life and more were all part of her journey. Oh, and restaurant life! Which she doesn't really get any of here in our world with 6 people in the family. She loved being their onliest niece and the only child in sight.

While out there she also visited a new friend of the family Gever Tulley and his wife. She got to spend time in Gever's nearly famous tinkering shop in his backyard and one afternoon the two of them did a live webcast from Gever's studio. It was so exciting for us here at home to see her! Live! And doing something that was totally her own. With no input from us. Her own connection made. We all hovered around the computer screen feeling, truly, like a fly on the wall of her own experience. We could see her and hear her, and though we could send in a text response, she couldn't hear or see us. Which admittedly was rather confusing for the resident 3.5 year old.

She's back now. We're glad to have her home. And she's mostly glad to be home. She misses her freedom for sure. But she actually commented positively and appreciatively on a breakfast taco served to her by her dad the other morning. And though we are under constant critique for just about everything we see, say or do, mostly she's glad to be with us.

But now that she's got a little travel under her belt, we all just know it's only a matter of time before the travel bug bites her again. Just the way it should. And all we get is the view from here. All of us drawing our own conclusions.

Our first fledgling

2010-05-24T10:11:00.002-05:00

For the past nearly 13 years we've had a house full of nestlings. The four kiddos pretty much depending on us for any activity or outing. The occasional sleep over of course, although admittedly we limit those for reasons of greater familial harmony. And last summer the three biggies did spend an extra two weeks at Grandma's house. But they were together. And it was Grandma's house. And when they flew home, they flew with their two big twenty-something cousins.

So last week, when our oldest child flew off all by her lonesome to visit her aunt and uncle in California, it seemed and still seems like a rather momentous occasion. And as she boarded the plane without me or anyone else, I cried. A lot. Not that I didn't want her to go. Of course I did for the world of endless journeys and possibilities seemed to be opening up right there before our very eyes. I cried more because it seemed to really mark, in an obvious and tangible way, that time was passing faster than we ever dreamed it would.

Didn't we just bring her home from the hospital a little while ago? And now here she was flying off on her own without even the advantage of a pre-selected seat. Rather she would have to get on the plane alone and fend for herself and select her own seat and have her own conversations with fellow passengers and flight attendants and eat her little bag of treats at her own discretion without me being there to determine just when it was time to have protein and when it was time for a sweet treat. She was grateful that Southwest didn't consider her, at age 12, an unaccompanied minor and so there was no badge to be worn around her neck stating to all the world that she was still dependent that would have felt to her like a pre-teen scarlet letter.

I asked her if she wanted me to arrange pre-boarding and she gave me a good old fashioned eye roll. "I could, you know," said I. "I know you could! But you don't need to," she responded with a little laugh.

I was teary. But she was decidedly not. She was bubbling with excitement for the adventure she was about to make. And to my credit, I saved most of my tears for after she had already walked away. Not because I was consciously sparing her but because, as she disappeared into the plane, that's when it hit me. Hard. But in a good way really.

Now day four and a half into the trip and we still have not spoken. I missed her call home which stated that she landed. And we've had a brief email or two. And a few pictures posted by her aunt. But no phone calls. And I am purposefully not calling her either. I want her to feel like she's really away. On her own. Choosing her own adventure, just like the creative chapter books that let the reader choose the story that suits their mood.

It's hard. But it's exciting too. And I am aware that this is just the beginning of a whole world of adventurous possibilities. And all I can do as a mom is what my own mom did. As I walked out the door she would kiss me goodbye and call out after a few steps, "Use discretion!"

To which I added, "and listen to your gut." And with that we pushed her out of the nest for her first test flight.

Homeschool and some sentimental math

2010-05-19T23:04:00.002-05:00

So today was sort of the official last day of my eldest daughters full year of 6th grade homeschooling. Not her first year of homeschooling, but her first since 1st grade. And by all counts it was an amazing year.

Truly I have author Laura Brodie to thank for us ever embarking on this endeavor, whose book I am currently reading and loving. A little while back she wrote an article in Brain, Child magazine called One Good Year about making the decision just for one year. Not a lifetime commitment, just one year. One really good year.

This idea really stuck with me and allowed me to make the decision we made which led us to this wonderful year full of apprenticeships and writing exercises and farm days and cooking and language and lots and lots of reading. And the list of amazing people who have stepped up to help is something for which I am completely grateful. And my gal is too, to be sure.

Today she is marking the last day of this past school year in a big, big way by flying off on her own, for the first time, to visit her aunt and uncle and some friends too. A graduation of sorts. In more ways than one. Lots of milestones this year. And she is certainly ready for this one.

She wrapped up her school year with a morning of math with her dad, who has done a wonderful job with math all year long. One of my gratitudes is that math wasn't my job. Whew! Today's math lesson made me cry as I saw them in the livingroom with tramel points in hand a long stick and some plywood and they were drawing elipses on the floor. Why cry at elipses? They're not that hard. I cried because their instruction manual was an aged and folded up piece of paper from 1951. The very same piece of paper my dad sent to the United States patent office, in 1951, in hopes of getting a patent for this innovative elipse drawing system. He didn't get the patent. But I know if he was alive he'd be pretty glad to know his 6th grade granddaughter was using his design for her math class.

Thank you Kenny. Not only for this lesson today but for a whole great year of thoughtful math instruction!

A culture of reading

2010-05-14T13:18:00.000-05:00

It is a great thing in our house these days that we have 5 full on readers. My spouse and I both love to read and we always each have a stack of books on our respective nightstands in the waiting. It is one of our biggest go-tos when we need a little relaxation.

Though it took a little while, our oldest was found by the book worm too and often stays up into the wee hours burning a small light pointed directly at her latest tome.

Our next in line was a late blooming reader too and for a while it was suggested that he would never be an avid reader because of troubles breaking the code. Early on he was diagnosed with dyslexia which I now question and think perhaps he just wasn't quite ready when the system thought he should be. He now devours books like nobody's business and is fortunate to have an entire classroom of kids - boys and girls alike - who share their latest reading loves and pass books around like other kids pass around candy. It's partly the teacher and his love the written word, but it's also partly the group of kids who are readers through and through. There is no separation by gender either as the books loved are loved by boys and girls alike.

And our third child, a first grader, just recently learned to decipher the code as well and can't turn it off even if she wants to. She reads constantly and everything: signs, cereal boxes, junk mail and more. Though for many months she pretended to be engaged in a full, fat chapter book of ridiculous proportions, she can now be found, in all positions, all over the house, with her nose and her mind fully immersed.

Our fourth and final child, at the tender age of 3 is also a book lover. Though a long way away from actually reading, and certainly nobody is wanting to start that too early, he loves to page through books. Perhaps because he sees it all around him. Or perhaps it is because he has an innate love of stories. We'll never really know.

He woke up the other night around 4 a.m. He turned on the light over the bed and scrambled up next to me. He tugged a few times on my sleeve to wake me then whispered, in that toddler whispering way which isn't really any quieter than regular talking, "It's otay if I wead for ah while?" Once I realized what was actually happening and what time it was, I laughed out loud, "Of course!" He then propped up his pillows, scrambled to the book shelf, perused the shelves and climbed back into bed where he sat there reading for the next 15-20 minutes or so before he fell back to sleep.

I'm not really such a fan of the middle of the night wakings, but I gotta love that his go-to in this situation is to grab a book and relax. Can't fight it. Might as well enjoy it.

A house full of readers and lovers of books definitely ranks up there on my list of things I'm grateful for. And the new library being constructed just 4 short blocks away is a close second.

Slow Family on the news

2010-05-08T20:27:00.000-05:00

We've done a lot of interviews and stories about Slow Family Living with a variety of journalists over the past couple of years. Just this past month we did a rather in depth piece with Jim Swift of the local NBC channel KXAN.

He got it. And he presented it in a very thoughtful, mindful and meaningful way.

Thanks Jim Swift. Thanks KXAN. You can watch it here...

Bernadette does recipes??!!

2010-05-05T09:47:00.001-05:00

I have sort of lost my position as head cook around here. Willingly of course. Don't get me wrong, I love to cook, but when my partner in all this family stuff stepped up with a desire to domesticate and learn how to cook, I happily gave him a few pointers and let him run with it. Over the past two years he has become quite an amazing and adept and adventurous cook.

After nearly 10 years of being head cook and bottle washer, oftentimes now I am called to the table when the meal is ready and the table is set. Delightful. And delicious too.

Not long ago though a friend introduced me to a whole new delicacy and though I don't often post recipes, this one seemed too good not to share. And simple too. And definitely called for in every family kitchen I've ever seen.

You know those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that get sent out into the world only to return home 8 or more hours later untouched? They are a little bit stale. And sad. And most times they end up in the trash because they are not the slightest bit compelling to anyone, even a hungry mom who hates to throw away food.

I was about to toss one a while ago and my friend Ted said, "OH NO! Don't toss it. Grill it." I scoffed. But only for a minute, then pondered. For months the idea didn't present itself again. Until. Yesterday. And I was in the kitchen again...

My son's snack returned home, completely intact.

I slathered on the butter. Heated up the griddle. And tossed it on for a few minutes. Treating it like any other grilled sandwich.

I let it cool a bit. Took a bite. HEAVEN! Heaven I tell you. Not only totally resurrected but beyond scrumptious.

So next time the snack returns home, do not ask why. Simply get out the butter and fire up the stove. You will be glad you did. You may even squirrel away a few sandwiches so you can stale them up for tomorrow.

Look no further than your own nose

2010-04-27T10:04:00.001-05:00

We just marked 15 years together. As a couple. Well, 15 years married anyway. A couple years before that unmarried but who's counting? Oh, I guess I am.

We went out the other night to celebrate and as it was Saturday night everything was super crowded. Too much for us. We just wanted to sit somewhere nice, in the quiet, and be. together. We left one chaotic parking lot without even pausing and pondered, where to? Where to? We ran off a bunch of names. What we really wanted to do was be home.

But the kids were there and we certainly didn't want to disturb their little bubble. Nor have them in ours right then. So we stopped for some beer at the grocery store. Parked in the front of the house and snuck into the yard where we sat for hours talking and enjoying our home.

It's nice when you realize that what you're looking for is actually right there under your nose. And when the place you most want to spend time is in your own home. And in your own yard.

We talked about what we wanted for the next 15 years. What we decided is that we want more fun. More joy in our partnership and family life. And more road trips too.

