I can’t say much about these Christmassy doings yet. Some of what we are making are for our kiddos, but some are for friends and family and I don’t want to spoil the surprise. Suffice it to say, we are spending some cold, cold hours outside in the garage …
We are struggling to find secret moments without the boys watching …
And I am using power tools!
Inspired by SouleMama {this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
“Can I wear my snow gear to school today? It’s wet outside.”
“Yes.”
~~~
“Let’s walk, Mama!”
“In the rain?”
“Yeah! I have my boots. It’s fun!”
“Yes, it is. Let’s go.”
~~~
Do you ever have days when it seems like all that comes out of your mouth is no? I do. Do you ever find that all those noes, which are of course reasonable, justifiable, appropriate to the present circumstances, etc., seem to pile on top of each other until you and your children are smothered in them? I do.
I find that some days the noes are so very heavy, and they accumulate in great drifts of disappointment and anger. They’re depressing. They’re aggravating. They cause trouble.
In an avalanche of noes, tempers flare. We bash into one another emotionally. My stress levels rise. The children bicker more.
Even when every no placed on the pile is the well-meaning kind, sooner or later, the mountain looms, casting shadows and sucking the fun out of the day.
I’m trying to be mindful of this. I’m trying to turn my noes into yeses. Yesterday was a Yes Day. I just resolved to say yes as often as possible.
~~~
“When we get home, can I go play outside? I want to pick some rosemary to make my rosemary tea.”
“Yes.”
“Can I put some lemon in it?”
“Sure, honey.”
~~~
“Can we have popcorn with Parmesan cheese for snack?”
“Yes.”
~~~
“Can I light my special birthday candle that my teacher made for me?”
“Your May Pole candle? In December? Um … yes.”
~~~
“Mama! You come and play with me in the playroom?”
“Yes, OK.”
~~~
“Can we have a fire in the fireplace?”
“Yes. That sounds nice.”
~~~
“Can we eat a bit of chocolate?”
“A little, yes.”
~~~
“Mama! You come and be the tickle love monster and you chase us!”
“Yes! Here I come!”
~~~
“Mama, will you please snuggle me?”
“Oh, yes!”
We have a quiet Thanksgiving Day today. Quiet enough to think a bit about what I’m grateful for.
* My beautiful sons, strong, brilliant, and hale. They are the sunlight of my days. They have transformed me.
* My loving, noble husband who takes care of all of us and brings out the real me. He is my shelter and my heart.
* My parents and Ian’s parents, for all that they are and do, and for all they helped us to become.
* My precious, clever, quirky, shining friends. They know why.
* My safe, comfortable home filled with all that I really need and lots more besides.
* My ever-hungry brain and my many hobbies, which nourish me in so many ways. I am still growing.
* My undeniable, abundant opportunities, a plethora of blessings and experiences that I’ve enjoyed all my days. I am especially grateful that we can now offer amazing opportunities to our children as they grow.
* My family members whose love and courage are so great that they do the tasks that no one else wants to do.
We are so very, very rich. I am sending out my love to all of you on this Thanksgiving Day. Blessed be.
Today is a very full day. We are attending Lucas’s third-grade Eurythmy performance of The Firebird this afternoon. We are also attending a Martinmas potluck and lantern walk with Asher’s preschool this evening. Both of these events are happy and exciting. Both are dampened by my grief over Nana’s death yesterday.
Part of me would like for everything to feel normal. A part of me thinks it’s crazy to be normal—working on freelance projects, worrying about deadlines, arranging babysitting, and attending school functions—at a time like this. But, of course, life goes on.
And isn’t that a miracle?
In the midst of a busy and rich life, we pause to grieve. In the midst of a sad time, we snatch moments of elation and joy, pride and comfort to buoy us up. There is a symmetry there, a balance.
Both darkness and light.
I don’t know what to think or feel, but lighting a candle seemed right.
It hardly feels much like November, with so many recent days over 70 degrees!
Wild grape leaves in the woods near the Sacramento Waldorf School
Swan at the Palace of Fine Arts Theater in San Francisco
Lucas with the golden cherry leaves in our yard
Neighborhood tree in the morning
The blackest liquidambar leaves I’ve ever seen. The boys and I found these at Fair Oaks Park.
