Getting off the Runaway Train

Preface: I should not complain about being active, doing things we love outdoors, seeing family, or filling our life with wonderful things I have longed to do for years now.

That said, I am SO glad the time has come when all those things are slowing down and/or coming to a close. I am feeling pulled in so many directions I can’t decide where to go first. Autumn and the holidays will still be busy, but hunting season is almost over, and I’m done teaching self-defense classes for now.

I love the adventures we often have as a family, but I’m noticing that my wee Crazy Towhead is a little strung out and more sensitive lately. This always weirds me out. She is such a good, easy-going, up-for-anything-we-throw-at-her kind of kid that she’s become my barometer for how we’re doing. If she’s “off” – not sleeping well, cranky, overly teary – then there’s usually some part of our lives that needs adjusting. And right now that barometric pressure is dropping. She’s my same happy laughing girl, but certain things are telling me that we’ve had too much for too long.

So, in small moments we’re learning to re-set the pace. There is a concept/practice in Aikido that allows the person being attacked, the nage ( pronounced nah-gay), to take a fast incoming attack and diffuse that speed during the technique or throw so that they are the one who sets the pace, not the attacker. The attacker, or uke (pronounced ooo-kay) can come in as fast as they want to, and although the initial reaction must match the speed of the incoming attack, once contact is made the nage can blend and slow things down to a pace that they are comfortable with. I keep thinking of this in terms of life events: No matter what the world throws at us, we are the ones who ultimately decide where and how that momentum is directed in our lives. It also helps me remember that I am not subject to the external stresses of life – the worls can throw what it wants at me, but I am the one who ultimately decides how it affects me.

But with autumn in the air and colder temps setting in I am all about sitting on the couch in front of a fire, knitting, and listening to some good music. I’m even thinking of taking up audio books. I’ve never been an audio books fan. I’d rather have music on long drives, and playing them at home always seemed silly. Me? Sit still that long? Who are we kidding here? But now that CT is so much more self-sufficient and I can knit for more than 30 seconds at a time (instead of waiting until after she’s asleep) suddenly audio books are sounding like a nice alternative to evening TV. I don’t suppose any of you out there have any good suggestions?

In general I feel blessed and loved, content and grateful. I love this time of year.

Did I mention that down the street there are the most amazing combination of changing leaves? A bright red maple across the street from an orange one and a brilliant yellow one sitting side-by-side, each bordered by evergreens. There’s also a wonderful tree around here, the larch (or tamrack). It’s a deciduous evergreen, and although it’s not quite as stunning as the huge aspen groves in the Sierras it made for a beautiful sight as we were out cutting wood this weekend.

Toes say so much about a person

I looked down today at my feet and realized that my transformation into a Pacific NW mom is pretty much complete. Which is good because I adore it here.

I think Towhead’s clothing tastes must be wearing off on me. For example, today CT’s wardrobe involved striped leggings, a brown shirt, pink jumper, and orange socks. (And yes  I let her go to school like that)

There is beauty in colorful things.

I have to admit that as much as like where we’re living, I had a bout of desert longing this weekend while visiting friends in Wenatchee. While walking through a short space of sagebrush to get to an apple orchard, I stopped and broke off a piece of sage and found myself kneeling amidst the brush to just inhale that familiar scent. No matter where we move I think I will always long for the smell of rabbitbrush after a rain, cloud shadows passing across the hills, and aspen groves in autumn.

Open Lungs and Open Waters

I came down with a case of bronchitis a couple of weeks ago, and although I’ve felt better since the fever broke over a week ago, only now can I feel the last bits of congestion leaving my lungs. I feel like the world is opening back up again. My body and my focus are shifting from the tightness in my chest to what’s going on around me. Our summer has been so fun and filled with friends, camping, canoeing, and house projects that I haven’t had as much time as I might like to reflect on it all. I love the feeling of finally doing so many of the things Mr. A and I have talked about for so long. But the constant stream of activity has left us a little winded. Thankfully, the last couple of weekends have given us back that breath.

