From the Mouthes of Babes

Babou's Alligator smile with Auntie Katrina and her real smile!

The other day was a long one. For some reason or another Babou had refused her usual afternoon nap and made it happily and energetically through the afternoon. As I put her in bed after her bath, she looked up and me as she snuggled in and said "Mama, I give up." I laughed, my sentiments exactly!

Practice

Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life.

-Anne Lamott

As I have written before, in my quest to become a better writer, I joined a local writing group called The Writing Mamas. The class caters to mothers and creates a warm, safe place where you can write, share your writing, help one another make contacts, and get published. It is perfect for me right now. The class acts as a support group, creative outlet, and infuser of inspiration.

It is a good place to hone your skills by getting critiqued in a gentle way. I need some help in this regard although it seems I am only pointed in a direction. I think I need to work on my sentence structure and on my style. It is one of those things that is only half-taught, as far as I can see. I keep looking for books to help me. I am currently reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, which I am thoroughly enjoying, but it seems more catered to fiction writers and I am trying to work on nonfiction articles and essays.

I want my writing to flow better. It is amazing how much work goes into a piece of writing. It never fails to leave me in awe, after I read something simple and elegant, realizing how much the author must have worked shaping her thoughts into elegant paragraphs. That is what I am striving for in my writing: simple, elegant and clear writing still voluptuous with feeling and imagery.

In any case, I am inspired and hopeful and enjoying those feelings. I know they are fleeting and that the most important thing is to be consistent. Consistent, moderate effort seems to be the theme of my thirties, an anecdote to the all or nothing of my twenties, and hopefully the underpinnings of a modicum of success in my forties. At least that is the way I am looking at it now.

I am going to work a little more on the writing for class last night and will publish it here tomorrow.

A Wild Week

In spite of the cost of living, it's still popular.

-Kathleen Norris

This week has gone a little unsmoothly, you could say. Things have not fallen into place as I had hoped. For instance, my tire was found flat the morning I took my sister Katrina to the airport for her return flight. I had to drive backwards up a one way street between traffic so as not to completely warp the tire (I live on a series of one way streets and the gas station is half a block upstream, if you will.) Flat tire inflated enough to make it to airport on time, thank God.

Patrick burnt his eyes welding and was in excruciating pain all night and most of the following day. I was up the whole night grating potatoes and applying them as poultices over his eyes, along with ice and cold wash clothes. He healed, thank God.

Patrick's bicycle was stolen off of our front porch for the second time. The first time Patrick had seen the person who had stolen his bike nonchalantly riding it around town. Not so nonchalant after having Patrick chase him down the street. The bike was returned, as it had been stolen, in the middle of the night. This time, we were at the park swinging Babou and throwing the ball for Loco O when Pat motioned me over. He pointed out a guy sitting on the grass patiently scraping the stickers off of Patrick's bike! Patrick went over and confronted the guy and, after much back and forth, Patrick got his bike back. Again.

I had my halfway doctor's appointment for the baby and all looks good. I am so excited to meet our newest addition that I almost wish we were having it tomorrow, and then I remember I have to go through labor and am glad it is still won't be for awhile. I am due February 24 and we are waiting to find out if it is a boy or a girl. It's one of life's best surprises!

A Day to Remember

Believe me if all those

Endearing young charms

Which I gaze on so fondly today

Were to change by tomorrow

And fleet in my arms,

Like fairy gifts fading away

Though would'st still be adored

As this moment thou art

Let thy loveliness fade as it will

And around the dear ruin

Each wish of my heart

Would entwine itself

Verdantly still.

It is not while beauty

And youth are thine own

And thy cheeks

Unprofaned by a tear

That the ferver and faith

Of a soul can be known

To which time will but

Make thee more dear

No the heart that has truly loved

Never forgets

But as truly loves

On to the close

As the sunflower turns

On her god when he sets

The same look which

She'd turned when he rose.

-Thomas Moore

Two years ago this afternoon, ten years one month and one day after our first kiss, my husband and I drove silently up the California coast. Liquid gold late afternoon sun glinted through the window as we drove, suspended in the moment. We were on our way to get married; an impromptu, sunset ceremony.

We had planned on getting married and had our marriage license but had been unable to coordinate times for a courthouse ceremony. Synchronicity influenced events and Patrick unexpectedly got the weekend off, my friend Gabriella's step-mother - an non denominational minister - happened to be in town and free. One of my other friends happened to be in town from the Bay Area painting in a local Plein Air festival. And her sister happened to be a photographer and lent my friend her camera.

We stood on the beach, my mother, Babou, and Gabriella's father standing nearby.

Gabriella's step-mother drew a circle with sage, enclosing the three of us,

and the ceremony began. We pledged our vows, centered and unselfconscious,

with the sun setting behind us, waves lapping near our bare feet.

As we parted from our closing kiss, we were surprised by the sound of clapping.

