the best

Among the crunchy leaves, our mud-proof boots strapped on, and smiles plastered to our faces, we can't resist the late autumn sun! We won't throw away our gift of joy, but hold it, cradled in our chapped hands, relishing it's softness, it's warmth, it's crisp crunch, and it's pumpkin ridges.

All of these moments, pure and dear, we won't let slip away, not without a kiss. An aknowledgement, a thankful, hearty smack. What could matter in the face of this brightness? I couldn't say. We didn't find any acorns, but brick paths and lampposts, ginko leaves, and hand in hand under the sycamores, we don't mind at all.

for the first time in my life...

...I did not procrastinate. I got an early start on the twin's costumes. I was very excited to make them, this being the first year that they have been aware of Halloween, and there being a parade at preschool, they actually had occasion to dress up.

But I am by nature a procrastinator. I almost cannot get started on something until there is major pressure on me to get it done. But this time, I didn't. I got started a month ahead of time, and slowly got going, sewing and cutting a bit almost every evening after the kids went to bed. I took a break for about a week, to get their winter hats made, and that was apparently a mistake, because I was still up till 4:30 in the morning on Sunday night, finishing these dang costumes!

The results were not absolutely perfect, but the girls were very happy, and their teacher said that they were very proud to put them on. A bluebird and Tinkerbell were very obliging and allowed me to get a couple of shots of them... before flying off to warmer regions. I think that I saved no money whatsoever, and maybe took a little too much pride in doing it myself, but I must say, none of the Tinkerbell costumes for sale look anything like the dress that Tink makes for herself out of leaves and grass, the same problem as when I was a kid, so I feel justified.

shadow or light?

There are days when I don't know which end is up. When my stomach jumps with unexplained butterflies, and not the good kind. A small surge of fear that grabs me from out of nowhere, over and over again throughout the day. Tears that well up, that I want so badly to control, but can't. When I keep praying for help, for peace, and yet small pressures keep mounting and I can't see clearly.

Some days are just like that for me. Not many, though, thankfully. Those days pass, and I realize that reality doesn't need to overwhelm me.

I find myself thinking that I just have a problem; that other people float through their days on a cloud of contentment, mostly untouched by the stresses that I wrestle with. I know that this is not true, can't be true, and yet I sit here believing it on some level. I also wonder if I have a bit of bi-polar disorder, or am I just overly sensitive? Who cares, really. Because peace is available for the asking, and joy is not elusive. It is given in so many small gifts every day, if I only have the sense not to chuck it out the window.

Today is one of those normal days, where I can see both the shadow and the light, and simply have to choose my focus. Why I don't always make the right choice is beyond me, but I'm working on that.

If there's a crisis, I'm probably not your girl

So, yes, there was an earthquake today. I feel sort of irritated that this will probably be the 7 millionth blog post about this East Coast quake, 5.8 on the richter scale, but who cares? Some things just need to be recorded.

I was at work, sitting down to my lunch break, when we heard a whooshing noise, and looked at each other, confused. The floor and walls were shaking (really? is that what happens during an earthquake? enlightening, isn't it?), and the length moulding started sliding around where it was leaning up against the wall. The water cooler was our proof that it wasn't over yet. I thought to myself, "I should do something!" and continued to sit blankly. "I'm not with my kids!" was the only other coherent thought that passed through my mind. After a couple of minutes, we started trying to reach our loved ones, see if they felt it, shake off some of the weirdness. I think that the undercurrent of our strange inability to focus on our jobs was the idea that if it could happen once, it could happen again, and worse.

So yeah, I am not the quickest reactor, or the best at thinking on my feet. If I have a few minutes to process, I can rise to the occasion admirably, but if action needs to be taken within a 2o second window, well, I just might get knocked on the head.

And of course, Rowan and Genevieve were delighted. Experiencing an 'earthqueg' was on their list, too.

4-year-old bucket list

We went camping with all 3 kids last weekend. OK, wait, 2 weekends ago now (sometimes it takes me a while to get back to a post hastily written and edit). It was a mixed bag, to be sure, but there were moments of absolute delight. We will do this again. Camping is a funny thing. Part of me feels like an elf, as if I ought to be wearing a woodland crown of leaves and berries. Part of me feels like I ought to have packed up my nonexistent athletic gear and my imaginary mountain bike... neither one of these is quite right, although the first one is closer...

Rowan caught a large-mouth bass, though. Amazing! At least to me...

So there's one experience the girls can check off their list. Actually two; camping was on there, too. They have quite a long list of things that they have never done. It doesn't matter to them at all that a lot of these things are not experiences that Dan or I have had either. I am loving that they have such a grand list. Here are a few:

-ride on an airplane

-ride on a motorboat

-go parachuting

-ride a camel

-go on a submarine

-ride on a space shuttle

-go on a whale sighting expedition

cheeseball post

They're round, orange, salty, crunchy, and they stain the tips of my fingers. What's not to love?

