A Draft (!) and my mother to thank for it

I had convinced myself there would be no time for drafting this week. Thanksgiving on Thursday. No school on Wednesday. Appointments on Tuesday. That left today for holiday shopping and, most important, for purchasing pie plates. I am the pie-maker for our California family Thanksgiving. I take this responsibility very seriously. And my pie plates are too shallow and insufficient in number to feed the crowd. So, I thought I'd run up to the College Town to buy pie plates today.

My mom said no.

She said for-heavens-sake-buy-some-foil-pie-pans-at-the-grocery-store-and-go-to-the-library-to-write.

Mom, you rock! I took your good advice!

So I went to the library and got set up to work by my favorite, sunny window. I then promptly fell asleep, deep enough to dream. Then I woke up and got to work.

My process for the last two weeks or so has been to read a couple pages of Carolyn Forche's long poem "On Earth" from her collection Blue Hour. I read, scribble down phrases and words that seem to be important, and make notes about what I think might be going on in the poem (I am never sure as there is very little narrative or connective tissue in this poem). Then I take the words and mix them up with some of my favorite words, and draft lines. Since last week, I have been writing the lines in on my post-it notes for the twenty little poetry projects.

I continued that process today, never expecting to go toward a draft with it, but the Mail Order Bride began speaking. She said, Kind Sir / I am a map / You may unfold me. She said, Make our bed / A prairie a nest / For our bones / Their hushed mingling / Come to me in the hour / Of fading thresholds. Kind of a forward gal, isn't she? I worked slowly, as has been the case for all the MOB drafts, going back and forth from my notebook and the computer, culling lines and images from the post-it notes, sometimes adding, sometimes taking away. I ended up with a draft of 53 (yikes! that's a ton for me) very short lines. The draft ends with a question: Kind Sir how will I know you? Which, in my opinion, summarizes the mystery that is marriage in seven words :).

So, today I learned a few things. One is that we all need people in our lives to support our life's work, to keep us on the road when we tend toward the ditch, to remind us of who we are and what's most important. Another is that you can draft a ton of lines in just a few days if you're willing to stop by your desk between loads of laundry, sinks full of dishes, boo-boos to kiss, and peace treaties to negotiate (or between whatever activities fill your days). And lastly, that a catnap by a sunny window at the library is the very definition of bliss.

Now I will go home and be a happy baker of pies. And a poet, too.

Wordless Wednesday: What I Was Doing Late Last Night, or, May I Recommend Aiming for Summer Babies if At All Possible

Dispatch from Northern California

Well, here we are.

After almost two weeks of hotel living and several days of utter unpacking chaos, here we are in our little (and I mean little) rented house in the golden state.

Here I am, sitting in the near-dark with the windows open, listening to the crickets chirp, watching out the window for the moon, knowing not where to begin.

I believe my first txt msg that went from California to South-of-the-River said: "Freakishly large geraniums."

It's true. They're like shrubs.

And I really don't know where to begin -- everything is so new and different, I'm just taking it all in. What I can tell you is this:

~Yes, it's true what they say about the weather. It really is lovely. In the midwest, we'd call it "good sleeping weather" -- you know, warm days then cool nights perfect for sleeping with the windows open. In a stunning departure from expected midwestern behavior, I have stopped checking the weather forecast every morning. Every day is the same: overcast morning, clouds giving way to bright sun and blue sky by 10 a.m., temps 70-75, steady light breezes, nights cool enough for fleeces, no rain. The midwesterner in me keeps looking over her shoulder, like it really can't last.

~Yes, it's true what they say about the produce. Also very lovely. Delicious, fresh, and cheap. Still not quite reaching the perfection of the Michigan sweet cherry, and yet the avocados nearly make up for it. I have already found my favorite produce market and it has become my second home. When I first entered, I had to pause for a moment of awestruck silence to say to my fellow shoppers: The produce snob in me (insert solemn bow here) greets the produce snob in you.

~California driving requires lots of u-turns. I have not, uh, mastered the u-turn. It's not pretty. Instead of embarrassing myself, I've figured out how to go about a half-mile out of my way on any given errand to avoid having to attempt a u-turn.

~California requires lots of documentation. So far, my dossier is not complete enough to get a library card, or to sign the kids up for little league. Note to self: must get one utility in my name.

~We have people here! We have relished spending time with my brother and his family, my uncle and his family, and an old college friend of mine and her family. It makes a huge difference to have these ready-made circles of love and laughter as we settle into our new home.

~The kids are happy. Our street is quiet and they are forever on their bikes. There's a lovely playground right around the corner. See above re: weather. They are brown as berries, and every night they come in with absolutely filthy feet. Every mother knows that absolutely filthy feet are an indication that all is well in the world.

