Commonplace

Colors of My Day

Yellow.

This vase was a wedding gift and it lives on our mantle. Niall put it there, on the end next to the window, because he said he likes how it catches the light.

Me too.

And yesterday's color:

Blue.

If the shot was a bit wider, you'd see all the toys that usually live in that bucket spilled all over the floor.

Things that are exciting me today:

Counting down to Inauguration Day.

Niall is taking the day off and we are attending brunch at friends'. Quinn is too young to appreciate it but Jake is pretty excited. (Nothing like inflicting one's views on our children.) He seems to understand the significance and we're hoping to be present in a moment that is certain to become something we look back upon.

In the evening I'm planning to attend the opening of The Obama Show at Eyebuzz in Tarrytown. I don't know whether I'm more excited to see these in person, or to meet Tara who is one of my favorite bloggers.

Watching Jake perform.

Any mother knows what it feels like to watch their child be happy. It's an indescribable feeling that affirms your entire being.

My son has struggled, more than any ten and a half year old should, to be happy. He continues to struggle still. But when he is playing the keyboard or singing on stage, he is as happy as I've ever seen him. I love to witness this and tonight and tomorrow I will.

If you missed any of my video posts of him, you can watch them here if you're so inclined (he's the little one).

Making new friends.

Kathleen at Mamas Always Write has an insightful and honest style that encourages me to write. I have been compelled by her 'prompts' since my first visit. It only solidified my interest in her when I found out that she lives in the city of my heart.

Stephanie at The Letter's Edge writes with a straightforward and quirky voice that is just a little self deprecating and I want to have a cup of coffee with her. She has has recently posed a question that's got me thinking: what would you do if you knew you couldn't fail? I'll be guest-posting on her blog and addressing that question later in the month.

Meeting both of these women and reading their accounts of motherhood, career decisions, marriage and creativity, further confirms my suspicions that I am not alone.

What is exciting you today?

Thanks for visiting.

Morning Light

I get up early.

Thoughts of what's coming always draw me out of bed. As I imagine them to be at your house, mornings are a whirlwind around here. Get 'em up. Get 'em fed. Make the lunches. Don't forget the homework, contact lenses, bus notes, gloves. You know the drill. 

So I get up before everyone else and spend a few minutes.

The calm before the proverbial storm. 

Of course there's coffee and checking in on my favorite blogs. Until recently there were the papers as well. (It hasn't been the same for me since news-gathering became a digital habit.) There was dog walking... but no more. Now it's just me and the cat. We warm the house for the others. We gather our strength for the rush. (Mostly I gather my strength and she sits on the back of a chair and watches the sun rise.)

At 6:15 a.m. I usually feel as if I can accomplish anything. The day lays in front of me with endless moments I plan to fill with finishing. I will finish cleaning the bathrooms. I will finish the dishes, the laundry, the bills. I will clean my closet and file that stack of papers. I will finish everything while devoting my full attention to playing with my toddler.

At 6:37 a.m. it seems possible to finish everything.

But I never do.

Tonight, in a moment of feeling unsuccessful, I will remind myself of the things that did get finished.

When Jake got off the school bus, there were warm cookies waiting for him—never mind if the dishes were still in the sink. When Quinn took his nap, his diaper was clean, his belly was full and he was wrapped up in a quilt that I stitched for him—no matter if his jammies were still in a pile on the floor. When he bumped his head while we played, I scooped him up and kissed it until he laughed—it's okay if the toys still sit where we left them. When Jake wanted to play a new piece for me on his keyboard, I sat and listened to it over and over—no one minded eating dinner a little late. And when everyone was sleeping and the quiet finally settled back around me, the house was a mess and nothing was set for the next morning but I didn't mind.

At 6:04 a.m. tomorrow, it'll all seem possible again, and maybe tomorrow it will be.

Thanks for visiting.

Battle Scars

Have I told you about how big my baby is?

Quinn was born seventeen months ago (five weeks premature) weighing in at just under six pounds. Not bad for a preemie. Right? Today he weighs thirty pounds. Just to help paint the picture here, you should know that I'm five feet two inches tall and weigh about one hundred and ten pounds. The point being that I am heaving around a human who is almost a third of my size. I'm wrestling him into his high chair, his car seat, his clothing - to say nothing of his diapers. (Why do they fight this so?) It shouldn't come as a huge surprise that I have developed a few war injuries over the past year.  One in particular that I can't kick. I've got DeQuervain's Tendonitis in my hand. This condition is so common among women who have recently given birth that it is sometimes called "new mom's syndrome." (Vindicated! It's not just me.) It's basically an injury that comes from the repetitive act of picking up your baby. It's pretty painful but I've been able to manage it with injections of cortisone. Until now.