As my chest begins to open up I’m finding that my head is in a similar state. When the to-do list is long and there’s a lot of work to be done I tend to dig in. My shoulders rise as my muscles get ready for good, hard work, and I become focused only on the task at hand, to the exclusion of all else. But while the sweat and muscle strain feel good and seeing the results of my labor are nice, it means that I lose sight of what it means to open myself to the world.

The seasons are changing and it seems all my friends are saying farewell to summer (and getting sick). I am seeing the changes too.  The evenings are cooler and I can see the sunset kiss the trees before bedtime. The circle of activities is moving gradually inward. We do have one or two more fall camping trips planned before the weather begins to firmly dictate when we can get outside. I’m excited. I love fall. I love the close camaraderie and warmth that comes during the fall harvest as the leaves change. It means hot cider, crisp apples, big juicy tomatoes, crisp mornings, reds and yellows punctuating the green on hikes, and crunching leaves underfoot. These images, like here, fill my head and there is no other joy like it.  The Towhead has been my other source of joy with the spontaneous things she says and does.  She will often run outside in the morning as I am putting things in the car and throw her arms wide to the sun, exclaiming in her own improvised song, “I love the sun! I love the hot! I love the cold! I love the world and my (stuffed) kitty!” When I look around at moments like these all I can think is that this is where my center is, and I wonder what could ever be important enough to pull my focus away from this.

I’m not sure if it’s the rebellious part of my nature or the seasons that has me thinking about expanding my energy into the world when all else seems to be moving gradually inward. Or maybe it’s just the part of me that’s always in search of balance. My other theory is that it has to do with settling deeper into the life of a working mom, which I love and hate at the same time. I think the part that has begun to bother me most is the feeling of being sucked inexorably into the vortex of commercialism and expectations of the mainstream working family. Mr. A and I have agreed for a long time that we want a healthy and active lifestyle that includes:

• experiencing the outdoors and appreciating nature
• creativity and laughter
• being mindful and aware of the world and the interconnectedness of all things
• friends and family
• a wide variety of art and music
• toys that encourage mental and emotional growth, not greed and materialism

The pitfalls come when there is less time to carefully cultivate all the things that go into this mix and the temptation to just default to the “norm.” The norm is so pre-packaged, TV, and brand-name based that it drives me crazy. As grad students and then as a single-income family we avoided a lot of those things because of money. Now we avoid them by choice. But I’m realizing, especially with the Towhead in school and me working, how hard it is not to slide toward mainstream trends like cartoons in the afternoon and flashy treats for lunch. It’s strange for me when I talk to other working parents and I hear how much they talk about the newest Disney TV show, computer games, or dance classes. The first two are not really on our radar, and the last one we are just beginning to consider. I’m sailing into unknown waters. Is this what is supposed to be next on the charts? What things do I want to sail toward and what do I want to steer clear of? We’ve been in the lagoon where books, bike rides to the park, and homemade toys surround us.  New waters are coming but there seems to be a lack of variety when it comes to maps because there’s really only one corporate publisher. I know there are more paths, and that many trailblazers have come before me.  I just need to find their stories.

Maybe it’s the holidays that have me thinking about how to avoid cheap, flashy, Made-in-China, TV-character emblazoned toys. Maybe it’s the birthday party at Chuck E Cheese where the girl got 3 Barbie dolls. Or maybe it’s the normal questioning of what comes next in Towhead’s growth and development. I don’t want to fall into the trap of just defaulting to certain set of activities for no other reason than that everyone else is doing it. I seem to be filled with ever-changing thoughts and doubts lately. The sun is in my eyes and the way forward is not clear right now.

*Just when I begin to feel the most lost I seem to stumble upon what I need. This article turned out to be it: Lisa Bennett’s “Nurturing Creators, Not Collectors” in Mothering magazine. So often it seems like we compare ourselves to the images we see around us instead of the real people and voices in our own lives. I’m learning (and re-learning) to turn down the volume of pop culture and in the silence that follows, hear the beating of my own heart and the rhythm of life.

