a roll of film

Yeah, an actual roll. As in 35mm. Adjust the actual aperture and shutter speed, capture an image created from light, and an old-fashioned kind of magic.

Jude makes a beeline for a certain drawer of miscellaneous junk anytime my bedroom door is open. The things he finds! Today he handed me a roll of TMAX 100 speed b/w film. Instantly, I was having flashbacks.

Pitch black zigzag hallway into the darkroom, pupils slowly adjusting to the dim red light. The smell of chemicals. The magic of a blank white sheet of paper with the right cocktail of light exposure, developer, stopper, and whatever else we used to use in there, suddenly reavealing an image captured by a little black box. Locking myself into a pitch black closet, and learning to assemble and disassemble a film canister, and loading the precious film into it, realizing that if I were blind, I could find a way to make it work. Not that it would be easy, or anything, but being able to do something complicated with hands only, and no eyes, is a strange and potent confidence builder.

Also, there was something else. Something that at the time, I did not notice, or even value. Freedom. Just complete and utter freedom. I mean, yes, I had a part time job, and classes, and work to complete, but oh my. I served coffee, goofed around with coworkers, and made people smile by remembering their usual drink. And my homework was pottery, taking pictures, making paintings, writing essays. But really, I could go where I wanted, when I wanted. I did not really answer to anyone, and my mind was self-absorbed, uncluttered with the cares of other lives for whom I might be (AM) responsible.

That was another life, one that it's actually hard for me to believe I ever lived. If it were not for these vivid memories that surface every now and then, I wonder if I would forget all about it! They were good times, fun times, crazy times, and there are certainly aspects of those time that I miss now and then, but the truth is, there is a lot more weight in what I am doing now. Yes, there may be a frustrated artist inside of me still , but I am finding tiny ways to let her out, small outlets, and I rest in the knowledge that those tiny ways will find eventual expansion. Ok, so maybe I don't always rest in the knowledge; sometimes I squirm and writhe and fidget restlessly, but it passes. After all, those small outlets are holes that will stretch with use, changing shape, grow into actual windows, out of which my soul will pour. Or maybe ooze. My soul may be a little congealed from long stillness. Wait. No. NO. My soul has not been still, and it took me just writing that to fully realize it.

Even this little space is a small aperture, where I can squeeze out a bit of soul goo. I can't even bring myself to post without an image, that should tell me something. That's why I called it "fingerpaint" - If I have to paint with my keyboard, then so be it.

Wonderful things

My niece made this nativity scene for me a while back. A good while back, at least 8 years ago. But it has been a while since Dan and I have fully decorated for christmas, and I was so happy to be able to put this up. There are things that bring me back to my childhood Christmas experiences - certain ornaments, certain smells, but this is a new classic. It is one of the few things that as an adult, puts these new Christmases on par with the ones sweetened by nostalgia. Just read that inscription held by the angels, written from memory, the perfectly imperfect memory of a sweet little 6 year old!
It has a place of honor on our bookshelf, in the middle of the living room. The kids love it almost as much as I do. The expressions on these little faces just put me over the moon. The close-up of the 3 wise men didn't come out very clear, so I skipped it, but goodness gracious, I practically cry they make me laugh so hard. It's really one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given, and Dan has given me some really good gifts, let me tell you!
These figures have become part of what makes Christmas, Christmas. I love that they will become part of what my kids remember, they will be for them what a certain little dancing lamb with a golden tinsel tambourine ornament was for me...

We did not have a "normal" Christmas this year, since the twins were sick. The house became a hole of messiness, and we ate peanut butter crackers for Christmas dinner. None of us really had time to think about things; we put most of our energy into fever reduction efforts, so it's only now that I am getting a chance to reflect a bit. "Forever rest" kinda sounds good right now, but it also sounds a little ominous... how cute is that, though. Childhood misunderstandings and mispronunciations are just so wonderful to me. It's still Christmas, right, until New Years?

leaky Christmas, and feverish, but still sweet

Oh, my, what a Christmas. Fevers raging, we skipped the traveling from house to house and stayed home. Poor girls, being sick on Christmas is no fun, but they did have a good time opening their presents. It was probably better to have it quiet and calm, them being the age that they are.