~My desk is here somewhere. I know it's true because I saw it come in. Husband promises it's in the corner by the window with a view of the lovely fuchsia-flowering tree whose name I don't know. My own view of the alleged desk is obstructed by boxes that, alas, are too heavy for me to move. But never fear, my bookshelves are confirmed to be present and are slowly filling with all my best, dust-jacketed compadres.

~Speaking of compadres, I'm missing mine. Leaving my circle of friends in South-of-the-River was, of course, gut-wrenching. It involved lots of tears and hugs and the shocked silence of at least one casual observer as one dear friend and I wept into each others bosoms outside my house. Which isn't my house anymore. Leaving the house wasn't easy, either. I feel strangely untethered, a bit suspended between the ending of one chapter of life and the beginning of another. Dear compadres, nota bene: "I miss you" doesn't begin to say it.


Thank you to everyone who has sent, or even thought, good wishes and words of support. It makes all the difference to know that the people we love are wishing us well. And thank you, as always, for reading even as I haven't been writing much. I hope to be back here more regularly very soon.

The Storm Before the Calm

I've been up since four with a thunderstorm, the moving to-do list running through my head, thoughts of leave-takings that once were theoretical becoming actual, wondering what it will be like to live in the absence of thunderstorms.

The movers come on Monday. No, I am not ready.

This week, a friend sent me a poem by William Stafford called "The Way It Is." Here's a bit of it:

There is a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn't change.

The poem ends in the imperative:

You don't ever let go of the thread.

Well, I'm wondering: Can I have two threads? Mine have always been just what this blog is about: family (which, for me, also includes dear friends) and writing. As one life begins to fall away and another begins to unfold, I'm just going to hang on to my threads and believe that all will be well.

I'll be back here when we resurface on the edge of the continent. Until then...

Friendly Reminder from the Head of Mars

forgive the blur -- photo taken on my phone

Reader, I have been Away.

The last time I was Away was in 2008 for an overnight at the World Famous Medical Clinic. I'm not counting it.

The time before that was the summer of 2006. I was Away one night.

The time before that was the spring of 2004. I was Away one night.

In case you haven't noticed, yes, I am keeping track. By my count (including this most recent trip) I have been Away 5 days and 4 nights since I became a mother in 2001.

Obviously, I don't get Away enough. I know this, and yet, getting Away is always harder than it sounds, isn't it?

But I did get Away this last weekend for a long weekend in Chicago with my mom. Way long time ago, I worked a corporate job based in Chicago. Going past my old office was one of those "worlds collide" moments. My life is so completely different now than it was when I was running through airports in a suit and high heels, catching a plane to Chicago, DC, or Atlanta for a meeting. Me-Now looked at that office building and wondered if Me-Then really could've been me? Me-Now asked Me-Then about running through the airport in the high heels: How did you do that?

But I digress. My point here is that it was so refreshing to get away, to be amidst a throng of people on a city street, to breathe in the Lake Michigan air, to be jolted by unfamiliar and once-familiar sights.

My favorite jolt came from the head of Mars. We spent some time at the Chicago Art Institute, gem of the Midwest, and of all the beautiful, intricate, artful objects there, the head of Mars was the one that spoke loudest to me. And here's what the head of Mars said: "Look, I had my day and you have yours. I might last longer than you, but at least you have a nose. This world, this life, are too incredible to fathom. Here I am looking at you across the centuries and the seas. Please forgive the expression, ma'am, but make hay while the sun shines."

I was glad for the friendly reminder.

Wordless Wednesday: Something to Celebrate

Wordless Wednesday: Readers

For J., Who Inquired About How to Manage with Two

Dear J.,

A few months ago you called me to share your wonderful news, that baby #2 is on the way.  "Spence," you said, "You have to tell me how to manage with two."  I promised I would, but notice how I put you off until now as you come very near your due date.  That's because there are some things it's best not to know until the time is ripe.

Since you asked, I will give you a little advice here, even though I'm not real comfortable in the role of advice-giver.  Anything I can say is based on my experience as a mom.  You might have a completely different experience.  My advice might not help you at all.

And before I begin, I have to say this: my experience of motherhood is inextricably linked to my experience of chronic illness.  I have no idea what motherhood would have been like if I had felt well and had lots of (or even moderate amounts of) energy.  Same goes for being a stay-at-home parent.  Who knows what my days, weeks, and months would have felt like if I had worked outside the home at least part of the time?  Last disclaimer:  The word "manage" fled from my vocabulary in 2005 when Sister arrived.  It was replaced by its under-achiever cousin, "survive."  Again, whether that would have happened anyway, or was due to being so sick, I will never know.  You have to consider my advice with all this in mind.

And now, here's what I can say about how to manage with two:

1.  There's love enough.  I know lots of moms who, when they were pregnant with #2, feared they could never love another child as much as they loved their first.  It feels that way, it really does.  All I can say is that by some miracle of grace, the heart makes room and there is love enough for two, and three, and four, and from what I can tell, love enough for however many children you end up having.  Once #2 arrives, you won't be able to imagine your family without him/her.