We So Crafty: Summer Activites and Fall Art

Summer has been a busy but fantastic time. As it nears an end we’ve been trying to cram in as much as we can before the weather gets cold and the typical fall activities take over.

I love fall. It’s one of my favorite seasons. And every year it ends up jam packed with events. We’ve made a point of NOT planning anything for October in particular because it inevitably, and usually at the last minute, there are tons of things to see and do. This year, even with trying to keep things scaled back, we’ve still managed to fill every weekend between now and November.

As tired as I am I know that the warm days are disappearing, and we all want to make the most of the opportunites we have left. So we’ve been camping and canoeing quite a bit. It has left us with bug bites and a mudroom full of camping gear, sleeping bags, and swim suits strung all over. And though the mess is hard to deal with, the memories are worth all of it.

We have one, maybe two, more camping trips planned with friends in late September and mid-October. Towhead has been a busy little girl, and she seems to love camping, especially when there are toads involved!

As fall approaches though, I’m beginning to check out my favorite craft sites for things we can do on weekends and rainy days when playing on the swing set is not longer an option in the evenings. I’ve been a fan of The Crafty Crow for awhile. There are so many project ideas! When my imagination is running thin (which it frequently does) I have a never ending source of ideas. And I love how the whole thing is themed – one of my favorite was all the projects you can do with toilet paper rolls. In the interests of reducing, reusing and recycling we keep all our rolls and quite a few boxes (cereal, cracker, etc). But after awhile they pile up!

Here’s one of the projects inspired by a listing on the site that now decorates the walls of CT’s room. It involves taking her paintings and showcasing them by creating stencils that we then arranged and framed. The original idea uses only one animal per frame, but CT had so many animals she wanted to create that we decided to group them by theme – earth, sea, and sky.

And here’s a robot we made from all those saved boxes. Another idea inspired by the Crafty Crow that was a lots of fun on a rainy summer day.

More than anything though I think the idea of a collective like this one creates a sense of community of imaginative ideas – something I support whole-heartedly. It has been the best source I have found thus far and I can never thank Lynnie at Way Up High in the Monkey Bread Tree for turning me onto it. I mention this primarily because The Crafty Crow is having a giveaway for fall kids’ clothes that is well worth checking out. I also have my eye on a project we may try out as a potential Christmas gift – if you like the Recycled Paper Beads you see here let me know and I’ll put you on our list!

Anybody know how to fix an internal compass?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about directions.

Maybe it’s the daily grind of a full-time job. There’s something brainless about someone else deciding what you do for 2/3 of your day that gets you thinking about what you’re doing with your life and what your goals are, beyond making sure the laundry gets done and everyone has lunch tomorrow. As a stay-at-home-mom I found my self continaully evaluating things. It goes something along the lines of (example) “I’m snapping at the Bean a lot. Why? What needs to change?” or “Do we have a good balance going between exercise and learning new things?”

I don’t do that as much anymore, nor do I feel like I have the opportunity to. Don’t get me wrong – I’m happy with where we are and what we’re doing. In the past few months, in addition to working, we’ve been able to visit with family, go camping with friends, take the canoe out, play on a softball team through Parks & Rec, and get out in the woods enough to pick so many berries I must have over a gallon of them in my freezer. Who am I to complain?

Maybe it’s because things are going exactly as I’d like them to that I’ve begun contemplating what I want to do next. I keep asking myself, what am I doing and what are my goals? Questions like these, since I was young, lead me down the same path. The voice in my head says, “If you’re going to do something it should be something important, something worthwhile. What have you always wanted to do?” And of course, like any kid who was repeatedly asked “What do you want to be when you grow up?” my head jumps into career mode (a step made easier now that I’m working). When I write all this out the analytical part of my brain jumps in with “Worthwhile and important is good but do all of my goals have fit in this category? Why does ‘worthwhile and important’ have to be a career thing? Can’t worthwhile and important things happen in small, everyday acts?” But for some reason (conditioning?) this is where my head ends up. So the fantasy begins. You know, the one where I picture myself as a foreign relations ambassador living an exotic and interesting life in a foreign country promoting sustainable development; or a state-wide organizer for a conservation agency who inspires people to set aside land for wildlife corridors.

