write before you surf

I committed the cardinal sin of writing this morning: I looked at the internet first. I sat down at the computer in a quiet house, pulled up my document, noticed an open MSN window, decided to just have a peek, and... when I tried to get back to that article, it was kaput. I lost my mojo - the Muse flew off feeling ignored while I read about Michael Jackson and now I can't seem to coerce her into coming back. Every sentence sounds rote, informational, stale. One peek at MSNBC and the whole of life came crashing back down on my fresh and open little psyche. I can't unweight it... my mind is whirling with images of Thriller, Iran, and what I'm making for dinner. I guess I'll just have to bank on my 4:30am date with insomnia to make me new again.

Word to the wise: write before you surf.

Yes

He looks up at me, in all his eight month old wonder, and I find myself saying with strong affirmation, Yeah. Yes. Mmmhmmm. And suddenly it strikes me that this is what I whisper to all babies as I nestle them in my arms, drowning in their deep gazes. Their eyes seem so full of wonder, peace, hope, possibility, love and it's all I can do to tell them Yes! the world is really that wonderful, and YOU are really that wonderful. Hold onto that hope, that beauty, that innocence and possibility for as long as you can, because we need you to be like that. It helps us - it helps ME - be like that, too.

where I've been

I know. I've disappeared. And all three of you have been highly disappointed. But here is where I've been, and with my deepest apologies I pledge from here on out to post at least thrice weekly. At least, once my house is free of out-of-towners. It's so hard to focus on anything but my family when they're here for our once-yearly visit. I'm sure you understand. And oh, did I mention that they come one at a time? Yep, nearly two whole months straight of houseguests in our little teeny condo - and it's glorious. So can you blame me?

Olive & her grandpa at the Como Zoo

Watching the fishies at the conservatory

Freaking out at Chuck E Cheese

Watching hundreds of caterpillars by Minnehaha Falls

Me & my lovely mom

for sale

As spring unfurls and gardens spring to life, the blossoming in neighbors' yards is unmistakable - particularly when it takes the form of furniture and old clothes. Something about the first gusts of spring in Minnesota draws out the inner workings of people's houses and, inexplicably, sets them for sale. It's uncanny - the first nice day and suddenly everywhere you look there are yard sales in full glory, replete with Little Tykes playsets, records, suitcases, and dining sets. And I am not exaggerating... I counted five on a quick drive to the supermarket on Friday afternoon.

In the corner of Southern California I grew up in, garage sales are limited to Saturday mornings and are highly specialized. A certain type of person notes in the papers when garage sales are taking place and heads out with a route in mind. Around 6:30 am. They haggle over the jewelry and clothes and relentlessly swoop from one to the next. And the sales are over by noon, absolute latest. Honestly, I recall coming across very few in my lifetime - until I moved here. My theory on this is that after months stuck indoors with their things, Minnesotans are so sick of seeing them that they're absolutely desperate for something - anything - new. Which is why they immediately head to another yard sale to buy someone else's castoffs.

You can find anything at all at a Minnesota yard sale. At the Festival of Garage Sales this weekend - which I confess to attending - I saw bras hanging on trees, taxidermied animal heads, half-used boxes of assorted sundries. There were full bedroom, living and dining sets, dating from the 20s to the present. Velvet posters (including Elvis). Cars for sale. Plants. Broken bikes. Golf clubs. Dog clothes.

I write this post from an Ethan Allen rocking chair that I bought for 5 dollars, which has suprisingly turned out to be the perfect office chair we've been searching for (Jeffery can lean back and put his feet up on the desk with perfect ease). It needs a teensy bit of work, but for $5...? My other find was a brand-new Tupperware sheet for rolling out cookies and pie crusts. I had gotten one at the Tupperware party Jeff and I threw the first year we were married (boy, does that make us sound nerdy. Doesn't it?) that somehow got placed on a recently-used stove burner... In any case, this new one was supposed to be part of a basket of Tupperware items that someone else had already purchased, but they left it behind... and I scooped it up for $4. Hooray for the upcoming strawberry rhubarb pies!

Which is to say, I think I'm embracing the yard sale mentality. I've always gotten the heebie-jeebies from used things - you'll never catch me at a Goodwill store or buying clothes from Buffalo Exchange - there's something of the oft-uttered parent phrase "you don't know where that's been" that niggles for me. But I'm liking that these cotton, wood and plastic flowers shoot up in neighbors' yards alongside the daffodils, and I can happen upon them. And maybe - just maybe - I'll find a bouquet to take home.

keep me safe

"Keep me safe, Mama," she says, grabbing my hand as we go down the stairs.