2.  You are not ruining #1's life by having another baby.  It can be hard to think about what a sibling will mean for your firstborn, especially because it means #1 will have to share you.  It will be an adjustment for #1, but you're giving her a real gift:  a sibling.  Someone to play with, someone to learn from, and someone to learn healthy strategies for conflict resolution with (also known as fighting).  Yes, #1 will have to learn to wait sometimes while you are helping baby, and will have to learn to play on her own from time to time.  On the other hand, #2 can learn to wait, too:  "Just a minute, baby.  You'll have to wait while I pour Sister some milk."  These are good things for every child to learn.  And when the sibling stuff gets difficult, remember this:  For the rest of their lives, when the big, scary world calls out for a Buddy Check, they can look to each other, grab hands, and hold them up for all to see:  We belong to each other.

3.  Get them on the same nap schedule.  Do not negotiate about the nap schedule.  Ever.  This will give you a chance to sleep when the baby sleeps if you're that type (I was) and/or have a brief period of peace in your days filled with the needs of two young ones.  I think teaching children to have a little quiet time in their day is a good thing.  And even the most strong-willed child can learn to respect the quiet time rules if they are strictly enforced (I know this because I have The Most Strong-Willed Child, which is a topic for another post, or perhaps for an epic poem).

4.  Put that two-year-old to work.  At two, children love to help.  Oldest child can run to fetch a diaper or a pacifier or a pair of socks for baby.  Oldest child can help pick up toys.  Oldest child can carry her sippy cup to the counter.  I say, get them used to working while they still think it's fun!

5.  Paper plates are your friend.  Just accept it.  The same goes for Spaghetti-Os and Sesame Street.

6.  Trust yourself.  The nice thing about number two is that you've learned a lot with #1.  Not that every child is the same, but there are some basics that you understand now:  like when you need to call the doctor and when you can wait and see (of course, having a husband who's a doctor, like you do, is pretty handy, too).  You've been through all the learning curve stuff: how to nurse, how to take care of yourself post-partum, when to start with solids, etc.  You know what growth spurts are like, and what the usual suspects are for irritability, fever, diaper rash, etc.  All this baseline knowledge makes #2 a lot easier.

7.  Take good care of yourself.  This is the piece of advice that every seasoned mother will give you, even though she probably didn't follow it herself when her kids were young.  It's hard to do, since the needs of children will expand to fill the capacity of an infinite number of available adults (and yes, I have conducted a scientific study on this).  But try.  Try to do something nice for yourself on a regular basis, and get some time away from the babies and the home front.  And part of taking care of yourself is remembering that there's no such thing as a perfect mother.

8.  It will get easier.  People told me this over and over again.  I kept wondering: when? when?  For eight years I wondered, when? when?  I'll tell you when:  It will get easier when your youngest child is four years old.  Now you know.

9.  Skip the parenting books.  My experience is that most parenting books (and I've only read a handful) aren't all that helpful.  Many include "systems" that seem more like doggy-training than raising kids, and some of them can make you feel neurotic by causing you to worry or wonder about things you never would have thought of if you hadn't read the book.  I think if you get yourself a copy of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, you'll know all you need to know for the next three years of your life.  When your kids get a little older and Real Discipline becomes necessary, give me a call and I'll tell you about a few resources that have helped me.

10.  Strange things happen.  There will come a day.  It will probably be sometime in 2011 or possibly 2012 in your case.  You, Dr. Husband, and your two lovely children will be doing something kind of important.  Something like a birthday celebration, or maybe it's Christmas Eve.  Perhaps you're having friends over for dinner.  Something you'd like to enjoy, let's say.  Someone will be tired (probably all of you will be tired).  One child will begin to melt down over.... well, it could be anything.... the color of his/her socks, or the way you put the green beans on his/her plate.  S/he will be kicking and screaming, something about "I HATE BIRTHDAYS!" or maybe "NO MORE CHRISTMAS. EVER EVER EVER AND I HATE SANTA!" or "COMPANY IS A BAD IDEA! I HATE YOU FOR YOUR BAD IDEAS!" You and Dr. Husband will be staring at the child as if s/he were born on Mars.  Meanwhile the other child has probably thrown his/her plate across the room, or perhaps has peed on the floor, or if s/he is a particularly enterprising child, may be flushing pieces of your cell phone down the toilet in the upstairs bathroom just for fun.  You will be alerted to the situation by this child requesting that you find his/her bathing suit so s/he can "splash in the puddle," or perhaps by the chunks of plaster falling on your head.  At this point it time, you and Dr. Husband will stare at each other, and with your eyes will ask one another, "What were we thinking?  Really, what were we thinking?  We were so happy once!  And now..... this?"  At this point, don't panic (although you have my permission to bawl): for now you are seasoned parents of young children.

