envy

Kris wrote a post today about her beautiful life, of course, but also about “blog envy” and how looking at the amazing scenes from others’ life creates uncomfortable feelings in herself, of inadequacy and scarcity, and it got me thinking. Blog envy is real. I know that I feel it. On my very best day I do not do/create even half of the things I see in the blogs that I visit. I see clean houses, super cute home-made outfits on kids and mamas, crafty home-made decor, incredibly innovative and industrious home-schooling projects, and I can’t help but spin away from the computer and look at my life differently, negatively.

I wonder why I am not making home-made sour cream like Kris, and even though I fairly quickly realize that I am not genuinely interested in food creation, I can’t help but criticize myself for not being interested in food creation. And what am I doing instead? I tend to hope that what I do in exchange for home-made dairy products is worthy, but I’m not so sure. In fact,  I wonder what it is that I do at all, especially if I do not have beautiful photos to prove it.

I don’t shear my own sheep, spin the wool, and knit myself a sweater while un-schooling four kids and running a farm. I don’t make my own laundry detergent. I don’t even sew. So I actually can’t read most blogs without some form of envy.

Kris actually does do a lot of these things, she actually does make her own sour cream and a million other delicious home-made goodies, she actually does knit cute sweaters, and sew adorable clothes for her children, and she still gets blog envy. Maybe we could all help each other out. Maybe we could launch “Messy Corner Mondays”, or “Seriously Not Photo Worthy Saturdays”, in which we post a less than beautiful shot, one that captures a bit of our lives we don’t normally share.

In the spirit of this new idea, I opened my freezer to see what I could see. I did not see a bounty of last years berries, preserved skillfully to enjoy through he winter. I did not see meals for the coming week, craftily prepared ahead of time. I did not see anything useful at all. Instead I saw: a three-year old placenta, tempeh patties that moved in when Nathan did six years ago, a couple of bread loaf butts, and several frozen fairies.

Is this helpful to anyone?

obsessive

It’s sweeping season.

Here is the main culprit:

It is mind-blowing the amount of hair that comes off of this canine. I’m not kidding. If I swipe my foot across the rug, even slightly, a hamster-sized clump of hair balls up under my feet. If you are unwise enough to look at the floor from an oblique angle, you can see snowdrifts of hair backed up against table legs, assembling in corners, massing beneath the couch. And, seriously, if you plan on wearing fleece, particularly black fleece, you might want to choose a different house to visit.

But more than seasonal dog shedding, it seems our floor is collecting more debris than usual as well. Or the kids are dropping more than usual. Or, this foolish mom is choosing more crumbly snacks than usual. Whatever it is, it’s insane.

One morning I swept upon waking, gathering a large dustpan of hair and mysterious bits. Then friends came over and the kids ate popcorn. I swept again. Later we went for a dog walk and returned home with Spring debris attached to our feet. I swept again. Another friend came over in the evening and hamster food was “refilled” by zealous toddler helpers. I swept again. By the time the kids were asleep the floor needed it again.

Writing this down, I wonder, what’s insane, the amount of stuff on the floor? Or the lady that repeatedly sweeps it only to watch it fall again?

visions

We now have a second story developing in our remodel, and it’s at the stage of wide open-ness. There are walls, vaulted ceilings, a roof, windows, and nothing else. It feels vast and airy without any of the inner walls that will carve the space into bedrooms. So we’ve been dreaming a bit. What if we left it open?

With the three girls sleeping we spread the plans out on the living room floor and analyzed. We currently are sleeping, all five of us in one bedroom, and the girls love it. At bedtime there is almost no resistance, no ill-concealed attempts to linger with the parents because the parents are in the same room. The older girls, who have been sleeping in their own room until the remodel, especially seem to like the close proximity. So … would they mind continuing to cohabitate in this way?

We continued to scoop the cat off the plans and erase walls in our minds. We imagined sunlight, and tree tops and….

teenagers?

Holy shit. At some point we will have three teenage girls. And teenage girls travel in packs, so that means that each of our girls might also attract two or three other girls. Nine teenage girls all in the same, albeit large, loft with the parents? Our dreams of warehouse-like space and open floor plan were not looking that plausible, well actually impossible.

But we continued to lounge and brainstorm. I found myself designing collapsible walls that could be pulled across for teenage privacy and then tucked back in when not in use. Nathan began imagining canopy beds in which each girl could maintain a privacy pod of their own. We considered leaving it open for now and then building walls in four years when Bella turned the magical age of thirteen.

