“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.” —Sir John Lubbock
Some random thoughts …
Is it wrong to have a “pet” black widow spider? I have one in my backyard and I’ve not told the children about it, nor do I want it killed. It has a secret lair, which seems to me to be kind of miraculous and good, since it’s outside the normal traffic patterns of our lives. What I really want is a macro picture of its pretty red hourglass. And a long black dress with the same design to match.
My Asher has caught a cold and is staying home today, not so much because he is slowed by it, but because he is most likely contagious right now—I mean, insofar as I can guess such a thing. I’m wondering what to do about swim this afternoon. He is stubborn and demanding.
I’m trying to figure out a new project I have to do by September. It’s the reorganization and recreation of some curriculum for the instructors’ resources that go with a textbook. Puzzling … puzzling …
Last night my father in law and Mimi came over for dinner to celebrate two overdue birthdays and an overdue Father’s Day. Ian grilled the best chicken breasts I’ve ever had—moist, perfectly cooked, and flavorful—and Mimi brought a gorgeous carrot cake, in which the special ingredient was crushed pineapple. Divine.
I’m sending all my love to two friends today. They need it.
I think perhaps we’re still tired from the late night on the 4th, or at least, that may be Lucas’s case. He’s dragging. We’re all feeling a trifle crabby, even though everything is perfectly … normal. There is an uncomfortable degree of bickering between my children. Summer days are full and hot and long. My brain is split in two thanks to my two jobs; and I’m feeling like I’m not doing very well at either of them.
Last Friday night I had a feverish dream inspired by a blog I just discovered: Twig and Toadstool (http://twigandtoadstool.blogspot.com/), where they spent a lot of time preparing for and celebrating the Summer Solstice. I was feverish because I was ill with a virus, but the inspiration worked its way into my dreams all night long. All night I wove a sun; each time I woke and fell asleep again, I slipped right back into the weaving. I could feel the yarn in my fingers, the sticks, the wool. And so, when I awoke, I knew we had to MAKE this thing I had dreamed about.
I gathered some sticks from the local schoolyard and supplies from home, and did some shopping on Monday. I fastened the center together by wrapping it with floral wire. I also wired the edges in an effort to keep the sticks from shifting during the weaving. I think it worked well.
And then before and after our Solstice dinner outdoors, Lucas and I worked on our giant sunburst, which is a lot like a Ojo de Dios (God’s eye), but has eight rays and not four.
Lucas was a big help with weaving the center, especially. Isn’t it beautiful?
We took a break to eat my yummy corn salad, spinach salad, and Daddy’s amazing tri tip.
Sunshiny squashes, organic tomatoes, and iced tea graced our table. Must be summer!
Here comes the SUN! The art project took all evening, but we finished before the sun went down. Lucas held it up high in the sky so I could photograph it. Then we hung our sunburst on our house, where we can see it from the patio. We spend a lot of time there when it’s warm, and our boring beige paint looks better with some colorful art.
We used $1 ribbon spools in red and orange, a bit of mama’s thick cotton rug yarn, raffia, yellow fabric scraps (with rocket ship pattern that you can’t see) tied into a long strip, and acrylic yarns in yellows, gold, and orange. I wish I had had an excess of yellow or gold wool roving on hand to use in our sunburst, but I didn’t. We also had on hand several colors of nylon twine (including safety orange) but elected not to use them.
Honeydew melon with mint and lemon sorbet served as a delicious dessert. I don’t know how that watermelon ball sneaked in there. Chef Daddy deserves the credit, I presume. He’s brilliant, as always.
Asher didn’t care for the art project much, but enjoyed snipping bits and pieces of yarn with scissors, and running around with sticks (guns/weapons/swords/knives. Can’t stop him despite my pacifist leanings!) Besides preparing dinner, Ian made a finger-woven chain to add to our sunburst, but for a while, it was “Action Inja” Asher’s headband.
So, welcome Summer! May it be full of frolicking, fun, fiestas, and good fortune. May it be full of right action, deep breathing, generosity, and abundance. May it be patient, low-stress, and l a z y -good. Blessed Be.
It’s weird how one can feel opposite feelings about the same thing. For example, I felt both
grateful
and disappointed
about doing this today, on Memorial Day:
So, to care for and console myself, I took a ten-minute break outside in my garden to look at these:
Green and purple hydrangea buds
Squirrel in my pecan tree
Nasturtiums grown from seed
Dusty miller buds about to pop
Pansies
Mexican primrose and African daisies
More nasturtiums grown from seed
Day lily
And now I feel
reenergized
amazed
galvanized
and happy.
Today is my birthday. I’m 38 today, although last year my husband advertised my birthday as my 25th, so maybe this is my 26th? I can live with either, really.