My feelings about all of this are two-fold.

First, I'm in awe. I can hardly believe that I fed this gigantic person from my breast and nurtured him out of the NICU and into a size 2T.

Second, I wish there had been more time to hold him. (Isn't that always the way with mothers? The bittersweet emotions about how fast it all goes...) I wore him on my body in one sling or another for around ten months but he just got too heavy. I bought hip carriers and mai-tais and tried every method known to woman, but our size differential was just too great and I gave up and put him in the stroller.

Every time I lift him now, it hurts, and that's not okay. I need to be able to hold my baby who still needs holding.

I've decided to have surgery. It's minor and the success rate is around 99%. So I should feel better. After two weeks in a cast and who knows how many more of physical therapy.

As for those slings and carriers — they're up for grabs. If you would like one, or know of an organization which distributes them, please leave me a comment.

Thanks for visiting.

Help Me to Focus

Last night was curriculum Night at Jake's (new) school. Other than finding out that they don't teach 5th graders a language (at his old school they started Spanish in Junior Pre-K) I was thrilled with what I learned.

If you've been with me since the very start, you'll know that Jake has ADHD. He is also classified — as many children with this 'disorder' are — as gifted. Parenting this amazing child is a subject for a blog of it's own. We switched his school this year for a program through our district called "Gifted Fragile". UNbelievable. The gist is: small supportive classroom, flexibility in the curriculum and counseling. Are you sitting down? There are six children in his class. And. Three teachers. Yes, you heard me. It's a two to one ratio. There are three fourth graders, an aide, three fifth graders, an aide and one head teacher. The kids are mainstreamed for 'specials' (and Jake for math as well) so they have social opportunities in a larger classroom. When they are in the large classroom, one of the aides is with them so if they can't handle it, there is intervention before things get messy. And it does sometimes get messy.

I imagine that it must be a huge relief for these kids to be understood. Both by the teachers (who are supremely qualified) and by the other kids in the class. If you parent a child with this combination of emotional fragility and exceptional intelligence, you'll know that social interactions are often, well, difficult and that other kids often don't 'get' ours. Here, they are learning about their own abilities and limitations and tolerance for the limitations of others. AND being academically challenged.

The classroom teacher handed out this poem and said that she reads it when stuck in a tough moment (of which I can only assume there are many).

Help Me to Focus
Please teach me through my sense of "touch".
I need "hands-on" and body movement.
"I need to know what comes next"
Please give me a structured environment
where there is a dependable routine.
Give me an advanced warning if there will be
changes
"Wait for me. I'm still thinking"
Please allow me to go at my own pace.
If I rush, I get confused and upset.
"I'm stuck! I can't do it!"
Please offer me options for problem-solving.
I need to know the detours when the road is
blocked.
"Is it right? I need to know NOW!"
Please give me rich and immediate feedback on
how I'm doing.
"I didn't know I WASN'T in my seat!"
Please remind me to stop, think and act.
"Am I almost done now?"
Please give me short work periods with short-term goals.
"What?"
Please don't say "I already told you that."

There is nothing here that I didn't already know about how to deal with Jake. What makes me cry each time I read it is the huge sense of relief I experience knowing that someone else understands how to reach him.

Birthday Preparations

Next week is Quinn's first birthday. I don't know what could possess me to start three projects that I expect to have finished in a week. Yes. Three. Granted they are not gigantic projects, but seeing as I haven't finished much of anything in a year, it seems silly to start, and plan to finish, three in a week.

When Quinn began crawling all sewing has been relegated to the bedroom. I haven't really set myself up with any productive arrangement so this is what it looks like when I'm working.

When I'm mid-project(s) I've given up on putting it all away each evening. The baby-naps are too short and unpredictable to pull it all out again and get anything else done.

The project on the bed is a fabric banner. I've seen this project done multiple times on some of my favorite blogs and filed it away in my "I'll-get-to-that-one-day" file. Apparently yesterday afternoon was that day. I'm combining the techniques described in this tutorial with those in this tutorial. It's a great stash-busting exercise and should be very festive for the party.

The other projects are a quilt and a (another) birthday bib for photos.

It's been great fun pulling out fabric from the beginning of time and remembering what they were originally purchased for.

I hope you like the new banner. It's about how I'm feeling these days — like my life is pieced together from multiple colorful scraps forming my whole. It's a continuing fascination with all things patchwork.

Thoughtful Friday Number 2

I am a mother of boys, but I think if I had girls, I would wish this for them just the same.

If
By Rudyard Kipling (1865–1956)

If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
    And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!