“Yes! That would be fantastic!” my brain chimes in. “Important and worthwhile things to make the world a better place!” I guess I was raised in a very positive, self-esteen boosting household because the question for me is never “Can I do it?” but “Should I do it?” and “What is the cost involved in doing it?” The next step is considering what my non-career-related goals are. And here’s where I begin to stumble in my forward charge. How do I meet my goals of eating local; reusing and recycling everything we can; getting outdoors to enjoy and learn about the natural world; and creating a community of friends and family that support each other while I’m off saving the world? Good question.

When life doesn’t give you a choice about what you are doing at the moment, it is easier to make the best of it. You do what you can and make the best choices given the circumstances. In the small space of your life that is yours to decide you mold and shape this arena where you can control how you affect the world. And it feels good to know that in that space you made the biggest difference that the world would let you make at that given moment.

But when the gates are open and the choices and manifold, it’s hard not to think big. I think we do it out of habit – what good are small thoughts? But there is a part of me that’s struggling with the thought that maybe I can make a bigger difference by thinking small. Perhaps by confining myself to my proverbial backyard I can do more and be happier than if I “think big.” This is hard for me. For some reason I’ve always been terrified of being just a mediocre suburbanite who goes to work, goes along with the status quo, and never attempts to do anything out of the ordinary. It’s this fear that keeps me questioning the world and my place in it. In that sense it’s a good thing, but I also don’t believe that a life should be lived with fear as it’s motivation. [One of my favorite sayings is "Vivir con miedo, es como vivir a medias!." A life lived in fear is a life half-lived.]

I feel like I need to simply decide on where and how I want to focus my life and do it. And given the way my mind has been wandering lately I don’t think I’ve done that yet. So many choices, so many directions, so many things I enjoy doing – it’s hard to settle on one course. But maybe I don’t have to. Maybe I simply need to decide that my focus needs to be on, and in, my community. And whatever variation that ends up being at the moment – martial arts, editing, writer, mom, conservationist – is okay. Lately, I haven’t been fully content in my own skin. Maybe I just need to stop wondering if this skin looks the way I want it to, and simply be what I am.

I hate this feeling, like I have no purpose, no direction. I am better when I have a goal that I feel like I am working toward. I blame it all on work. At the moment I have no assignment and have been told to just sit and wait until we hear from out client. This means that I have spent almost two weeks playing computer games and researching a self-defense class I’m teaching for the YMCA. Eight hours a day of this for two weeks gets old, let me tell you. The irony is that while I’m feeling bored and worthless at work we’ve been going non-stop at home – camping; softball; birthday and pool parties;  gardening; building a new patio; drying, freezing, and canning stuff; canoe trips. I’m baffled not by my thoughts as much as the timing of them. Our goals of being an active, outdoor-oriented family, and eating locally are being met. We are happy, healthy, and content. So why, in the midst of this chaos, am I looking outside it all for something more?? Boredom?

When I got pregnant I convinced myself that this was just a break, a chance to spend some time focusing inward, before returning to the larger world. I’m beginning to think that my take on the larger world needs to be revised. I need to let go of this idea of the glamorous, cool-sounding job as being the only way I can influence the larger world. I’ve seen, over the last couple years, how small actions can make a big difference. We’ve worked so many of these small changes into our everyday lives and routines as a family that I think I forget that I am meeting a number of ongoing goals already. I know that dedicated to larger causes often means that things associated with home get left behind. If you’re lucky it’s laundry and dishes, unlucky and it’s your kids or marriage. And if community and family mean so much to me, why am I not focusing my energy on this more immediate realm where I already know I can make a big difference?