During my 26th year, I was married to the man of my dreams, building life-long friendships, living a mostly carefree, earnest life, and working hard to make it in the world. It was a good year full of good times and good goals. We were building careers. We were saving all the money we could to buy a home together. We were talking about having children.
Yesterday as I was walking home after having dropped Asher off at his preschool, I had a few minutes to reflect on my life. It’s easier to think about such things when the ambient sounds are birdsong instead of little-boy laser-battle sound effects.
Wow. I am really fortunate and REALLY happy!
I don’t always feel happy. Small and big things get me down. I worry. I have anxiety and frustrations and limits that I strain against very often. Sometimes this coat of motherhood that I put on eight years ago feels itchy and too tight in places. Sometimes I get hot under the collar. These feelings I experience are all true, valid, and real.
But what a life we have made for ourselves! For instance, I have time to walk my 3-year-old to school in the morning. I can pick my 8-year-old up from school in the afternoon. I have the freedom to accept the work I want, and most of the time I can turn down the work I don’t want. I haven’t sat in a cubicle for six years. When my young son isn’t with me, he is with his father, a grandmother, or our dear friends of twenty years. Lucas goes to an amazing school, where he is learning every day. I have hobbies now that I never dreamed I’d have, and a garden full of green, growing friends. I’m learning to make things with my hands. I’m developing new interests and skills all the time. Our children are healthy, smart, and vital. We enjoy our family time together. I have talented, loving, patient friends. I’m profoundly in love with my husband and he with me.
It’s a rich and vibrant life and I’m so grateful. I think 38 is just fine.
I
It starts with a bed-a-bye snuggle, sometime before the morning music …
somehow, there we all are.
Four abed, snuggled under, breathing.
Daddy’s the bravest. He rises before the rest.
Then mama feels guilty, smells coffee brewing, and slowly emerges from the nest.
Big boy bounces up, right up!
Mama and big boy go to his room to pull out clothes for today’s many adventures.
“But I’m not ready!” he complains.
(Mama doesn’t blame him. She’s not ready either.)
So they sit together on the green carpet. Perhaps a cuddle?
Arms enfold ten wiggly elbows, ten knocking knees.
“Either this lap used to be bigger, or you used to be smaller.”
(Giggle)
And there she is, just an arm’s length away,
Emily Mouse, doing her “evening” chores, having a before-bed drink
of water from the upside-down blue bottle.
Gently, Mama says, “Maybe Emily misses you,” thinking, it has been a good long while
since you held your mousie friend.
OK. He reaches for her, cups her gently in two astonishingly large hands
lined and crackled with dirt,
graced with broken nails
and calluses—
curious hands
that move a bit too fast.
White mouse whiskers, sniffing, twitching.
“Wow,” mama says. “We have had Emily for a whole year.”
“Yep.” White mouse moves over dingy T-shirt,
is corralled back into workaday hands.
To herself, Gently now … careful …
“How long do mice live?” Mama wonders cautiously.
“Two years, or a little more.”
Hmmm …
Emily’s fur is stroked, ears scratched by one nubby index finger.
Even. More. Gently …
“What do you think that means?”
…
Blue eyes flash, then seek refuge in the green carpet.
She will die someday. Sometime.
“Maybe soon.”
“Let’s give her lots of love until then, OK?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“And lots of petting. And kitchen scraps!”
“Yeah! I wonder if we gave her a whole sweet pepper, would she eat a hole and crawl inside it?”
“I don’t know. Let’s give her one and see.”
Eggs are ready. “Time for breakfast,” says the Daddy.
Littlest boy sleeps on …
…
II
Lucas and Grandma leave.
Existential dilemma faced and dressing for a rainy school day accomplished!
Phew!
Mama sips coffee
until …
“MAMA!”
Sleepy one emerges into a quiet house.
“My jammies are wet. I want a kiwi.”
Never before. “A kiwi? Really?”
“Yes.”
Well, then. Diaper change and then Mama goes looking …
Hallelujah! A kiwi. One.
“I have to peel the fuzzy brown skin off.”
“And then I eat it up.”
It vanishes before Mama’s eyes. Three gulps tops.
Then the cold eggs follow.
Mama sits by his side.
“I’m ready for some holding now,” he says with certain faith, and climbs over.
A small egg fills her lap.
“I’m a baby bird in my egg.”
Ah. “And I’m the nest?”
“Yes. And the Mama Bird.”
Pecking. Peck. Peck.
“I’m pecking!
“I’m hatching! Hatch!”
“Hello, Baby Bird! Welcome.”
“You’re my Mama Bird?!”
“Mmmm-hmm …”
“I hatch again!”