Simple. And I bet we'll find that what we're seeking with that is also right under our noses. In our own family.

"Playing" kind of children

2010-04-19T16:47:00.003-05:00

I have long been an advocate of play and outdoor time and the need for children to have unstructured time outside with other children that doesn't involve school, books or adults. I speak out about it whenever I can to whomever will listen. Recently I received this email from a cousin of mine who wishes to remain nameless because she is hoping she'll be able to somehow persuade this neighbor to come outside and play...

Dear my fellow mothers:

Today I received a sad visit from a neighbor. A mother of two from next door came into my home to tell me that the basketball hoop in my driveway does not meet the County distance regulations from their property lines (eight feet instead of 12). She asked us to move the hoop, keep all neighborhood children off her property, and not park our cars on the street in front of her house. She proceeded to say that all the children playing in the neighborhood distracted her daughter (ten years old) from her studies when kids were playing in front of her house. I agreed to her terms and said that I was shocked that a mother of two would be upset over children playing outside. Her response was, "Well, our children aren't really..." I finished her sentence for her, "Playing children?" Her response was, "Exactly."

While I feel sorry for them, I do not want to be a bad neighbor. We began working on her three terms. Unfortunately, our lot is small and so is our driveway and the hoop is so heavy it is nearly impossible to move. Not to mention, having my children play in our driveway is a safe way for them to play outside.

While double checking the Fairfax County rules on hoops, my husband discovered the following quote in an article in the Washington Post...

The Fairfax City Council has ruled that, without exception, no playing shall be allowed in public streets."We want to send a message that it is not okay to play in the street," City Manager Robert L. Sisson told the council at a recent public meeting.

As if I was not already upset enough, this article made me realize what has happened in our world. Childhood obesity, self-centered behavior, lack of interpersonal skills...all things created by ADULTS (my generation) who are trying to keep kids plugged into electronics and inside, or in scheduled activities. The kids on our block are playing hours of street hockey and basketball all day. Can they really take that from us?

I am sending this to all of you, because I have seen your examples of how you have balance between modern living and old fashioned fun. Someone please forward to Aunt Liz too. (note: this is my mom, the longest term advocate of outdoor play for kids that I know)

This is sad and another reminder of how some of us are swimming upstream. Please read and tell me the silver lining.

Recently there have been many studies showing the need for outdoor time for kids. Michelle Obama has outdoor play as an integral part of her childhood obesity plan "Let's Move". And I read this on Suz Lipman's blog this morning

If you want our students to be much more successful academically, they have to be active. Secretary of Education Arne Duncan,:

My cousin wanted input on what to do. I suggested she try to lure those kids outside by having her kids model super fun outdoor play. Invite them to play in the reindeer games so to speak. Don't let them believe for one more minute that they are not "playing" kind of children.

What would you tell her to do?

Haiku sisters

2010-04-15T11:28:00.002-05:00

Our annual elementary school talent show/coffee house was this past Friday night. There are various pairings - siblings, friends, parent child, family acts, etc. Always a spectacularly funny, tender, scary, enlightening night to be sure. There are the usual musicians and the like but also pogo stickers and stilt walking poetry readers and hula hoopers to keep the attention of the audience. It's fun. Albeit a bit too long. But fun.

And for the kids it's a great opportunity to get up on stage. Share their skills. Push their limits. And look out into the sea of faces sitting before them in the audience.

A couple years running my older daughter and I did mother/daughter haikus. It started the first year in attendance at the school because she really wanted to participate but needed a bump up to get the courage to go on stage. So we did it together. Then we did it again the next year. And so it had become sort of tradition.

This year my younger wanted to do it. And my older did too. Sort of. And with a little prodding from younger sis, she was convinced to get up there on stage and read the haikus they had written together. I loved seeing them up there together. Big and little. Side by side. Remembering their very first meeting seven and a half years ago today.

And now they were on stage, alternating verses and reading the words they wrote about being sisters. Being different but being connected...

(together)
A family of six
Sometimes can't get a word in
It's hard to think straight

(younger)
I like to be heard
Give me a microphone and
I could sing all night

(older)
I like to climb trees
Escape the noise and chaos
Just my book and me

(younger)
What? Wait. I missed it.
What were you talking about?
Please don't leave me out.

(older)
I need to get out.
I'm going babysitting
See you guys later.

(together)
Come back together
There is really lots we share
Sisters through and through

Little girls getting all growed up

2010-04-13T08:20:00.002-05:00

At the risk of completely offending my 12 year old, I write this post. If you do read this dear daughter, I want you to know that it's not so much about you as it is about society and what it is trying to do to you. And to all our little girls who are growing up so fast. So fast in our eyes that the thought of rushing it even more makes our hearts break.

So, we're at the store the other day. The big one with the red and white circular logo. We are. In search of. Bras. For our little girl who is getting all growed up.

We go first to the lingerie section because, well, that just makes sense to us. And my little girl in need of a bra is taller than most of my friends so going to the women's section seems like the thing to do. As we browse through the racks and racks of bras with 12 year old and 7 year old sister in tow, we are cracking ourselves up with our disregard for the sanctity of it all. The girls are trying on giant padded bras and we are laughing at the "boobs in a box" that are some kind of adhesive boobs that you put on under a strapless dress or something like that. There is just general hilarity.

As they're goofing I start really looking for something that would work for our girl. There are the sports bra models but they have already proven ineffective - not in their ability to bolster, that's not an issue yet - but because they ride up too much on that not quite curvy shape of hers. Discomfort.

All I'm seeing are padded bras. The only non-padded ones are in MY size. Which makes sense that my size would be unpadded but doesn't make sense that in her training size, which is what we called it when I was a kid, there are no pad-less options. They also seem a lot about being sexy which fortunately isn't really an issue at this point. There really is no desire for sex appeal. There's a desire to feel good. And to feel a little grown up. But definitely not to feel sexy. Yea for that. Perhaps our cable-less existence is paying off at this point.

So we wander on over to the girls department because I figure that must be where all the non-padded bras are for girls in training to be women. Over there there is more hilarity as the 7 year old spots bras in HER size and smaller. Really. Why?

There is another mom there and I can see by her cart she is buying pacifiers and little girls underwear so she is not at the bra buying stage and we commiserate on the rushing of our little girls' childhoods. She is glad to hear she is not alone in this thought. Her little girl is 5 and already she is feeling the pressure to grow up too fast. We talk. Share. Give each other a verbal fist bump. And I tell her to watch the documentary Consuming Kids. I tell you too if you missed that bandwagon of mine somehow.

We find unpadded bras that would fit on my three year old and are sort of like half undershirts more than bras. There are no others. In anything even remotely close to an unpadded bra in a 12 year old's size. Unless of course that 12 year old was as big as a 3 year old in which case I ask why would they need a bra but that's not my decision to make.

And all the while the 7 year old is cracking herself up some more wearing the mini bras as eye masks and putting them on over her shirt and calling them "insta-boobs". And I am glad to be there with my two girls laughing and having fun. But I am sad too because I wonder what the heck we're trying to do to our girls as we rush them out of childhood and into pre-pre-pubescence with all the trappings of adolescence. We tell them that sexy is what they're here to do and be. And while sexy is all fine and dandy at the appropriate time, it is by no means all they've got and it certainly doesn't need to be in their 12 or 10 or 7 year old vernacular.

Eventually we got something that works. After hours of searching. And a little bit of compromising too. Not between the two of us but between what we wanted and what we got. And I left feeling grateful that my girls are holding onto their childhood in a good way. But I also know that it takes a lot of thought and effort to let them hold onto it as they do. And I kind of wish it was easier than it is. For me. For them. And for parents everywhere.

We can start by turning off the tv. Because, if we think it's innocuous, there is $15 billion dollars being spent annually that will tell us otherwise.

Sibling revelry

2010-04-08T22:41:00.002-05:00

Sometimes its true, siblings fight. Sometimes they fight so much that you wonder if they'll ever get along. They pick on each other like nobody else can. They cut each other down and hold back any smidgeon of love or appreciation. It's painful to watch.

But I've learned to trust it more. And I've learned to try to take note too, not just of the times they fight but of the times they are really grooving. Together.

Today my 10 and 7 year old played in a soccer game on the same team. At the end of the game the 10 year old turned to his 7 year old sister and said, "I'm really glad you played. And I'm glad you were on my team. You were really good out there." Really. That is verbatim. I won't however tell you what he said yesterday, I'll just leave those sour words to your imagination.

Yesterday I heard my girls in the yard yelling. It sounded like fighting. Turns out they were hanging out rehearsing lines for the 7 year old's upcoming play which oddly sounds like sister's fighting. They were not only not fighting but really working together in earnest and with love.

Later on at dinner. The younger sis, still basking in the glow of being seen, heard AND appreciated by her big sometimes fickle sis, laid her head in the big sister's lap. The elder picked her head up and pushed it away, "Hey, just because we're getting along, doesn't mean you have to go crazy."

As only a big sibling could say.

Of course I interject sometimes when their struggles are big. But mostly I think I can let them navigate their own waters a little more. I can shut up. And watch. And listen. And see they are growing their own relationships. That aren't mine.But hopefully will be theirs for a lifetime. Because I know how good that feels.

Talking the Walk

2010-04-02T14:22:00.002-05:00

I would like to start off by saying I do not view myself as an expert at much of anything, let alone parenting. I will say though I'm randomly good at it and clever sometimes and I feel that I have really learned how to speak up for what we both need and want as a family. I've been walking it for a while now and I've been talking it up lately too.

I've been participating in a variety of speaking engagements in various venues on various topics in the past few months. Just last week I shared the stage with Gever Tulley and my Slow Family Living partner, Carrie Contey. I loved it. All of it. I loved speaking on the subject of creating with children - a subject very dear to my heart and very much in my daily existence. I loved sharing the stage and collaborating on ideas. Perhaps most of all I loved the q and a at the end. I truly could have gone on with that for hours. The challenge of answering on the fly and the thrill too of sharing ideas with other parents is so satisfying to me.

I have recently come up with a list of talking topics around which I feel pretty confident and rather passionate and which I'd like to share and discuss with other parents. Though they all might fall into the "serious" category, as serious as parenting and childrearing can actually be, it is my goal to bring a bit of levity to them all. Because as parents if we can't laugh at ourselves and what we are doing, our children are doomed. Really.

So here's my list so far.