A Buddhist friend of mine sent me a note, which got me thinking. I keep reading this over and over, reminding myself that, “Enlightenment is manifest in the ability to remain still even when moving. Delusion consists in only moving. In the extreme moving even when remaining still. Enlightenment need not be complete! Any diminuation in delusion contributes to happiness.”

My head and heart have not been very still. I’m working on stillness

and breathing.

Then maybe I can reallign myself to magnetic north.

Backpacker’s Guide to the Galaxy

I’m thinking this would be a great title for a hiking guide (with 42 hikes of course). But alas, this post is not quite that ambitious.

In early July, when Mr. A and the Towhead were visiting my family, I had a few days to myself. Normally, this is the time I use to catch up on cleaning, organizing, watching movies, and generally relaxing. (The best is the mini-spa treatments that I know won’t be interrupted, like soaking my feet in hot water and tea tree oil and saturating myself with body butter while I watch a sappy romance or cheesy foreign film.)

But this time I couldn’t seem to find the motivation to do it. Sitting on the couch and/or cleaning just didn’t sound good to me. Which is odd. I’m normally a compulsive cleaner, and organizing the house so things are easy to find and function smoothly almost always sounds good to me. Not this time.

I wanted to get out, to do something impulsive. I had the overwhelming urge to throw some stuff in the car and find a remote alpine lake to cool my feet in. So after a bit of research I found a hike that sounded just right – fairly short, some exertion but nothing too ambitious. I had no urge to come back exhausted. Mr. A and I love to backpack, and the Bean is usually a willing cohort on day hikes – I’m sure she’ll be a great backpacking companion when she gets older. But at this stage finding time and a babysitter makes backpacking a seldom-enjoyed luxury for Mr. A and I. And while day hikes can be satisfying, there is nothing quite like the feeling of carrying everything you need on your back, walking into the wilderness and sleeping under the stars.  I’ve missed it. My family worries about me when I decide to take off even for a night to go camp, which I find silly. Studies and statistics show that you’re more likely to run into more dangerous situations in urban and suburban settings than in wilderness areas. But they’re softening, and at this point the safety precautions are second-nature – leave location info and times in and out with at least two other people, whether in bear country or not take stuff to tie up your food (or a bear canister), take enough water (and/or bring a purifier) and leave some at the car. Add poncho, safety whistle, and a Leatherman to the basics – map, food, sleeping bag, clothing layers, headlamp – and you’re good to go. I love my family, and I love taking care of them, but the ease of taking care of just me and not having to worry about logistics for three people can be really refreshing.

Revett Lake sits on the east side of a ridge that separates Idaho and Montana. Situated in the Bitterroot mountains it is one of the few alpine lakes in that area.

I will admit that I got a little turned around getting to the trailhead, but it didn’t matter much to me and the dog (affectionately termed Mutt Butt. See Cast of Characters.)  It was a beautiful drive with sun, a cool wind, and good music.

The trail was so picturesque! Complete with waterfall off to the side, ferns in the gullies, and the late season wildflowers still in bloom.  I saw corn lilies with their broad leaves, purple penstemon among the rocks, cat’s ears and their three fuzzy white petals, vetch, and bear grass. The only downside it that the hike to the lake was too short. As usual, I underestimated what the Mutt and I were capable of doing in a day. However, I overestimated what my new boots were ready for – I had blisters in spite of the moleskin I religiously place on my heels.

But really, what better than to soak your feet in a cold alpine lake? I set up camp, we hiked around one side of the lake, and then crashed out for a nap. I felt a little wimpy, crashing like that after such a short hike, but I figured it was my vacation and it felt good, so who cares, right? I justified it by promising myself I’d do an epic trip in the next year or so. I woke up to a male and female pair of pine grosbeaks sitting in the abandoned fire ring next to my tent.