(Repeat)
“Are you ready to fly, baby bird?”
“Yes!”
“Let’s put on your red rain feathers.”
“Hurry, Mama Bird! Let’s fly!”
All the way to preschool.
Oh, the wheels are turning!
Of course, my best ideas strike me at 11 p.m. and/or right at the last minute, when it’s way too late to get started or when I must rush like crazy to carry them out. I was having such an easy run up to this birthday, given that the roller-skating party was paid for a couple of weeks ago and they won’t let me bring food to the rink. The presents have arrived. Invitations sent out.
But then—BOOM! Oh! I should do/make/wrap/paint/buy/arrange/decorate/create/bake …
You get the picture. Yeah. I’m that kind of crazy.
The Crown
When I made a birthday crown for Asher (also at the last minute back in January), Lucas was quite enchanted with it. I asked him if he would like to have a birthday crown of his own and he was all for it.
So, I vowed to make one for him.
Of course, the likelihood that he will wear it at 8 years old is fairly slim. Nevertheless … here is my design. Shh! He hasn’t seen it and I want it to be a surprise.
The Goodie Bags
I don’t know when this children’s birthday party tradition began, but I don’t like it much. I think it kind of reeks of 1980s überparents fearing for their wee ones’ self-esteem and worrying that attending a birthday party and watching a birthday child open gifts when there are none for the wee guests would somehow scar them for life. But, I must live in my times. And so, we make goodie bags. We try to have a bit of fun with them and try not to spend a ton of dough. And lest you think I’m a complete curmudgeon, I am well aware of how thrilled Lucas is to come home from a friend’s party with a goodie bag of his own!
This year, we are giving out brown paper lunch bags, hand-painted by Lucas. He is painting whatever he pleases and I think that’s just fine. I think they are fighting dragons. We are putting little envelopes of pumpkin seeds that we saved from our orange and white Halloween pumpkins in the bags. I bought lovely (and masculine-looking) blank books from the $1 bins at the craft store, so each guest will receive a book and a matching pencil. If the boys attending the birthday party are anything at all like Lucas, they will be pleased to have their own book to write whatever in. Let’s see … we also have a small tablet of origami paper for each guest, which comes with instructions to make animals, also from the $1 bins.
The Birthday Cake
Well, the roller rink is handling this. But I will make a cake for us to share with grandparents this weekend. I have a cool idea for this! We’ll see if I can pull it off.
A Gift
While Lucas was painting some goodie bags this afternoon, and Asher was painting a picture, I sat down and painted a gift for Lucas.
Life is good. What a fabulous weekend!
My dear Dakini had dinner with us on Friday night. We are so fortunate to have her living so close. The children did all their wacky tricks for her.
On Saturday, I got to attend the Waldorf in the Home conference on Mothering and Spirituality: Resourcing Feminine Wisdom, put on by Rahima Baldwin Dancy of Informed Family Life and author of You Are Your Child’s First Teacher, which was held at my son’s school here in Fair Oaks. I only attended on Saturday because of resources and because I’m not ready to spend all weekend at a conference away from my boys. But I’m so, so glad I went! It was so inspiring and awesome to be in a huge high school gym full of women (and a few men) talking about the goddess and the feminine divine. Seriously, I’ve never been anywhere with that many people willing to even consider the topic in my life, and it’s a topic very close to my heart, particularly during my twenties. We heard keynote speaker Nancy Jewel Poer (“Honoring Mother Spirit and our Amazing Spiritual Feminine Gifts”), author of Living Into Dying and children’s book Mia’s Apple Tree and a founder and faculty member of Rudolf Steiner College and the founding teacher for Cedar Springs Waldorf School. She showed amazing slides of goddesses/world-mothers from all traditions and the modern day and spoke of the soul work of mothering. She asserted that women are the bridges between heaven and earth, bringing spiritual inspiration, love, and beauty to the lives of all those around us.
We also heard keynote speaker Regina Sara Ryan, author of The Woman Awake: Feminine Wisdom for Spiritual Life. She spoke about becoming Mother and seeking the Universal Ma, and encouraged us to cultivate ways to see and honor the Mother in us all. Big on her list of recommendations was to find our Delight and Creativity, whatever they are, and then engage in them regularly because this is a way to build love. It was all seriously cool. It made me think of all my dear Adelphai, with whom I have wandered many a California hillside and braved many a starlit night to find our goddesses.
I went to a great workshop called “Mothering Our Lively Sons,” which I’m sure you’ll agree was created just for me! Or so it seemed. I got some new insight on boys and their needs, their unique way of communicating and processing language. I’ve definitely come away with some good ideas to ruminate on and techniques to try out at home.