I do love cheeseballs. But this post ain't actually gonna be about cheeseballs.

When I was in high school I was in a play called "Our Town". It was my first and only foray into drama, without props, songs, or even costumes. Lately I keep thinking about one of Thornton Wilder's lines, and I only remember it because it belonged to my character.

Well, I died rather young, married, and maybe even with kids (can't quite remember). And I am reflecting on my life, revisiting the place that I lived and loved, a small quiet town. I am looking around and naming the places and things, for the sake of the audience, because, remember - no props. A tree that I especially loved, favorite spots, that sort of thing. I remember the director getting frustrated with me, as far back as auditions, because I couldn't get the gist of listing these items with any real feeling; he told me I sounded like I was reading off a grocery list.

He was so right, I just couldn't wrap my brain around it. "Do any people realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?" That was the question I asked, or something like that. And the answer was "Saints and poets maybe, they do some." I don't think you have to be a saint or a poet, to realize life though. Maybe you feel it more, the highs and lows, the beauty and the pain. But you can live your life. You can live it fully, and remember to examine the moments with appreciation. Take a mental snapshot. Feel the exquisite perfection of a funny little laugh from a child you love, or watch the clouds turn pink or gray or golden-edged. My goodness, does time ever speed by. It seems to slow down a bit, though, when you grab a few moments and squeeze them dry, drain all the sweetness and cast away the sting.

Thanks Dave Saadeh, for trying to teach me something. For teaching me something, even if it took me 17 years to learn it.

keeping on

I am actually not sure what to write, but am trying to keep up with my writing. As a discipline, as a filter through which to reexamine myself, as a way to organize my thoughts, and as a little bit of a record for my kids to read later, If they are ever interested. Which they will be, 'cause who doesn't like to read about themselves, how cute and charming and bright and funny they are? no brainer.

Lately, I am reveling in the way that they rename things, with certainty, just remembering differently, and replacing definitions in their minds. Seriously, it is just so delightful. Examples:

cranberry lifter (cherry picker)

beach eagles (sea gulls)

up side up (right side up)

basil (random weed)

I am making things for etsy, enjoying it, knitting, and not enjoying that as much. Because darn! I just made Jude a hat, and it was tricky and cute, and cable knit and it is also sized for a 6-12 month old. Oops. I had better check my gauge more carefully before embarking on projects like this. So now, do I give it to someone or list it on spec, hoping that someone will be looking for just such a hat for there soon-to-be-one-ish child? Hats seem to sell more by custom order for me, although I did sell one already made adult hat... or I could just rip it out. But I am coming to the end of my yarn, and so I think I wouldn't actually have enough for a Jude-sized hat. Sigh. Ok. listing it:

Reconnect

I have had no internet for quite a while now... actually I am not even sure how long, but it must have been a day or two after the last post. I have enjoyed the time I've saved, but have not enjoyed the disconnect. I did not miss facebook. In spite of all the "friends" I have, it never fails to make me feel lousy. But facebook is a psuedo-reality, and I think I will just avoid being there, unless I have a purpose. Anyway, it's good to have email again, and online banking. Yay for convenience and communication!

To follow up the last post, God is so good to us. The Monday after I posted, I felt like I needed to be praying in a more specific way. So, I started out with praying for us to find an affordable vehicle THAT week. Tuesday, we got a phone call that there was a free minivan available. Pretty affordable, huh? And Dan had been praying for a minivan or an SUV. The more specific the prayer, the more obvious the answer.

Amazingly, I sold three items from my Etsy store last week... amazing because I have been completely neglecting Etsy, especially without internet. It made me want to get back to craftiness, so I have been knitting hats in the heat. Wierd, I know, but I have been enjoying it. So look for new listings!

It's good to be back.

On Love (I can't stop!)

Rowan, Genevieve, Moses, Jude, mesmerized by Pluto (Mickey Mouse's dog, remember?) shorts, breaking into spontaneous applause (!). Sweet small warm relaxed bodies.

I am in the kitchen, coffee cup drained, thinking about what it means to love. Reading Francisco Goldman's Say Her Name. He said (in an interview) that he chose the fiction genre to tell the story of Aura's (his wife's) death to uncover the truth, or discover it. He attributed to her "all the good lines", because wasn't that love? Yes, isn't it? To give of yourself, unselfishly, without restraint.

I spent a morning with tears hiding behind my eyes just threatening to spill. Not upset for myself really, but because Dan, who should've been on the job by 6AM, didn't leave home until after 8. I heard his alarm (apparently he set 6 different ones) through my sleep fog in the living room, but didn't know what time it was or what time he needed to be up. I shrink from the thought that he might be badly thought of, when it's not laziness, but exhaustion that deafens his ears to the systematic alarm tone. Perhaps alarm clock manufacturers should instill a more needy urgency to their wake-up tones. Or maybe we should invest in an old-fashioned clock with reverberating metal bells. My relief is great to find that his client was gracious to him.