Living your Slow Family Life; Is this working for us?
Finding meditation in the mundane; Cause sometimes it’s all you get
They’re not fighting, they’re building connection; trusting the sibling relationship
Celebrating Family Life: building ritual, creating tradition
Creating with children; setting intentions, trusting the process and enjoying the connection
Parenting Four or More; no, really
Is This Thing On? Finding connection within the family.
What’s not to Love about Public School; and how to survive it as a family
Home School; making it yours and trusting the process

You can read more about it here. Or you can email me and we can talk about walking the walk.

Tinkerer's weekend

2010-03-29T12:34:00.002-05:00

I really don't even know where to begin to describe this weekend we just had with Gever Tulley. If you don't know who Gever is you can listen to his Ted talk here on the 5 dangerous things every kid should do. And if you are intrigued and compelled to learn more, you can buy his book which is a sequel to that talk, 50 Dangerous Things (You should let your children do)

Friday night I participated in a conference called Innovation in Education arranged by our dear friend and amazing teacher Kami Wilt and hosted by the folks at Sri Atmananda school. The setting was beautiful and the audience was a great mix of parents, teachers and curious tinkerers. I was on the stage with Gever and Carrie Contey and it was all such beautiful synchronicity. I was fired up from the talk and just wanted it to go on all night. The talks, the q and a, and the discusssion of working and creating with and around kids.

So, Saturday we were on our way to drop off our son Otto at the one day Tinkerer's workshop for kids when the van broke down on the way. Damn! But minutes later a friend drove by who was also on her way. She scooped us all up and delivered us to the scene. Now instead of just Otto going it seemed we were all going. That wasn't the plan. But that was the result. And now I say lucky us that the van broke down because the experience of spending the day with 15 kids and giant piles of sticks and many rolls of twine and a few scattered utility knives AND Gever Tulley was beyond priceless.

By day's end the kids, who had been taught the art of lashing, had constructed a 3 story structure, strong enough for climbing, made of sticks and bamboo and twine. It was incredible. And during the process they also learned about working in groups, speaking their mind, giving what they could and taking what they needed.

And I learned a lot from Gever and from the day's activities about stepping back. Letting the kids direct. Helping them without influencing them. Being a collaborator instead of a teacher. Trusting that they would figure out what they needed to figure out. And believing that some of the lessons would be in the failed attempts.

Then Sunday night my 12 year old and I participated in a round table discussion/tinkering session led by Gever. Not only did I learn a lot from Gever but from all the other participants as well. To have my 12 year old there with me to step into the adult world felt like the greatest honor ever.

If you are in Austin there's one more chance to hear Gever speak at UT on Monday night 3/29 at the Department of Fine Arts from 6:30-7:30pm Room ART1.120. And it's free.

Always forward, never straight.

2010-03-24T13:15:00.000-05:00

About a month or so ago my 3 year old was kind of driving us all a little nuts. He was talking shit, literally, as every other word out of his mouth was poopy this and poopy that. Poopy mom. Poopy dad. Poopy chair. You're poopy. He's poopy. We're all poopy. When he wasn't talking poop he was talking hate. He'd ask for a bowl of ice cream and we'd say it was supper time not ice cream time and he'd furrow his brow and exclaim. I hate you Mommy. I hate supper. I hate sitting in my chair. I hate my fork. He was kind of physical too, really showing his frustration with us and his disdain for pretty much every decision we made by hitting and squeezing.

About 3 weeks ago, just as we hit the breaking point, or just before really, he sat down at the table with pen and paper in hand and started drawing pages full of tiny circles. Page after page full of tiny little circles. His first true form beyond his usual scribblings.

That same afternoon he started drawing people. Crazy little circle heads with circle eyes and stick arms and legs coming out from four directions. Sometimes hair. Sometimes not. But always with two little circle ears right where ears should go. You should know he is obssessed with ears and always has been. If you meet him, he will talk to you for a few minutes, then lose focus on your words and instead start looking longingly at your ears. At that point he will reach out his hand, or both hands perhaps, and gently grab hold of one ear or both. Hence, the addition of the ears to his drawings which I've never before seen at this particular developmental phase.

Right after this drawing breakthrough, his scatalogical hate talk subsided quite significantly.

Just this week he woke up from his nap one afternoon and looked quizzically at me and his older sister. "Does I wook wittler to you?" he asked. We took him in, looked him up and down, and told him no, he didn't look littler to us.

"Hmm." he said glancing down at his three year old body, "I wooks wittler to me."

The very next day he pumped a swing in the morning and pedaled a two-wheeler in the afternoon.

We never know what these little people are about to do with their ever expanding bodies and bodies of knowledge. They are sometimes growing their brains and sometimes their bodies and sometimes both at the same time. And before they take a leap forward, they usually take a few steps sideways in order to give themselves a fighting chance to do all they have to do.

It doesn't make it easier as a parent to suffer the insufferable moments. But it certainly makes it easier to forgive ourselves and recognize that we too have to flop around a little before we can move forward. As I saw scrawled on a bathroom wall once, "Always forward, never straight."

The road to success is a curvy one at best!

A shout out to new mamas

2010-03-24T12:27:00.001-05:00

When I was a first time mom I didn't really know any other new moms. We'd wander the streets in search of other stroller pushing mamas. We hit the playgrounds pretty hard long before the babe was even sitting up, let alone climbing a playscape. We found some mamas but it wasn't always easy. I longed for a little more community than we had and I longed too for other new mamas who knew what I was going through: the love, the loneliness, the mess and the mysteries too.

Little by little we found our people and since then we have been lucky to build up an amazing community of amazing people whom I count on now for so much of keeping our family life connected and real.

For the past three years I've been holding new mama circles with my Slow Family Living co-founder, Carrie Contey. In the 6 week session we talk about taking care of your baby, and yourself and your partnership and envision just how you want family life to feel and flow. We talk about the sometimes insanity and we talk about methods for making it all feel more sane too. In addition we talk about building community and we offer new mamas a chance to find their people - right there in the circle.

If you are a new mama, or know of a new mama seeking some answers and an opportunity to share her experience, please let them know we're starting up a new session next week. We just finished a great 6 week circle with 13 mamas and babies and we are excited to begin again.

Maaaah-ahhm!

2010-03-20T07:18:00.005-05:00

It's SXSW here in Austin which means there is literally music at every corner. As we walk the neighborhood or even just sit in our livingroom, live music of every genre is streaming through the air. Starting as early as 7am for the early birds and going straight back into the early morn with the night owls, the air is shaking with the sounds.

I love it.

My kids love it too. We've been hitting the streets every afternoon, packing up the stroller with water and snacks, and going out in search of bands we like. We've been doing it since before the kids were born, then with babes in sling, and now, the kids have a little free-roaming ability to find the music that works for them.

And it seems roaming away from me, at least far away so that people don't know I'm with them, is a necessity this year.

This week I've been told, more than once, and with more than words for that matter, that I need to stop dancing so much. Yesterday, while listening to the Minor Mishap Marching Band play with their full-on 20+ band members, I was of course moving to the tunes and my 7 year old kept jabbing me in the side. I just moved over a little so as to avoid her pointy little elbow. That same day, while listening to the Silos at the Bloodshot records stage, my 12 year old let out a full on "Maaaahhhhm!" as she watched me boogying down.

Sorry kids. One thing for sure is not gonna change and that's that if I feel like dancing I'm for sure gonna dance.

I know they'll get it one day. Maybe they'll be at a party, grooving somewhere. And the music will truly be moving their body for them. And they'll just smile and nod in an, ah!-I-get-her-now kind of way.

I hope they will. And I hope too that it's long before adulthood that they understand that you've got to dance if the spirit says dance.

I have a sneaking suspicion they will.

Admitting you have a problem is the first step

2010-03-08T09:18:00.005-06:00

This weekend I was experiencing a little bit of, um, communication issues with the resident pre-teen. Crazy feelings being displayed and laid out right there on the table (and every other place for that matter). I was not exactly handling it so uber-smoothly either. At times it was so not smooth that it was kind of embarrassing.

During one such episode my brother tried to skype in. "Not a good time" I responded via instant message. "Dealing with some pre-teen issues over here." He who is in the process of raising 2 teens of his own and 3 others from someone's permanent collection had some great words of wisdom on not reacting. On allowing. On hugging and wrestling when you felt like slamming. On not thinking that a kid calling you a jerk was the end of the world. And accepting too that maybe sometimes you are a jerk. That one made me laugh in too much recognition.

Later on that day I was on the phone with my older sis, she who has raised 4 kids into adulthood. And quite well I might add. I shared with her too my seeming inability to parent this phase of life with any skill or clarity. I talked about my reactions. My hackles raising when the sass sets in.

Again there was the talk of allowing. "It's not a hierarchy," she said. "You were just born first, that's all." I think that thought alone will help me when the words start flying.

We all grew up in a happy, pretty healthy family but it was a different time. It was a time when the allowing of all the feelings was not really something that was done. Anger, at parents especially, was shut down and when it did arise it was punished. Sass was completely verboten. And name calling, well that one wasn't even a consideration. Because it was a hierarchy.

Not that I want to allow name calling, but knowing that it's really just a manifestation of a feeling is helpful. Knowing too that the lesson on name calling can't be had when the names are being called. The lesson is later. And the connection is remade and becomes even stronger still.

By evening time I was feeling newly armed with material for entering this phase of life. I was feeling grateful for having these people in my life who understood it all and glad too that I felt safe and close enough to admit out loud that I had a problem at all. When I pretend I know, I get no information. When I admit I don't, the help flies in.

Lucky me. And lucky pre-teen too.

Finding the time

2010-03-02T13:02:00.004-06:00

This weekend I was lucky to go away with 7 other women on an amazing retreat created by ourselves. We ate and slept and read and created and wrote and sang and did yoga and walked and drank and ate some more. My mantra all week was that I would take what I needed and give what I could. It seemed the mode for everyone too as all needs were met and not one person felt put upon in the slightest.

As we were leaving I was marveling at the spaciousness of 2 full days to just be. To decide each moment what I was going to do next instead of having it dictated by all of life's needs. I spent a lot of time drawing and writing and resting and it felt like total luxury.

We all felt it. And we sighed a little at the thought of having to leave it all behind. As we were leaving one of the wise women in attendance spoke of how she was going to try to bring it home with her. She was going to try to find the time and space to continue on with these things she did here that she so loves to do.

