Friday, September 23, 2016

The ball rolling. . .

Lots of thinking about home lately. . . Working on feeling good about my financial life, recognizing yet another shift and change in my expectations involving money.
When I set out to write about home, just now!,  I wasn't thinking about money at all. At all. The damn fingers have a mind of their own I suppose.
Candles, small corners of curation,  snack platters, loud declarations that love still lives here, and always has, pestilence and boils aside, amongst the pandemonium of kid life, and unformed mom-life.
And a shift in focus, and it's fall, and I can feel myself roiling in the need to prepare for the winter, the inside time, the hours of looking at the same spaces... The way the light falls when the leaves are leaving. The 'facts' of having hours per week when all three kids are in some kind of school and I am still in the house.  Not still, but still.  (See what I did there?  A lot of possibility inside of it all. And, again, depth in small sentences.) and hope. And curiosity. And fear, Trepidation, and longing.
Read it slow. Read between the lines. Hear what there is.

I am trying to catapult my ideas into action, and have painted this on the side of the windmill. I'll show you later. 
I have been in love with Instagram, and have heard from Corinne( @crnnoel ) something that caught me up, and reminded me, in parallel with some of my complicated feelings about the photos I am seeing of my own old house. I can see the old place getting filled up on instagram and in a blog, and each time I see it, the breath catches in my throat.  that place. The love lost, the love that may have been still real in that  place, the mess the clutter the unbelievable spontaneity which precludes curation in a family vignette. Here, and there,  I have so many plastic toys, and a dress up box which hardly closes, and underneath the sofa lives an entire family of misfits, toys, socks, trash, yesterday I found a half eaten roll... And the bitemarks were not human. I don't even remember the last time we had rolls.  I mean, seriously, who has rolls in summertime? Uh, not me.

And so it is real, and messy and my youngest is in a purple tutu that doesn't match her classmates, and her sneakers, which rest next to me, smell of the boys, and wet dogs and there ain't nothing which will make her more a princess ... Like mother, like daughter, the mess is the truth of it, but it's a lot and it's exhausting. And in the challenge, is the joy.
Which is something to remember as I embark on this loneliest and most challenging of times.  In the challenge is the joy.

BUT boy, sometimes challenge is FUCKING messy. And smelly, and full of snot and stumbles. And sometimes I hide out in my house for entire days, and don't call anyone and don't engage in any 'self-care' because I am basically punishing myself some more. which is terrible, and true.
And there is little on Instagram which catches the light of the mess, the unpretty. When the light is just right is not all the time, and sometimes my piles topple and fall, and the sparkle doesn't
Look good, but green and LED'd and the dog chewed off the plug.

There is a lot.  I haven't even been writing in my journal these past weeks, I can't.  I spend my time alone shifting furniture, adding paint to already done paintings, and staring into space while I try to read books.  And yet I can't seem to write anything down.  I am far too internal, and I am struggling to get it out of my brain. And here, what should be two or three posts, I spill and spit and learn to identify myself as a dance mom on top of everything else.  I am writing this while the purplest one in the family dances her way to more stank.  Although, frankly, I think it's more an activity right now, than a lifetime commitment.  I certainly won't make this my reality show.
But then again, it seems the world is topsy turvy, and you get what you get and you don't get upset...

Friday, September 2, 2016

Touching base. Beauty, some.

I am really starting to like my kitchen, getting rid of what doesn't bring me joy, realizing that the sense of chaos that it holds is an impeccable sort of beauty.
I had to cut another photo, because I didn't want you to see my anti-depressant medicinal collection, but then I realized that the bowls are doing as much work as anything else, and nearly as much as I am doing, just being what they are, feeling the wealth of their purpose, and the sly beauty of a curve doing what it was meant to do.

Friday, August 26, 2016

It was Day One...

Thursday, August 25, 2016


And I don't mean Maine, and I do mean Cape Cod.  With my mother and sister I embarked on my first family vacation without a husband... And believe it or not, I missed him.  I am not shocked by it, but my last few days have been full of grief and so I am not surprised... And the kids miss their goofy dad too. . . And then I didn't, because I actually, in myself, Was much more relaxed and able to see the reality that I both had, and still have. I am so much more than I was able to express while with him, with all of the accommodating and the background living. While he lives a kid-free life, doing yoga in the park while not arranging a babysitter first, or even realizing the difference, I want to fuck him up.  But then I remember what being a mother means to me, and how my marrow is married to the life that I am in now, as a whole part of a family...and was then, too... and it all smooths out. Mostly. It is complicated. Again and again and again.

His loss. In so many ways. And he'll never know.

And I'm here in the land of kitsch and tourist, and in the place we are staying it is very possible to escape the kitsch but it is a matter of turning your back, only.  The simplest and the most pointed action.

I'm asleep to the sound of the waves, and waking to the sunrise...and in the waters, and sands, the kids are sun-kissed and exhausted.

And I've got way better photos, but the colors are all like this...

Monday, August 15, 2016

Tit for tat..and then

Deepest sorrows ...
Bone deep and beyond.
thats what happened this week. the worry that all this was for naught, in the end, that there has been no change and will be no change...needed reminders from friends that there is a light somewhere at the end of one of these tunnels...

Its true that I'm not employed but not true that I don't have a job...  Being a mother right now, through all of this regular and still unexpected life change is a wild ride, and i'm more a fan of the giant slide on burlap sack than the rollercoaster.  I suppose i love those giant swings too, and the new fangled bungey bouncers, but I ride the rollercoasters in an obligatory sort of way... its okay, but i'm glad when its over and i'm not rattling in my adrenalin rush...

It's hard to know how to help the kids sometimes, when it feels like simple love and presence isn't enough, and there must be something 'right' to say, or some person to punch to make it all better. There isn't, there isn't. I'm just here for them, and it hurts to know they hurt anyways. No more kisses on the knees to make it all better.

And then

My old house: kids in the first tree they ever climbed, and a couple of hidden new additions...

I got my
 Old house that I love so much rented by someone who will make it a home again. It was an idea I had, that I acted on, that worked.  That hasn't happened to me for ages and ages. Maybe this, too, could be the way it is.

My family got a dog. It was a surprise, though I had filled out an application at the shelter. I got the call, drove to see, and drove home with a dog in the car. A puppy, even. I am in love officially, in that sensible way of recognizing the work that is, whilst having my heart open more and more incrementally with every rushed poo cleanup...

This and that, tit for tat.