Thursday, January 28, 2010

Cleaning Out

So it's January and the theme is decluttering. This used to be a fun job when I was a kid and my Mom did all the real decluttering for me. I could just work on my own room... my bookshelves, my closet, my desk maybe. It was a one-hour job, tops, and it was gratifying as all get out. Tangible results! Praise and kudos from mama! Yippee! But trying to declutter a whole house is something else entirely. Especially when your house is shared by two treasure-seeking, sentimental hoarders who, if you could look through your X-ray hoarding glasses as they pass through space, have stuff and things and papers and hair bows attracted like magnets to their little persons at all times. Which drop gracefully and in equal parts in every room of the castle. Small Fry in particular has a special talent for treasure seeking. Wherever you go, she is three steps behind with her sharp little eyes scanning the ground and her pockets growing full of crystals, discarded gum wrappers, tiny sequins, acorns and teeny flowers. Big Stuff's talent is for dropping all the things that cling to her as she passes from room to room. Backpack, shoes, a sock, a sweater, some school papers, a jump rope, four books, and the other sock ....she leaves a trail of bread crumbs like Gretel but in reverse. The bread crumbs lead FROM there TO here. You never have to wonder where or if she's been in a room. Just check for open drawers and towels on the floor. So my decluttering theme includes the vast and scary "Playroom." And I am cleaning and cleaning in there. I am taking out garbage bags full of toys, stuffed animals, Polly Pocket shoes, broken dolls, torn playing cards, and I am amazed that hours later, it doesn't look much better! I am overwhelmed. And annoyed. But then I come across a stack of baby books - Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You? Goodnight Moon. Jeremy Fisher. And I recall hours of rocking in my glider and reading these sweet books to them as they snuggled in my arms and stroked my hair. And I come across a destroyed versions of Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders and remember playing these first sweet games with them as they learned their colors and how to count. And I find the purses I bought to match their Easter dresses, full of treasures, of course. And the dollies we used to feed and burp when they were not far out of the feeding and burping stages themselves. And I thought, how would I feel about cleaning all this out if they were grown up and these many and varied treasures represented long-ago memories of the little girls I once had? Suddenly, these things are no longer clutter to be cleaned out but a picture of happy childhoods being lived. And I felt better about the cleaning and looked at it in a whole new light. Although my ruthless plan now became derailed by sentiment for things I cannot bear to part with. Mess, repurposed as ways to appreciate my life. It's still recycling. :-)

Monday, January 18, 2010

We are Not the Bradys

Here's the story
Of a lovely lady

Who was bringing up two very lovely girls

Both of them had hair of brown

Like their mother

The youngest one in really straight hair....


How did they do it, that Brady Bunch? They were always so happy-go-lucky and full of good intentions. And if they weren't happy, the parents always knew just the right thing to say to put them back on track. Gentle correction mixed with loving encouragement. God, how I hate those Bradys. Why did Sherwood Schwartz think it proper to torture the parents of the future with his mad, mad vision of the happ-happ-happiest family in all of TV Land? Why can't I come up with snappy, insightful comebacks when my children are acting up? How did Carol manage to look cute and perky for Mike after handing out said snappy, insightful comebacks all day? All Cutie Pie gets is an earful. I'm just spreading the love, of course. Just making him feel part of the daily affairs of the family. Whew, God knew what He was doing when he gave me that man. St. Everlasting of the Patience. I will try not to be a Brady-hater. Anyway, Mike Brady doesn't hold a candle to the man of our house.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Fearless

How good is our God! How awesome. He tells us, over and again, not to be afraid... and then offers us the opportunity to be FEARLESS. What freedom He offers those who trust Him. What peace. A peace that truly defies understanding, comprehension or explanation. And yet there is daily opportunity for renewal because life can throw me to my knees in a split second. We can look around us, without the benefit of trusting God, and we are surrounded by pain, death, destruction, unbearable suffering, illness, perversion and cruelty. A broken world is breaking up all around us, like a city in the midst of an earthquake. But if I look at it through His eyes, I can see His hand in it. His plan being worked out. His goodness shining through in the actions and words of ordinary people. True Love. Overflowing blessings, amazing in their perfect match -- perfect in pitch, tone and note -- to a person's deepest need (like a tiny baby girl I know, born today! Joy!). He knows us. He wants us to know Him. Does that blow the mind, or what?