And as she spoke I realized that yes. It should be possible. Because while yes I am busy and life is fairly full I can prioritize a few things and fit them in. I could skip the evening facebook for example and do some sketching instead. I could pack all my email contact into a smaller time slot and find the time to do some recreational writing. And I can turn off the phone for evening hours and get some rest or read or talk with my mate.

Sometimes we think we can't. But really, we can.

Family hikes

2010-03-02T12:49:00.001-06:00

We like to take family hikes. Sometimes we go right in the neighborhood to a section of greenbelt or along a creek. Other times we like to go someplace a little further but still in town. In Austin we are lucky to have access to so much green and some really good close by places to take a quick hike. And then sometimes we get a wild hare to hit the road and drive a while to a favorite state park or other natural gem.

In this month's Texas Parks and Wildlife magazine I've got a short little piece on family hikes. Taking them. Enjoying them. And finding connection in the midst.

Love and disdain on a day of exhaustion

2010-02-24T22:14:00.002-06:00

Last night I worried about the relationship between my two girls. The older picking, picking, picking on the younger. The younger trying to get a laugh, a rise, a something, she didn't care what. What she seemed to get was bickering and disdain. And the disconnect really concerned me.

Today, the girls had a surprise day home together. One too exhausted to go to school, the other, a homeschooler, taking advantage of some downtime before her french lesson.

All morning they were home together playing, laughing, running around outside. Then in the afternoon too giggling and loving on each other. After supper they were inseparable. Taking pictures. Playing dress up as the pre-teen is wont to do as she tries on her new personae. Hugging. Laughing. Sharing inside jokes. Completely in love. The older even bailed on a possible potluck she was pondering attending. "Nah, I want to stay home."

What a difference a day can make. And when the ebb happens again, and the struggles seem insurmountable, I'll remember that they're not. Insurmountable that is. It's just the ebb and flow. Like any other relationship. Up and down. Ebb and flow. Easy and hard. Love and disdain.

My girls. Sisters.

Ask and it is given

2010-02-20T07:18:00.005-06:00

I went out with my 7 year old the other day for a little walk along S. Congress Avenue. We were granted a little impromptu solo time and we thought rather than stay in the house and be distracted by all the household duties, we'd head out for a walk.

As we approached the Avenue I talked to her about how we weren't going shopping, we were just going walking. She was fine with that. As fine as a 7 year old can be. For those of you who haven't been on S. Congress, it's lined with all sorts of cool little independent stores - candy shop, n'hood grocery, novelty store, antiques, etc. It's got a big wide sidewalk and lots of pedestrians so it beckons meanderers.

We stopped in a couple shops - some to look, some to say hello to friends/shop owners. Even in the candy store we wandered and didn't buy. It's full of such novelty that even the browsing feels satisfying. We agreed the smell of sugar in there was a little too much. And the temptation too.

In the next shop, a fun and varied antique shop, we looked at all the chotchke and other objects of yore. She tried on a red cowboy hat and a few other hats from another era. Then she saw them. A pair of white cowboy boots with red stitching. She tried them on. Checked herself out in the mirror. Sat down in a chair with them on her feet and admired them. Wandered back over to the mirror and sighed. "I wish I could get these."

"I know! They're so beautiful!" I responded trying to meet her in her desire without the temptation to talk about how she can't have them. I sneakily glanced at the price tag - not too much but too much for our blood on that given day. So we sat in her desire and admired them together.

I had done some trading/selling in this store in the past and so, after a pause, I said to her, "I wonder if they'd trade with us for some other boots you've grown out of. You could ask them."

She looked doubtful. Then she looked at them. Then she looked at her boots again. "Okay, let's ask."

They said they'd consider it and that was enough for us to run back home and wrangle up three abandoned pairs. We biked back this time so as not to miss them and ran in with the boots. They looked. Pondered.

"Okay, you've got a deal!" they said.

I really think my young girl was holding her breath the entire time. Not saying a word just waiting. And she wore her new boots home. With a bit of a western swagger. Cause though I'm from New Jersey there is no doubt I have birthed 4 Texans. Dual citizenship I guess. And one of them is a proud owner of some pretty sweet new boots.

And the proud new owner too of the knowledge that if it's worth having, it's worth asking for. That's what my mom always said. And I do believe that's what her mom always said too.

The proof is in the boots.

Just say no.

2010-02-13T16:37:00.004-06:00

This week we had the van in the shop. The computer in the shop too. And a few other technical glitches of various levels. We spent money on things and at the end we were no further ahead than we were the two weeks prior when we had a running van and a working computer. Oh well. It's done now. And I chalk it up to life lived.

That same week we got a letter from the public library. It seems I owed $30.00 for a lost book. I swear we returned it but they couldn't find it so all the swearing in the world wasn't going to matter. And I swore a bit more after my initial swearing so I know of what I speak.

The book in question was a children's book. A board book to be exact. Called something like My Potty. I only got the book because I was weakened. And I surrendered. And I couldn't hold onto my no. Not that I'm making excuses mind you, I'm just saying.

You see I was at the library one day after school. It was me and all four kids on a Thursday afternoon. We popped in just for a quickie which I laugh now as I type this because going into the downtown library with all four kids after school couldn't ever really be considered quick - by any standards. It was a quickie only in the sense that I wasn't mentally prepared for an elongated visit so I called it a quickie to kind of fool myself into actually going.

Going to the library with all four kids is an exhausting exercise because mostly, usually each child requires some kind of assistance - either coming up with ideas for books, finding said books, looking things up on the computer, going into the bathroom, all this while the 3 year old is in constant motion either running up the stairs to the reference floor or pulling random titles from the stacks and laughing as they hit the floor. By the end, which was maybe an hour or so, we were all trying to get our piles of books together for check out and the 3 year old was insisting that he too should get a book. I tried to divert. I tried to distract. I tried to fool him by taking the book to the checkout and leaving it on the counter. He whined. Yelled. Ran. Yelled. Cried. Insisted.

And. Finally. I. Said. Yes.

Now perhaps you're wondering why I would say no in the first place to a child getting a book from the library. Well, at our house we have stacks and stacks of children's books. Many of them we acquired over the years from the library used book sale so on the shelf they look like library books. To add another random kids book, that is not brought home for any artistic or literary value but just because a kid wants a book is dangerous and, often leads to many late fees.

The book was a rather ripped up board book. I tried to select another but no. He'd have none of it. So, the ripped up board book all about going to the potty was checked out.

Now, as I said I swear we brought it back but the library is swearing otherwise.

So, because I was weakened. Because I had no more resources for dealing with this ranting toddler in a public place. Because I just wanted to get out of there and get home. I am now paying $30.00 for a book I wouldn't have paid .25 cents for at a yard sale.

And the lesson learned? Be strong? No. Just say no? Maybe. Don't bring the 3 year old to the library for 2 more years? Ding-ding-ding!!!

Sorry little guy.

The age of the cell phone

2010-02-01T20:39:00.003-06:00

Guest Blogger Lucy Anderson, age 12

I believe that if my generation doesn't change something about the overuse of their phones there will soon be no connection between people.

Two nights ago I went to a party. We were all in a room talking when people started pulling out their phones and texting and prank calling other friends of theirs that were not there. There were three people (I was one of them)that didn't have a phone that were just sitting in a corner watching the others.It did not make sense to me that they were contacting people that were not at the party, instead of being with the people that were there.

I think that we could do some things to help with this situation like...
-Parents could tell their children to use their phones only when they are either alone or if they need to contact their family.
-Parents and other adults could model this behavior.
-Friends could agree to have times when they don't use their phones

If I had a party I would ask my guests to silence their phones.That way we could really be together and build the connection we need.

Lucy Anderson
age 12

No blame

2010-01-21T16:41:00.003-06:00

I was visiting my sister and her family for an amazing 5 day stay. I spoke about Slow Family Living at a Waldorf Conference. I sat at my sister's table for hours on end eating, drinking, drawing and talking. We took nightly hot tubs in her wood burning hot tub overlooking the snow covered Mississippi River. I went sledding with my sister-in-law. And I got a glimpse into family life with a couple of teens in the house. It was a cup-filling few days without a doubt.

Another thing I did during my time there was hang out in the Waldorf School in LaCrosse Wisconsin for hours on end. It's a rather amazing place and in every room at every turn there is some great philosophical conversation to have or incredible artwork to witness or craft to learn. I even learned needle felting during my stay!

During one of the countless conversations around life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness we talked about the idea of no blame. It's their school policy now on every level. For the students, faculty, staff and the parents too. It sounds simple: no blame. It can kind of make your head spin with its simplicity but it is so multi-layered as to make this simple concept somewhat complex.

Kid in trouble? No blame. Rather wonder what is ailing you and offer assistance. Parents have an issue? No blame. Rather wonder what is needed and offer assistance. Staff? Same thing. Faculty too. It has shifted things in the school without a doubt as people can communicate and get to the core of the issues easier and with more compassion and without any judgement whatsoever.

I'm trying to take this concept home too. No blame. For the kids and my husband and for myself as well. Troubled? No blame. Freak out? No blame. Whining? No blame. Instead I'll ask what is ailing them or me and that way get to the trueness of the issue at hand. Without the judgement that comes with blame.

Isn't that simple?

What the world needs now...

2010-01-15T10:42:00.006-06:00

I'm at my sister's house for a few days. They are all artists of some kind or another. And thoughtful thinkers. And doers. And be-ers too. (I almost wrote beers but that doesn't quite capture it, even though there is that too as we are in Wisconsin.)

All over the house are little slips of paper with amazing quotes. Inspirational, thoughtful, loving, peaceful, artistically written out on beautiful artistically created and presented papers. Here's one of my favorites...

Do not ask what the world needs.
Ask What makes me come alive and go do it.
Because what the world needs is people that have come alive.
Howard Thurman (yes, that's Uma's papa)

Here's another...
Recognize that nothing is finished.
Everything is becoming.

And one more. This one from Anais Nin...
The day came when the risk to stay in a tight bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

Happy day everyone!

Artwork by my niece, Zoe Noll Fay also of this household

Nature vs. overwhelm

2010-01-12T11:13:00.005-06:00

I'm often seeking ways to decompress throughout the day. I've got some of my favorites:
*drinking a tall glass of water in one slow fell swoop
*sitting in a hard backed chair with my feet flat on the floor and breathing for one or two minutes
*taking a dose of Texas Medicinals Less Stress tincture and feeling it wash over me

Those things all help to bring me down to a calm level and diminish any in-the-moment stress I might be feeling. Really, really helpful.

