it's all good

Something has been afoot here.  Some shifts, some stresses, some changes, some serious changes, some summer weeks flying by as if they are rushing towards something unseen.  A friend of mine e-mailed yesterday and described this summer as a doozy.  Yes, oh yes, a doozy indeed. 

As these summer weeks have marched along at a fast clip, I've kept wanting to pause it all and plan our dream list.  Brainstorm the must-do's, make a long list with the kids, think big about how to spend our summer days.  But it seems we haven't spent our summer days, they have spent us.  Now all that is left is making peace with it, that our perfect summer alluded us, alluded me.

But then I remember a moment, or a day, or a special little trip and I realize that added together they have made our summer good.  Not perfect, but good.  In a doozyish kind of way.

So I'm keeping the very long to-do list in perspective, thinking of ways to fully enjoy these last weeks of summer, believing that all of the loose ends will twine together beautifully, and remembering a moment, a day, a special trip.  Because really there have been many...

weekending

Busy.  Hard.  Good.  Busy. 

Did I say hard?  And good?

This weekend reminded me so much of what the amazing Glennon describes as "brutiful." Brutal and beautiful.  Those seemingly disparate qualities coming together to make complexity and nuance and texture of this one life.

I spent the weekend vacillating between these feelings of beautiful and brutal.  Recognizing the very good taking place, like this, and the opening of registration for gladsome.  But also feeling deeply the tough stuff going on.  Some challenges coming up, some decisions to be made, much work to be done.  And doing so amongst the pulls and pushes of parenting a lively tribe of kids.

Then I look closely at some of the pictures I took.  The one above is part of a series of photos of these sweet siblings as they tried to swing and hold hands at the same time.  Their laughter was loud and their attention focused as they reached out to one another.  So often missing, but continuing to try, smiles splitting wide open even if just their fingertips touched.

And I want to be like them.  Laughing.  Reaching.  Focused.  Smiling.


~~ Joining Amanda in weekending. ~~

at least there are these

I've been trying to blog since the middle of last week.  Pretty sure these pictures were started in a draft last Wednesday.

Silly me to think that with a picked up house, a sleeping toddler, a fresh cup of coffee and a small window of time this afternoon, I could actually write some words to go along with them.

You will notice there are no more words. 

little by little

Something I didn't think about when buying a new house was where I could hide Christmas presents.  It never crossed my mind.  Even if it had, it likely wouldn't have been a consideration in buying this house.  But it seems important now.  Mostly because I don't have a good hiding spot for Christmas presents.  Our old house had a basement with perfect nooks and crannies, an attic that the kids didn't venture into.  My gift-hiding was almost an art, down to the tubs I sorted and stored them in once wrapped, for easy and quiet (oh so important with growing littles!) transfer to the stockings and tree on Christmas Eve night.

But this new house?  No nooks or crannies.  No tubs.  No gift-hiding art.

So I'm trying to scheme a new way.  Just one of many things I didn't think of.  Until now.  Where should we place the Christmas tree?  Did we toss the wreath when we moved?  Where oh where did I pack the Santa bags?  Can we unpack all of the boxes stacked in front of the fireplace in time for Santa to make his entrance?

So much new.  I've come to realize that this move -- that began in earnest in February -- really is not yet done.  That each season, each holiday, each transition brings a re-imagining of what to do, how to do it, with whom to do it.  Where to hid the darn presents.  No wonder I'm tired.

But little by little I am unpacking how this season, how this holiday, will be.  At least for this year.  I am letting the new of our lives make it okay for it be new, and different, not holding it up to what came before, but instead making it the holiday for now.

Each day, little by little, a bit more decorates our space.  The familiar Christmas books, Santa bags on bedroom doorknobs, and small tree, brought out for St. Nicholas Day, to light the hallway. 

The new too.  A snowflake tree in the kitchen -- a tree in the kitchen, well I never!  A vintage embroidered table runner for a tree skirt in the sun-room.  And, easily my favorite, winter prints by the amazing Phoeble Wahl in a spot I get to see and enjoy them dozens of times a day.

