Lucas recently painted his first canvas. A local craft and fabric store is having a sale on artists’ canvases. We bought a 12 by 12 in canvas for Lucas for something like $2.87. He used my craft acrylics—nothing very fancy. It was such an exciting treat to paint on a new surface! Alien art is cute.
This was a good reminder that I had lots of plans to paint. Hmmm … must get to that sometime soon.
Today is exciting because this afternoon Ian and I get to meet with Lucas’s second-grade teacher to see how he’s doing in school. (Our meeting should have occurred last November, but we didn’t make our appointment [insert guilty feeling here].)
Since our Waldorf school doesn’t give out grades, this is our big, mid-year opportunity to find out what’s going on with Lucas and how he’s progressing academically, socially, artistically, and emotionally—from his teacher’s perspective. I know what I think—that he’s brilliant and creative and diabolical and sensitive and totally likable—but then, I’m his mother, and decidedly not the one trying to teach him maths and cursive handwriting!
I’m not a very patient person. About a hundred times a day, I have to take a deep breath and try to start over. Try to put aside the anger or frustration of the last moment and enter this moment with calm and right intention.
Start over.
It’s a practice; it often fails me, or I fail at it, but sometimes it works. It’s a constant effort to achieve forgiveness and regain my patience because we four bumble around each other in this smallish space, spilling food and bonking heads and fetching water and failing to share and making room and feeding bellies and cleaning messes. Without this starting over, this negotiation and mindful regrouping, we would never get through the day—any day, even the good ones.
I write here about the things I want to focus on, the good feelings, the good moments of family life because I want to remember them. Truly, our lives are so full and we enjoy so much good fortune. Conversely, I really try not to wallow in my feelings of frustration and rage, for doing so doesn’t do me any good and it harms the people around me. My children thrive when I’m present and patient. When I’m insane and shouting, we are all miserable. So I write to remember the good things someday in the future, but also to regroup and refocus right now on why I do what I do, why I am here and not elsewhere. It helps me remember my purpose, it helps me feel better about who I am and my current place in the universe. It helps me start over.
It’s easy for me to slip into complaining, and while I do think that occasionally writing about the crappy parts of this Mommy job is essential to maintaining my sanity, I try hard not to do it all the time. For if I don’t actively write about the great stuff, the sweet parts of this work, I easily drift off-course into dreary waters where dragons lurk.
For me, it’s a constant internal struggle and sometimes—usually—my riotous feelings must be subsumed in the needs of the family. Sometimes I hate it and want to break things, but doing so doesn’t change anything for anybody for the better. So I start over. Sometimes, on the other hand, I do have to cry or walk away for a while—to take care of myself and also to show my kids that I am a human being, that my feelings can be hurt when they are careless. If I’m careful about when I reveal this notion that Mommy is human, it can help us all start over. Sometimes I shout and lose it, and then crushing waves of guilt knock me off my feet. And then, once again, I start over.
The truth is, when Daddy is with us, I feel like 100 percent better and really do stay happier and in the moment. We can take turns being the strong/good one. He is my best friend and when he’s with me, it’s easy to see and feel how gorgeous all this that we have together is, how blessed we are. It’s when he is away and I’m with the kids for hours and hours without him that I start feeling lonely and stuck and jealous and hurt and a little bit like … how the hell did I get here?
And then some milk spills, or someone gets hurt, or the oven beeps, or a diaper needs changing, or a book needs reading aloud. Something happens—whatever this moment holds. I take a deep breath, and I start over.
Blessed quiet fills the house this morning. School has started back up, and although it was a trifle rocky getting Lucas out the door, I am very pleased to be back to our school-days routine. I am enjoying filling my body with the silence and deep breaths. There is plenty to do: editing work, chores, errands. And yet, I’m feeling peaceful and happy.
We had a good, long winter break. Ian was off work for the entire time the kids were out of school and daycare, and that, my friends, is a BEAUTIFUL thing. I’m so grateful because my work didn’t slack off at all until New Year’s Day and if Ian hadn’t been at home to keep the children occupied, I never would have made it. I am burned out and weary, but the last couple of days have been mellow, with hardly any work at all—just a check-in here, an email to write and send there. Rest is most welcome and I’m hoping to get a lot of it this week.
Christmas. What can I say? It was glorious and outrageous as ever. It was abundant and fun. It was also both busy and a little weird at times. Family troubles dominated my family’s side of things this year. Fortunately, I think my boys didn’t even notice. The gift-giving at RoRo’s house was low-key compared to usual, which was a blessing. And yet, somehow, my parents made up for that by showering presents on my kids. Mom and Dad and Jonathan arrived at our house Christmas morning with a huge carload of gifts. My mother kept shaking her head and muttering, “I guess I got a little carried away this year.” This amuses me; it’s not really like her to do so.
Ian and I approached Christmas with a fair amount of trepidation. Some of which was totally unfounded. We enjoyed a spur-of-the-moment shopping spree at Toys R Us for the kiddos. We also plowed through our home and garage in the last days before Christmas and boxed up lots of old toys for Goodwill and some for Ian’s clinic. So far, not a single item has been missed by Lucas or Asher.
I am so grateful the children had such a nice Christmas. Our days were full of conspicuous good behavior, talk of Santa Claus, and lots attention from Daddy.
Here are just some of the wonderful gifts we received:
Lucas: lots of science kits (experiments, volcanoes, science you can eat such as soda, rock candy, etc.), rollerblades, books, awesome colored pencils, Green Lantern action figures, and massive amounts of Lego.
Asher: books, puzzles, a noisy rocket ship, a noisy fire truck, a noisy cash register (his new “computer”), wooden boats, play dough, a carved owl that hoots, wooden tools, and nice block crayons.
Ian: a gorgeous new rug, many books, lots of music, a sweater, slippers, and high-quality cookware.
Sara: a gorgeous new rug, a Singer sewing machine, Gingher sewing shears, books, sweaters, two scarves, and lotion.
Our 15th annual Christmas party was a huge success! We were delighted to welcome old friends and new to our home Christmas night. I’m still smiling about it. We had a bunch of kids come, too, which was great fun for our boys. The last guests left at 2:30 a.m. on Boxing Day.
I had high hopes to make gifts this year. None of my plans panned out because my work kept me cranking hard the whole month. Some part of me finds it interesting to watch my internal struggle about that; letting go of my expectations and banishing the Shoulds is often hard for me. But I did it eventually out of necessity. Our Christmas was bountiful in every way, and that is thanks, in part, to the work I do.
Thank you to all who showered us with presents, good food, their presence, good wishes, and love.
An elfin warrior and a good soldier koala man fight the evil emperor, who threatens the kingdom of cuddly Oo Ah Ee creatures!
No toys in this house are played with as much as these colorful silk scarves, except perhaps for Legos. Lucas never tires of inventing stories and now that Asher is almost 3-years-old, he has plenty to add to the games. Their play is far more imaginative, interactive, and involves more role-playing than it was just six months ago. This is a beautiful thing because the more they play imagination games, the more they are cooperating instead of competing for resources. Fortunately, we have plenty of play silks.
My mud monster with eyes like the sea. Lucas spent this day sliding in the mud at school. Because on a muddy December play yard at a Waldorf school, nobody is going to stop you from doing it. I’m grateful for that. And then at home, after this photo was taken, Lucas learned how to put a load of laundry into the washer. I’m grateful for that, too.
We got to spend some time alone together Thursday night and it was so good. Lucas and I attended the Las Posadas celebration at his school, saw some friends, ate a churro, and he got to hit the piñata. At first, it was a little stilted; we were in our own two worlds with our own distractions. But some satsumas and a candy from the piñata, and then some salad, yummy pizza, and conversation helped. We played a few games of Connect Four at the pizza parlor, and then we puzzled our way through a face-guessing game without any instructions. It was fun and got us all warmed up and connected. At home, still just the two of us, we got Lucas ready for bed and read some Christmas stories. We even sang the “Twelve Days of Christmas” with gusto along with the picture book. And we snuggled.
I’m struck by how much my relationship to this boy has changed since his brother arrived. There was a time when Lucas and I were completely inseparable. I love him completely and am reminded that there needs to be time for just us.
Lucas, after the Santa Lucia walk through 11 grades and the school office. The children braved the cold and rain to deliver their message of light and the coming of Christmas, and buns for everyone!
As the youngest boy in the class, he carried a lantern and wore a special outfit, including grandma’s sweater and a hat I made.
When I told Lucas the other day that his name and Lucia both mean light, he smiled really big.
I wish I could say I am the picture of calm. I often am not. Today I had both kids home “sick,” although they don’t look very sick to me. In some ways it was good to spend my time thinking about things other than my textbook deadlines. I tried really hard to be the domestic goddess. I sewed, cooked, cleaned, laundered, and baked—with yeast. I have been successful. I also have lost my cool several times.
And now that it is 4:53 p.m., I would like to walk out the door wearing high heels and not come back until tomorrow morning. I would like, for a while, to be a dancing, on-my-own, free-as-a-bird goddess.
Just saying.
Instead, let’s talk about Santa Lucia and the festival that we’ve been preparing for this week. Lucas’s class will be visiting all the grades in the school, singing songs and delivering Santa Lucia buns to every student and teacher in the school. Lucia was a pious girl who ended up tortured and suffering. She is thought to have brought food and drink to poor people in Sweden and the Swedes love her. (When Ian lived in Sweden, he participated in a Santa Lucia festival and sang songs to his college profs wearing a pointy Star Boy hat.)
But I digress.
The traditional Lucia festival was held on the 13th of December, which the Internet tells me was the winter solstice during the middle ages. The festival is, at heart, a festival of light designed to honor the darkest moment of the year in the hopes that by doing so we can encourage the light to return. In Sweden, the oldest girl in the family rises early, bakes Lucia buns, wears a crown of lighted candles, and with her siblings, serves her parents buns and sings traditional songs.
Lucas has a special role to play in the Lucia festival. He is the youngest boy in his class, so he will be dressed as a gnome, in an all-red gnome outfit with a pointy hat. The hat I made from scratch out of wool felt. I sewed a little gold star on it for a decoration. Then I went hunting for red sweatpants. Target, K-Mart, Penny’s, and even Wal-Mart do not have red sweatpants. I went to the thrift store and found some that were rather too big, but, for $1.98, possibly not too, too big. I chopped off the extra length on the legs, hemmed them, and then doubled the waistband an inch or so in the back, and stitched it together. I had hoped I might be able to open the elastic waist, cut it, and cinch it tighter, but it was stitched down all the way around. Still, I think now they won’t fall off him.
I volunteered to bake Santa Lucia buns, so that was today’s major project. I am happy to say they are edible! I’m not a big bread-maker. I don’t know how many years it’s been since I made a yeast bread. The kids helped and when they were done, we sampled a couple. Pretty tasty. But it seemed to me the dough did not rise as much as it should have. I probably should have practiced before baking for reals.
Our Capitola vacation was perfectly lovely in almost every way. Our rented in-law suite worked well for us and we especially loved having the whole, gorgeous yard—complete with ocean view—to play in. We spent time outside, sitting and listening to the waves below, watching the birds dancing and spiraling in the air above the cliff and bay, sipping champagne, reading, and playing games with the boys. Asher and Lucas loved finding shovels and rakes to play with and a garden patch, containing bark to push around and dig, and a plastic play house. Our hosts were even gracious enough to drop some extra Duplo blocks for our kids to use.
I think we may have accomplished just about everything on my agenda for those six days off, including a super-fun trip to the Santa Cruz boardwalk on Friday after Thanksgiving, where Lucas and Asher and Ian got to enjoy some rides. It was adorable watching Lucas sitting with Asher in a tiny helicopter, teaching him how to make it go up and down, and reassuring him when Asher was feeling nervous.
Asher didn’t much care for the clown face into which you’re supposed to throw the brass rings you grab on the carousel. He refused to sit on a horse, but sat in my lap in a carriage instead. Lucas managed to grab the rings several times. I made Ian ride the kiddie race-car ride with Asher because it looked a little too fast and I thought Asher might get scared if Ian weren’t with him. They all had a blast.
We picnicked on a grassy lawn in some blustery weather and afterward played some arcade games, which are not my favorite but everyone else enjoyed them. Word of warning: Do not allow Asher to drive any type of vehicle anytime soon! He is all too interested in pushing every possible button and pulling every possible lever as quickly and frequently as he can.
Naturally, we had our normal family and sibling squabbles, too. Having the spacious home and two bedrooms helped with that, though. I think Lucas would have enjoyed more time at the beach, of course. We did go several times for partial days. I worked a little, but not so much that it was oppressive.
Other enjoyable moments included a walk to Gayle’s Bakery in Capitola on Wednesday morning, where we ate pastries and muffins outside, and then we paid a visit to Many Hands Gallery (where we didn’t break a thing!). We took walks into town (with some shopping), played lawn games, and watched sunsets over the ocean. Ian read to us from The Wind and the Willows before bedtime and he generously let me sleep in a tad in the mornings; he even figured out how to make good coffee with the French press. I got to knit some more on Asher’s sweater and even read a little. We even watched the new “Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” film together (Lucas and Asher prudently left the room during the Stone Table scenes but enjoyed all the rest of it). As some of you know, movies often don’t go over too well around here.
Lucas surprised us by requesting a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Although we weren’t really equipped for marathon cooking, we didn’t see any real reason to say no, so we bought a complete dinner from Safeway that fit the bill nicely. No, the food was not grand, but the setting was, so nobody minded. I’ve never had Thanksgiving dinner on a sunny cliff before! We called home on Thanksgiving to talk to our parents and watched “Tom and Jerry” cartoons while dinner was warming.
Of course, the beach was a favorite for all. I love to watch my boys playing in the sand and surf and stream and sun. I think they are most perfectly at peace in such places, perfectly alive and playful. There is a stream that runs into the sea on Capitola Beach and it makes the most divine place to play, with the stream running broadly and only about six inches deep. The water was cold, but that’s half the fun.
It took Asher some time before he felt comfortable enough to leave our side. He sat peacefully playing in the sand for a long while, but when he finally braved touching the stream with his toes, it was only moments before he was soaked up to his thighs. He ran through the water, splashing up- and downstream for an hour and a half. He said he was surfing.
Lucas braved the surf and got knocked down a few times when the waves came in bigger than he expected. He was OK, though, and got back up right away and went back for more. He must have been freezing, but that sort of thing doesn’t matter to a 7-year-old. I remember feeling exactly that way myself when I was his age. Frankly, to this day, I cannot go to the seaside and NOT touch the sea. It’s just impossible; to forego touching the waves is a sacrilege to great to be borne.
On our way home we stopped at Jeannie’s Christmas tree farm in the Santa Cruz mountains, Raccoon Gulch, and spent the afternoon there. We picnicked on turkey leftovers with Steve and Jeannie and met her parents. With Jeannie’s mom, Karen, Lucas made a “Spice Angel” with cinnamon sticks, bay leaves, yarn, and corn husk wings. (She’s lovely, and as soon as I find her acorn head, I’ll glue it back on and hang her up.)
Unfortunately, after we finished eating Jeannie had to leave for work. Steve led us through the woods along their “bike trail,” down into the gulch, over by the lake, and up to the “old barn.” It was so gorgeous and Lucas and Asher trooped along after Steve like mini Boy Scouts, listening intently as Steve identified plants and various fungi, and told stories about this fallen log or that thicket. Before long, my kids were shouting out, “Steve, here’s a mushroom!” Only for Asher, it was more like, “Teve! A mushooom!” (I’m really sad I didn’t take my camera along on this walk, but I was in the moment.)
I fell in love with the ~400-year-old oak tree at the end of Jeannie’s family’s property. So massive, so majestic—yet also it looked somewhat weary. Its huge branches grew up out of a giant trunk, out, and down— almost spiderlike. They rest on the ground for a span, as if they are too heavy to hold up, and then rise back up a little. It was very peaceful there in the dusk.
At the lake we had a long discussion about duckweed, and Lucas was determined to make biodiesel out of the duckweed he put in a bottle to take home. As far as I can tell, it is surviving the freezing weather in my backyard nicely, in the green plastic bucket where Lucas put it upon returning home.
More photos are now on my photos page or on Flickr.