11.  The days can feel long, but the years fly by.  Having little ones is exhausting, and the days can be long (also, the nights can be long).  But remember when you came to see my #1?  You were the first of my dear friends to hold him when he was just five days old.  He'll be nine next week.  See how fast that went?  Enough said.

So, J., I'm not sure any of this will be helpful at all.  How to manage with two?  I don't know..... you just.... manage.  Try not to worry.  You'll do great.  Kids have this wonderful way of leading you along the path of their ages and stages.  Sometimes is bumpy and often it's joyful.  Enjoy the ride.

Gratitude Journal: Up North Edition

Today I am grateful...

~ For the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore and its windblown, water-carved beauty.  Each summer, our day trip there feels like a pilgrimage to me.

~ For my mom and dad, who make sure I get to the dunes each summer; who know I couldn't do it without them; who climb the dune with my kids since I can't; who then take us to swim and catch minnows at North Bar Lake; who carry all the beach gear; who every year make our summer vacation fun and memorable for my kids in this way and so many others, and who make it all manageable for me.

~ For my brothers and sisters-in-law who took my kids swimming every single day of our vacation.

~ For the King family, and all the other farmers and growers in and around Torch Lake Township who work all year to grow the most beautiful, fresh, delicious fruit.  Every summer, I almost weep at the sight of pints and quarts of blueberries, cherries, apricots and plums sitting in a row at the roadside stands.  The summer fruit doesn't travel well, but if you want to know what a Real Apple tastes like and you don't happen to live "in the Township," King Orchards does mail order.

~ For a chance to see the nighttime sky sans urban light pollution.  Blue deep enough to drown in.  Stars close enough to touch.

~ For fireflies.

~ For Mr. Sonny's smoked whitefish pate.  For gluten-free beer to wash it down with.

~ For sunrise over Torch Lake, and sunset at Golden Beach.  For family and friends to share these beautiful moments with.

~ For Gerry's blog, which keeps me up to date on what's going on in my favorite little corner of the universe.  Thanks to Torch Lake Views I feel like I always have one foot in the sand, even from 599 miles away.

~ For my favorite blue.

~ For the day I know is coming........ the day this winter when I find remnants of Lake Michigan beach sand in my car, and for the happiness and warmth that moment will give me amidst the cold, frozen days of February.

~ For knowing that, even though I am "from away" now, I will always be home when I'm at Torch.

Wordless Wednesday: First Fish

Beer Books Eggs Marbles Wool

As a sophomore in college I studied in Ireland for an academic year. Along with regular college coursework, those of us on the Ireland Program went on lots of little side trips and educational tours all over the beautiful Emerald Isle. On one of these trips (I can't remember where it was, only that it was somewhere "down the country" as the Irish say to describe a location not in Dublin, generally taken to mean somewhere in a rural area south, west, or southwest of Dublin), we stopped at a pub for lunch. Or was it a store? The very large, very long sign over the door read "Beer Books Eggs Marbles Wool." It was both a pub and a store, I guess, and I remember laughing at the random assortment of items for sale there. Now, whenever I come across a truly random assortment of anything, I think to myself, Beer Books Eggs Marbles Wool.

And this little story is a long-winded way of warning you that this post is nothing more than a random assortment of items. Beginning with:

What I'm Reading I just finished Denise Levertov's Selected Poems, and I am in love with them. When I came to the end of the last poem, I felt bereft. So I just started over at the beginning, and have been living all week with her beautiful words and images in my head. I read Denise Levertov several years ago, and I thought then that she was obviously a very smart, very good poet, technically strong and all that. But I didn't connect with her work on an emotional level, as I have now. The word that comes to mind when I think of her work is communion, in the sense of oneness or union. Her poems explore communion with others -- a husband, a son, a parent, all humanity; communion with nature; communion with God; even the uneasy communion of various selves within one person. About joy, she writes:


               It is objective,

stands founded, a roofed gateway;
we cloud-wander

away from it, stumble
again towards it not seeing it,

enter cast-down, discover ourselves
'in joy' as 'in love.'

(From her poem "Joy")

I am three-quarters of the way through a re-read of Anna Karenina (Leo Tolstoy). I think I was in college the last time I read it. Through the years, Anna's adulterous and "glittering" eyes always stayed with me, and now I realize that there are a lot of glittering eyes in that book, not just Anna's. Again, I find that I am meeting this work on a new ground, one that as an innocent, unmarried, childless college student I could not have occupied. Whereas then I merely enjoyed it, now I am brokenhearted and exultant by turns. It's a great story, and Tolstoy's writing on the joys and heartaches of family life is stunning.