And enjoy them I will. 

As I will all of the new, and the comfortable familiar, in this season.

this morning, from above

Cup of coffee.

Breakfast.

Sudoku.

Making lunches.

Pre-bus card games.

Banging cake pans.

Homemade jelly.

Reading Dear Abby.

Dirty dishes.

Dead mouse. (Don't ask.)

Finding hats and gloves.

Re-heated coffee.

Miss-matched socks.

Bus stop in those miss-matched socks.

Yogurt on the floor.

Tantrum.

Some mornings are messier, louder, more frantic than others.

around here {or, my life with Pal}

It's true, I spend my days following Pal around.  Pal whom we call Squirmy because, well, he has a history.  If I've spent a few minutes doing something else, it inevitably is followed by a look around to discover which drawer, bin, or closet he has been tearing apart.  Seriously.  In the amount of time it has taken me to type these past few sentences he has pulled out the broom and dustpan, gotten a computer cord from the desk and ransacked the drawer of wooden spoons.  Add in a kitchen stool he has easily mastered and I am in heaps of trouble!

This morning after getting two kids onto two different buses at two different bus stops I stood in the front yard for a few minutes and breathed the lovely oxygen given to us by our trees.  Sound silly?  We had some lovely trees in our old neighborhood, but as I looked skyward I wondered if I could ever, will ever, tire of these majestic trees that surround our new house and new neighborhood.  Granted, we haven't gone through the fall leaf raking season yet...

I am lamenting a broken camera lens.  My beloved Nikon VR 18-200.  I am squarely blaming the lens on the mostly blurry, less than inspiring photos of late.  It has suffered a couple bumps on the ground.  Squirmy again.  I couldn't get to him fast enough when his grabby hands were in motion.  Silly me for not storing it in a locked safe on the roof. 

We've had some birthday celebrating around here.  It has been sweet and touching and incredible.  Family and dear friends have been filling this space to the brim with love.  There have been cakes and singing and some can't-beat-it-coolest-real-gumball-machine-presents.  Nevermind that I am finding chewed gum in interesting places.  This kid will remember growing up with a real gumball machine.  I enjoyed a night out with Honey.  A walk in town, sushi, an uninterrupted adult conversation. 

I have been thinking about parenting a bit.  Thinking in a struggling sort of way.  I realize that I need to repair some of the difficulty of the summer and allow compassion to rise again to the forefront of my relationships with my children.  Hard stuff to look at my friends.  But I am looking.  And buoyed by the beautiful artwork my sisters gave me for my birthday.   Glad to have read this post too.

Also in the coolest birthday present department, Honey bought me a Peace Pole for my birthday.  A Peace Pole!  It will arrive later this fall, and plans are underway for a peace gathering.  So it seems the birthday goodness will continue.  Munchkin in providing gumballs for all.

Speaking of goodness and plans and fall.  gladsome planning is well underway.  Oh the great things that are coming together for this year!  Some wonderful women are sharing their talents: Gina and Amy and Annie.  There is still time to register at the early-bird price!

Squirmy has just walked into the room carrying pliers and scissors.  True.

I've been enjoying Twitter.  I resisted it for a long time, but have come to quite enjoy it.  After all, the pace of things right now make it easier to read and write in 140 character increments.  If you want, you can follow me @bcomingclaudine.  It will be like hanging around in my head all day.  Wait, maybe you don't want to be there.  Anyway, I will welcome the company if you do.

Squirmy has just walked into the room carrying a different pair of scissors.  Really?

I've given myself permission to not feel settled on paint colors or decorating or where to hang pictures for the next 12 months.  Instead I've been flipping through the best library books:  Young House Love and Happy Home.  There, I feel better with the stacks of boxes that are in our future family room.

I hear Squirmy talking to Siri on my phone.  He contacts her a couple times a day.  She often responds.  I think they might be in a relationship.  The vacuum cleaner doesn't know.

So, as my oldest has taken to saying, I better Peace Out.