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Starstruck


There is a day, in late October, when the sidewalk in front of my house becomes a yellow brick road. When characters from my favorite books step from their pages and knock on my front door, asking for treats. I am starstruck and want to ask for their autographs, but they play it off, their existence just an ordinary miracle of Fall. They are apparently accustomed to adoration and the flash and crush of the papparazzi. I want to ask one what it feels like to be the smartest witch at Hogwarts. I'd like to know from the other what went through her mind when that Lion began to cry. But these are personal questions, and I've only just met them. I guess they just want to be normal children, with everyday lives like everyone else. At least that's what they say when they are interviewed by Diane Sawyer on GMA. I never really believe them when they say that, but that's just me.
Instead, I just watch them move on to the next house and wonder what it would be like to be them....

Friday, October 9, 2009

Take a Picture. It Lasts Longer.

I had a really great moment the other night where I could feel the flow of things. Everything felt structured, ordered and organized. Everything was happening just as I had planned, I was prepared for what was to come and peace reigned throughout the land. Lasted for about five minutes, but still. It was something. I once read that everything in our lives is constantly moving toward chaos. In a fallen world, even our bodies betray us by falling apart a little every day. Which makes perfect sense when you think about it. That's why it's so difficult to maintain a home, when the universe is insisting that evil weeds, dirty laundry and messy cabinets become eviler, dirtier and messier as I am sitting here writing this. And it's why it's so difficult to maintain our health, our relationships, our schedules, our careers. The Chaos Theory. You can just FEEL things getting away from you, a little at a time. Is it just me?

Did you watch The Office last night? Jim and Pam got married, and it was just the sweetest wedding...I'm thinking about the moment in the car when Pam told Jim she had been advised to take "mental pictures" of important moments during the wedding because it goes by so fast. And it's true, isn't it? Actual photos are great but can't always capture the feeling that went along with the moment. Plus you never have your camera on you when the really good stuff happens. Life is unpredictable that way. Pam spent the weekend taking mental pictures with her imaginary camera, and it was so precious. I am going to do that more often. Because I do feel the important moments slipping out of my memory, like precious water, as I toil to hold back the chaos flood.

Here were my mental pictures this week...I try to write them down if I'm near a pen. This week, while driving in the car, I wrote the following on the back of a flyer from school:

Foots asleep dotty. good comics - apple jacket. Dec 5 signup gym. hypnotizer/appetizer.

Now some of that, I must admit, I have no idea what it means. But this is what I remember. Small Fry saying she was shaking her foot in the back seat because it was "all dotty." Which means it had fallen asleep, and she was deliciously describing the pins and needles feeling. I think the hypnotizer/appetizer has to do with our recent vigorous use of hand sanitizer. (Swine flu, you know.) Small Fry is either washing with hand hypnotizer or a hand appetizer. She herself is not sure which, but it's definitely one of those. The apple jacket, well ... I just have no idea. Oh yes, and I need to write December 5 down on my calendar. Registration for gymnastics.

Click.

In Praise of Self-Centeredness

Great post....

http://segullah.org/cjane-speaks/the-art-of-self-centeredness-in-motherhood/

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Dream, Dream, Dream



There is a place I'm dreaming of.



At the end of this dock.





A place where the sun sets. Quietly, but with maximum impact.







And the moon rises. Silently, but with a beauty that steals your breath a little. And reminds you of the thing you already knew. I'm small. Very, very small.






This is a place where no one can find you. Unless you want them to. Family, best friends, birds, oysters, fish, Bobs and Bobalinas: Yes. Telephone sales hasslers, time/money/happiness suckers, uncertain workplaces, CNN and Fox News: No.






We could just hop on here and sail away, couldn't we? Why not?



We'd have everything we need. Room and board. Sky and sea.



We could eat these for dinner every night.





Or these.






I even have children and a FisherMan who are good at catching these. I'll bait all the hooks, promise. The bounty of the waters would feed us. The bounty of our hearts would nourish us. We'd be set. At least for a little while. And if we needed some Land R&R, a little cee-vah-lized company?





It's all good.




But I'd want to get back to this. ASAP. Road trip? Anyone? Anyone?