I have wonderful memories of Christmas, all ethereal, insubstantial memories: the smell of a candle just snuffed out, the mysterious shimmer of gifts in shiny wrapping under a lit tree, anticipation pleasantly gnawing at my stomach, and the odd feeling of it all being over too soon, almost as though it never happened... except that I would have a treasure or two to remind me that it did. The look on the girlies faces this morning showed me that they were feeling the magic and wonder, too, and that made me happy. They also sat quietly and sweetly, while we read the christmas story together and prayed before digging in and tearing up.

Tonight, after a dinner of crackers and the administering of Tylenol, we put the girls in their beds and found water bubbling the ceiling and walls in their bedroom. Super. Dan called our upstairs neighbors to make them aware of the situation and ask permission to go in and check things out, as they were out for the evening and he has a key. They responded by laughing. This did not sit well with me. My kids are sick with a 103 degree fever, and they cannot even sleep in their own beds on Christmas night. I know, though, that these people don't have children, much less sick ones, and can afford to be careless about things like this. It isn't their fault that the leak in their apartment was not given the attention that it should have. Grrrrr.

like sandpaper and bare...

ass. yes, that's what I said. It's from a movie, as many of you may know. Referring to 2 people who can't get along, an alternative to "oil and water". But I am using it here to describe a general soul chaffing. I have been rather up and down lately, have you noticed? Perhaps I suffer a bit from depression, or possibly bipolar disorder. or, maybe it's just this stage I am in, where I popped out 3 babies in two years, and I have not quite managed to get a handle on myself, my relationships, and my strategy for getting through a day. I am not trying to be flippant about chemical imbalances, I really am just wondering what the source of all this angst might be.

I am a fundamentally insecure person. Sad, but true. I second guess just about everything that I do and say. It is rare that I come out of a situation and feel that I handled it well, whatever it might be, from an interaction with one of my kids to a simple evening out. I mean really, I recently got out of the house for a couple of hours, with some friends, and a couple of days later, I find myself thinking about the way I acted, or something I said, and I am embarrassed. I think to myself, wow, you are such an irritating person. Ok, while I am writing this, a few things pop into my head that were perhaps good things that I have done recently. Ways in which I have handled myself well. But it doesn't make me feel any better.

Someone recently said to me that it isn't feelings that matter, it's results. But I find that I simply can't agree. If I accomplish something, but I don't like the way I've arrived there ( for instance someone's feelings got hurt, or I lost my temper), it just doesn't add up. The ends don't justify the means. And maybe I failed to accomplish something that I had set out to get done, but ran into some roadblocks... wouldn't it be better to try another way around than to smash my way through, doing damage along the way? Or is that my insecurity popping up again, telling my that I just don't have the confidence to make things happen?

Ok, I know this is an odd, slightly disjointed, and vague post. I'm sorry, truely. But my thought are very scattered. However, my children are all asleep before 8:30! Hooray!

A long weekend is over, oh drat

A quiet moment never lasts long; in fact, I can hear Jude gummily voicing his opinions from the back room... Hey, if Dr Suess can make up words, so can I. I mean really, "punkerish"? "thneed"? somehow, he gets his point across beautifully.

Thanksgiving weekend was sweet. truly. Dan was home with us for 4 straight days, with no obligations. And we had such a fantastic time. I even made it into a few pictures that I didn't take! Amazing.

So now I am going through withdrawal, as Dan is back to work in earnest. he didn't get in last night until 3am, and then the alarms (all 5 of 'em) started sounding promptly at 5:30. Ugh, and today is not promising to be much better. Thank goodness for a winter break looming close by. I am tired of juggling kids. I really had it down with the 2 girls, but Jude just throws a major kink into my system. He is a delight, but it is just tricky being so outnumbered! And these smarties take full advantage. I have not yet grown eyes in the back of my head, and my multitasking skills are pitiful to behold... maybe having eyes in the back of your head amounts to no more than the assumption that IF my child is not in my sight, then said child IS up to something.

