Friday, May 30, 2014

Recharged

Maia had her last day of school and the next morning Aleks headed to Austin for his triathlon, leaving me with the girls for four days. Not only was I greeted with the shock of single parenthood, but also with the abrupt end of hectic school and work schedules. Which left me suddenly gasping for air even though I was no longer suffocated with things to do.

As artists and professors, our lives and routines are extremely varied from week to week, but the consistency of intense work and time commitments dictate the rhythm of our days. And every summer, the rug is pulled out from under us. Both parents are home at the same time. Mornings seem aimless without school to propel us out the door. It's an adjustment.

I spent those four days as a single parent, somewhat isolated from the world. There were brief moments of conversation with other adults, but they were few. I entered a bit of a depression, eating too much, looking at Facebook on my phone incessantly, watching my 600 pound life on TLC. And while I really despise feeling lethargic and am terrified of becoming deeply depressed, there was a little voice encouraging the boredom knowing that it might serve me in the long run.

During that time I also read. Aleks had been loaned A Life Without Limits by Chrissie Wellington, a world champion triathlete, and I found myself sucked into and inspired by her journey.

"Hard work and an open mind- it's the only way to realize the potential that is inside every one of us."

I also began reading Operating Instructions by Anne Lamott, whose honesty about motherhood and masterful storytelling are so incredibly motivational.

So while my world had come to a screeching stop and it felt like I was sitting on my butt (I did go to the gym several times!), ho-humming and unmotivated to practice or write, I was actually recharging the batteries that had completely run out.

Sure enough, Aleks came home and I now have a list of projects for the summer, yard work has been done, lots of laundry folded, and de-cluttering has revived my spirits.

Yesterday I even went bathing suit shopping.

If you have 3 and 5 year old girls, I strongly encourage you to bring them along. If you have two little  girls chirping how beautiful you look, they almost drown out the voices of self loathing that can knock a woman to her knees.

The girls are remembering how to play together again. Aleks and I are catching up on sleep (the dark circles are only occasional now). The air conditioning is now a constant whir in the background.

Summer: let's do this.

Friday, May 23, 2014

Last day of Pre-K

Maia just had her last day of pre-k.
Which means, she's no longer pre.
She's a k.
Hold me.


Over my salad today, it hit me that Maia will never again go into Mrs. Burcham's classroom and sit down to do work jobs or centers. I won't see her running out of the door at pickup time, cheeks red from recess, looking around for her friends. (She can never get enough of her friends.) 

All of a sudden, just like that, it's over.

In all the busyness of my teaching schedule and the end of the year, I didn't properly prepare myself for this day and milestone. 

What a gift that children are so adaptable. We ask so much of our little people, to be flexible and accept change and do what we say. When do we lose that ability to relinquish control so easily? 

Actually, maybe I'm idealizing a bit. I happen to know a certain 3 1/2 year old who has a terrible time with not being in control and is currently figuring out a way to deal with life when things don't go her way. Like when THESE PANTS DON'T FEEL RIGHT ON MY ANKLES or THE BLANKET ISN'T LYING FLAT or THAT'S NOT HOW I WANT PEANUT BUTTER SPREAD ON MY CRACKERS

I digress.

Maia has grown so much this year. 
She's gotten taller and her hair has gotten longer. 



She's also matured emotionally and socially.


Maia and Vivi like to sing for the class during snack time.


Her fine motor skills have markedly improved.





And here's a book she wrote and illustrated this month.

My Work Book


This is my dad and some pretty flowers. 

 This is me at my house. These are the pretty flowers.

This is my house. My sister Ruby is looking at me.

My sister Ruby is at her school. She is doing puzzles.

 Ruby and I are playing tag.

 This is my mom and me standing with our eyes closed. We are thinking.

 This is my mom. She is at work.

The E
(upside down) Maia.

She told me she couldn't focus on the last page.

It's been a good year.
Next year we'll work on looking at the camera.


So, onto summer and all the sunscreen and chlorine filled days as time keeps marching on!

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Mom

For a good part of my childhood, when asked "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I would respond, "an author." I loved reading and almost finished my Sweet Valley High book on the way home from the library. I read the Little House on the Prairie series too many times to count and I would often go to the bathroom after being put to bed as an excuse to read for another half-hour.

