Keeping What I Will

Plumcake

 

Isn't she beautiful? 

She arrived in the mail from Kara, and though I've become loathe to blog about "things" (which feels boastful and acquisitive), I wanted to share what came up for me when I received it.

Of course, my first thoughts were "I love it!" and "Kara is so sweet!!" But then, other thoughts crowded it out. "She finished it. Why can't you ever finish anything?" "Isn't that neat how she made something you can hold in your hands? When was the last time you created something tangible?" "You are so untalented--you've never been able to crochet or knit anything. How many times have women tried to teach you? You're hopeless." "You should have learned to crochet. Mom and Granny crocheted beautifully, why didn't you learn from them?" "So much for living creatively. What have you done lately?"

From joy to despair in fifteen seconds.

I knew what was happening almost immediately--how could I not, standing there holding a lovely gift and feeling miserable? At first I felt awe--my demons are really good at what they do. Wow! Fifteen seconds!  Then, I started to laugh--which, as we all know, is the number one deflator of demons. Demons cannot bear to be laughed at.

Sorry demons, but I don't knit or crochet. I don't particularly WANT to learn to knit or crochet right now. And demons, I know you're worried because I still haven't finished a story, but you needn't be. I'm still working on that fantasy story, and I'm feeling optimistic about some other projects in the queue. Life's pretty good right now.

So why don't we all hush and admire Plumcake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 Thank you, dear Kara.

The Pool

 

 

 

 

  

 Lately, I've been trying to figure out how I can be me, while still allowing Nathan to be Nathan. This particular problem comes up with other people, of course, but Nathan challenges me more than anyone else. It seems like we're often locked into battle, with my only choices being outright refusal to bend or going beyond my boundaries and just sucking it up. This inevitably ends up leaving one of us upset--and it's usually me.

Take, for example, the pool.

I hate it. I hate the water in my ears. I hate the little plastic plug thingies to keep the water out of my ears. I hate having to use goggles with my contacts. I hate getting water splashed on my glasses. I hate the fact that for the pool to be warm, it means that the outside temperature has got to be a lot higher. I hate sitting out in the sun. I hate puddles of water. And yes, I'll admit it, I hate putting this body of mine into a bathing suit and being exposed for all to see. Exposed so that I can do all this stuff that hate.

Now Nathan? LOVES it. He's not at all athletically inclined--except for swimming. He'd go to the pool every day, if he could. And once he's there, it's hard to get him to leave. Stays for three or four hours are not unusual. 

In previous summers, his visits to the pool have been confined to weekends, when Mark could take him. But this year, I started thinking about it in April. It is so very hot here in the summer, and sometimes days go by without him playing outside. He doesn't like to go for walks, and he's not into biking, scooters or skateboards. All he likes to do in the summer is swim--especially since he took lessons over the winter and can now move like a fish in the water. The weekends are not enough for Nathan. It was beginning to look like I was going to have to suck it up.

But that's when I stopped and started to figure it out. I asked myself: How I can be pool hating me, while allowing pool loving Nathan to be Nathan? Does it have to be either/or? Can it work out for both of us?

I questioned Mark about the set up at the various pools Nathan likes to go to. Is there shade? Are there tables? Is it crowded? And I questioned Nathan. Does he have fun on his own? Do I need to actually get into the pool?

And you know what I found out? There are trees and umbrellas at all of the pools. If you get there early, it's not particularly crowded. There are always lifeguards on duty. Nathan is capable of having fun on his own, or with the other kids there. I don't actually have to get in the pool.

So today, we gave it a go. I took my writing bag, my Kindle and iPad. We got there right when it opened and were the first ones there--giving us first pick of all the tables and recliners. I chose a delightful shaded table, right between the baby pool and the regular pool. I spread out all my things around me, propped up my feet, and spent a delightful three hours. By the pool. Me.

And Nathan had a blast, too.

 

 

Salad Days

 

Beet Salad.

 

Carrot Salad.

 

Tomato and Cucumber Salad.

 

A loaf of homemade Guinness Beer Bread...

 

...and some farmer's cheese from my CSA share to fill in the cracks.

 

Salad days. 

Rockin' the Granny Tote

I'm going to try a new thing, which is actually a old thing.

Though I finally gave up my attempts to completely read (and do) a Julia Cameron book, there was one idea in one of her many books (and I can't remember which one) that sprouted a root in my brain--the idea that it's not necessary to find a large block of time in which to write. Instead, she suggested that one look for little nuggets of time--perhaps having a breakfast, lunch and dinner type of writing times, with a few snacks thrown in for good measure.

While giving it thought, I realized that for it to work, I needed to make my writing portable. I needed to have it one place--my fountain pen, some miscellaneous pens, a couple of legal pads, a journal, and whatever notes or articles of inspiration I was using at the time--easy to get to and easy to carry.  At the same time as all this thinking, I actually stumbled over the perfect bag for me, for this purpose--a bag that's almost too much (and perhaps IS too much for some of you), a loud, in your face, painted cats and sequins bag. I quickly snatched it up.

And then lost it in the closet, forgetting all about the "little bursts of creativity."

Luckily, I have friends. Friends who often think along the same lines that I do, and read a lot of the same books as I do. Today a friend suggested that big chunks of structured time may not work, especially right now with Nathan home all day. He referred to Cameron's idea, and it all came flooding back--my initial excitement about the idea, the free feeling it gave me, and the bag. The delightful bag.

So I've dug it out of the closet, and I'm choosing what to put in it. When it's filled, I'm keeping it right out in the open--maybe on the sideboard in the dining room, or perhaps next to the couch in the living room. Somewhere prominent, where I'll see it a hundred times a day. Somewhere easily accessible, where I can grab it as I head out door. 

I'm feeling ever so optimistic.

