There is a busy one year old in this household who loves to get in on everything his big brother and sister are doing. So when Maisey and Lincoln get to spend a quiet hour alone in my office, with the door shut, setting up their ‘chess game’ they feel so special.
Who wouldn’t want to make those two faces feel special?
It’s the simple things, isn’t it?
{Phoenix, one year ago}
My eldest has been away at his new school for 3 weeks now.
I have been informed on his transition from the director at the school, received his requisite weekly letter home, worried much.
Sunday evening I spoke with him for the first time. He is well. Doing things required of him to the best of his abilities. The phone call held tears, for the things said; but mostly the things unsaid.
I mentioned a bit back about the difficulty of putting thoughts to paper when your mind is spinning. When the thoughts don’t all mesh pretty. I know so much of that has to do with P. The feelings I have surrounding him leaving have left me so raw, so vulnerable.
I feel the shift in the way I interact with people, especially new people. The simplest sentences can force me to quickly blink away tears. I am broken, in many ways.
I have always been a broken person; we all are. We are all just trying to put the pieces together into ways that work. It’s hard though. Trying to figure out what you are making sometimes, isn’t it? Especially when you want the pieces to make some sense and you are still standing to far back to see what is being formed from the mess.
I am longing to see the lovely messy with Phoenix, and I am just seeing the messy. Knowing that it might not be lovely for years is hard.
So I spoke with him on Sunday. And the end of the call just reinforced my feelings of this all. It is sad. So sad. I wish Phoenix could be at home. I changed my life for him. I chose to have a different kind of life for him. And now he can’t even be in my home and be well. I miss him. I miss the boy I would see glimpses of on the good days. It makes me sad, friends.
I am praying for him often. That this opportunity will be one he grabs hold of and claims to be a live-living one. Please join me in loving him through your prayers.
xoxo. anya*
Canning has always been a wonderful way for me to fill my cup {or mason jar if you will..}. You can share in some of my past experiences here, here, here, here and most recently here.
This past weekend I loaded my trunk with lots and lots of peaches and apples and just love the sight of my pantry in the basement filling up.
The shelves are just the way they were when we moved in, but love that I have my own ‘canning room’ for supplies and the jars of yumminess.
Any ideas on how to spruce up the space? My mom thought a paint sprayer filled with creamy white may be an easy fix. Until then I am satisfied with rows of glistening goodness.
Go smile today.
Be silly.
Play with friends.
The sun is out {for me at least!}
We are headed to Eastern Washington to play with family. See you next week!
I don’t think I am a particularly organized person. My husband always jokes about my ‘systems’ around the house. At his office he has nothing on the desk at the end of the day, everything has a place. That spells organization.
I, on the other hand, have bills tucked into about 33 different drawers, half-finished books scattered in various resting places, and my desk is never, ever clear. I scribble bits here and there and use notebooks to keep my ideas safe, and even though I may need to use a sharpie to write them down because all of the pens are missing- I can easily make do.
Well, at a writing critique group this week I mentioned the dreaded writers block I am facing after finishing my book and completing the edits. Now I need to move onto another project while I figure out to do with the finished one. Someone asked about my process in writing the book and I said what I had done. I knew the story (mostly) from beginning to end in my head, and knew how many chapters I wanted it to include and how many words a young adult novel typically has, so I broke it down that way. I had 40 different scraps of paper outlining the chapters content and just pieced it together from there.
Everyone seemed to think that was a really crazy amount of organization. I had never written a book before so I guess I didn’t know the ‘typical’ way. I still don’t, I suppose.
They even laughed and said ‘I can’t believe you are left handed and so organized’.
I can only contribute it to, in that case, the busyness of my household and knowing the time I set aside each day to write is limited and must result in a certain amount of productivity.
So, my question is, do you find yourself at odds with your organizational self? In some cases being very orderly and in other areas very, well, not?
“Say thank you. No, seriously, THANK YOU.”
I wasn’t trying to be that parent who is constantly harping like those seals we saw in Mexico- but really- I heard him say thank you to the cashier who gave him a sucker, thank you to his big sister when she gave him a ball and thank you to the stuff bear who did nothing for him at all.
Yet me, his selfless, tireless, never forgetting {I mean, except for the occasional shower}- Mother- you know the one who gives him vanilla soy in a sippy, clean buns about 42 million times a day, pureed organic quinoa or whatever else lovely put together parents do and still I couldn’t get that single double-word phrase out of this darling sixth and probably last and definitely most stubborn child.
So I pulled out the big guns. I grabbed his La-La. You know, most every child has some sort of La-La- snuggly/lovie/or whatever else you call a germ infested snot blanket. Yes. I grabbed his La-La and held it at ransom. See, I knew he was strong willed, but no child can part with their La-La. Even if their mother is the best kisser or cuddle-er or rock to sleep-er- you can’t compete with a baby and his La-La. Yes, I knew my sons kryptonite.