Shem (my brother-in-law) is outside, doing double and triple eliminations to determine what is going on with cylinder #5. That's love, too, he would do this for anyone. It's his pastor's heart. And also a love of problem solving, I think. But he is always ready to give of his time. Unfortunately the old Olds is dead. But I know that we will find another car, God always provides. And that is simply more love than I know what to do with.

miscellaneous Loves

There are so many things to love, and so many people to love. Sometimes I miss out on the things and people because I allow myself to be limited by the fact that I have 3 small children who require a lot of attention. Now I realize that it is realistic to accept some limits, as I am not a super hero with super speed or strength or the ability to stretch like a kneaded eraser. And these kids do actually need me to invest the majority of my time with them. However, I need to open myself up and take the opportunities presented to me, and maybe seek them out more than I do.

This week I have enjoyed a few things and people.

First. Andrew.

Our next door neighbor is 5, almost 6 and seriously adorable. He likes to drop in on us at random times, riding his bike (with training wheels that he doesn't actually need, but he likes to relax) up the drive to see us. He tells his parents that he's just gonna take his bike out, but they know where to look for him... he has a shock of red hair that he sweats through every few minutes, then it dries, then it sweats through again 1o minutes later. His translucent skin makes my Irish babes look positively tanned. He's like a tornado with a soft spoken lisp, and he has a ready-made fan club here in my two little girls who adore him. He is sweet and just completely cracks me up.

Second. Christie.

Christie is from China, and has a beautiful chinese name, but has adopted the name Christie as a reasonable American facsimile... do other cultures encourage this easy-to-pronounce-name-changing business, or is it just us? Anyway, she is 18 and an intern at the frame shop. No, we've never had an intern before, but she asked, and we couldn't be happier to have her. She is so delightful. She asks intelligent questions, is very open and learns really quickly. I'm not generally super talkative with new people, but I just found it so fun to talk to her about her life and family and experiences over the last 2 years in the US. I hope I get to see her next week, it was refreshing to have some new blood in the shop.

Third. Eyes.

There are some (2 pair) blue green eyes edged with a bit of grey and surrounded with thick black lashes. When they look up at me in a certain way, I am pretty much melted. So melted in fact, that liquid proof of it can slide down my cheeks for no apparent reason. The eyes on these girls are like miracles to me, and they are so expressive. There is another pair of eyes, longer of lash, darker of hue. At first glance they look brown, but if you look closely, there is only a small bit of brown around the pupil, and the rest is a mysterious mix of grey, green, and umber that I guess would be a dark hazel. These eyes are stormy and changeable, and staring at them generally results in the cheeks of a certain boy being munched on to break the spell of those eyes.

Fourth. Headband.

I made a tiny simple headband that I am in love with. I twisted a bit of sterling wire into a basic bow shape and wrapped the center of the bow with the wire ends to a thin stainless steel band. It is so very sweet, I don't want to ever take it off. If my computer were not so overloaded with photos and music, I could maybe show it to you, but alas, I can't bring myself to delete anything until they are all backed up twice. So far they are all on my extra hard drive, but I need to back up the backup. Maybe I'm paranoid, but oh well! my disc is full.

Fifth. Dan.

My husband is in the midst of a stressful situation. When is he not, really? But lately the stresses have been coming by the wagonload, and he is amazing me. He has all this peace and grace and resourcefulness that just lifts me to a better place. I don't know how he handles all that he handles.

the color green, a huge mistake, and Wilson Phillips

This morning it rains and rains. It's gloomy in here, but outside the colors take on a lush saturation. The green grass is of the most velvety emerald. This makes me smile, partially because it reminds me of the conversation I had with Genevieve on the drive to work yesterday.

"Mommy, are there lots of colors of green?"

"Yes", I say emphatically, "so many colors of green!"

She continues, "grayish green, blackish green, yellowish green, dark green, bright green..."

And my heart if filled to pretty much bursting; the painter in me is reveling. As much as the know-it-all picture framer in me is cringing right now, as I remember what happened at the start of my workday.

I stand staring blankly. The frame doesn't fit the canvas. At all. I know immediately what I did wrong, a rookie mistake. My first impulse is to walk away. Tell no one. Let them deal with this later. I have no illusions that I will escape the blame, I just don't want to face it right now. My cheeks are hot. But I fight down the avoidance urge and force out the words.

"Tim, it doesn't fit."

He just looks at me, crestfallen. This was a big frame, over 3 feet by 4 feet. Yeah, I know. I am here to help. To save you time, not create more work for you or waste your money. I know, I know. I'm sorry, I'm an idiot. Shall I call the moulding company and order more? At least I can try to take steps to get us back on track. I am so embarrassed. So frustrated that my picture-frame-problem-solving-skills cannot fix this, but I simply can't magic up more length out of nowhere. Sigh.