The only thing that would have made the trip more perfect was if I had come 2-3 weeks later. At that point these cute little pink blooms would be sweet, ripe huckleberries. Oh well, my timing has always been a little off.

After an evening hike around the other side of the lake, the Mutt and I headed back to camp. To make things easier and my load a bit lighter I left the stove at home and opted for pbj and some carrots for dinner. But I couldn’t resit the campfire ring that had been left by previous campers. I grabbed a few dead branches and started a small blaze, then went back behind camp for a few more branches and some dried pieces of wood from a fallen tree. And I heard what I thought sounded like hooves stepping on dirt. I looked around, scanning the brush and trees. “No,” I thought, “you’re paranoid because you’re alone. It’s just the echoes of your own foot-falls.” So I kept gathering wood. Then I heard a branch crack and looked up to see a brown rump about my head/chest height go through the trees to my left and toward the stream outlet of the lake. All I could think was what Mr. A had told me about moose’s tendency to charge at barking dogs. I hurried back to camp and made sure I had Mutt Butt close. Needless to say I was very alert the rest of the evening.

We always say that the Mutt is never happier than when she’s on the trail – that hasn’t changed in 10 years and this trip was no exception. On this trip, the same was true for both of us. There are other places I am equally as happy, but backpacking is easily among the top 5. Staring at the small things that make this world so amazing, how can you help but smile? I forget about material goods, all I need is what I’m carrying on my back. Home becomes something bigger than the house I live in; working is something your muscles do to get you where you want to be, something that feels good as the blood rushes throughout your body letting you know you are alive and connected to everything you see. This backpacking trip was nothing big, but it reminded me of why I love it so much.

The PS to this is that on the way home I found myself behind two RVs that had stopped in the middle of the road for some reason. As I looked off to the left I figured out why. A moose was grazing in a gully next to the road, about 30 feet from where I’d stopped. All I could think was “Now this is how I wanted to meet a moose.”

I Must Know It ALL Now: or, Why? Who? What? Where? How? When?

I have anticipated this moment for years. Daydreamed about the smart, balanced and witty responses I would give when my girl got to this age. How we would sit together in front of the computer and look up answers to all those elusive questions, like “Do sharks have ears?” (We looked that one up last night). The science experiments we would perform in the kitchen to discover what happens when you mix yellow and blue, or you stick a magnet in water. Kids should ask questions, and I want(ed) to give her the honest, thought-provoking answers her little mind wants, needs, and deserves. (You’d think after 3 years I’d have lost that idealist tendency.)

I’ve also dreaded the constant flow of questions. You know, the 15 that come flooding out of her mouth before I’ve had breakfast (idealist tendencies fade drastically at 6am). Especially the ones that repeat and have no purpose – “Mom, why didn’t you let me wear a dress at school pictures?” As with all aspects of life, there can be too much of a good thing. I love her curiosity. I love that she’s  stubborn,  opinionated, and feisty as well as being gentle, loving, and helpful. That is, I love it in the right mixture. When all I get is the first three along with a lot of questions and demands I get, as my girl says, “cranky.”

The other day was the perfect example of why I love and hate this phase.

Towhead and I were leaving swim lessons when Mr. A called. We were both tired and decided to splurge for the first time in over a month and go out to eat. After getting in the car, I told Towhead we were off to meet Dad for Mexican food.

“What that sticking out of that car?” she asked. Huh? Subject change. OK.

“That? That’s a tailpipe sweetie.” I shut the door and get in the car.

“But why is it there?” she continues.

“It lets out all the bad smoke from the engine.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise the car would blow up.”

“But that car doesn’t have one,” she points out as we drive through the parking lot.

“Yes it does.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Yes. It does. All cars have them. You may not be able to see it because it’s hiding under the bumper, but it’s there.”

“No it’s not.”

“Sure it is. I’ll show you when we get to the restaurant. There look at the car next to us. See that pipe sticking out the side. Right next to you. That’s it’s tailpipe.”

“Oh. But our car doesn’t have one.”