Things changed as I grew up and my interests became more centered around music, but I've always loved reading and writing.

Especially lately. Writing makes me feel good. A different good than singing, it satisfies me in a completely unique way. Through reading other people's blogs and some random google searches, I came across Anne Lamott's name and just yesterday picked up her book on writing, bird by bird

I found myself nodding throughout the introduction and feeling as if I'd been given a priceless gift. Why on earth did it take me so long to find her? 

A couple things jumped off the page and hit me in the face. Here are a few of them:

"good writing is about telling the truth."

"Writing can give you what having a baby can give you: it can get you to start paying attention, can help you soften, can wake you up."

"I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won't have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have more fun while they're doing it."

I've only just started reading, but Ms. Lamott's words have inspired me to write and be intentional about it. And I think, besides the fact she's brilliant and funny and gifted with words, I just like her because she's from the Bay Area and I'm desperately homesick for CA.

Anyway, Ms. Lamott encourages writers to do short assignments for a number of reasons, none of which I'll go into here, (you'll just have to read her book!) and I've decided to take on the challenge.

So, since it's Mother's Day, I thought I'd do my first short assignment with my mother as a subject.

There are many things I could write about my mother. I could write about how the scent of Oil of Olay face lotion instantly transports me to childhood bedtimes. Or how she makes the most amazing dinner rolls and at Thanksgiving and Christmas I would eat as many as I could get my hands on, leaving no room for turkey or stuffing. Or how she's passed on to me her love of dance and celebration of what the human body can do. And her love of coffee and peanut butter. Or how the childhood she gave my siblings and me has helped shape us into thinking, creative people. 

Instead I want to share a memory that came to me in a flash today as I was headed home from the gym.

---------------------

It was early evening and the outside light was further muted as it made its way through the tall, narrow stained glass windows in the church. The light cast a yellow tint to the already orange hued pews causing time to stand still as if we were in a faded polaroid.

It must have been late summer or early fall because it was warm and there was a slight layer of perspiration all over my body. The pastor was talking and had been for awhile to the small congregation, the especially devout who came to church twice on a Sunday.

I sat in the front pew next to my mom, her feet adorned in familiar black organ shoes. There was a hymnal on her lap upon which sat a scrap of paper where she had jotted down a few notes, phrases from the sermon, a bible passage. At the top corner was also a little doodle, something I found fascinating. I don't remember specifically what it was, just a a series of curves and swoops in my mom's distinct, to me, handwriting. Did my mom get bored too?

On my other side was a friend, who had fallen asleep across her mother's lap. 

Slowly I managed to replace the hymnal on my mother's lap with my head. I'm sure I was too big for this sort of thing, but it was warm in the church and the light was hypnotic. Absentmindedly my mom began to stroke my hair, just at the baby soft spot, right next to the forehead near the temple. 

Stroke, stroke, stroke. 

It was the most heavenly feeling. Maybe if I kept as still as possible she wouldn't stop. For once I didn't care how long the sermon went on, I wasn't bored, just propelled into the present moment, and anchored there by my mother's hand.

All too soon, the pastor began to close in prayer and my mom gently lifted my head up as she stealthily made her way to the organ to play the last hymn.

In that moment, we fit together effortlessly, able to ask for, give, and receive love in a way that made sense to both. What a gift that memory is to me.

I now know with my heart, not just my head, that being a mom isn't easy. But I also know that it has made me a better person and so worth every difficulty. 

So you're welcome mom, for making you a better person. Haha! Just kidding!

Seriously though, there aren't enough words or sentences or short writing assignments to express the depth of love and gratitude I have for you and the mom you've been. So, take this memory, which is yours now as well, and pull it out when you need to be reminded of what a bang up job you've done.

Happiest of Mother's Days mom.

Friday, May 2, 2014

Anyone else?

It's the end of the semester.
I'm feeling a little


Also a little



And unfortunately, the amount of B.S. that keeps popping up is making me feel like I'm going to


So, if I see you, maybe avoid eye contact and just keep walking.
But in 2 weeks it will be



Happy Weekend everyone!