I continued in my funk until Wilson Phillips came on the DMX and I just couldn't help myself singing along... I know that there is pain, but you hold on for one more day and you break free, break from the pain... hahaha, the very idea of Wilson Phillips cheering me up with their hair blowing in the wind and their dresses billowing sunnily on a hillside just cracked me up.

Of course I made another similar frame later in the day, and made it perfectly, and in the course of measuring for that one, I realized that the measurement on the invoice for the evil mistake frame was incorrect, and wouldn't have been right even if I had cut and joined it perfectly. So I changed the invoice and at least saved the wasting of the moulding for a second time. Still, I can't believe that I did that. I guess I had better forgive myself and move on. It's all vanity anyway.

Idyll

These last few days have been really lovely. Easter weekend was a blur of egg hunts and family functions, and cute outfits, which were fun, but it's good to be home and drinking in the weather with my small charges.

Each of them has taken a turn falling on concrete, and my girls have been dramatically hobbling around with a walking stick, trying not to bend their knees. We have lain in the feather-soft clover, reading books and watching clouds. We have ignored the inside of the house and gotten a bit sunburnt. We have made large quantities of mud soup, which the girls have labeled "bunny oatmeal".

I am a happy girl right now. My three stinkers are sleeping, and in their sleep these kids are a delight. I mean, what's cuter than a snoring 4 year old? or one that asks, almost asleep, "Mommy, will you wrap me as a cheese stick and tuck me in?" How about a 2 year old boy who wants to sleep with his "baby truck"? But truly, they are a delight when awake as well. Genevieve told both Dan and I that we looked "fabulous" on Easter morning. Jude demands regularly, "hug me! kiss me too!" and how am I to refuse? I mean, really, have you seen him?

Yes, I suppose that I am on an upswing. And yes, it does seem that I swing. A lot. A whole lot. But whatever slight leanings I may have toward the bi-polar, I feel that the adjustments I am making to even out are not as extreme as they used to be. Probably it has a lot to do with the fact that after 4 years, I am getting better at parenting. I am taking so seriously the fact that these characters are in my hands, mine and Dan's and God's. And I am not forgetting about the grace that is has been so sweetly extended to me.

flow

I would just like to say that I have recently entered back into a wee bit of depression, and that there has been no creating of any kind, nor desire to create, in a bit.

Joyfully, however, that is no longer the case. I made up my mind to be obedient in a small matter, not obedient to my husband or my boss, or my Mommy, but obedient to the prompting that I have felt for some time now to write. To finish my story, "the pink cloud".

Just in making that descision, I have felt a flow of creativity returning to my hands, and ideas to my mind. The story is done, at least a draft of it, and I made a new headband... I think I will sit down now and make another one. Maybe two.

Ha-hah! (like Despereaux stabbing a hunk of cheese)

Unfortunately, my media drive on the macbook seems to be jammed up somehow, so I can't make use of my photos.... oh well, I haven't taken any yet, so I guess we shall see when I get to list on etsy. No matter. off to make stuff. over and out.

If it sounds like I'm giving myself a pep-talk, well, maybe I am.

I think it's important to be able to express oneself. Very important. I also feel that learning how to do things the right way is important. Take painting, for example. Going to school and learning how to paint in the traditional way, and also learning the history of painting gives me so much more context and understanding when it come to art that is more expressive and less traditional. All of that color and texture and shape and crazy means so much more in the light of what came before.

I often hear people say "my kid could do that" about a primitive looking, or completely abstract painting. Maybe, maybe not. The point is, though, that we examine what it is that really makes a piece art. Is is the likeness to the subject matter? what if there is no actual subject matter? Is it the use of color, shape, and proportion, the composition? Is it the outpouring of the soul? Or the intellectual decisions made in the process?

There is of course more than one answer to the question. But what I am getting at is that once you learn the proper, or traditional way to do something, I think that it makes the radical or non-traditional way more fun, more interesting, and maybe even better.

I know a lot less about music, but I would also say that learning from a teacher how to do things the traditional way might make your personal musical efforts, however untraditional, better. Of course in any artistic situation there is the argument for the genius of the untrained, or primitive. I get that too. I don't know, I'm just thinking here. I believe that training actually facilitates self-expression.

My main thought, though, is about discipline. I want my kids to be self expressive, I want them to find out who they are. I want them to feel encouraged and not squashed, by me and Dan. But I also want them to be obedient, to respect authority, to understand the importance of listening to those who have more wisdom than they. I want to find a balance here. I am trying to teach them that their thoughts, their opinions, their desires are important to me, that I want to hear them.. I also want them to obey. I don't think it's healthy for a 2 or 4 year old kid to control the household, or make all their own decisions.