So immersed we were in our circle and vows we had not noticed the other beach goers watching from a distance. The cheering continued, as well as much well wishing, and we happily, giddily walked to a little picnic table near the beach. There we had our quickly pulled together sunset picnic of baguettes, cheese, fruit, and champagne. Gabriella's father toasted us, and we watched the perfect evening turn to dusk.

Looking back on that day, I realize that although I had always thought I wanted more of a traditional wedding, that the wedding I had was actually the perfect wedding for me. We were so in the moment, so unselfconscious, so focused on our words and what they meant, so focused on each other. We were able to take our vows in a way that meant so much, in a way that really was a union, a blending of two. Our marriage, the blending of two very different people, has allowed us both to become more authentic and balanced versions of ourselves. We both felt the change, everything was the same and yet completely different. A golden evening that will last forever in my memory.

Halfway There!

Day Two and Company

I wake up every morning at nine and grab for the morning paper. Then I look at the obituary page. If my name is not on it, I get up.

-Benjamin Franklin

Day one down, we are now on day two. This is good, a little hard getting used to the new schedule and I am tired, but I will get used to it. And I'm pregnant, tired is fairly normal.

I feel good and hopeful. I am also re-starting the morning pages, a tool I have used off and on from Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way. It is a full twelve week program that I have never been able to really do but I have always tried to do at least the morning pages. Maybe I will get motivated and do the whole program. I have heard from friends that it is quite life changing/enhancing/directing/motivating.

Ok, well I must get on. I need to finish an anti-foodie (I know, I know, me write an anti-foodie piece? Well, you will understand when you read it), and the inspiration and flow is flagging so I have to just, as Ann Lamott would say, get my really shitty first draft out of the way. So maybe not finished, but started.

Then I need to do some home stuff, yard work, week-wacking, some extra house cleaning, and food shopping. In anticipation of guests that I am so excited about seeing. Today one of my oldest and closest friends is coming to visit, fresh from a month long trip to Indonesia that I haven't heard enough about. I went to Indonesia in my early twenties and have always wanted to go back.

Katrina, my brilliant, busy sister is arriving Saturday morning and I am almost hopping inside to see her. Yes, weird, but that is how I feel. She will be here till Monday and then my mom arrives Sunday to stay till Wednesday! And I have my writing class on Sunday and hopefully my article will have evolved past it's shitty first draft into a gleaming, publishable piece to have reviewed.

And I think I will make some zucchini muffins to really get the bed and breakfast feeling going. I found a good, basic recipe the other day, and with a little creative license, made them my own: cardamom, sun dried cranberries, and slivered almonds!

Self Discipline

You would adjust your conduct and even direct the course of your spirit according to hours and seasons.

Kahlil Gibran

I have been thinking about this childraising/time to yourself/something for yourself conundrum.

And thinking...and thinking.

I think that there are different times in one's life that offer unique experiences perfectly suited towards growing in various ways. Every phases of life presents both obstacles and opportunities.

For instance, when I stopped working and started a family, I decided that the new phase of my life would be a perfect time to explore my more creative side. That side I had had little time for really, between school and work and then more work. Even the writing I did get to do at the wine magazine was very constricted and uncreative due to the editorial content. I had never had a real opportunity to discover my voice, or my creativity.

I thought motherhood would present the perfect opportunity for reclaiming my more artistic side. That being creative with my children, seeing through their eyes, and experiencing their unstructured concept of time would reconnect me to my innate creativity that dwelt, I intuited, in a more playful part of myself long buried.

But I found myself instead putting my old attitudes into my new life. Trying to structure time too precisely, or letting it go entirely. Never really enjoying the moment because now I was focused on a new to-do list that never ended. The list may have changed, but my attitude had not: grimly going down a to-do list or worrying about the lack of order in my life and overcompensating. And still, fun and creativity coming last, if at all.

I thought what a perfect opportunity to finally do what I had always wanted to do: become a writer. Hopefully make that my new career. But I find myself, day after day, filling my time first with my hopelessly mundane, and certainly un-fun, "to-do" list.

So I have decided, in all of this thinking, that my wish to become a writer will never happen unless I do it, every day. As though I am already a writer, treat it as a career, as a job, and hopefully, in so doing, it will become just that: a job and a career.

In order to do that, I am going to start putting myself first, literally, in the morning. By putting writing first in my day, I will always do it. I will structure my time, but not confine myself either, blending the lessons of flexibility and fluidity that motherhood has taught me with my older, more rigid attitudes about life and work. My focus will be less on perfection and more on production. Making writing a regular part of my life, on a daily basis. A consistent, regular mental purging, if you will.

I think I will be able to relax and enjoy the rest of my life more, knowing that I am taking care of myself as well as my home and family. If you lose yourself, you have nothing to give. It is that elusive balance of maintaining oneself in the face of life's demands, a paradox no one is immune to and a balance everyone requires. Here is to each of us finding our paths and, most importantly, walking them.