"Keep me safe, Mama," she says, wrapping her arms around my neck in a death grip as she uses a public restroom.

"Keep me safe, Mama," she says, gripping my arm as she crosses the jointed bridge at the playground.

"I'm keeping you safe, Mama," she says, throwing her arms around my waist as I lean up and out to help the hubby wash the second story windows.

And I cry.

party trick

Olive's endless amusement. Doing it, seeing the pictures, practicing. The giggles are so cute they're edible.

the baby decision

I never knew what a loaded topic having children is: how much advice I would get - solicited and non, how invested other people would be in my decision, how difficult it would be to muddle through.

But then bringing a human being into this world is no small thing, so I guess it's right that deciding to do it should be no small thing, either.

And here is where I've landed - I definitely want another one. But now is not the time.

I know - I already hear and have heard it - there's never a "right" time, you will never regret having children but you might regret not having them, it's better to have them closer together.

I've mulled it. And here's the thing: there may not be a "right" time, but there's a wrong time. And I do think that I might regret it if I had one now - not regret the child, but the timing. Because it's a time where things are tenuous. Because my hubby and I would go on seeing little to nothing of each other - but even less than the little we do now. It could be our undoing, as a couple. It could be our undoing financially. And, really, having kids close together is no guarantee that they'll be close. They could be six years apart and be as close knit as they come, like my little brother and I are.

So. There you have it.

My heart feels resolved, not so tender and vulnerable and worn; the snow globe of my thoughts has settled into a peace that embraces my soul. That's the decision, and it's right.

And for those of you who listened to my heart speak and repeated back to me what you heard it saying - thank you. I hope I can do the same thing for you when you need it.

seismic shifts

The Big One. That's what we heard about all the time growing up in California. We did earthquake drills, huddled under our desks with our clasped hands over the back of our necks. We each had our own earthquake preparedness ziploc bag in the classroom each year, full of mylar blankets and granola bars. We knew to go stand in the doorway when we felt one come on. Or, more often, just continue on with what we were doing.

I lived through a lot of earthquakes, but not yet The Big One.

Lately, in looking around me at people I love, I'm seeing lots of personal Big Ones. My dear friends just lost the pregnancy they'd been dreaming of for years. My mom is selling her home to finally finalize the loose ends of her divorce from my dad. This uproots my siblings, who all live with her.

I cry over these things; for their hurt, for the ways my heart has been hurt.

Lately I've been mulling over my firing, even though it's a year and a half hence. Reprocessing some of the embarrassment, confusion, frustration. I don't know why. It moved me to a better place - I no longer dread going to work each day. I love my job. Life is much better now. It wasn't The Big One. It was just some plates moving, crunching as edges scraped against each other. Rearranging my life.

We're thrashing about in the decision about having #2. Friction. Plates shift. It hurts. But in all that, it's so....good. Which feels sadistic to say, but yet... the possibilities, the hope for the future, the ways we're changed and softened as those rough edges are worn away with the scraping... it's beautiful. It creates a mess out of what we've known, who we've known ourselves to be, and yet it opens the way for something new, better. A chance to rebuild.

And this is what I'm holding in my heart for those I love.

altars

Riding the schoolbus, I noticed a box on the front of one of the houses we passed, right up next to the front door. It was a glassed in little altar maybe three feet square, with a statue whose identity I couldn't make out in the brief moment we passed by; Mary or Buddha, Shiva or Goddess. I was struck by the public-ness of the devotion, the outward statement of the display. How important their faith must be to them, I thought, to fashion such an altar as a part of their home, part of their yard. This is much bigger than a Jesus fish or a bumper sticker, a necklace or a t-shirt. This is a personal billboard.

We rode on, and my driver, Curtis, turned down our beloved jazz radio station to talk to me.

"Why does a chicken scratch?" he asked.

I pondered for a moment, then shrugged.

"Because he can't make a sandwich."

A chuckle erupted from him, emanating from deep within his belly. I giggled. The children twittered and guffawed, egged on by each other's deepening laughter.

So he told another one. And another. All chicken jokes.

And as we traveled on in laughter I thought to myself, that's his altar. Curtis shows his devotion to life, to God, to good in that constant sense of humor, that grandfatherly grin, those silly chicken jokes he tells just to make a day brighter. His altar is on his face, on his lips, on his tongue.

And that, I think, is a much better place to put it.

love on yourself a little

In light of this post and my realization that I am all too rough with myself, I've been trying to take good care of my soul these past few days... and all I can say is MAN, does it feel good! Simple little things somehow make such a big difference. And I thought I'd share some with you so that you can enjoy them and give yourself a little love, too.