This week we filled our bird feeders after many months of leaving them empty. We've got three main ones - one outside the kids bedroom window and two at staggered heights outside the kitchen window right behind the sink. That spot in the house that gets a lot of visits throughout the day by all resident adults.

Just now I was feeling a little overwhelmed by a few of life's events and walked over to the sink to get a glass of water. I stood there and watched the feeders while I drank my water. They are the beautiful long tube feeders and they had just been filled that morning with shiny black sunflower seed. Aesthetically already pleasing just on their own.

As I stood there I saw two chickadees, a red-bellied woodpecker, titmouse, and several housefinch taking their afternoon's meal. As I watched I could instantly feel my tension lessening and my breath returning to a calm level.

In the months the feeders sat empty I forgot just how much I love watching the birds around the house and yard. And just today I realized just how much calm and beauty they bring to my life.

Next time you're feeling overwhelmed, might I recommend a bird feeder?

Seasonal banners

2010-01-10T21:59:00.002-06:00

The advent calendar is put away. As are all the other decorations of the season. The only things remaining are the mini rosemary tree and the lemon tree which was our Christmas tree this year. As a bonus the lemon tree has tiny white buds forming.

As that season ends, it has become clear today that we must reignite the season of appreciation. Where the advent calendar hung just this morning, I have put back the appreciation banner. It is a banner which gets random use. When we use it is when it becomes clear that it is necessary. And today it became quite clear.

So, with a pocket for each member of the family, we will again begin. We will write out the big and the small for each other and ourselves until appreciation just becomes the mode in which we live. We'll read them weekly, or there so. We'll enjoy the process. And then again it will fade away and out of practice for a while. Until it's need becomes glaring once again.

Act natural

2010-01-06T00:14:00.003-06:00

I met up with some friends tonight. The same friends I've been meeting with nearly most Tuesday nights for the last 4+ years. We've covered a lot of ground in that time. A lot of personal, parenting, parties, touch points and then some. It's a group within which I can put anything into the circle and get feedback or quiet, whichever I request.

Tonight I put out there that I was having a little trouble with my over-reactions to my 12 year old and her sometimes over-reactions. When we're getting along, it's great, a total love fest. But when she bites, man oh man my tendency is to bite back. And I know that's just not right. I needed feedback, inspiration, ideas, serving suggestions, anything to help me shift my behavior. Her behavior is another story but that's not what my question was about.

We talked alot about the pre-teen and the toddler being similar in their behavior and so the response can be similar too. My friend Liz talked about how they would take on the "no personality" position when their kids were toddlers and would get out of bed a million times or ask for water after lights out or whatever. No personality. At all. I'm here but I am unaffected by your behavior kind of stance. I'll try it. I think it could work. IF I can remember.

And then Shannon chimed in. In order to not over-react, she suggested the "fake stroke" position. Head nodding to one side. Eyes aglaze. Lip slack. And at the same time that I'd be actively not reacting, I'd also add a little levity to the situation. Not that strokes are levitous (not a word I'm sure but I like it) but you know, in this situation of trying not to freak out on my kid, a fake stroke just might be the ticket to it all.

So I'm going to try it. I've got to try something because what I'm currently doing is not really working at all in the non-over-reaction category. I'll keep you posted. And if you see me hanging out with my kids and I've assumed this stance, you'll know to come in and give me a little assist. And maybe I could blink twice to let you know it's just an act and not the real thing.

What you ask for

2010-01-04T08:13:00.002-06:00

Is often what you get! Just this weekend I asked for one more day of break. I didn't think we'd be ready by Monday. We all just needed one. more. day.

Lo and behold on Saturday night I found out, via Facebook, the virtual community bulletin board, that in fact school didn't start until Tuesday. All this time I was ready to pack the bags and the kids out the door on Monday. Instead, here it is Monday morning, a chilly one at that, and at 8:15 all are still in bed getting our one more day of break.

It's a good way to start the year.

Since I can see the power of ask and it is given, I figure I might as well put a few more out there...

A new and reliable family car that will take us comfortably far and wide on day trips and long travels too.

More writing gigs - including, but not limited too, a monthly column on family life. Slow Family Life to be specific but anything related would be great. Urban wildlife, family connection, sustainable crafting, raising girls, raising boys, creating community, and whatever else pops into my head and my world.

A finished house. Alright, perhaps it won't be finished in the sense that any house built by your own family member is never actually finished. But still, finished enough that it is lived in fully and completely and as it was intended.

Speaking engagements. I'm heading up to Wisconsin next week to speak at a Waldorf conference at Three Rivers Waldorf school in LaCrosse. I'll be speaking on Slow Family Living - what is it and how to create it within your own home. I can't wait! And after this one I'd like to do more.

A finished craft book. Sure I'm looking forward to the process especially since I get to do it with my great friend and collaborator Kathie Sever. And I'm also looking forward to the finished book.

So, though I'm not usually one to pinpoint the tangible items, there are a few of my specific desires for this year. You got any?

A Christmas Tale

2009-12-28T10:36:00.004-06:00

So there we were Christmas Eve. The kids were in bed, maybe not dreaming of sugar plums for they know not what they are, but sugar in some other modern day form none the less: candy canes and gingerbread houses and ice box cookies and whatever other sugar cometh their way. We had to really convince the 12 year old non-believer that she too had to go to bed, even though she KNEW.

We had opened all the shipped in packages on Christmas Eve, as is our tradition. Packages from aunts and uncles and grandma and cousins and the like. So the haul from the fat man was all that was remaining.

Papa and I were sipping on a nice bottle of Pinot Noir, a winter warmer as it were, and hauling in all the loot that we had hidden here and there that would be placed under the tree making Christmas morning what it would be. That's a lot of power don't you know and it came make a mama or a papa feel a little overwhelmed. Or underwhelmed perhaps.

We had a few games, some art supplies, some balls of various types: wiffle, basket, and foot. Then some necessary items such as bike helmets, barrettes for the girls, socks, glue for the collage obsessed three year old and a few other sundry items. Then the stockings, a new element this year filled with a few sweet treats and other proverbial stocking stuffers.

Now the weeks before I had been making my lists and checking them twice. Making sure that the four children scales were evenly tipped and making sure too that the things we were giving had the necessary elements creating connection (games), physical play (balls and helmets) and creativity (art supplies). We had done the Slow Family workbook around creating the Slow holiday. We knew what we wanted it to FEEL like and what we DIDN'T want too which was for the day to be just about stuff, stuff and more stuff.

But on the night of, as we placed the packages in careful little piles I had that feeling, that punch in the gut, that "oh shit it's not enough". And Papa had it too as he surveyed the loot.

We talked about it and discussed our own feelings of youthful Christmases where after all was said and done there was still a feeling of "is that all there is my friends?" No matter how much stuff was hauled in or how big the biggest prize.

We talked about abundance, which was a feeling not a thing. We talked about how we didn't want all that extra crap in the house anyway. And what were we trying to create? And if there were a hundred gifts would we still feel this way? Because really that's what the marketers of Christmas sell to people: that feeling of not enough no matter how much you get. Even selling the after Christmas sales for those that were left with that feeling of dissatisfaction.

And my partner in the raising of these four children paused, and as his eyes landed on something on the floor across the living room and he asked me, "what's one of the favorite toys right now in our house? The one that gets played with every single day." I didn't know. So he strode across the room and stooped down and picked up a 4" plastic phone that we had picked up in a thrift store for a quarter TWO Christmases ago. "THIS!" he said with hysterical enthusiasm. And I laughed. And he was right. This tiny .25 cent plastic toy had had a full two years of play without pause.

So we discussed how it wasn't about the stuff. It was about the feeling. And we knew that but we needed to remind each other again for in the face of the commercialism that surrounds us, we needed and will always need constant reminders.

And I did a little tapping, a.k.a. EFT, and tapped out "not enough" and tapped in "abundance". Because we knew also that if we went into the morning with the feeling of not enough, the kids magic radar would pick up on that in a nanosecond.

Then we talked about how one of our gifts would be the connection with us. We would play the games. And we would draw and paint. And we would go outside and throw some balls. Not distracted by the computer or the chores to be done - just presence.

And we felt good. And we surveyed the loot one more time and felt truly happy at the scene laid out in our unfinished living room that looked so cozy with our lemon tree Christmas tree and our stockings that were really Papa's woolies.

Morning came. The kids gathered up waiting for each other which was their tradition - to always go out all at once. And they saw all the gifts. And they determined whose was whose and what was what. And they were ecstatic.

All morning long we played games. We listened to music. We drew. And generally just spent the morning being together.

A little bit into it my 10 year old hugged me and said, "I think I got everything on my list!" And he hugged me and even though I had his list in my pocket and I knew he didn't even come close, it was the FEELING that he got. Not the stuff.

In the afternoon the new helmets (actually from the thrift store but Santa's not telling) were donned and we hit the trail and rode around for a while before landing in the park not far from the house to cook hot dogs on an open fire.

And I know this might sound like a myth. But I kid you not. This was the best Christmas ever. With the least amount of stuff ever too. And the most amount of presence for one and all.

And I vowed right then and there too that each child I greeted in the next few days I would not meet them with the standard question of "What did you get?" rather "what did you do?"

Seasons passing

2009-12-21T15:21:00.002-06:00

On this first day of winter, this shortest day of the year, I am struck with the velocity of time's passing. The dark to the light. The light to the dark. The season's pass and on we are to the next.

We are lucky here in Austin to have such a strong and big and amazing community of strong and amazing mamas. Truly I feel as if every time I turn around I am meeting up with another mama trying to live the most true life they can. And by true I mean true to themselves and their partners and their kiddos too.

I have sat in circles with many mamas over the years and I think the thing I love the most is that, sure there are talks of babies and toddlers and the things they do and need, but also there is talk of philosophy around family life and creative pursuits and commitment to partnerships and exploring new pathways and finding ways to do it all as fully as you possibly can.

Lately I have realized that I have become one of the senior moms amongst the younger set. Sure I am in my mid-forties but I have also been parenting for a collective 32 years if you add up the ages and that has given me a lot of information and ideas - some of it of course I learned the hard way! I love sitting with moms of little ones and sharing what I know. I love hearing their tales and reminding them that this too shall pass for I remember being in their shoes and sitting with the parents of the olders and having them say to me these very same words, "this too shall pass."

When we are in it with our wee ones we forget that it is fleeting. We think it will be like this always. I feel that way now in some ways with my 12, 10, 7 and 3 year old too. That this is where we shall be but then I look back just one year ago and see it is ever changing.

