Art Friday: Dreaming

My lenten practice involved a lot of art journaling. Some of the explorations were of bible verses that have really spoken to me. As people have seen them afterwards, they’ve commented on how they’d buy them as prints, and it has gotten me to thinking about re-opening my Etsy store after a long dormancy.

I love the thought, and yet I quake in my shoes! It was hard for me to let go and just play, and while you can’t see it, I can see my heart splayed out all over each one. Each one was a struggle I was having; each one was an answer.

So…I’m relearning the ins and outs of Etsy-land, and I hope to bring the prints to you all by June 1st! Pray for me?

Pinning it: Style

Tonia fell in love with the swish of fabric round her legs again. Then she wrote a beautiful treatise on finding beautiful that says so much to me as I enter my third decade: Finding Our Own Beauty.

It got me to thinking about my own journey. I’ve never really understood femininity or style  until recently. My math went something like modesty=utilitarian-beauty. (My whole idea of modesty, period, was…er…misguided.)  In truth, I didn’t really know who I was throughout most of my twenties so my dressing reflected that. I defaulted by rote to my college standard: Jeans. Slub tee. Birks. (And usually covered in some sort of baby-ish or toddler-ish goo, to boot.)  For the last four or five years, I haven’t really taken good care of myself. My body. My clothes. My hair. Some of that is just a function of being a mom with young kids, but still. There was much I could do and didn’t. I’m not sure I really understand the hows and whys to that yet.

I was in a weird place, clothes-wise, when I got sick year before last. I was pregnant, but that wouldn’t last much longer. I was on steroids well after she was born, and none of my usual post-partum wardrobe fit. Money at the time was so tight that new (or new-to-me) clothes were not in the budget. I started to wear a lot of my dresses over jeans, and suddenly, I was in love. I began playing with that look.

Pinterest entered my hemisphere a short month after E was born. If there ever was a way Pinterest changed my life, it would be in the concept of style and fashion. While there are so many takeaways for home decor and stuff, it was getting to explore the world of Pinterest and my friends’ boards that I finally began to understand femininity and beauty outside of my utilitarian definitions, and by having my own board, I could play with what called my name and what I admired.

Over time, it became very apparent to me what I loved and what my style was, and y’all, let me tell you how freeing it was and is! A few months ago we went on a whole house closet purge. Pulling stuff out of my closet, I could see clearly what I loved and what languished on the hanger and why- it just wasn’t me. I felt a tremendous freedom to let go of all the stuff that didn’t float my boat. The interesting side effect is that I much more choosier than I used to be- I’d rather wait and hold back for a few months to buy something of better quality than grab the cheap stuff off the shelf. I’m slowly collecting classic pieces that will always be ‘me’.

More often than not, you’ll find me in layers. Dress over jeans or capris, long swishy skirts, slub tees (who couldn’t love them?), and pretty blouses. I like solid colors and lace work. Silver jewelry. I love it. It’s practical: the jeans/pants/leggings under the dresses mean that I can move around and not worry about flashing someone and if one layer gets mussed by baby lovin’, off it comes and I still have a reasonably clean and put together outfit. It’s beautiful. It swishes. And it’s me. I could care less what ‘ashion is doing (as Harper calls it). I’m just going to twirl.

Here’s to the dancing…

Dear Lorelei,

  You’re in the throes of rehearsals for your first big recital. While in class, you are at turns both shy and goofy. Sometimes you get a streak, and become the loudest, wiggliest girl of them all. At the beginning of the year, you and your closest friend would stand stock still and follow directions so intently, first position, chasse´, back to center. As soon as Mrs. Emily would turn to change the music, you both would break from your statue characters and wiggle your hips side to side, bump your knees up and down, just to see the skirt swish around you. When Mrs. Emily would turn back, your chins would pop up, and you’d be all seriousness again. I had to tape it with my phone so that Mrs. Emily could see it, and we both laughed hard at the little-girl-ness of it.

Don’t ever lose that swishy, twirly feeling. Hold it close and revel in it. 

I’m not sure if I’m ready for this, dearest. I am used to your toddler self, giggly and sweet and lovely; and yet here you stand before me each class day, calm, collected, studious school girl face gazing on the back yard as I pull your whispy hair into the required two side buns, one each side. You hardly ever complain about it, even though your thin short hair always makes the endeavor an adventure. Rarely, they come out in passable forms and off we go; but more often than not, the hair sticks out at all angles and refuses to be tucked in, and then we have to pull it out and go at it again. The same with your shoes- they are properly tight, which means that you have to patiently pull them on and arrange the elastic and cord. You rarely ever get frustrated. By the time we’re done, you stand before me, transformed. My princess girl with dirt on her Tevas suddenly morphs into this girl of grace and poise and sometimes manages to look so much older than her years that I do a double take. A deep breath away and you’re standing there as I put your bridal veil on.