And, I've just begun a collection of poems by Alicia Ostriker called The Book of Seventy. I am paying close attention to the way she crafted these poems, to line and pacing in particular. I am interested in this because she, like me, uses punctuation sparsely. She uses it very sparsely. I like this in a poet. I think I can learn from her, and gain some confidence in using line, syntax, and rhythm to help pace a poem when punctuation marks seem like big bullies (! . ; !), as they so often do to me. Just for a taste, how about this line from "Family: Attempted Speech":

so family is a way of demonstrating
how incomplete we are while belonging to each other


What I Did on St. Patrick's Day I did not wear green. I did not drink beer. I did not cook or eat corned beef and cabbage. I did not sing "O Danny Boy." I started a new poetry class at my friendly neighborhood literary center (well, okay, it's Across The River as people say around here, but I'm still glad to have it within striking distance, if not in my actual neighborhood). It's the Deborah Keenan poetry class I mentioned in this post. Taking a class felt (and feels) like a big deal to me. For one, I'm shy in new groups. Also, the last time I took a class at this venue was before my health took a nose dive. So entering the doors felt like a milestone for me: Yes, I have the energy, the physical strength, the stamina to drive Across The River, park my car, walk into the building, find the classroom, and sit down ready to learn. Even eighteen months ago, this would not have been possible. A friend of mine who took the class a few years ago calls it "Poetry By Firehose." I left sopping wet and energized. And, as my Facebook status says: Molly is behind on housework, ahead on poems.

Weather Has Broken And my bones ache less. Hallelujah.

More Signs of Spring There is a crocus coming up in the front garden. The maintenance guys put the wind screens down at the baseball fields. The latter happened on Thursday when Sister and I were over at the high school complex taking a walk and getting some exercise (she wanted to do the long jump; who could say no to a 4yo who wants to try the long jump?). So, we (she) did the long jump, then we watched the maintenance crew put down the wind screens on the dugouts. But apparently, they should actually be called "parent screens" because the maintenance guy told me the real reason they installed them was to keep the players from being visible to the parents. This, apparently, discourages the parents from walking over to the dugout to give advice to their children during the game. That thought kind of wrecked my day for a few minutes.

In My Life, I've Loved Them All Say what you will about Facebook, but this week it brought me together (virtually speaking) with two dear friends from college that I probably wouldn't have connected with otherwise (it also delivered the happy news that a third friend, who isn't even on Facebook and who I am in touch with, is expecting her second baby). Do you ever have the experience of seeing or talking to someone from your past, someone you don't see or talk to much anymore, and ending up missing them a thousand times more than you did before you connected? That's how I felt this week: overjoyed and sad. The joy of friendship, the memories of heady times (college), the ache of knowing life goes on and people move out of one another's orbits. The next afternoon, I swore I saw one of the friends drive by in a minivan. She waved at me, I was sure it was her. We were neighbors. Our kids had grown up together. I knew I'd see her later that night. We'd meet at the corner and go for a walk, talk over all the details of each other's day. Part again saying, "Talk to you tomorrow." Of course, it wasn't her. But it felt like living another whole lifetime in a moment, and I ended up with tears in my eyes. Thank you, Source of All, for good friends.

Stand Up And Be Counted I filled out our census form yesterday, and it felt really strange. I was a little uncomfortable about putting the children onto the Great Big Radar Screen In The Sky. For years they've been our children; now they're also government data points. I know all the arguments in favor of filling out the census, and I did it! I did it! But it made me think of the ancient Hebrews' fear of being counted which Robert Alter talks about in his translation of the Pentateuch. I think some of that is left over in me. I'm sure there's a poem in this.

Peacefulness Update Do you wonder how my little peace project has been going? This week was a good week for peace. There were two parents around all week. That helped. The children weren't as naughty. That helped. And I tried hard to be in a peaceful place for myself, which (I hope) had the natural byproduct of sharing a little peace with others. I confess, I do have to try really hard to smile from dinnertime on. The pinched-looking mommy comes out in full force about that time of day. I have been wondering a lot if a fake smile is better than no smile. So far, I'm going with Yes.

Two Letters I received not one, but two, letters this week -- real letters, handwritten, on paper. You know, Snail Mail? One was from my dear auntie who told me family stories, the way certain names have made their way through our family over the years despite one generation not knowing it they had been family names in the past. The other letter was from my best childhood friend's mom, who wrote: I love you like one of my own. Do you want to make someone's day? Write them a letter.

Reader, that's my beer, books, eggs, marbles, wool. What's yours?