And I am reminded from all of this that family life is for the now. But it is for the long haul too. It is for when we are all under the same roof. And for when the children scatter to their various homes and individual lives.

We can learn about this future life we'll have, or at least get some glimpse into it, by looking at others whose kids are just a few years beyond us. Got a toddler? Look at an elementary school family. Got a school kid? Look at a high schooler or college kid. And know you will be there sooner than a blink.

I think knowing that it's all so fleeting and ever changing might let us appreciate a little more just where we are now. In the thick of it. Whatever that thick of it may be. And the season's pass and on we are to the next.

The boys are back in town

2009-12-12T09:48:00.004-06:00

On Friday, after school, I took seven 9 and 10 year old boys home from school for a 10 year old party. The plans were simple: bonfire in the yard, hotdogs cooked on skewers, marshmallows on the same skewers, some relay races in the alley, a treasure hunt in the yard and play, play, play.

I gave them the lowdown on the way home. Went over a few fire rules for those that weren't too familiar with the beast. Once it goes in the fire, it stays in the fire. Nothing other than wood or paper. Paper must be balled up before it gets tossed in or it flies out like a fiery paper airplane. No wrestling around the fire. And, this was an outdoor party and there was no reason to go inside unless of course you needed to use the bathroom. And even then, if you needed to pee, well, you make the call.

Once home they were released into the yard and the play commenced with full force. One glance out the window found the 14 foot high slide with all manner of objects being used as vehicles for sliding: cardboard, plastic buckets, tonka trucks. The rope swing was in perpetual full swing. Boys sliding down the poles landing in hysterical heaps at the bottom. It looked like a veritable Cirque de Soleil: Lord of the Flies edition.

My job at this point was to keep them proteined up and within the legal limits of safety. All went well and when I saw it was starting to turn a little ugly I jumped in with more protein and relay races in the alley: running, scooters, bikes, etc. A half hour of that in all manner of configurations got enough of the crazies out to let them loose once again.

All afternoon I admit I had to keep myself from jumping in where I wasn't truly needed. Seeing a couple of boys wrestling I checked their faces before intervening. Was that joy in their eyes? Or anger? Joy? Okay, you're on your own. Even later when a tooth got knocked out on the birthday boy (a baby tooth, no worries), after he stopped crying, he went on about how no one was to blame. A few minutes later they were all right back at it.

At the end of the night my birthday boy said it was his best birthday ever. And the amount of effort on my end was probably the least amount ever. Perhaps it's because 9 and 10 year olds are so self-sufficient. Perhaps it's because each year I learn a little more about letting go. Perhaps too it's because when 9 and 10 year old boys are left to self-govern, they can actually determine some things on their own like who goes first and when a fun fight has gone too far. I love the boy energy. And of course being outside around a fire on a chilly Austin afternoon never hurts either.

Happy birthday 10 year old!!!

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

2009-12-06T22:34:00.006-06:00

Okay. So I fricking hit the edge today with this job of mine that involves four children for whom I am responsible and to whom I am accountable.

It was a good morning. A chilly rainy morn meant a little movie watching for the elders and the littlest whilst the middle and I made delicious (and nutritious) oatmeal raisin cookies. Really fun, right? Really slow. Nowhere to go. Nobody to meet. Just hanging out at home which was my plan because all week I've been running and I actually PLANNED to have this day with no plans. Great. Love it.

Then the afternoon, a little group tidy up. Small tidy up. Not even the big family blitz which involves actual cleaning not just tidying. Simple stuff like picking crap up off the floor and making it look less like a hovel and more like a home. It doesn't take much (in either direction really). So I wasn't asking too much. (Insert: children declaring injustice here.) Maybe 30 minutes TOTAL of participation and help. I had to ask a lot of times for what I needed but I didn't lose my cool. In fact, I was pretty damn cool if you ask me.

Then that afternoon we all went out for a little hike because the rain had passed and though it was still chilly it was actually kind of nice and I could see us all spiraling into cranksville and we needed to get. out. side. (Insert: sibling bickering here.) We hopped in the car and hit the greenbelt and had a grand old time. Seeing the water where just a few months ago there had been none and hiding on the trail and looking for birds and playing games and sending sticks downstream and skipping rocks across the creek.

On the way home we planned a super simple breakfast for dinner because it was late and we needed something fast and I set my intentions out loud for how we would enter the house: let's all help each other get inside, remember we're on the same team, get ready for bed while I make supper.

I don't know what happened here but things were crazy. Nobody listening to me or each other. Crazy giddy laughter at dinner. Not the fun kind of giddy but that crazy kind that just, well, makes you kind of crazy and the kind that would make my mom say, "That kind of laughing turns to crying".

Post supper the crazy continued. And escalated. And each request I made was met by insanity and ignoring. And our usual bedtime routine was filled with just nuttiness. Not the fun kind of nuttiness but the kind that just makes you, well, nutty.

And then I lost it. And I declared (out very loud mind you) that I was tired of having to repeat myself for things they know to do. And I don't want to ask so much. And why did you go out in the living room when I just asked you to go into your bedroom and don't look at me like that and do you need me to lose it in order to do what I know and you know you're supposed to do?? And a slight pause. And then, still, the maniacal laughter, the kind that grows because they're in it together, and maybe there should be some gratitude that they're not fighting but this feels just as intense and I really fricking lost it.

And I walked out of the room. And sat in the chair. And I planted my feet firmly on the floor. And my son brought me some Stress Less. And I regained composure. And later on I came up with a plan. Based on my daughter's habit lately of saying "second request" when she has to ask for something twice. She says it nicely and with a kind of funniness in her tone and it always (usually) makes me chuckle.

So I told them that from now on, I will ask for something. And when I ask again I will say, "second request". And when I have to ask again I will say "third request" and, at that point, I will start charging. And they will either be fined or pay with an extra job. I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt in that I understand sometimes we forget to do stuff. But then when I have to keep asking, I'm not going to do it without them realizing that in order for this to work, we really do need to work together. My time. Their time. Our time.

So, we'll see.

And a question for you. Do you ever fine your kids? It does feel old fashioned but seems to work for the olders.

Sometimes...

2009-12-05T23:50:00.005-06:00

Overwhelm hits. And it feels like me, myself and I are spread just a wee bit too thin. And the feeling that I am leaving a trail of disappointment in my wake hits just a wee bit too strong.

And then I get a night. With just a few good mamas. And plenty of time and space. To talk and drink a beer and make something really cool and creative and unique.

And the feeling of overwhelm diminishes. And I realize that when I have that feeling I really just need to slow down. And really and truly connect. First with myself and then with some near and dear ones. Not in the quick little banter way that is usually my week, but in a real, sit down, let's talk AND let's listen kind of way. And to add making to the mix means I get a tangible reminder at the end of the comfort that connection brings.

This connection is, without a glimmer of a doubt, the absolute key to it all. And the making too.

The Santa myth

2009-12-02T23:00:00.005-06:00

I'm thinking about blowing the lid off the Santa thing. Not because I don't like magic and ritual and fantasy, but because it kind of feels rife with lies and leans a little too heavy on consumption. I go through this feeling every year but this year it's stronger than ever. Perhaps it's the times. Perhaps it's our times - financially speaking that is.

We don't wrap Santa up in any of the good behavior/bad behavior thing. Just a fat magic guy that brings gifts and flies all around the world popping in on kids to leave a spirit of magic and gifts too. I admit, as I type, I'm feeling a little cynical, but really I wonder, what kind of magic is it?

Don't get me wrong, I do love magic. And I leave fairy notes. And we leave carrots for reindeers and cookies for Santa. And one year, at my mom's in New Jersey, an antler dropped on the back deck on Christmas Eve. And though my 12 year old now doubts the existence of Santa, she has no doubt at all about the fact that of course a reindeer dropped that at Grandma's because how the heck else could it have gotten there?

I would love to hear how others spin these tales. And this guy called Santa.

Holiday stuffing

2009-11-30T08:12:00.006-06:00

As we hit the last day of November and the first official weekend of the holiday season has passed and I begin pondering the fact that there are less than 5 weeks left in the year, I find myself wondering just what our holiday season is going to look like this year.

This past long holiday weekend, during a slow and sunny morning, we did a little cleaning and purging around the house. I gave each child their job list, with the warning that any excessive whining and complaining would inevitably lead to another job being added to their list because, well, if you were going to take my time with complaints, I was going to then need to have to "borrow" some of your time for chores. But perhaps that's a post for another day. Anyway...

Floors were swept, toy bins were tidied, and an entire laundry basket of stuffed animals and other sundry toys was set aside for donation to some such place or another. These were things that nobody had touched in the past year or so. Many of them having spent the last year in that same laundry basket in the hallway, blocking the doorway in a very non-feng-shui way. And these were things that were even kind of cute, but decidedly not necessary to even the most giant and far reaching of imaginative play.

A couple hours later things were, if not exactly clean, at least a little tidier, and we all felt good about getting rid of some excessive stuff. Not a lot. But some. And we all agreed that there were a lot of things that came into our world that nobody wanted or needed. And we vowed to make a change. Really. And this was our first small step.

That afternoon we went out for a hike with some friends into the beautifully clear, cool and sunny day that stretched out before us. Hiking, hanging with friends, climbing trees, looking for birds, making boats with sticks and leaves and sailing them down the creek. Truly. That pure and good.

And we returned home tired but happy.

As we approached the front door we saw someone had left us something. Something big. A big basket stuffed with something holiday-ish and all wrapped up in Christmas cellophane. First there was excitement. WOO-HOO!!! A PACKAGE!!! And then a sinking feeling when I glanced closer. The entire basket was stuffed with stuffed animals of the Christmas variety all dressed in Christmas garments. And other holiday paraphernalia, all made in one specific country, and all painted and decorated with the required holiday theme.

Even the kids recognized the humor as their excitement too turned to the recognition of irony.

And so it begins. This holiday season.

Now I don't want to appear ungrateful to the sender - who has still not been revealed. We appreciate so much that we were thought of and tended to from your heart. I know this gift was from the heart. And I recognize that by writing this I may appear ungrateful or that I am raising ingrates. But really I just want to know how to stop the influx of stuff into our house when we are six people who have so many loving and giving people in our lives. Because while we love the people, we really can't continue to keep all the stuff that comes our way. We love the people. I want to say that again and again so that that part of the message is clear. We. Love. The. People.