Please, dearest, always remember to be patient with yourself. Extend grace to yourself even when you feel like you’re the worst person in the world on the worst day. 

Mrs. Emily always has a time at the end of class when she puts music on and you all free dance. I’m always patently curious what you’ll choose that day. Some days, you are trying to imitate the amazing arabesques you’ve watched the Russian ballerinas do on YouTube. Other days you kick out your feet, looking for all the world like a little Scottish dancer. Other days you stand in one place and just shimmy and wiggle and throw your arms out. Whatever it is, you go at it with your whole body and in complete confidence. One step to the next, with complete and utter joy at what you’re doing and how your body moves. I watch you test it, play with how your arm is moving, your leg- and you smile so big at yourself in the mirror when you do something you tried to do. I watch you grin at yourself when you goof up something you are trying, and you just sort of do this sideways shimmy away from the missed step and into the next.

Always, always, always dance your heart out, baby girl. In life, in love, in hope. Trust that the Creator that made you is guiding those steps. Throw your arms out and spin. Revel in the joy. 

Love always and forever, from eternity to the stars and back again,

Mama

May Monday Morning

RIght now, I am…

:: feeling like another cup of coffee is in order.

:: thinking that I’ve got to get the beds weeded soon. Especially because one particularly pernicious ragweed is about 4 feet tall. I didn’t notice it until it grew over the retaining wall.

:: appreciating all the skills I’ve learned from Heather. Life-changing. Truly. 

:: anticipating a quiet week, keeping close to home.

:: reminding myself to look into swim lessons. This area only has outdoor pools; none of the Y’s have pools either. (Which is so odd to this city girl who had rec centers and Y’s with indoor pools practically on every other street corner!)

:: wondering about rhythms. And quiet spaces. Big rocks and little rocks. Stewardship.

:: hoping to break out the sewing machine in the studio corner this week. And I promise to share the art, soon. (And Etsy shop? Prayerfully?)

:: getting ready to get the baking done. Mondays have become my default baking day (because J is home and we don’t have lots of weekend errands).

:: planning the last big push for school-y related things. I completed most of my planning for the next school year too, which is a BIG blessing and a great head start.

:: loving the growing relationship between my girls. (But gosh, could time not fly so fast?)

:: looking at the future. And housing situations. Buy? Rent? Where? (Promise a financial update soon…so much good stuff to share there!)

:: hearing “I’m bored!”, and it’s not even lunch time yet. I don’t get it. The rest of the week and weekend, they complain about not getting to spend much time with their legos and toys; come Monday, our quiet do-nothing day, and no one wants to play. What’s up with that?

:: remembering friends. I have two who lost mothers this weekend. Another friend is weary and in pain from hurts not deserved. Candles lit and prayers going up.

:: wishing that the miles didn’t stretch so long between me and those who I hold dear.

:: knowing this truth.

“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.” -Corrie Ten Boom

:: wanting to go a few more steps toward self-sufficiency. Trying to figure that out around a pretty strict lease. Containers? Where? We live on a hill in a lovely grove of trees, but that makes full sunlight a bit of a dice roll.

:: thinking about the things I want to pursue this month.

:: sending all my love.

(Many thanks to Amanda Soule for the format.)

Keeping it simple…

The last few months have been a very intentional quieting both within myself, and within my home, as much as I am able.

But y’all…I’m a yeller. I’ve been yelling since the bigs were little. Over time, plus the ambient noise of six children, I’ve become a really LOUD yeller. It’s not pretty. I’ve never liked that about myself or my parenting, but I’ve never really understood how to change it.

I’ve received back in spades: all my kids yell. Loudly. They all speak in short clipped tones that verge on disrespectful. I was all tied up in knots a few months back, just taken a back as to where this had all come from. Picture me sitting in the school room all worried, fingering a notebook I was writing in. Quiet. And then, some kid did something, and I immediately yelled: “STOP THAT RIGHT NOW YOUCOMEHERE AND LEAVEYOURSISTERALONENOWORYOULLBEINTIMEOUT”. (Which immediately elicited a squeal from said party being yelled at- loudly.) Back to staring off into space, thinking, worried, about this yelling problem in our house….a few minutes later, same kid, same problem. Never leaving my chair, “STOPTHATRIGHTNOW….” (and same response)(and I failed to put said party in time out like I said I would last time.) A few minutes after that, I’m holding Elliana, and two boys get in a fight. The one yells at the other “STOPTHATRIGHTNOWYOU…” (meaning the other boy begins to squeal and fight). I look up, shocked….and then something clicks. Gee, I wonder where they are getting it from? They speak and act the way I speak and act towards them. Boy, do we have a problem.

Thing was, I didn’t have a solution. How do you change the yelling? I realized that the way I spoke and yelled was very disrespectful in tone. Not that I had no respect for my children (because I do), but my tone said the exact opposite. They, in turn, were speaking and acting towards me disrespectfully, which created this endless cycle of anger, frustration, disobedience and punishment.