Kitchen Cupboard Wisdom

When I was in high school, I had the good fortune to connect with Susan: a wise, funny, assertive, accomplished, and fashionable woman, who also happened to be the school guidance counselor (BTW, the fashionable part was important because, in the little town where I grew up, the concept of personal-expression-through-wardrobe was........ well....... not a concept). Our friendship has lasted throughout the years, and has become a treasure in my life. I have read that children, and especially teenagers, need close relationships with adults who are not family members. Although I'm not sure I knew I needed that at the time, I now see how very much my friendship with Susan enriched my life, my understanding of self, and especially my imagination about who and what I could become. She was Possibility itself, in all the ways she was different than most of the people we ran into at CMHS, and in the way she encouraged us to be true to ourselves, to be assertive, and to imagine possibilities other than those that were immediately before us.

For many years, 18 to be exact, I moved around the country with a handout Susan had distributed during my sophomore year in high school. In my northern Indiana dorm room, it went up on the outside of my wardrobe. When I graduated to shared apartments in Lake Charles, NYC, and East Lansing, it found its way onto bedroom bulletin boards; then, finally, when I was a Big Girl and had my own house and my own kitchen, it went up on my refrigerator. By the time we moved to South of the River last fall, it was tattered, splattered, and torn around the edges, but of course it was going with me. It was one of the last things I packed, and I made a mental note of which box it was in, so that I could be sure to put it up on our new frig as soon as we moved in.

Well, you know how those mental notes when you're moving go? Yeah. Completely forgot which box it was in. A week went by, a month, a few more months. I was starting to get kind of antsy about not having this piece of paper in my living space. We had been together so long, this handout and me. My house just didn't feel like home without it. One day, I was just about to start going through all the boxes I hadn't been through yet, but I decided to run out and check the mail first.

Yes, you guessed it: in the mail was an envelope from Susan with a new copy of the handout (and incidentally, I haven't thought about those unpacked boxes since). It looked pristine compared to the tattered old thing I'd been moving from place to place. And wouldn't you know it but our new frig is not magnetic (um...... somebody forgot to include moms in the refrigerator design focus group), so it hangs on my kitchen cupboard with some of the kids' art, and my little map of the Holy Land, which I keep handy for reference during newscasts. I walk by it many times every day, and often stop to remind myself of one or more of the wise maxims on the list. I share it with you now, this kitchen cupboard wisdom:

THINGS I WISH MY MOTHER WOULD HAVE TOLD ME AT SEVENTEEN by Susan McFarland

1. Self-esteem can change with age and experience.

2. Learning to be assertive is good for you.

3. Taking risks leads to a more exciting life and more personal growth.

4. Learn the skills needed to build intimate friendships.

5. Communication is often hard work.

6. If you don't like who you are, you can change.

7. Facing your fears makes you a stronger person.

8. A person usually has more options than she initially sees.

9. Look at your mistakes as a learning experiences.

10. You will survive criticism and failure.

11. Setting short- and long-term goals gives direction to your life.

12. People create much of their own stress; learn skills to cope.

13. Attitude is everything in life.

14. Life is not fair.... pain is inevitable.

15. Live in the present.

16. Change takes time.

17. Learn to tell the difference between what you can change and what you cannot change.


At different times in my life, different points have been especially important for me. I have always thought #6 is very exciting (I can change! I can change!). Whenever I'm getting on a plane, #7 runs through my mind. Right now, #14 is getting a lot of play:

Them: "But, Mooooooooooooommmmmmmmmm. It's noooooooooooooot faaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrr."
Me: "Life is not fair..... pain is inevitable."

On Monday, #8 really hit home as I was feeling completely overwhelmed and boxed in by all the things I *had* to do that day. Guess what: I had more options than I initially saw.

I am grateful to have Susan in my life. This list is just one of the many reasons why. Pass it on.

And to learn more about Susan and her life's work, visit her website.

Women at Work

Some of you may have noticed my flashy new banner. Well, maybe it's not flashy, but it's new - and I think it's perfect. I must give all the credit to my friend, Sarah, who is a talented graphic designer. The red Lego stuck in the keyboard was her idea, and in my opinion, is a stroke of genius. Sarah has been in my house enough to know that I find Legos everywhere, from my washing machine to my morning coffee. That Lego has "mom trying to write" written all over it.

Sarah did my banner for me just because she's nice. Her actual professional pursuits are more along the lines of graphic design, magazine layout, and the like. She also makes beautiful, funny, and creative pamphlets, holiday greetings, birth announcements, invitations, event programs, and hand-made books. (Can I repeat that? On top of everything else, the woman is a book artist!). If you have the need for any such thing, you can find her at sarah@serifstudio.com.

By the way, aside from being a talented artist, Sarah is mom to two boys, wife to one man, a tireless volunteer at church and school, and a devoted friend. This is a woman who would just drop by to change all my beds or weed the garden or provide lunch when my illness was at its worst. She still does all kinds of little and not-so-little things to help me. How she had time to make a banner for my blog amidst her many other commitments, I do not know, but it got me to thinking about the amazing things that happen when there are Women at Work (okay, men too, but today I am thinking about several incredible, multi-tasking women I know).