But we cannot keep the stuff.

And so I wonder what to do this time of year. What do you do this time of year? With all the stuff that comes your way? That feels an inevitable part of childhood in this country. And maybe others too I don't know.

I love the holidays for so many of its aspects. The rituals. The cooking. The giving. The connection. The singing. The gathering. The parties. The crafting. And the feeling of love and gratitude that accompanies it all.

Bring on the maximum of all of that. But I'd prefer to keep the stuff to a minimum.

To schedule, or not to schedule. That is the question

2009-11-24T12:44:00.002-06:00

It's coming up on the time soon when we have to turn in basketball registration for my 9 year old son. He played the last couple of winters and had a decent time of it. He wasn't in love with it but he liked it okay. I wasn't so crazy about the "drug free" emphasis of it all which you may remember me ranting about.

I was talking with a friend about it yesterday inquiring if they were signing up again so we could be on the same team. It's just more fun that way for me. And since I have to go I want to make it as fun as possible. She said she wasn't going to. She said too that currently they have no scheduled activities, lessons or anything and it was going so great that she wanted to continue it.

I totally understood what she was saying. We also have had no scheduled after school things this fall and it's just been feeling kind of spacious - especially since there are six of us in the household around which we might be scheduling things.

As we were talking we thought that maybe we could schedule our own basketball game. In the park. Just for fun. Then we would get our desired time together. And the kids could play ball. And we would put it on the calendar so it felt "official".

So I'm pondering. And I'll discuss it with my son and see what he wants to do. And we'll take it from there. I just love the idea of the free range sports scheduling as a way of doing extra-curricular.

Creating Connection

2009-11-20T12:09:00.007-06:00

It's been a good week around here for sure. And kind of fun too I must add.

First of all, one of my collaborative endeavors, Future Craft Collective, has garnered its first book contract. HOORAY! It's called Crafting to Connect; 24 family projects to inspire connection or something like that. Look for it in stores sometime in 2011. In the meantime, Kathie and I are excited to bring our proposal, our projects and the lessons we've learned to fruition.

On the newstands this week, right now as a matter of fact, sits the latest issue of Time Magazine. The cover story is about overparenting and there is quite a lovely mention in there of Slow Family Living, my other collaborative endeavor with Carrie Contey. I don't think the story is exactly a hit as far as Slow Family is concerned, but it still is a positive representation of what we do. The element that's missing however, in my view of the story, is the part about connection. Slow Family's tagline is slow down, connect, enjoy family life. That slow down is one part. The connect is the next and to me most crucial part. Followed by the enjoyment of course. But it's national press. And it's a start. And I know Slow Family will get their true center stage in another venue one day soon.

I feel lucky, and grateful too, to see my work about family connection being brought to big light. It's a favorite mission of mine - to find ways to build family connection - for now and for the long haul. It's what I grew up in. It's what I strive for now with my own children and partner. And, it's a work in progress every step of the way.

Money matters

2009-11-15T00:14:00.004-06:00

My own childhood understanding of money was, well, just a tad bit skewed. At 7 I got a paper route - actually took a small piece of my brother's route, which was a piece of another brother's route, which had previously belonged to another brother that he split with yet another brother. No sisters in that deal until I came along.

So I got the paper route and the 10 or so customers I started with (at age 7. Did I say that already?) And the cool metal ring with all the customer cards and the little tabs you were supposed to pull off as their receipts. And I delivered everyday after school. And I collected every week. .75 cents for an entire week's worth of daily delivery. Usually they gave me a dollar and told me to keep the change.

Only problem was beyond that I don't think anyone really told me what to do with the money and it was the beginning of my "well, if I've got cash in my pocket, it must be disposable income." Which then led me to a long life of waiting tables and other sundry cash only jobs.

Lately, my own 12 year old has been earning more than just a little pocket change - babysitting for more than .25 cents a week. For a while it was crazy cash flow, if I've got it, let's spend it. Akin to my own youthful monetary exuberance. Just recently though we sat down together and created three small banks: SPEND. SAVE. SHARE. based on the piggy banks created by Moonjar. It's a great model, and though the purchased bank is quite pretty, we made our own using 3 different jars upon which we wrote SPEND. SAVE. SHARE. The idea being that each time she gets paid she puts a certain percentage in each one. She still feels rich and at the same time she's putting some away for those inevitable rainy days or flights to France and sharing some as well with whatever organization/group/person/cause/event she feels like giving. And I can see the wheels turning as she imagines just who she'll give the money to.

I love it. And she loves it. And I hope it's the first step in understanding the money coming in and the money going out.

Because it's amazing how those old habits just stick with us.

Don't get mad, get art

2009-11-08T18:08:00.004-06:00

I got a bit annoyed with my 7 year old yesterday for her incessant mess of paper, pencils, scissors, glue, and piles of ideas and cast off drawings. I appreciate her creativity most of the time, but sometimes the reckless abandon that is her style of making said art is more than I can take.

Last night I got home late. Everyone was asleep. The table was cleared off, wiped off, clutter free. An unusual occurrence to be sure. There in the middle of the table was a hand drawn book, KIDS COLORS. Her desire to publish inspired no doubt by our friend Liz, who recently had a most amazing children's book published.

All day Esme had been shoving said book at me, READ IT. READ IT. LOOK. LOOK. I told her I wanted to look but each time she asked was in the chaos of some family necessity - dinner prep, diaper change, potty training, etc. I told her too that if she left it for me at a time when all was calm I could really take it in.

So, the middle of the table, in the middle of the night, was about the calmest there could be.

And take it in I did. Each page an explosion of ideas and colors and hummingbirds and butterflies and trees and abstract images and people and places and things of all shapes and sizes. All 20 or so pages.

As I read it I cried. Happy tears. And I promised I would try to in the future to see through the mess of her stacks of paper and glue and tape and pencils and crayons and more. I will try to see the art first. I will try to take the 2 or 3 minutes it takes to actually look. And I will try to find those calm moments too where I can actually take it all in.

A little order is nice. But a pile of amazing art is even nicer still.

I'm a liar

2009-11-02T10:58:00.002-06:00

If you lie for a good cause, is that okay? Because I can't really think of a much bigger cause right now than making sure my children get enough sleep.

We didn't change our clocks this weekend until 10 o'clock on Sunday night. At 7:15 pm old time we started the bedtime process. At 7:45 the two youngers were in bed, lights out. Which was actually 6:45 but they didn't know or care and after a night of trick or treating and a full day of eating candy, they were kind of ready anyway. By 8:15 the two olders were heading to bed too - in bed, lights out by around 8:45 or so which was really 7:45 in the new time paradigm. The oldest even asked, "did you change the clocks already?" to which we bold face lied, "yes."

This morning they were all feeling good and well rested and chipper even as they woke up to daylight instead of darkness. And we parents were feeling sly and crafty. And for the first time I didn't mind the time change at all.

Until spring that is when we lose an hour. It is a funny system really with such a seemingly arbitrary method of keeping time.

Creative expression

2009-10-30T11:21:00.008-05:00

This morning, the day before Halloween, my little first grade monkey was excitedly putting on her ears, pulling up her pants with tail affixed, and straightening out her furry belly. All these pieces we had created last night by the way when she reminded me that all the kids would be wearing their costumes to school. All this time by the way I was thinking I had all morning Saturday to get said pieces ready for Saturday afternoon. Nonetheless we did have a really good time making the pieces last night as she determined which brown fabrics would be appropriate and desirable for her said monkey costume. At bedtime she was psyched.

At face makeup time, less so. She started getting nervous and I could feel it in her twitching face as she continuously wrestled away from my face-paint clutches to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Then the exclamation followed by the tears, "I don't even LOOK like a monkey! Nobody will know what I am! EVERYONE else will have a store bought costume!!!"

We happen to go to a very creative public school, or at least a public school filled with creative parents, teachers and kids. I was 99% certain that the handmade costumes would outnumber the store boughts but there was no convincing her of that.

I went on about using our own ideas, skills, creativity, brains as opposed to buying something made with someone else's ideas, skills, creativity, brains. I pontificated about Halloween being a day for creative expression, costumes being renderings not exact copies. What she heard was "blah, blah, blah, no way in hell am I ever gonna buy a costume."

By the time she arrived at school we were already late, she was already flustered and nervous and, because she was the last one to arrive she got flocked. Cries of "what are you?" went up from the crowd. The tears, which had been resting just under her lids, now flowed and she ran out of the room and into the van. (this part I was told as it was actually my husband dropping her off, I was still at home drinking my coffee.)

As she walked back into the house she cried out, "nobody knew what I was, everyone else had a good store costume, I'm NOT GOING TO SCHOOL!!!"

I let her cry, felt the pain in my own heart and for just a minute I was 7 and running out of my first grade classroom. I hugged her and she melted into me. She sniffed the final cry and wiped away the last tears which smudged her face completely. I took her into the bathroom and wiped off her face with a warm washcloth and held her up to the mirror.

"Look at those ears. Look at that tail. Look at that furry belly. What are you?" I asked.

"A monkey. But nobody knew."

We talked about how everyone was excited, she was the last one in, she missed them doing it to everyone else. We talked more about store bought, her creative self, how much fun we had making the costume last night. I told her over and over, "Look at you. YOU made that costume!" She smiled a little monkey smile and said she wanted to go back.

In solidarity I put on some cat ears, drew myself some whiskers and drove her back to school. We arrived just as the class was lining up to walk to the senior center to share their costumes and a few songs.

The kids gathered round. All of them stating how much they LOVED her monkey costume. (apparently a little chat had ensued upon her initial departure)

I looked around and saw that at least half of the costumes were indeed handmade or mindfully assembled with random pieces. And, if you bought your costume, no offense intended, but those handmade costumes really did shine brighter than the store boughts. They were filled with love and creativity and time together and conversation and laughing, and maybe even a few screams and cries but what art doesn't come with struggle? (I also saw that store bought didn't necessarily mean instant recognition but who am I to judge?)

I will continue my quest to have my children see that handmade is the way to go for as long as I live. I want them to see, feel, know that our own creativity is more valuable than anything we could ever buy. And I want them to understand too that everything that is on the store shelves now started out as an idea in someone's brain. Every Batman, Power Ranger, every cartoon, movie, story, drawing, show. All of them came from someone's brilliant self. Somewhere, sometime, somehow.

The lesson may not be realized fully by the first grade monkey but I am of the firm belief that it will sink in drip by drip.