So where do you draw the line? I am trying to get these amazing little people to understand that some rules are non-negotiable. That when they are told to do something, they need to obey first, and then, if they have questions about why, or ideas about doing it a different way, we can talk about it. AFTER they obey. I want them to know that I love them, and many of our rules exist to protect them, and others to teach them about how to go about the business of life. There are so many differing opinions about how to raise children. Sometimes, when I am overwhelmed, I will go and read parenting books, and sheesh! So. Many. Opinions. I am trying to weigh out the fact that I want control (in my own human, frail state) over my kids, with the need that they actually have for boundaries. I want to do it right. And wanting to do it right is not enough. I have to pay attention to what I do, all the time, because there are small but very sharp eyes observing me, learning from me, imitating me.

Parenting is nuts. Sometimes I feel like the 'faint of heart', the one who should never have signed up for the challenge. But in truth, I love this. I love when the kids demonstrate that it's working... not so much when they display a need for correction, but hey, they can't be perfect all the time. or even most of the time. Anyway, who would want little no-stress robots? Not I. Right? I will take difficult but interesting, over easy but boring any day. Any day.

flying my own little freak flag

The kids have me on a bit of a roller coaster lately. To be honest, I have myself on a bit of a roller coaster.

Kids:

Jude is hilarious, for instance, yesterday he took of his pj's put on the girl's butterfly wings, and stated,

I Daddy Di-doo-bew (Tinkerbell).

He also has been telling me that he's a man, and playing practical jokes on me. He's a total blast, but he is also defying me, and being very testy. Trying to find the best way to address this is so challenging!

The girls each have their own brand of both wonderful and horrible. Rowan is the sweetest little affectionate girl, but is a bit scatter-brained, and sometimes I fear that she is pretending to not hear me, and is wantonly ignoring me. Very frustrating. Genevieve is so dear and quirky in her particular tastes, but is trying to run the show and control everything. I am trying to be patient with these two, but they want to test me at every turn. Good thing they are so sweet and funny to balance things out!

Me:

I am seeing lately that some of my little peculiarities are maybe more than quirks. Maybe I have a bit of social anxiety. Sometimes being in a crowd of people can make me so uncomfortable I think I might crawl out of my skin. Not all the time, but in particular groups. Specifically a lot of other young married couples, with or without kids. Not in small groups, just large ones. Weird. And on several occasions through the years, I have had people tell me that they thought I did not like them. I actually attribute that to the fact that I can be very uncomfortable in groups of people that number, oh, maybe 8 or more... nutball, I know! But I often have a very strong feeling that people don't like me, which is funny, since I apparently am giving off that vibe, too.

Oh, people, I am sorry if I ever gave you that impression! And I am sorry that I am so unbelievably sensitive and read into the slightest little thing... Sigh. I feel so isolated so easily, and then swing the other way on a high, if I get to see a couple of friends over the course of a week. I am truly uncertain of what my next steps should be in attempting to normalize. I really can't just bury myself in housework, although my more than usually clean house has me feeling quite proud of myself!

So anyway, I'm gonna pray, and I'm gonna try to extend the grace to my children that Christ so graciously extends to me on a daily basis. I'm gonna keep making things, because my silly phobias even extend to etsy, and I get nervous to put my little crafty bits up for scrutiny. And I'm gonna keep writing here, because it helps, even if I feel a little vulnerable and silly.

Since I'm not in therapy

I'll tell you what - the idea of weekly therapy has always sounded like bliss to me. Now those of you who get to, or have to, go to therapy might correct me, and I will humbly accept the correction, because I have never gone to weekly therapy or counseling, or whatever one should call it.

A 50 minute hour, all about me, where I can spout off whatever crap is on my mind, where I can just vent my frustrations, insecurities, failures, triumphs, etc., to a neutral party. Where I don't need to worry about who hears me, whom I might hurt, whether or not I am making a mountain out of a molehill. Where maybe some intelligent, objective observer might call me out on my silly foibles, and unreasonable reactions.

Well, I am not in therapy, so you get to hear my whining voice. It's not always whiny I hope, because, boy, who would ever want to read this?

I have issues, man. Not anything earth shattering, but gosh, I would like to feel like an adult. Much of the time I feel like an insecure teenager who really doesn't know how to make sense of things. Now, when I really think about it, I am being overly dramatic. If I were to compare my present self to my high school self, there would be a very large difference. But for heaven's sake, why am I so uncomfortable with myself still? Why do I still feel like I am waiting to know who I am? It's really silly and irritating. I stop to think about why I feel this way, and I am unsure, as usual. I just second guess myself much of the time. Now maybe this has to do more with the fact that my decisions directly affect the small people around me, in a way that is still new to me, and very weighty. Possibly.