“You can have your La-La.” I said, holding it between us, sitting on a hasn’t been mopped in 63 days kitchen floor. He instinctively shoved his thumb in his mouth and held out his other grubby little nearly 2 year old hand. Just when his fingers met the ratty blue threads I pulled it back just fast enough to cause his eyes to flicker with panic. He thinks I will give in. And yes, those big brown eyes turn me to mush most days- but not today.
Today, I was going to hear those words.
“Say thank you.” I firmly stated. In my most motherly commanding yet recognizing my sons spirit kinda voice. I was going to be strong, I was digging in my heels, taking the bull by the horns.
And just when I thought it was gonna get bad, like it has before when I told him to eat his food, or put up toys and come here right now and we land in time out land- him holding that precious La-La, me with a new pot of coffee; he flashed me a ridiculous smile.
The smile that says I know exactly what I am doing. And he says,
“Tank you mama.”
I ironed nine shirts and nine slacks the other day for my husband. I used to take a giant heap to the dry cleaners a few times a month, which was conveniently located next door to one of my favorite places, the Goodwill {did you hear about my $12 Frye’s?}.
Well every time I picked up cleaning I would spend fifty bucks or so, and then I would walk into the Goodwill and spend a bit more. In an effort to cut costs and be home more and out less I decided I can do the ironing thing again. Not ironing isn’t really an option, my man works for the man and must wear a suit coat everyday. So I pulled out the ironing board in front of my computer and watched several episodes of a heartwarming show {cough, cough} and knocked out nearly 2 weeks worth of clothes.
And I didn’t go into the Goodwill. Which is probably a good thing. I don’t have self control people!
What was my point?
Oh, yes, I am getting things done. Peripheral things, yes, but just the doing feels good. Like, productive. And better then just having watched those shows and done no ironing and just ate a bag of BBQ kettle chips. {and I wonder why I can’t lose weight?..}
So my lovely friends- go do something. Check it off you list. Don’t keep making the same To-Do list everyday wit the same things To-Do. That is silly. And cyclical.
And will make you feel like you can’t accomplish anything.
And you can accomplish things. Really awesome things. What are you gonna do today?
Fall is here- and we dug out coats and closed toed shoes to walk on the ferry, landing in the hustle and bustle of down town Seattle. Meeting Grandpa and Grandma- the smiles were big and wide and it felt good to just. be. happy.
Hot dogs and garlic fries and cotton candy made for a good cheering section at the Mariners baseball game. The kids were dancing in the aisle; being goofy, being real- delighting in the day. A first for most of them, a few mid-sized children fell fast asleep in grandparents arms before the game was through.
And we walked briskly to catch the ferry home in the rain, thankful for the extra arms to carry the kids when little legs got tired. And more then thankful for family.
And the ferry ride home- lets just say the quiet ones were now awake and they were having so much fun together. Jeremy and I just had to smile at the crazy, messy, hilarious tribe we have.
In my continued effort to simplify my life, and perhaps since I can’t figure out what to say in the larger sense, some rearranging of rooms is always a good stress release for me.
Our home has a large 1/2 finished basement. It holds bookshelves, our television and console,a computer desk, a few futons, a million legos and a doll house. The basement is a great space- and when we bought the house we thought we may finish it in the semi near future. Well, with some recent changes in the way we output $$ we realized any major remodel would be on hold for several years. Instead of constantly wishing the space was different then what it is (a finished playroom, a bedroom and tv room- with an actual ceiling:))- I decided to figure out a way to be content with what I have.
An easy way to do that was to empty the space. Take a million books to the goodwill, move bookshelves to bedrooms and the biggie- put the tv in the main (and now only) living room.
This was a hard decision. I enjoy having the black box out of sight, but it causes so much more work by doing so. The square footage of cleaning the basement alone makes it a smart choice. I do not want to be a slave to my household chores, a slave to maintaining my space.
I know my husband is going to love lazy Sunday afternoons watching football on a comfy couch instead of the futons. And maybe I will put some tricycles in the basement for rainy fall days- with the space cleared there will be plenty of room to do laps on the linoleum!
How are you simplifying your life? Please share!
And I’ve been meaning to write. Write the words that make my heart full right now. The words I want to carve in a tree trunk, making the marks permanent, but I keep finding I don’t have the write right tools to say just what I feel.
And then it comes back to the sharing, I know that is where I find strength. Sharing my words, even if they are briefly read or pondered- the sharing is what does my body good.
So why the hesitation, why the pause, when my heart feels so full?
Perhaps time will tell, but I do know I am not alone, and I like that. The not being alone part.
I am looking for the tools, I will let you know when I find them, friends.