For some reason, most of the parenting books I have read over the years talk about the ‘big’ issues without giving the nitty gritty on the ‘how this looks in every day life’. I’ve always had the heart knowledge of where I want my children to go in life, but not had much head knowledge in how to live that out and model it to my kids.

I was so thankful when I ran across the blog Parenting Passageways a few weeks ago. Carrie manages to distill a tremendous amount of information from a variety of sources into kind, short, understandable, bite-size posts that really break things down and give needed tools. So much of this stuff I learned years ago in college (developmental age, etc) and had remembered my first few years of parenting when the bigs were littles, but somehow, I had completely forgotten so much good stuff.  There is so much to unpack, but today I wanted to touch on directing your child because that’s where I began to realize why I yell all the time. See this post by Carrie for a much more in-depth background of this.

Here’s what I’ve learned.

1) I talk too much.

Call this the curse of the ENFP who happens to be an English and History Double Major. I use my words. Absolute waterfalls of ‘em. My kids are not adults. I use five dollar words where penny words suffice. Short and sweet! K.I.S.S.!

2) Kids are not adults.

This seems like such a duh statement. But how often have I looked at a kid and said some variation on this theme:

Youneedtopaymoreattentiontothismathproblemifyougetolderandyoucan’tpayattentionyou 

won’tbeabletogetagoodjobandwhatwouldhappenifyourdaddydidn’tpayattention 

wouldhehaveagoodjobthatsupportsus? (Finally pausing for a breath).

(Commence absolute glazed over eyes which then make me angry.) Even a nine year old can’t unpack all the emotional issues presented, for one, and two, why does it matter anyways? That’s not modeling the habit of attention to him.

3) Show, don’t tell. (Or yell.)

One of the things Carrie really brings out is that it’s not helping anyone to stand there and repeatedly tell a child to put their jacket on. Giving the instruction once is one thing- but repeatedly (over a twenty minute span) telling a child (and then, usually, yelling) “get your jacket on!” just spazzes everyone out. And who knows the reasons why the child might not be putting the jacket on? Maybe the child doesn’t have the dexterity to both hold the jacket and slide an arm through. It is much better to look at my preschooler Josiah and tell him that “It’s time to put our jacket on”. If he struggles, stop what I’m doing (<—key point!) and go over to him and help and show him how to put his jacket on. “Can you make your arm slither like a snake through this hole and come out the other side?” NOT stand there frustrated at his failure to listen and obey, which is unfortunately the default for me more often than not.

4) Turn the negatives into positives by showing and modeling.

In the case of the math lesson, a much better approach would be to work through the corrections together, maybe on the board (so that he’s using his whole body) and ask him to discover, think about the problem. When he solves the problem correctly and finds the details he missed, congratulate him- “When you paid attention, you got these problems correct! It’s always easier when you slow down and look closely! Great job!”

This has to be the single-most difficult aspect for me. My husband seems to do this reversal much better than I. One of my older children really struggles with the habit of attention and it drives.me.nuts. It is easy to get angry with him because he fails to do it over and over—but on the flip side—I’ve suddenly realized I’ve never actually modeled to him the habit of attention either. I haven’t done anything to build that emotional/mental muscle! It’s a two-fold process, particularly with older children. First is the modeling, and then, providing opportunities to practice that skill.

5) Kids under the age of seven live in their bodies, not their brains.

This is one of those things that just about any mom could tell you by observation. Kids under seven are going, doing, being- it’s often what makes potty training difficult- because they are busy doing/being/going somewhere else and they don’t want to stop. They don’t reason through why they are choosing to jump on the couch- they are just enjoying the moment and the sensation of bouncing!  But somehow, when it comes to disciplining (and discipling) my younger children, I often forget this very fact.  I can’t find Carrie’s specific post about it, but she talks about how (from the Waldorf perspective) singing and doing a thing through a transition is natural for a child, but telling a child to do something (or asking them why they are doing something wrong) makes a kid move from their body to their brain- which is where the breakdown usually happens. (Of course, the reasoning comes a bit later and you can have those sorts of discussions, but at the younger age it is somewhat self-defeating). If a child is jumping on the couch, it might be a better approach to tell them to hop off the couch softly like a little mouse and come over here and play with this neat car, versus yelling “get off the couch!” and getting frustrated when they don’t respond and continue bouncing…that sort of thing. (She also mentions that distraction is key at this age- in a good way- distracting them out of bad behavior into something good…) It’s something to really think about- I’ve been experimenting with this approach and I’m seeing some good fruit from it. Heavens knows I’ve yelled the rules at them a thousand times, but I need to help and show them how to follow those rules in a gentle, healthy way.

If you’ve stuck through this whole post (sorry, word girl here)…what do you think about all this? What have you noticed in your own home life? Are you a yeller like me? Or a reformed-yeller? What works for you?

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