• sip a cup of tea or a nice warm latte
• purchase (or pick, if you live somewhere other than here) some fresh flowers for your home
  
• relax with a good movie... I just watched the Secret Life of Bees, and it was very, very good
• get lost in a good book... I've been on a "reliving my childhood" kick, so it's been Anne of Green Gables, the Secret Garden, and Little Women
  
• indulge in a treat... chocolate, a cupcake, something small and decadent
• soak in a nice warm bath
• cuddle - with a loved one, a kiddo, a kitty, a dog, a pillow, a puffy blanket - or all of the above
• drink a nice big glass of water
• take a nap in the sunshine
• write a letter on pretty stationery
• call up a dear friend just to chat
• burn a candle or bake some cookies and make your house smell heavenly
• sketch
• journal
• go for a walk
• sing
• lose yourself in a hobby (I've been knitting for hours on end)
• plan your garden - or work in it, if you're able
  
• make yourself something delicious to eat (fettuccine alfredo? green curry? a baguette with sweet butter? carne asada?)
• buy yourself a little treat... a new pen, a candle, a houseplant, some good coffee - just something small that will bring you some joy

Have anything to add? Let me know in a comment - I'd love to hear it!

join up

I got an email from MomsRising today asking me to petition my Congresspeople about paid family leave. This is something close to my heart because our decisions about adding another little one to our family have been completely about this very issue: if I am not paid for the time off, how can we survive? My last job allowed me to string together the 3 months' worth through vacation, personal time, and short term disability. The school district offers no such opportunity (shame on you!!), and I barely get enough vacation to cover the spring and Christmas breaks. If I take maternity leave, I will have a job when I come back but I am on my own for those three months. And I simply will not go back to work earlier than three months after the kiddo's arrival. So.

Here is some info from their site:

• Having a baby is a leading cause of "poverty spells" in the U.S. -- when income dips below what's needed for basic living expenses.
  
• In the U.S., 49% of mothers cobble together paid leave following childbirth by using sick days, vacation days, disability leave, and maternity leave.
  
• 51% of new mothers lack any paid leave -- so some take unpaid leave, some quit, some even lose their jobs.
  
• The U.S is one of only 4 countries that doesn't offer paid leave to new mothers -- the others are Papua New Guinea, Swaziland, and Lesotho.
  
• Paid family leave has been shown to reduce infant mortality by as much as 20% (and the U.S. ranks a low 37th of all countries in infant mortality).

If this resonates with you, please follow this link and send a message to your Congressperson.

And in advance... thank you. From me and the little one.

the quotable olive

"You are a noodle," I say to my silly little girl.

"No, Momma," she says, shaking her head, "I'm not a noodle. I'm pasta."

a little present

The most beautiful desktop background from a fun place to meander...


Click on the photo to go download from Chookooloonks.

And another lovely one from Ink on my Fingers:


Click on the photo to download from Susannah's site.

wishcasting

Who do you wish to send some love?

Me. I need it. Mostly from myself. It's been a rough patch, this last year, and I've lost myself. It's been - and continues to be - a dark night of the soul. I'm watching some friends go through this too, and they tend to themselves much more lovingly than I do. Some of these dear ones are coming out on the other side, and so I wish some love to them, too, as they come out of that chrysalis and wait softly for their wings to dry. As they ready to take flight. Love to all of us as we struggle and hope and begin to take to the breeze.

making spring

After a horrendous weekend of illness, car wrecks, inches of snow and below freezing temperatures, I was over it. It's time. I don't care if it's February - IT. IS. TIME. FOR. SPRING.

So today I went about creating it.

I wore a bright orange patterned shirt that screams sunshine and poppies (but not in a creepy Wizard of Oz poppies-will-make-you-sleep way). Short sleeved, even. And I was rewarded with a nice, above-freezing day (that's all I'm asking for, people).

I put on Carole King and danced around with Olive, and then we did watercolors while singing.

I created a font in my own handwriting (thank you, Katie!) - so if you ever wanted to know what these posts would look like if I wasn't typing - here you go.

I rejoiced yet again that Southwest will be flying in to Minneapolis starting in March. Hello, friends. Did I mention that the promo says $49 one way? That's less than $100 round trip.....

I watched President Obama speak (God, I love that man) while Olive ran around chirping "obama, obama, obama"... after I reminded her that his name isn't "tu mama."

(Oh, and Congress? Thanks for those 57 policemen. We need them here.)

And as I cried while watching, she came over to me and said, "Don't be sad, Mama. You're a good mama, and I love you all the time."

That'll do.