“Yes. It does,” I say trying not to grit my teeth. “Want me to show you when we get to the restaurant?”

“Sure. Can I have chicken fingers?”

“I’m not sure they have chicken fingers. But we’ll check on the menu and see what they’ve got. Maybe rice and beans.”

“What’s a menu?”

“The thing that lists all the food you can get at the restaurant.”

“Mama, there’s my moon!”

“Yup.”

“It’s a half-circle. How come it’s not a circle?”

I launched into the hole schpeel about how the sun and earth move and that changes how much of the moon you can see. It’s always a circle you just can’t always see it all. I should mention that I’ve given this speech at least 5 or 6 times already. Also, keep in mind that this was only the first two minutes of a 5-minute long car ride. Questions continued rapid-fire and in totally random order. And even after that I spent a minute or two in the parking lot proving to her that yes, each car has a tailpipe but that they’re sometimes in different locations on the car.

I”m not sure how long I can keep it up. The good news is that I prepared for some of this years ago when I bought the Handy Science Answer Book. That and the web make answering random questions a lot easier. I just don’t think I was anticipating that all those questions would come at me in such a rapid fire fashion. Or that she would argue with me about the answers I give her!! I shouldn’t say anything (insert my mom’s laughter here) because I know I did the same thing to my mother. She’s learning and right now her own experience, limited though it may be, is as powerful as anything I say. Damn her for being as stubborn and feisty as her mother!

Mr. A, being the youngest of three, has a great sense of humor over things like this. A sadistic sense of humor, but funny nonetheless. I must learn this skill. I get too sucked in and actually try to answer all her questions.  Because I love to teach, I love to see the lightbulbs go on. I realize now that much of that will never change. The world is an amazing place and I want nothing more than to continue to explore it with her, and show her all it has to offer. But I’ve also noticed recently that I’m beginning, in my tired, working mom world to take it too seriously.

No more. The boxing gloves are off and the whoopie cushions are out, baby.

New additions to the color wheel

I have so many things to write about and update people on. I keep bookmarking things in my head, or composing blog entries as I get ready for bed. The schedule at work has kept me running for two weeks now with no time to fit in much of anything besides sleeping, eating, and the occasional instance where we put on a movie and pile the entire family and dog on the couch for some much-needed cuddles, relaxation, and long sighful breaths at the end of the day.

The tidalwave will abate . . . just in time for our over-scheduled family vacation. In spite of all this, I am happy – busy, tired, excited, with a very long to-do list – but still happy. In times like this it seems that after a period of stress and short tempers, Mr. A and I take notice of it all and even though the stress may not have diminished, we make an extra effort to laugh, hug, talk, and care for each other in a way that makes the chaos more manageable. Mr. A is unparalleled at making me not take life or myself too seriously (at least when he’s not super stressed himself).

This weekend a heavy thunderstorm left us in a humid and cool house with no chance at working on the yard. So the Towhead and I worked on an art project I’ve been wanting to try for awhile. (I’ll take pictures once it’s done.)We also added two new descriptors to the artists color wheel: purply and pinkable. Towhead was in fine form. I have to get a tape recorder in addition to a camera – her stories and quoteable quotes these days are hilarious.

A bright day in a different world

She sits in front of a computer screen, staring at graphs and models that represent computer software functionality. It feels like a different world.

 It is a different world.

 The schedule she used to keep was organic and her day developed based on the needs of the moment. Life was creative, active, and responsive. If her girl needed to be held so she could sleep, an hour might pass with little to no concern over meeting a certain timeline. She would get to the next task at hand, say doing the dishes or going to the library, when they were done with this one. It seemed like her brain was always working on new ways to meet three kinds of needs: intellectual stimulation (both for her and for the kid), physical activity (which made everyone less cranky), and the basic cooking, cleaning, and organizational tasks that made life run smoothly and kept everyone sane. That was her job in a nutshell: maintain everyone’s sanity. But there was so much room for goofiness, and observing things people tend to take for granted. The world was a fascinating place and it was her job to show the wee girl how wonderful it could be.