Halloween is coming

2009-10-26T14:22:00.008-05:00

New Jersey c. 1971 Assemblage toy soldier

Now that we've gotten a couple of birthdays out of the way this past week, we can turn our thoughts to Halloween. We can determine who will be what and just what magical pieces of clothing/costume/cast off detritus we can use from around the house to make ourselves into the character of choice. We can sew, salvage and conjure up props from this and that to make ourselves the (choose one) fairies, zombies, monkeys, old ladies or made-up super hero that we long to be for that one special day.

We are not costume buyers around here. Rather we are all about assemblage. It goes back to my own childhood of digging through the family costume barrel to assemble what we could to make ourselves identifiable as some such thing or another. We had lots of good basic pieces from all the years my mom participated in minstrels and musicals at church. And other pieces too from dad's proclivity for theatrics such as his top hats and wool cape and suspendered knickers from a by-gone era.

For a few years in high school I would find favorite year round wardrobe pieces in that same barrel - such as the plaid green knickers from the 40s and the wool tuxedo pants from a similar time and my brother's gray striped West Point casual pants that I wore every chance I got. Costumes yes but for daily use.

We have assembled a bit of a dress up barrel here too partly due to a fondness for playing dress up and partly because some sentimental pieces are just too dear to let go of. Silk scarves and hoop skirts and top hats and, a favorite of mine, my brother's formal tails from West Point. Boy, did those military folks know how to make a good wardrobe piece! (And I might add I just saw the same jacket in a Gap ad stating something about declaring your individuality and I want to tell you here and now, I declared that same thing with that same jacket now for 20 plus years!)

And while I am not a costume buyer, neither am I a slave to the creation of any costume. I do still strongly believe in the assemblage approach to costuming - leaving a lot to the imagination and adding a few specialty pieces whipped up on the sewing machine: bunny ears, a special cape or the like. Improvisational sewing I like to call it.

Since Halloween is on a Saturday this year, I'm sure we will spend a better part of Saturday in the creation of our outfits. We'll be sure to have a high protein diet to build up our systems for the onslaught of candy. And then we'll hit the streets. I do love trick or treating and have many happy memories of running with a giant pack of kids, spending hours knocking on neighbors' doors begging for candy to fill our loaded down pillow cases. I love the ritual and the process. I just don't love the effects of all that candy in the house for weeks on end.

Every year past I've let the kids just have at their candy for a few days straight, living in the hell created by cheap chocolate, multitudinous dyes and high fructose corn syrup. This year though I have a new plan I'm going to try to implement. We're going to make up little packages to send here and there to relatives who no longer have access to the Halloween treats - Grandma, aunts and uncles, grown up cousins,etc. My plan is to decorate the boxes this week. Make it part of the holiday prep. Then we'll have them addressed and ready to mail. We'll fill them up with a few select pieces each and then send them on their way getting them out of the house lickety split and spreading the sweet goodness far and wide.

I'll let you know how it goes. One can never be sure how such new rituals will be received. And if are one of those relatives who live far away, keep your eyes on your mailbox for some sweet treats of your own.

Camp Goodness

2009-10-20T13:42:00.007-05:00

Four days camping in a private site in a public park on one slow moving river with 15 adults and 16 children and 3 super mellow dogs and a canoe and a dozen or more shooting stars and a kayak and a cold spring at the end of the trail and absolutely zero cell phone signal equals, for me, pure and total bliss and presence and relaxation and joy and fun and comfort and satisfaction and pure, pure goodness.

This was our third annual such trip and each time it just gets better and better as we fine tune our needs and our wants and our location and streamline our cooking and our clean-up and maximize our fun and minimize our trash.

In the entire 4 days I was responsible for one meal created with a friend and it was up to us how it got done and what was in it. And all weekend long we ate like kings and queens around the campfire and the beautiful tables covered with beautiful cloths and surrounded by beautiful friends - adults and children alike.

If you're seeking a way to feel connected to yourself and your family and your friends, and you're in pursuit of knowing true presence, and you're in need of a little fun and relaxation, might I recommend you give a group campout with friends a shot?

Birthday ritual

2009-10-15T21:50:00.003-05:00

The season has officially begun here in our house as today my 3rd child, my 2nd daughter, turned 7. The age of reason so they say.

I've written about this before but it's been a while and I want to recount it because it's become such a great tradition in our house.

We have a fairly recent birthday ritual here that we call a countdown calendar or an anticipation calendar. It has 2 pockets - one labeled past, one labeled future. It has seven stars appliqued on each with a number 1 through 7. Each star has a pin on it to which we pin two little pieces of cardboard or paper. Starting one week before the birthday we have the kids recount something they learned in the year past and something they wish for or wish to learn or hope will happen in the coming year. We write them on the little strips of paper and put them in the appropriate pocket - past or future. Then on the birthday, before dinner, we read them aloud and record them in each child's journal. We only just started it last year but it's already become a great tradition. Even the adults participate when it's time for their birthday.

It's an amazing way to reflect and look ahead. Where have we been? Where are we going?

I'm the queen of this kasoll

2009-10-11T23:09:00.002-05:00

My four days away from 7 year old daughter is cracking the code of written language this year and has been writing and reading in her every waking hour and in her dreams too I'm sure. She's been a bit ornery of late too and it is only now as I write this that I make the connection. (I'm now smacking myself in the head in a "duh" kind of motion.)

Yesterday afternoon, cleaning up the stacks of drawings and notes from the kitchen table, I found this note along with a picture of a castle...

If I had a Kasoll I wud rull it and I cud tll pepoll to go uwa.

Atop the castle was a queen type figure saying "HaHa"

Oh my how this leap to seven is such a hard one. Especially when you're the third of four. And learning to read. And in school all day putting out some serious effort. And an extrovert with a need to shut down on occasion.

Next time she's screaming at me, I'll try to remember to love her up. Really I will.

Madsen Cycle

2009-10-07T23:09:00.003-05:00

See that cycle up there? That sweet little cargo bike that holds a few kids or a 180 lb. husband? I WON IT!!!! They called tonight and they're shipping it in a few weeks and it'll arrive right here in Austin, TX on our street where we have a brand new bike lane just waiting for a bike like that. I can't wait to get myself on that baby and cruise all around town. Totin' the kids, the groceries, some friends and maybe a beer or two. YEE-DOGGY!!! I WON!!! It is totally, totally my total slow family style!!! And soon it will be mine.

Thanks to all who clicked on the logo in support of my desire. I'm sure it helped my name rise to the top of the raffle pile.

When Mom gets mad. Really, really mad.

2009-10-05T14:33:00.007-05:00

I watched a dvd the other day on dealing with anger. I'm a little explosive with that sometimes and thought perhaps I should/could enhance my toolbox a tad.

It was pretty good and offered a few ideas for things to do in the heat of the moment: pound a pillow, scream in a pillow, dragon breath, etc. All good ideas and all things I already try to do instead of taking it out on the small and not so small children that are under foot. When I'm not too mad of course.

One of the other ideas presented was to "ask permission" of the person you're angry with before laying it on. I watched it a few times to make sure I hadn't missed something. I hadn't. That's really all it was. Ask permission before explaining why you're mad. Oh really now?

I admit I haven't tried it yet. I have however imagined that scenario in my head and while it does lessen my anger quite a bit by making me crack up in disbelief that I could use that as a tool when children are fighting, whining, harassing, ignoring, or whatever they happen to be doing that's making me mad, I'm not sure I could imagine actually doing that. And then if they deny the request (which they're allowed to do according to the tape), I'm to take my mad elsewhere. To someone else whom I can talk to about it.

"I'm FUMING mad and I'd like to talk to you about it. May I?"

"Um. No."

I guess I shouldn't knock it til I've actually tried it, but it did make me wonder if my mad might be a wee bit bigger or reactive than the mad of the person who made that dvd.

What I did learn though from imagining this scenario was that the truth of the matter is that if my cup is filled up I don't really get mad so easily. In fact, I can have a pretty calm demeanor if I've tended to my own needs, if I'm well rested and proteined up, if I've had a break in some form or another.

So rather than focus on the tools right now, perhaps I ought to focus on a little cup filling instead.

Just gotta make sure I'm not toting around a Big Gulp.

And to anyone reading this, I'd like to know what tools you use when you're fuming mad. What tricks have you got for keeping you from going to the dark darkness?

What's old is new

2009-09-30T23:40:00.003-05:00

The tooth fairy comes to our house tonight. As she has nearly 20 times or so in the last 5 years or more. She is familiar and special at the same time coming in for these momentous moments of losing old parts to make room for new ones.

But tonight she comes for the first time with the knowledge of the recipient that the tooth fairy and I are intertwined. She is me and I am she. And while she holds the magic, I hold the tooth. And while I write the note, she sends the sentiments.

Not long ago, my nearly 12 year old asked me the dreaded but simultaneously expected question a few weeks back, "Is the Tooth Fairy real?" And I paused. And we talked about channeling energy and being the messenger of magic and letting magic live where it can.

And she asked me, "Those things left by the Tooth Fairy, did you leave them?"

And I know it's time to lose the old parts and make room for new ones.

Then tonight, as she was going to bed she asked with a sort of wink, wink, "Should I put my tooth under my pillow?"

"Of course," I said winking back.

And she smiled. And so did I. And we hugged, for old parts leaving and new ones coming in.

Time is marching on...

2009-09-24T14:13:00.003-05:00

...and time, is still marching on.

My almost 12 year old daughter got her first house key today. She's been way more autonomous of late - biking here and there on her own, going off to babysitting gigs, homeschool activities, and friends houses. Without us.

Last week she was heading out and I was heading one direction and her papa was heading another. Nobody would be here when she finished. It's certainly not the first time she's been out on her own, or even home alone. It did mark the first time though that she'd be coming home to an empty house.

I didn't feel nervous at all. Neither did she. Not by any stretch. More, I felt just a little bit sad about the time that had passed enough to give us a kid that could ride around town on her own and return home happily to an empty house.

I thought she might mind. But then I remembered being almost 12 and remembered the excitement of the idea of being home alone. (Heck, now at 44 I still feel excitement at the prospect of being left home alone but four kids later it's for a different reason.)

So, that's it. Another milestone marked. This time with a shiny new gold key on a little alligator key chain. As I looked at my own key ring loaded down with various keys for various locks and vehicles and such, I felt excited for this journey of hers. A journey into the world that begins with a single key.