One thing I need to do more often is stop and take a look at the things I know are true. And accept what I am and what I am not. I am a painter. I am not a singer. I am a mother, a good one. I am not a career woman. I am a picture framer, a fairly knowledgeable one. I am not as good at it as I used to be, because I only do it one day a week now. That's ok. The things I make, I try to make well. I am not a multi-tasker. I am not the best conversationalist. I am a good listener. I don't make friends easily. That makes me sad, but when I do make a connection, it is a strong one, and lasts. I have not been weighed and found wanting, because my Creator knew what he was doing when he made me. I may not be at my full potential, but I'm going to keep trying.

See, I'm workin' it out. Therapy might be awesome, but for now I've got you.

Tater

Oh, things that happen around here just crack me up. Sometimes I don't write them down fast enough, and I forget about it, which makes me sad. Sometimes I have the presence of mind to jot it down or take a picture, which is great.

Baby potato head. awesome. The girls found a small potato head toy at my parents house, and they brought it home to be the baby to their large sized potato heads. The large features fit on the baby head, it's pretty great. I found it staring at me the other morning.

To be perfectly exhausted, I am... I mean, to be perfectly honest, I am exhausted. Man, for real. Things are going pretty well, but I need some time with adults and some non-child-related conversation.

Valla-Tine's

To tell you the truth, I have never had big expectations for Valentine's Day. With or without a boyfriend or husband, I am quite surprised when someone marks the occasion in any way. My dear husband is not one for jumping on bandwagons. In fact, he kind of dislikes things on principle if there is any kind of mob mentality or trendy aspect to them. So today, we kissed each other and said "Happy Valentines Day", and that was pretty much it. The kids and I had a crafty little time, making Valentines for their cousins. They lost interest faster than usual, and went to sleep. They woke up this morning with some kind of stomach bug. Oh well.

I really don't mind, or feel bad, except that I wish the poor buggers weren't sick. Maybe it just comes with a certain amount of time and perspective. I like a good excuse to cut out heart shaped snowflakes and decorate with pink and red. But really, I just want to remember that like my kids, I can make a "Valla-Tine" any day of the year, that we should do little things for one another that say "I love you" as often as possible, and not wait until a holiday dictates that we're supposed to. Anything heart shaped is a valentine as far as they are concerned. Anything that says that you care fits the bill in my book. Today, we got 'em both. Sweet.

a drawing by janet

My paternal grandmother passed away the spring before Dan and I got married. I was very thankful that he had gotten to meet her. She was quite a character, and full of sayings that still crack me up. If she happened to be airing her opinions to a not-so-attentive crowd, she would loudly declare, "Talk to the wall, Janet!". The first time I heard her do that I couldn't stop laughing. That wasn't the reaction that she was looking for, I assume, but at least she had my attention...

I don't know all that much about her life; I wish that I knew more. As a child and a teenager, I was not so great at asking questions, as much as I enjoyed any story she would tell. Actually, I am not so great at that now, either. She had a difficult life in some ways, though. My grandfather left her with 3 kids, when my Dad was very young. She had gone to school for fashion design, but to my knowledge, never worked in that field. I can understand what frustration she might have felt having three young children, and trying to make ends meet, working secretarial jobs, and wanting to create things. Fortunately, we have drawings that she did while in school, and recently got some more. It was so fun to leaf through all these yellowed and delicate sketches from the 1940's. For my birthday last month, my parents gave me one of these drawings and gave me cart blanche to frame it however I would like. It makes me very happy, and now hangs in our living room.
Forgive the reflections, but isn't she lovely? I really should have taken a good shot before I put the glass on it, but I was too excited to remember to take my camera to work! Here is a closer shot. She reminds me of photos of my Grandma, all tall and thin and elegant. Maybe I can get my Dad to scan a photo and email it to me... Hint hint, Dad! Should have thought of that before, also.

Owl vs. Penguin

I drew a baby penguin for Jude, since lately he's really into Happy Feet. He told me that it was not a penguin, but an owl. Just to prove to myself that it was not an owl, I drew an owl also. they are kinda similar.

family trees

While Rowan and Jude were sick last week, there was a lot of napping and couch potato-ing happening with those two, which left me and Genevieve to our own devices. Of course, I got it over the weekend, she got it this week, and pretty much all we have done this week has been to lay around and watch movies. Thank goodness we are coming out on the other side of it now!

The point being that Genevieve and I had a really fun time drawing and learning new things together. She is a funny little girl, and wants to know why I do everything, especially when it comes to my drawing decisions. I try to tell her that there doesn't have to be a reason when it comes to art, otherwise, it's not all that fun. My art school professors would probably disagree with me, but I always did my best work spontaneously, in fact, my professors would agree that my work lost some of it's life when I thought too much. I agree with the surrealists that art can very much be improved when one lets the subconscious have some wiggle room.

So anyhow, she wanted to know why, very urgently, when I filled a perfectly good heart with a wiggly blue checkerboard and then filled the squares with green and orange.

No reason, honey, just because!