A fallen tree star (also liquidambar) in Asher’s hand
Scarlet dogwood berries; little black and gray birds are eating them up
A neighbor’s lawn
The crepe myrtle that hangs into my backyard.
This story is really not about me, but I’m going to tell my part in it because it gave me great joy.
Lucas’s class is performing the Russian story of the Firebird in Eurhythmy this week. The performance is on Thursday and they’ve worked quite hard on it. I cannot wait to see this performance and I know already it’s going to make me cry. Lucas is excited about it, too.
A whole crew of volunteers was recruited to sew fancy dresses for the girls to wear. I was asked to do this part: paint the Firebird’s fabric wings.
With paints.
I love paints.
I love to paint.
Here’s my inspiration and reference material: The Firebird by Demi.
So this is how I spent part of my Sunday afternoon, outside in my unseasonably warm backyard, with the fabric clipped to my fence, while the wind rushed about blowing leaves into my way.
This is how I left it last night, with the back almost finished (not all the tail feathers were done). Today I painted the front because when the Firebird spreads her wings, you’ll see the underside. I’ve also spent some time adding details, like more gold shimmer.
I don’t have a daylight photo of the wings finished at this point. I’ll try to snap one in the morning before I send this off to school. I fervently hope that this garment will work. The paint has made the fabric pretty stiff, so I’m hoping the Eurhythmy teacher doesn’t expect lots of flowing, draping softness!
Doing this was such fun! I wish I could paint more often!
Lucas has just passed his half birthday, bringing him to the ripe old age of 8 and a half. And although I took these photos about a month ago, to me they capture something of his present age. This is my sensitive, clever boy flying through the air, determined, sure-footed, and courageous. He knows his capabilities. He can plan his footfalls, and he can adapt and switch course if he needs to.
He is self-assured and confident. He often marches into unknown territory with aplomb. His place in the universe is known and secure.
But there is still plenty of room for striving, for challenging himself, for testing and experimenting. It’s imperative. He must negotiate his way through space, through relationships, through his own needs and self-knowledge. He knows that he might get hurt, but he also knows he will heal if he does.
Sometimes he falls short or is disappointed. Sometimes he takes blows to his ego. Sometimes, despite all our efforts, he feels unloved and unwanted. He sits in judgment on himself and sometimes he doesn’t like what he sees. This too, is part of his age. He’s right where he’s supposed to be, figuring out who he is, and where and in what ways he is separate from others.
At this moment, he’s preparing to leave home. He has been planning an adventure for a few days now—one that he’s going on all by himself. He needs some freedom, he tells us. (At first his plan was to spend a whole day and night away, on his own, but that’s been modulated down to a more reasonable bike ride to his friends’ house a few blocks away. He knows to call me when he arrives there.)
Carpe diem! He is ready. He has a backpack full of provisions—lunch, a magnifying glass, and notebooks for any scientific discoveries he might make along the way. He also has his wand, just in case any bad guys or Dementors hassle him. He has his instructions and air in his tires. He knows his phone number.
Ah. That’s the bell on his bike. I hear it ringing as he rides out of the driveway, shouting good-bye. He made sure to give me a big hug and kiss, and gave some to his dad and brother, too. I saw the sparkle in his eyes. He is full of both our concern and our trust. He is feeling big, and capable, and sure.
Fare thee well, my sweet son.
My son wants to be Harry Potter for Halloween. He’s been adamant about it for several months, and frankly, Harry’s cool, so we’re down with this idea. In early October, much to our surprise, Lucas approached his grandmother and asked, “Grandma, will you please knit me a gray sweater for my Harry Potter costume?”
Nine days and three yarn shops later (looking for the right gray yarn), Grandma Sydney showed up with this gem. How’s that for grandmotherly love and kickass knitting skillz? If only Harry himself were so lucky as to have such a grandma.
Ian found this super Gryffindor House tie at a thrift shop and it goes perfectly. We still have more work to do on this costume, but this is a magnificent start!