Our conversation lingered and then flowed onward toward the events of the day. I described to Nathan the mysterious game that Xi and her little buddy Elliott have been playing. Kris and I have only been able to catch glimpses and glean minor details, as the game is played purposely out of earshot of the parents. We know it involves a dungeon, a glamorous dress, and handcuffs. So intriguing! Nathan and I giggled and then realized…. ah snap.

They ALREADY want privacy.

So walls it is.

empathy delivery

There really is nothing like pure empathy, not sympathy, not “oh that happened to me once”, not a pat on the shoulder, but an authentic understanding of your feelings. Empathy can change your emotional state completely, and it frees you to give empathy in return instead of fiercely defending and describing your own situation again and again. Real empathy isn’t common, at least not yet, so chances are that a few of us could use some. So here goes,

I hereby declare a large dose of empathy for anyone:

• that has a partner that doesn’t seem to enjoy parenthood as much as you’d like
• that is overwhelmed by the work in their life, by the long list that seems to never get shorter, or more fulfilling
• that is apart from their family, or parts of their family, and yearns for everyday connection with those dear people
• that worries where the money for the cell phone bill is going to come from
• that feels alone, like there isn’t anyone that truly knows them, or cares for them, or notices them at all
• that is feeling fat
• that didn’t get enough sleep last night, or the night before
• that has a sick child and is tired of the seemingly endless run of sniffles, fevers, and coughs
• that is ready for Spring; picnics, sandals, and skirts, but keeps waking up to clouds and drizzle

xo

Have a wonderful weekend. If you’d like to add anything to this list and forward it to someone you know that could use a little empathy, let me know.

better than I thought

You can always tell when my dad has been here because Echo is very well groomed. The older girls are too busy with fairy games and elaborate fantasy set ups, but Echo takes full advantage of her grandpa’s ministrations. He trims her toenails and fingernails, files them obsessively, and because they are so teeny tiny he pulls out a magnifying glass to check the progress. He brings the same worn leather manicure case he used when my sister and I were little, making the process all the more endearing to this mama’s eyes. The ears are next, each wrinkle and crevice is inspected, massaged, and cleaned. Lotion follows, and  is smoothed over elbows, heels, and knees. Echo participates fully, admonishing my dad for missing any particular spot. By the end she is fairly gleaming, certainly moisturized, and smells heavenly.

She still carries the scents of those grooming sessions even though Dad left yesterday. Though not happy to see him go, I was so filled up with our time together, that I managed to come away from the airport in tact. And, almost as a conciliatory gesture from the Universe, Echo has been in the best spirits of her life. For seemingly weeks now I have woken to her curt demands and grunty protests first thing in the early and dark morning. Her mood, at times, has been alarmingly demonic. But the last two mornings have been halcyonic. Good morning Mama! It is a skating day today. It is a LOVE day today! My weary soul unfurls when I hear greetings like this instead. And the mood has continued through the day, she skips, she laughs, she tells jokes. So even though I expected to be heavy and sad, I couldn’t help but be lightened.

It is a love day after all.

my first “wordless wednesday”

and so it begins

This is the last day with dad. If today is anything like the other last days of his other visits it will be filled with laughter and smiles that are tinged by sorrow and dread. We will make the best of it, but unlike the first day of the visit, full of excitement and anticipation, the last day is heavy with knowing what lies ahead.

My father will return to his life that he loves, his beautiful house, his routine walks in the woods, and his rich career, a life that is awesome, aesthetically pleasing and accomplished, but something will be missing. He won’t have granddaughters in his midst and the permanent grin they bring to his face. He also won’t have his daughter to walk beside, to calm his soul by being near.

And I will return to our normal life. We will go grocery shopping, to play group, and to the river, loving our girls, our friends, and this majestic valley we are nestled within. But we won’t have a grandpa in our midst. We won’t have that extra comfort of one more person that loves us with all his considerable might.

It’s great having a dad that loves so much, so willingly. Every father’s day I thank him for how he has been with us, for providing a model to follow. I have thriving adult relationships because he has shown me what it feels like to be loved in a complete way. He has always been a large, powerful figure, smiling achingly in our direction. He pumps his fist in exhilaration when we reach our goals, he grabs his heart in pain when we meet with sorrow. He has always been this way, a current of undying love.

To be near him feels good. It’s really as simple as that.

a doozy

Oh man. The modern family.

On the one hand, I am glad for it, my life is made rich by Xi and Bella, and I wouldn’t be able to parent them as I do if it weren’t for the evolution of marriage, divorce, and co-parenting. It was only a few decades ago when if your girlfriend got pregnant, and you didn’t want to suffer the scorn of the community, you got married, quick. Now it’s different. Now there are baby-daddies, baby-mamas, half sisters, step sisters, stepmom’s stepmoms, other-dads, and bio-dads. And because we aren’t the first generation to separate and remarry, modern kids also have lots and lots of grandparents.