And after Harry Potter, having eyes in the back of one's head takes on a more sinister meaning. So, maybe I will make do without them...

There is chicken defrosting in the kitchen, and I am waiting for it to tell me what it wants to be made into tonight. Something sans noodles. I am all noodled out. Watch, I will make rice, or potatoes, and my children will moan, "I want noodles, Mommy!" These kids, man, they sure know what they want. It's to be envied at times, this single-mindedness. Not to be distracted, not to be appeased by less than the goal's accomplishment. I could learn a little something from them. Perhaps I ought to give them more opportunities to show me their simple wisdom.

getting to know you, getting to know all about you...

This is a jolly little person who I kinda like. He is rowdy and rough, as well as cuddly, sweet, and pretty smart. He doesn't say much, but his personality is starting to really develop. He thinks that his sisters are the coolest, and crawls around after them all day. But he doesn't like it when they sit on his Mommy's lap. He could walk if he wanted to, I think, but he likes to crawl, because he can move like lightening on all fours. His will is strong, but he is super affectionate. Jude is my fat little bundle of happiness.

Rowan is my dreamy child. She has finally stopped wearing this tutu every single day, all day, with her Cinderella shoes. She loves to sing, and once I sang my way through "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish" a la Opera Man, she started singing her every word. I love it. She is dramatic to a fault, and cuddly like a little puppy. She has a touch of OCD I think... she wants things to be pronounced correctly, and doesn't like her socks to be twisted.

Genevieve likes her berries, acorns, rocks, walnuts, whatever out-of-doors collectibles she can get her hands on. And she likes to have her collections documented for posterity. She is full of imagination, and her mechanical mind is always leading her to make interesting arrangements and towers with odd groupings of household items. Her knowing little smile is full of humor, and she would prefer to fall asleep with her arms wrapped around one of her parents, as close as close gets.

The funny little idiosyncrasies of my kids are one of the things that keep me going. These days I don't feel much like I am handling things very well. I lose my patience, I get overwhelmed, I look forward to nap time. But they are always surprising me with how resilient they are, how forgiving they are, how much they love me. Having them all so close in age is unbelievably crazy right now, but I know that in a couple of years it will get easier. At least I like to think so. The challenges will change, at least, and there will be a time when the laundry is not filled with peed-on clothes. That's my light at the end of the tunnel!

It's no wonder we feel confused

The things that have been going on lately are just unreal. In a relatively short amount of time (the last 10 weeks or so), we have experienced a violent swing of events and emotions. There has been an engagement, 3 weddings, a tragic accidental death, a healthy birth of twins, an earth-shattering suicide, and just last night, what appears to be another attempted suicide, which Dan witnessed and helped to prevent.

What can be said about all of this? This chaos is what life is made up of, and yet, this seems like a ridiculously concentrated dose of huge events, some horrific and others beautiful. These events have also occurred disproportionately within Dan's circle of friends, family, and working relationships, especially the really difficult ones. This is wearing on him, and I feel helpless to alleviate the stress and emotional strain under which he finds himself. Honestly, I find myself blankly wondering how he is doing it, how he can even attend to the little voices of his adoring children, or the incessant calls and emails of his evening job, while also contemplating the possible loss of his day job.

The constant circle of life, death, love, and loss has never been so present, or so contradictory, and I feel that I am appreciating small moments more. I am strangely finding the time to draw and sketch more, also, and this time to find my center puts my small stresses into perspective. My heart continually returns to Psalm 40:

I waited patiently for the Lord;

And he inclined to me and heard my cry.

He brought me up out of the pit of destruction,

out of the miry clay,

And he set my feet upon a rock making my

footsteps firm.

He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise

to our God;

Many will see and fear

And will trust in the Lord