 

Good Things

 

This week's yummy CSA share.

Mark getting more haikus published.

Helping at Nathan's class picnic, and overhearing him tell a teacher, "I just love that Mommy!"

Finally beginning Neil Gaiman's Sandman comic book graphic novel series, because Mark wants so very much to share it with me.

Knowing I have several hours today to read.

Updated an hour later:

The link to a beautiful short video, posted by Kara on her blog.

What Will Be

 

It's going to be a high of 96 degrees today (the heat index puts it in the 100s), so I'm sitting in my dark living room, grateful for the shade-giving trees in the front yard, the ceiling fan, and the a/c. My chores are done, my body exercised and fed, and now I have nothing much to do until it's time to meet Nathan at the bus stop. It's time to go internal.

Changes.

They're a'coming.

Summer vacation begins in a couple of weeks, and though I look forward to all the extra time with Nathan, schedules will have to be reassessed, and weekly doings will have to be reconsidered. This isn't a bad thing, it's just different--and I have my troubles with adjusting to new routines.

There's also the new school Nathan will be starting in August. Though this is an overwhelmingly positive change, there are little pieces of it that bother me. New things that have to be considered, new routines (again), and new expenses. Adjusting.

Then there's me. Change is going to have to happen--no matter how much I may resist. I've got to pull myself out of the bog and begin to move. How, when, where, why, isn't even relevant--I just need to put this body/mind/spirit of mine back into action. And once the motion begins, I've got to try to remember how hard it is to get started once I've stopped. And to not stop again.

With all the changes and all the adjustments, comes something else to consider. Can this be done with love and kindness? To myself and everyone around me? Can I meet life with joy, and perhaps a little serenity thrown in, as well?

Yes to change, no to drama.

Good Things

 

Futurama episodes on Netflix's instant viewing.

Nathan excitement when he realized I'd thrown away all his old markers and bought two new packs of fifty. ("I've got new markers. Yes, I've got new markers," he sang over and over again.)

Loose leaf tea.

The possibility of sleeping in tomorrow.

Finding out that I'm now #2 in the request list (which I joined over two months ago) for Henning Mankell's last Wallander book, The Troubled Man.

 

Where It Begins

 

I went to the local organic market this morning, and while browsing the aisles, I spotted something new--veggie hot dogs "smoked style." They were bigger than average, and looked very intriguing. I've been on this quest for the perfect vegetarian hot dogs* ever since I stopped being able to find Morningstar Farm's version in the grocery stores. So I picked up a pack and tossed them into the cart.

Four hours later, I'm feeling a little light headed and my tummy's beginning to rumble, and I think, "hot dog!" I hadn't thought to pick up buns while I was at the store, but I knew that I would be content with just the dawg and blops of mustard and ketchup. My tummy totally gets into the idea, and so with both it and the brain clamoring for a hot dog, I take the pack out of the fridge and look at the directions for the "preferred cooking method" (this is very important with fake hot dogs--they easily turn into inedible rubbery logs of grossness). The preferred cooking method was to cook in a skillet, with a lid.

I paused...I'd have to dig out the skillet. And the universal skillet lid that I have for all my skillets. It would take a while to cook. And then, of course, I'd have to clean it all up afterward.

I put the hot dogs back in the fridge and went back to what I was doing before the hunger signal.

Within a few minutes, though, the idiocy of it all hit me. I'm not going to feed myself what I want because I'd have to cook it in a skillet? How many times has Nathan asked for a sunnyside up egg for a snack, and I've said "Sure, baby," and quickly dug out that same skillet and lid? Really, how many times?

Oh.

I'm not mad at myself, even though I've gone through this similar thing plenty of times before. (I think I've even blogged about it.) It's just interesting to me--I know that I don't love myself enough, which often translates into not taking care of myself. When I think of that, however, I think in big terms and big events and big consequences.

It's not actually the big stuff, it's the little stuff. It's stopping to go to the bathroom when I have to pee. It's getting myself a glass of water when I'm thirsty. It's finding twenty minutes to do yoga when I'm feeling tense and achy. 

It's cooking myself a vegetarian hot dog in a skillet.

I am a beautiful work in progress, and I've just re-remembered something I need to know. Fabulous.

*Alas, I still haven't found the perfect vegetarian hot dog. It was good, but not EXACTLY what I'd hoped it would be.

Random Nathan Pics and Good Things

 

 

 

 

 

An unexpected visit from my brother.

A fat birthday letter from a dear, dear friend.

Thriving trailing petunias.

Pizza with mushrooms and extra cheese.

The most comfortable pajamas EVER.

The possibility of staying in the most comfortable pajamas EVER the entire weekend.

A fan whirring over my head.

Sparkly purple toenails. 

On a Thursday Morning

I'm in a bit of a funk, but it's understandable.

And okay.

My birthday is coming up.

It doesn't seem to matter if I have high expectations, low expectations, or no expectations at all--I'm always left feeling let down in some way. I take full responsiblity, however. I think it has to do with not liking myself much--and not being willing to truly celebrate me. I never advertise my birthday ahead of time (that I've done so here is unusual), never admit that it IS my birthday. So I set myself up for this feeling of, "See, it's true. Nobody cares!!"

Ridiculous.

I see the pattern, though--and that's the first step in changing/healing it. And I feel on the verge of a breakthrough with that whole not liking myself thing. Right now I'm in the molten mess of emotion--feeling past and present hurts. Really, truly feeling them. I'm also asking myself a lot of questions, trying to trace back these negative feelings. Where did they come from? Can I forgive the person who said or did that terrible thing? Even if it was me?

I'm finding that I can--which is why I feel I'm on the verge of something good. So it's a funk, but a productive funk.

And by the way? It's my birthday on Sunday.