On the other hand, in our modern family where one kid’s “other house” is three hours away, a simple ballet recital or school performance becomes an epic adventure. Bella had been working for months on two performances and inviting every living soul she comes into contact with, Can you come to my performance??? It’s Mat 21st. Can you come?? Do you think you can come???, making it exceedingly obvious to us that it was important to her. The only problem was that the performances are in Bozeman, and we live in Missoula, so it wasn’t a matter of remembering and heading across town at the appointed hour, it was a matter of highway travel, lodging, and planning. But as my dad and step-mom were visiting at the same time we decided to make a go of it. On Friday we packed food, crammed backpacks, and squeezed six of us into the trusty family van to drive three hundred miles, so that Bella’s Papa, her two half sisters, her step mom, her step-mom’s mom (Grandma) and her step-mom’s dad (Grandpa) were smiling back at her in the elementary school auditorium.

Now if that isn’t modern family, I don’t know what is.

We watched Bella’s head bobbing around in the back row of awkwardly singing and jiving eight and nine-year olds, our eyes pinned to the only child we knew in that entire school. The next day we watched a two-hour ballet recital in which Bella appeared for a total of (maybe) three minutes.

Being there for Bella made the trip worthwhile but what we did in between performances made it even better. My step-mom found cabins for us to stay in, including one that was perched high up among the cottonwoods and aspen. Owls hooted, deer crept past, robins gathered worms, Canada geese with goslings scurried about, a hot tub warmed us in the mornings, intricate guest lodging decorations were just right for teeny fairy figurines to hide among, a king size bed made one still-nursing-mama really happy, and a rushing stream lulled us to sleep. We definitely made the best of it.

And then, in the whirlwind that shared custody weekends are, on Sunday we returned Bella to her mom and found ourselves re-trekking those three hundred miles. Back through the still-green valleys, back through the mountain pass, back along the Clark Fork river, and back to Missoula, only to return Xi to her mom. If it wasn’t my regular life I’d be confused and overwhelmed by all the back and forths, highway travel, drop off coordination, and pick up arrangements. It probably wouldn’t be my preference to live this way, but if I didn’t live this way I’d sure miss a lot. If my dad had upheld the til-death-do-us-part oath, I wouldn’t have a step-mom that researches and acquires awesome cabin retreats. If Nathan had stayed in his first marriage we wouldn’t have Xi. If Nathan had left his first marriage but shotgun married Xi’s mom, he and I wouldn’t have found each other. If we hadn’t found each other we wouldn’t have Echo.

So even if my head spins on occasion, even if we travel across one of the biggest states in the country to attend a ballet recital, and even though there is no simple way to describe the makeup of my family, it also means I get these fantastic girls, and epic weekend adventures, and surprise delights. I think I’ll take it.

right now is awesome

I feel fantastic. I have the perfect blend of family and community right now.

My dad is house sitting down the street for the week and arrived bright and early this morning to collect the girls for oatmeal and hijinks, leaving me with a few morning moments to wander around a bit perplexed by what to do with myself. Finally I realized a solo leisurely dog walk might be perfect. We all returned in time for play group at Romy’s where moms, sisters, kids, grandmas, and grandpas cooed at the baby, ate snacks, and reveled. Then downtown for an art opening where said mamas, papas and grandparents mingled with the larger community of art lovers and neighbors. Then back home for a scrumptious dinner, where the groceries were bought by my parents, prepared by me, and devoured by all.

See what I mean?

I yearn for this so much of the time, a blending of my worlds, where the family that raised me overlaps with the family I am raising. I had it today and I am taking notice, appreciating it to the fullest.

Even if it is only for a week.

Maybe you, dear reader, could check back in with me on wednesday and hold my hand, since I’m sure there will be a whole new set of emotions that are stirred as I watch my dear father walk through the security gates at the airport.

periwinkle

When this is the outfit your daughter wears to the airport to pick up the grandparents things can’t be that bad right?

A package from Aunt Barbara arrived last night which included this doozy of a dress and Echo has been wearing it nonstop, to art class, to the river, to the tire shop and the car wash. It spins, it glitters, it’s perfect. And although my stomach was still a bit tied up in knots about having visitors and nonstop self-criticism, I couldn’t help but be buoyed by this little sparkly girl. She isn’t criticizing herself, or anyone else for that matter. All she knows is that her grandpa is coming and pretty much nothing is better than that.

Watching the two of them tonight, face massaging, book reading, and laughing, I have to agree with her. Everything is going to be just fine.