I was feeling a little down about my writing this week, after having discovered a poet who, apparently, has already done my life's work. With three (yes, three! all of which I covet!) advanced degrees, a professorship, and a 20-year head start on me, he has written the poems that I wanted to write. At least, this is how I felt as I heard him read his work last weekend. But, Sarah, ever wise, said this to me:

"There will always be fabulous people in the world, but they won't be you. Only you can write your poems."

And only Sarah can make her cards, books, announcements and designs.
And only my mom can make her beautiful, delicious, nourishing meals.
And only CitricSugar can make her quilts (scroll down).
And only Amy can write her poems.
And only Kay can write her accounts of the lives of her children.
And only Deirdre can take her photographs.
And only Pam can write the stories of her family.
And only Muriel can provide her brand of spiritual direction and paint her paintings and craft her mosaics and write her calligraphy and knit her tea cozys, purses, and sweaters (Okay, Muriel's making all of us look bad, here, isn't she!?).
And only Susan can homeschool her children while also writing scholarly articles for reference books.
And only Holly can put together just the right outfits for her clients.


You get my drift. Each of us (man or woman) has a Life's Work to do during our short time on the earth. Only you can do yours, whatever mix of pursuits it is. There is some sacred responsibility in that, I think. So, I don't know about you, but I'm going to try not to worry too much about all the fabulous people out there. They might be fabulous, but they're not me, and I have some poems to write.

(In the Litany of the Women above, names have been changed to preserve anonymity.)

P.S. If you want to see some of Sarah's work, here it is (click to enlarge):

One of the Zillion Reasons I Love My Sweetie

Just as I was feeling over-tired and, if not un-appreciated, then under-appreciated, the doorbell rang and on the front porch stood the flower delivery man with this beautiful bouquet in his hands. My Sweetie (a.k.a. Husband on this blog) had sent them to me, with a note reading:

Thank you for all you do
for me and the kiddos.
I truly appreciate it.

Those fifteen words really lifted my spirit, and I was reminded of how important it is to tell people that we appreciate them, and how little things can make a big difference.

Summer Vacation...... and some other stuff

We returned from our summer vacation last weekend.  All week I have been planning to post a well-written, creative, edited, polished, and interesting piece on our summer vacation.  In reality, the only thing I've written all week is a grocery list.  I'm giving up on my previous plan, and will just give you the basics.


We spent a week at Camp du Nord and had a wonderful time. The weather was beautiful, the water was pretty warm considering it was in northern Minnesota, and I didn't have to cook dinner for the entire week!  (And I think that's really what made it a vacation for me).  

Camp du Nord is a YMCA family camp. There is planned programming for children ages 0-18 in the mornings from ten o'clock until noon (read: free time for moms and dads!). There are also planned activities in the afternoons, or you can pick and choose from the many camp-like options: arts and crafts at the Family Art Center, hiking the trails, paddling in a canoe or a kayak.  Our kids particularly enjoyed fishing this year, and even caught a few. Evenings are for campfires, sing-alongs, and saunas in the authentic Finnish wood-burning sauna. And for lying in bed with the windows open, listening to the call of the loon on the lake.





The images posted to the right are scans of some block prints I made from a favorite photo of the kids (you can see it here). I spent an afternoon working on them at the Family Art Center, and completely lost track of time. First I drew the images based on the photo; then I traced over them in a heavy pencil line; then I transferred the image onto a rubber block; then carved the images with special knives made for creating block prints. I was pleasantly surprised with how they turned out, and I can't even remember the last time I lost track of time, but I would recommend that you try it if at all possible.









Summer is zipping right along, and mostly I am just being a mom. It is a fact that I am busier with all three kids at home all day every day, and I am trying to let that fact sink in and remind myself that there will be more time for writing, poetry, blogging, and other such things, after school starts. In fact, most of the writers I know say their work is on hold, too. Summer is for other things: gardens, sprinklers, getting lost in a book, naps, picnics, walks in the woods, earning freckles, doing Nothing.

Happy summering to you.

Dad, Here Are Ten Reasons Why I Love You

(I am posting this a few days early, because I will be away for several days).

One good turn deserves another. Plus, I didn't send a card(!) again(!).

I LOVE MY DAD BECAUSE.... the man washed my windows this spring! What more could a daughter want?

I LOVE MY DAD BECAUSE.... he taught me to love nature, to marvel in its beauty, to seek it for restoration, and to care for it.

I LOVE MY DAD WHEN HE.... speaks in the Scottish brogue he learned as a small child.

I LOVE MY DAD BECAUSE HE TAUGHT ME.... to have integrity. To do the right thing even if it wasn't easy, or popular, or fun. To stand upon principle.