She has always had a bit of a tough time when it comes to correction from me, how to hold her pencil, how the letters should go from left to right, etc. But she was so pliant and sweet, and when she got frustrated, she kept going. She tried to learn how to draw a heart, which was very cute. She learned how to make a spiral, and practiced grids. She spontaneously started writing out her alphabet, and we had a little tree drawing tutorial, which was actually just her watching me draw a tree, and resulted in these:

Genevieve as a tree

The whole family.

misery and mercy

I keep thinking that I'm at the end of my rope. Then, it turns out, there's more rope than I had thought.

This rope is made out of lots of things. A husband who becomes the nurturer and caretaker for his pitiful family... Soup and bread from my mom, dropped off while at the pediatrician's office for a triple sick visit... a respite from the headache that had me ready to weep... there's a common thread though, which is God's great mercy.

Rowan and Jude got sick last week, gradually seemed better, and then worse. By Saturday night, I had been hit by the same 18-wheeler. Dan worked on Saturday, but came home just in time. I had been ok, but that was wearing off fast. He came home and got right to work. He got Rowan up and got her to eat some substantial amounts of food. He got soup and cold medicine, and sent me to bed at 8pm. On Sunday he sent me back to bed to get the only solid sleep I had gotten since the day before. He took Genevieve out to the store on a little date, as she was still feeling good at that point. He came home and oversaw the eating of food by all. He even made me eat enough soup to meet his stringent standards.

Monday, he stayed home from work (since he had worked Sat) and drove us all to our wonderful pediatrician, who checked out he kids very thoroughly, perscribed some antibiotics for all three (by now Viv had woken up feverish and coughing), and a steroid for Jude, who's cough had begun to sound suspiciously croupy. Daddy dropped us off at home, put Jude to bed, and went back out for tissues, OJ, vitamins, and filled prescriptions.

Oh, and did I mention that he washed dishes and cleaned up the house? Yeah.

By this morning, I was feeling good enough to handle the 3 sick ones, while Dan left for work. Except that the Dr. was right about Jude. He slept well, but woke up with croup in full swing. He couldn't stop coughing for more than a few seconds, and was unfortunately using all his spare breath to say, "Mommy, Mommy!" between coughs, even though I was holding him. I gave him his steroid, fluids, honey, warm steam in the bathroom, but nothing was giving him relief. At this point the girls were awake and whining for my attention. I put my hand on his chest and prayed, because, once again, end of my rope. He made a funny noise in his throat and immediately the coughing stopped. He had some moments of total peace, and got very relaxed. Since then he's been a lot better, coughing more infrequently and eating, and napping periodically, cause that constant coughing had him worn out. The rope has been extended. I would like to learn how to live in this grace all the time.

picture frame as metaphor

I had a rough start to my work day yesterday... late to work, then I started in with a series of mistakes, all fixable, no $$ wasted, but still, I caused my very reserved boss to exclaim, "What are you doing!!!! Drink some coffee!!" I had a hard time getting past how very useless and stupid I felt. This used to be the place in which I felt the most confidence, but I find that I really need to take things a little bit slower now, and really concentrate to get myself into the frame chopping mode.

There is still a lot that I love about making frames, though. Especially when I get to work with beautiful hardwood moulding, like a nice cherry. Oh, my, the wonderfulness of cherry wood! It's color is gorgeous, a soft silky rust color, swirled with naturally graceful fine grain. It is very hard, but not splintery at all. Maple is very similar, but naturally paler, like butter. Yum. My chopper blades were getting a little dull, so I was cutting all the frames that don't require super sharp, fresh blades. That gives me 3 options generally:

1) hardwood. like cherry or oak or ash. delightful.

2) good quality softwood of a certain kind, I'm not even sure what it is, but it is not pine, and almost seems like some kind of compressed wood. nice to work with, subtle waxed finishes, gently distressed.

3) the bane of my existence, 'bonanzawood', which is not wood at all but some kind of crap that is like super dense compressed cardboard, or an MDF (medium density fiberboard). Ew. this stuff is covered with a paper-like wrapping, that is manufactured to imitate wood grain. I hate it. I don't like things that are not genuine. Or things that explode with a little noxious puff of cardboardy dust when I cut into them. Gross. It is overly heavy, and fake, and cheap, and I don't trust it. By the way, we tell customers exactly what they are getting, so if they cheap out, they are not being fooled.

Now, I get that framing is expensive. prohibitively expensive. But if you are gonna spring for a luxury like custom framing, go the extra 30 bucks and get some real wood. Ok, ok, I also get that if you are really budgeting with integrity and you have alloted a certain amount, then you might have to go with a cheaper option to stay within your limits. And that is a really, really, good thing, and good for you for sticking to your guns. When all is said and done, what your pictures are framed with isn't really going to matter.