 Fast forward to the office setting. Large dirty windows, bagels and coffee in the breakroom, and the sound of computer mice scratching the desks. In this new world there were firm timelines, schedules. There was more intellectual stimulation, which was good. This job provided new challenges, a new focus, and a sense of purpose. She enjoyed it. And she began to remember what life was like before the birth of her sweet gal. It was like meeting herself all over again, and there was a continual sense of déjà vu. In many ways it felt like waking up from a long pause. But as the days passed she realized that she missed in little inanities: dancing in the living room, cleaning playdough off the floor, making binoculars out of toilet paper tubes, walking to the park. She missed making up stories about princesses and monsters who, according to the kid, seemed to hide in steeples and office buildings around town.

 But unlike most stories or character portraits there was no resolution to this scenario, no epiphanic moment, no ironic twist. This was just people, be they adult or child, evolving as individuals and moving on to different things. On grey days when everything was an argument and exhaustion was the norm, this new turn of events felt like a road stretching across the flatlands, leading toward nothing but more of the same. But on a bright day that included giggles at the breakfast table, it was a new adventure that pushed them try new things – a way to avoid settling into a mediocre routine. It was change that made them continually look for ways to make life more fun, change that kept them from taking things for granted.

Birthday for Me, Halloween for Us, Votes for Them

Self-portrait on my birthday.

Am I on a narcisistic bent? After my List of 99 it may feel like it, but not really. Self-exploration maybe. Reflection. I do that a lot in the fall. I was thinking yesterday that the seasons are a lot like fire. In spring things are just getting started, sometimes they seem to be ebbing back into darkness, the next moment flaring to life as things try to find their purchase and come to life. Summer is a roaring blaze – no imagination needed there. Fall, though, is like a thick bed of coals, providing warmth and more quiet time for sitting around talking, relaxing, and reflecting on the day. I like Fall. I always have. I’ve always blamed it on my birthday but as I get older and birthdays are less of a big deal, I don’t think so. I like the sense of community that somes with “harvest time,” though the actual harvest is a reality for only a few in current times. But there are so many activities and celebrations this time of year it gives a feeling of solidarity, community, and warmth as the days begin to get colder.

I’m also doing the legwork involved in entering back into the workforce. Reluctantly, I might add. I like what I’ve been doing. Teaching my kid about the world. Taking the time to do things how I want, instead of settling for what time allows. Choosing the projects I volunteer for and get involved in. But I’m also looking at my resume and feeling the need to explain to myself why I haven’t been ambitious enough to take on more, to write more, to accomplish something that sounds impressive. Call it ego, but self-justification and self-esteeem matter. And the “but raising your kids is important” line only gets me so far. Yes, when I look around my house, and observe my husband, my dog, my kid, I am proud and satisfied that I do everything I can for them and that all of us seem content, crazy, and healthy enough to cause mischief. But I’ve always been afraid of settling for mediocrity, of becoming so content that I cease to grow as a person, or stop learning things and pushing myself to do and be more than what I am. That is what scares me about motherhood. It is so all-consuming sometimes that I’m afraid I’ll slip into that state and never know it happened. But I also worry about becoming so obsessed with “getting things done” that I’ll miss all the wonders of the experience. It’s a fine line to walk, and I often feel off balance. But balance is important in all things, and it’s good that the concept stays at the forefront of my mind.

In other news, I am happy to say I voted early! I keep laughing becasue this is probably the closest I have ever followed an election campaign, and the most research I have ever done about the issues and the candidates I voted for. And yet, from day one, there really was no question about who I was voting for! I hope after another 8 years of repair maybe the country I’ve grown to love will be back where it was before the millenium started and not in the hole this administration has dug for us. I have more hope for the world my daughter inherits than this.

And speaking of my daughter, here she is in all her Halloween splendor! There were multiple costumes throughout the day dug from the dress up box. But these were my favorites: