Old books.

One of my favorite things is collecting old books. Nothing like a first edition Henry Miller to make my day. I also love children's books. I have collected many great oldies over the years in my travels, but I also have a nice big bin of books from my own childhood. I keep many of them in plastic, to give to my kids when they are older (as we check them out from the library if we want to read them), but every once in awhile I get a craving to dig around and refresh my memory.

One book I dragged upstairs this week is "The Ice-Cream Cone Coot and Other Rare Birds" by Arnold Lobel.

I always loved the artwork and rhyme, and it has become A's favorite book this week. We have read it 100 times at the least, and he pores over every detail of each image over and over, to impress it into his memory. Although it is out of print, most libraries probably carry it - and it is worth looking for - the artwork is spectacular.

Thread of memories.

Did you know who you were or who you wanted to be as a child? It is funny, in a way, that I triumphantly sang and drew and painted as a child and that is what I spent most of my adult life doing too. My father heavily guided me into sports, and classes guided me to sit down, and teachers guided me to write with my right hand and not my left. But every time I got a bathroom pass at school I would lock myself in a stall and sing Arethra Franklin songs at the top of my lungs, echoing down the hallways, until teachers or Principal would crawl under to unlock, march me to the office, and call my mother (again). Every time I had a pencil in my hand I would draw. Every time I had an open field I would run.

Most of my childhood memories are not of school. Most are of roaming in the woods (kids used to be able to do that), climbing a ridiculously high ladder into a wobbly treehouse, riding bikes down kamikaze steep hills only to lift my legs as I ran over the venomous snake sunning itself on the warm trail. Camping in the woods. Girl Scouts. Riding in the back of our car with my head out the window on those sticky hot summer nights singing along to some cheesy 70's song at the top of my lungs. I remember finding abandoned buildings in the middle of nowhere to explore. Sledding down suicide hill. Drawing obsessively on my notebook while lying on a huge rock in our creek. Fishing for crawdads (and "catching" water mocassins). Sitting on the roof of the car to watch car races from the road at night. Going to my dads baseball games and playing with all of the other players kids under the bleachers...the hot nights, the loud cheers, the bright stadium lights, the smell of hot dogs and popcorn. Baton/corps practice on hot asphalt all summer long with kids from all over of all ages (and the cute drummers!!). Going fishing. Swimming all summer long.

Sure, I remember other things too. The best teacher in grade school was a nun - my music teacher with a beautiful afro who had the voice of an angel and a heart of gold. The best coach I had wasn't one of those expensive elite private coaches I had for many of my sports - but the young dad who coached track for the girls team. The kind older gentlemen who taught me to play chess on the park district boards each summer. My moms friend from the park district who built his own boat from scratch in his back yard in Missouri and when it was done, quit his job and sailed it throughout the Carribbean. The track coach who committed suicide and changed my life. A friends dad who came back after being a POW in Vietnam and sat in the corner and told us stories as we played.

At a park with the boys today my husband and I watched a school bus unload a batch of kids. As we watched one young boy crying the entire way from bus to home dragging his things behind him, I laughed and said, well, I guess our kids won't ever have the bus ride home from school experience! And you know, that isn't what makes you *you*. Daily LIFE is - the in betweens. Life is what forms you, makes you who you are, influences who you become. Not sitting in rows day after day or riding on a school bus. Life is a string of memories all tying together day by day who we are and who we will become into one long thread - and what do YOU remember most? And what memories are you creating now?

So I remembered. I remembered a life of many places, many people, many ages, many experiences, many triumphs, many mistakes. And who I was and who I have become are pretty close together. I take a look at my boys, and the things that give them the most joy, what day to day memories we are making, and what kind of life I want them to have. I want magic. I want memories. I want those in betweens.

The roses are here!

Head wounds and little brothers.

My sweet little guy. Doing some spunky "fancy dance" this afternoon in what appeared to be plenty of open space and he tripped and blammo. Forehead into the corner of his little wood chair.

As I looked at it right after he hit I could actually see blood bubbling out of the wound and there was so much of it I couldn't even see how bad it was. After carrying him into the kitchen and putting some pressure with a clean white cloth for a little bit, I could see it more clearly. Big purple bruise, an egg shaped lump, and a "hole" tear right in the middle of his forehead. Ouch.

During the hoopla of the shrieking and blood spurting, G decided to unlock the back door (3 locks), wander into the yard, and sit in the wagon. I am a very lucky mama that he didn't go any further and just hung out there until I realized the back door was open and he was gone (only minutes at most, but still). "Too roud mama" he said to me when I reached him ... yes, honey, too loud.

After cleaning up A's head I put on a big honkin' (his words, not mine) bandage. G wanted one too - although he got a smaller model. After that, G spent a lot of time patting his big brother, asking if he was ok, making him drink water, and giving him kisses. Sweet boys.

Organizing spaces...

I've been feeling a little burned out for the past few weeks. Intense 2 year old, too much work to do (biz work, volunteer work, life work), husband having school work a lot - that I just have been feeling like I am dragging. I decided to re-organize some of my creative space to see if that will help rid me of the cobwebs (that and about 18 cups of iced green tea per day).
I don't feel particularly more motivated or anything, but at least everything seems more balanced and coordinated a bit. It only took about 1 minute for the ribbons to become unwound and wrapped around the entire upstairs as the boys ran excitedly by, and G took it upon himself to individually unravel every spool of vintage thread in the wire basket right after I had carefully organized them, but otherwise it went well. It is about the process, right, anyway? :)
And all of the things in progress or made as a first sample "pattern" on my board made me feel like I'm not slacking off as much in this area and that I have made *some* progress!