I loved the conference, but I was also delighted to come home to my two wonderful sons and my tireless, selfless husband. Asher fell asleep in my arms and we had one of those glorious moments together, rocking in the rocking chair, holding and being held and feeling perfectly at peace with the world. I don’t always feel this way as a mom, so when I do, I hope to cup it gently in my heart so that the feeling may feed me in times of stress and angst.
And the rest of the weekend was superb, too.
There was a haircut for Lucas, who said, “Thanks, Mom! I feel great about my haircut.” We put Lucas’s hair clippings out in the backyard in the hopes the birds would find them and use his silky locks for their nests. Is that gross or sweet? I don’t know…
We enjoyed a steak dinner with sauteed chard from our garden, made by Ian, who spent his Saturday replacing my car battery, caring for our children, and finishing our flagstone pathway. Oh, and cooking us dinner.
Some hot tub time with my hubby under the stars.
We made a trip to the nursery (squee!) for ground cover to plant between the flagstones on our new garden path.
Lucas pronounced that he wished to turn part of the boys’ digging hill into a vegetable garden. After our cautioning that he and Asher would have less space to dig if he planted a garden, he confidently told us he was really wanting to do it. I guess he’s enjoying gardening class at school! So, we bought seeds (corn, rainbow chard) and four tomato plants, a watermelon plant, and a fancy cucumber. We amended the soil a bit and he set to planting them himself. He also planted pumpkin seeds that we had saved from our (orange and white) jack-o’-lanterns from last fall.
We had a lovely two-mile bike ride with NoNo and Mars this afternoon, who were gracious enough to ride all this way to meet us. It was a fun reminder that riding bikes is so good for us all. Asher is outgrowing his toddler seat on the back of my (girly, girly pink) bike, yet I don’t think he’s quite ready for the tagalong bike. His feet kept kicking my calves as I pedaled!
Ian filled up our bird feeder that had languished in the garage long enough.
We spent time in the shade planting our new ground covers: chamomile lawn, pennyroyal, and ajuga (chocolate chip variety). We’re hoping they will fill in the spaces between the stones. The chamomile lawn and pennyroyal smell marvelous when you touch them! See how cute the ajuga is?
The boys played in the sprinklers.
I used scotch tape to repair of a very well loved, well used copy of Where’s Waldo in Hollywood that used to belong to Grandma’s third grade class.
For Sunday dinner, Ian’s yummy broiled tuna steaks with homemade lemon aoili, salad, and green beans! And a fine Petite Sirah accompanied them.
Our bedtime stories were two stories from A Donsy of Gnomes, a sweet book I bought at the conference. Lucas’s eyes were full of stars when I read him the stories, and that, my friends, makes it all worthwhile.
Isn’t life amazing? Yesterday I held a kind of vigil for some loved ones, quietly and patiently waiting for news about health issues. My two candles burned all the time I was home and until I closed my eyes to sleep. It’s good work—holding people in your heart all day, breathing small prayers past your lips and into your everyday actions. Wash a dish, say a prayer. Take a walk, say a prayer. Fold the laundry, say a prayer.
Today, we’re still waiting for important news from one loved one. So the vigil continues.
Ian and the boys are robust, lovely, and soldiering on. We have daily conflicts and challenges, things to learn, and things to work on. And yet we march forward each day to face them, process them, learn from them, and to make the world a better place through sharing our love. And we are happy.
The world keeps turning. Projects end, begin, and continue. Homework comes due (yikes!). Dinners are cooked. Metaphorical and imaginary fires (especially if you’re Baby Asher Firefighter) must be put out. What is needed? How can we help? We pick up our tools and go to work.
Some of us fake it until we can make it. Some play-act through our fear and confusion. “You need surgery, Mom. Go to sleep. I have to cut you open and take out this lump. Oh no! Here is another one. Better get that one, too, before it spreads. OK. Now you’ll be all better. Does it hurt? Here is some medicine. I’ve saved you!” Processing … My heart seems to break a little more every day … for all the good and all the bad in life.
And speaking of hearts, celebrations for Valentine’s Day are in the works. I get to make and then serve a Valentine’s snack for 27 hungry children on Friday (mmm … strawberry muffins with honey-sweetened cream-cheese topping). Tokens of friendship and love are being made by small hands everywhere. Can you hear the click of their pens, the slicing of their safety scissors in paper, the sprinkling of glitter over white glue? I can. I can hear the painstaking scratching of No. 2 pencils signing names 26 times.
We humans are a study in the paradox of steadfastness and flexibility. We turn to one another—some offering, some asking for help. We carry fears and frustrations, crippling pains, loves, and our joie de vivre through all the buffeting storms.
Isn’t life amazing? Isn’t it grand?
Edit: The news we were waiting for is Happy News!