I LOVE TO HEAR MY DAD SING.... because it means he is playing the guitar and singing to my kids the same songs he sang to me and my brothers growing up: Handyman, Freight Train, Salty Dog and all the rest.


I LOVE MY DAD BECAUSE HE FINDS TIME TO.... do fun things with my kids and nephews: walks in the woods with Grandpa, a trip to the township to see the new ambulance, going tubing on the lake, going fishing, going to the dunes. He takes the time to make memories.

I KNOW MY DAD CARES BECAUSE HE.... is interested in my point of view even if he doesn't agree with it.


I KNOW MY DAD IS SMART BECAUSE HE.... has a great intellectual curiosity, not to mention several advanced degrees.

I LOVE MY DAD BECAUSE HE WORKS SO HARD AT.... creating memories with his family. He loves to spend time with all of us, and always plans special excursions, many of which have become traditions. By creating these memories, he adds chapter after chapter to our family story with all of us in tow.

I LOVE MY DAD BECAUSE HE'S THE BEST DAD EVER!


I love you, Dad. Happy Father's Day! Love,
Molly

First Week of Summer Vacation

And, so far, only one call to Poison Control. Here's the scene:

AJ rushes into the kitchen with a handful of mushrooms and says, "Mom, you'll never have to buy mushrooms again! They're growing in the yard!"
Me: "Yes, but do you know the rule about mushrooms you find outside?"
Sister pops one in her mouth.
Me: "DON'T EAT THAT!"
Sister dissolves into a puddle of tears.
I call Poison Control.

In the top photo to the right, you will see the photo I sent (as requested by Poison Control) to verify the species of offending mushroom. Luckily, it is not a very harmful variety.

In the bottom photo to the right, you will see me with The Bean and Sister (AJ was the photographer) in a happier moment.

So! I have been busy this week, but very happy, too. It has been so nice to wake up slowly in the morning and not have to rush around getting anyone ready to go anywhere. This morning, Sister woke up and ate a few bites of breakfast, then went back to bed for an hour. Yesterday, The Bean woke up and stayed in bed reading until 8 o'clock. We have spent lots of time outside. And during inclement weather, we've been inside jamming to The Beach Boys. I am hoping my kids will have the magical kind of summer I remember from my childhood: the kind that feels golden and endless, with hours and hours spent doing Nothing, in the style of Christopher Robin:

"... what I like doing best is Nothing," said Christopher Robin.
"How do you do Nothing?" asked Pooh, after he had wondered for a long time.
"Well, it's when people call out at you just as you're going off to do it, what are you going to do, Christopher Robin, and you say, Oh, nothing, and then you go and do it."

(From Chapter 10 of The House At Pooh Corner by A.A. Milne, In Which Christopher Robin and Pooh Come to an Enchanted Place, and We Leave Them There)

I wish you a summer chock-full of Nothing with the people you love best.

Mom, Here Are Ten Reasons Why I Love You

The Bean came home with a book by this title on Friday. It was one of those lovely things teachers have kids do for their moms. Well, considering I didn’t send my mom a Mother’s Day card (Ahem. THAT belongs in Confessions), I decided the least I could do was devote today’s post to her. So, here you go, Mom. Here are ten reasons why I love you:

I LOVE MY MOM BECAUSE... she has devoted her life to my dad, me, my brothers, and our families, and has always made us her first priority.

I LOVE MY MOM BECAUSE... she still cares about every detail of my life, and makes an effort to know what I’m up to, what I’m reading, how I’m feeling, how my writing is going, who my friends are, how my doctor's appointment went, and how the kids are doing.



I LOVE MY MOM WHEN SHE... drives 594.6 miles at the drop of a hat to come for a visit, or to help us out when we need it.

I LOVE MY MOM BECAUSE SHE TAUGHT ME... how to have a meaningful spiritual life.



I LOVE TO HEAR MY MOM SING... because it means we’re at Mass together (a rare treat).

I LOVE MY MOM BECAUSE SHE FINDS TIME TO... keep my freezer stocked with easy meals so that I don’t have to spend my energy cooking when I’m having a bad arthritis day.




I KNOW MY MOM CARES BECAUSE SHE... checks on me through Husband and my friend, M. (don’t worry, Mom, I don’t mind).

I KNOW MY MOM IS SMART BECAUSE SHE... aced all her Master’s classes and had a very successful career in early elementary education, all while raising a family.




I LOVE MY MOM BECAUSE SHE WORKS SO HARD AT...keeping her family relationships strong with all of us -- children, grandchildren, daughters- and son-in-law, eight brothers, one sister, sisters- and brothers-in-law, nieces and nephews, great-nieces and -nephews. She keeps us all connected.




I LOVE MY MOM BECAUSE SHE’S THE BEST MOM EVER!
(And, isn’t she beautiful?)

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I am so grateful for you. I love you.
Love,
Molly