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.