But, there is something to be said for quality. Were I a manufacturer of picture frame moulding, which I am not, I would want to produce top notch materials. I would want to do my very best. I love to work with good materials for a reason. They are beautiful, and often easy and pleasant to work with. They generally smell nice, and don't make my skin itch. They are usually of natural origin, too, which makes all the sense in the world to me.

I kind of felt, while chopping frames yesterday, that the moulding was like different kinds of people. Some are natural, solid, beautiful in their confidence, graceful with a simple curve. When you go below the surface, you get exactly what you expect: real, sweet smelling truth. There are imperfections, but then, they never claimed to be perfect. Some are rather polished looking, no one would ever know that they were not wood, but they require some tricky handling to get to the inside without making an awful mess. Once open, you see dusty cardboard instead of wood, and you can also clearly see the papery veneer that covered the outside for what it is, an imitation. Now cardboard did start out as some kind of wood pulp product, right? So somewhere along the way, that kind of person lost sight of what they were meant to be, and pursued appearances, while ignoring the inner things that matter. I hope that I am like the first kind.

Sorry, to those of you who are not interested in picture frame moulding or cheesy metaphors! Actually, this was more of an extended similie, but whatever, you understand me, I'm sure.

Busy Bee gets to preachin'

Knitting projects.

Headband ideas and prototypes.

Photographing items for etsy, putting on piles of makeup for said photos, because, honestly, who's gonna buy something to wear on their head if they don't know what it might look like on an actual head? and who's gonna buy it if they think it might make them look like a harried, exhausted, lined mother of three? So yeah, lots of makeup.

These things are time consuming, I've realized. Ha, ha. Especially when I try to squeeze it all into the child-free moments! It makes me feel a smidge insane. Have I mentioned how I don't multitask well? Mm-hmm, I don't. Not a good trait in a person who has got 3 kids, a home, a tiny part-time job, and a husband, all of which need attention. I don't want a nanny, a cleaning lady, or a personal chef (ok, so it might be nice to have a cleaning lady or a chef), I just want to do all of my jobs well. In the past, something has always suffered when I try to excel at everything. So I have always just tried to prioritize. But I don't really think that should look like me doing one thing well (e.g. parenting, OR house cleaning), while everything else goes to pot.

I long to be the wife of proverbs, who manages her household so skillfully and wisely! And I want to be a loving and wholly available mother. That certainly has to come before all the chores and tasks. I also want to take care of my husband. I can sometimes fail in that department, because I have these three kiddos, and he's an adult. It's easy to neglect him, but he really does need attention as much as the little ones. He may not need me to get him a band aid or put him down for a nap, but he really feels loved when I do little things like get his lunch together, make the morning coffee, and put my current project down for a while and give him my full attention while he tells me about his day.

I think that Moms sometimes forget that being a wife, and parenting together must come before mothering. At least that's how I feel about it. If you neglect your marriage because you're too busy being a Mommy, what will be left when the kids are more independent? Ok, I'm off the soapbox. I'm blessed to be married to my best friend, and I want to be aware of how my actions or lack of actions affect Dan. Perhaps I'm getting all preachy because we are going to the first night of a 13 week marriage group tonight. It should be really good. I'm excited to focus on myself and Dan and God for a couple of hours.

All this to say that I feel as though I am making some progress. I am staying somewhat on top of daily tasks, and trying to really be present with my children and my husband. And my accountability buddies are on board to help me, which makes me so excited and happy. I think there is one more area, though, in which I need a kick in the pants... I am thinking and praying about who I should ask to kick me on a regular basis. More about that later.

A New Year, and more posts?

This is 2011. Weird. Shall I blog more? That remains to be seen. I'd like to, and I have really been lame-o about it lately. But jeez, it's time consuming! It shouldn't be, but it is. My computer is old and overly stuffed with information. In it's present state, it moves like molasses in January. We need to back it up, upgrade, and clear off a bunch of stuff. It's time for a trip to the genius bar.

So Jude. newly 2, suddenly verbal, and testing all of his (and our) boundaries. But oh! still so delicious , munchable as ever. He also just got his long curls chopped off, and his manliness is shockingly kissable.

And my little ladies. Such ladies! 4 years old, willful, smart, and delicately sensitive. Rowan wants to be a little Mommy, and Viv wants to call all the shots and be master of her own destiny. They tell me hysterical things, ask theological questions, and pretend the most delightful and weird scenarios.

Dan. Exhausted. And full of strength and grace. I'm hoping that this year brings him some rest and relief. I have a great hope that I can be a part of bringing that to him. That is one of my resolutions for this year. (side note: Rowan just informed me, 'I turned our house into a humongous hedgehog, Mom')

So speaking of resolutions for the new year, I have this crazy idea that I can do better. Better at parenting, and being a wife, and managing our household. Crazy, right? So instead of making a list and promptly forgetting about it, I have decided to ask some specific people to hold me accountable in some very specific ways. It is a lot to ask, but if my friends are willing to help me, I think it will be a wonderful thing!