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.