p is for...

So many words came to mind.

Patient. (hahaha) Proud. Picky. (So much this) Pretty. 

Pure...the essence of the love between my child and myself is simple.

It's not always easy and it's not always fun but it is pure. 

Sometimes he says something so innocent and funny, like when I finally tossed a torn shirt covered in stains and he said, so sadly, "I miss my white shirt that's in the trash." He thinks about things in a different and often unique way, like children do, and it's refreshing to see things through his eyes.

I feel this way as an artist. No one will see things the way I see them. It is difficult to feel like my art is pure...I see things all the time that inspire me, other artists work, their words, music, nature, even random, obscure things...but everything goes through this filter. And the remainder comes out like this pure, perfect thing, that only my mind understands. It is the job of an artist to communicate these inner thoughts and feelings in a way that others can understand. Right? Why does art hang on walls or sit on pedestals? Because it is there for the viewer. But you know what? Ultimately it doesn't matter if you like it. If you care, if you think it's pretty or awful or something in between. Because it's there for everyone and we are all different, pure in how we experience everything. Art is this amazing universal language because it speaks to you in ways only you can understand. 

When I was solely focused on creating non-objective art I struggled with my focus. I was always asked what my work meant, what it was saying. I didn't always have the words other than "organic, elements from nature etc." because it was basically just purely from my heart to my head to canvas. It was me spilling out in this explosion of color because that is simply what I felt. No explanation needed, really. Sometimes people would tell me what they saw in my paintings and I LOVED that. I loved hearing what others saw, even it was different than my own feelings when I painted the piece. I loved it because I could see something new through their eyes, just like I get to see so many new things through my child's eyes. 

Pure connection. That's so important to me. Thanks for tripping around in my head a bit with me today, I get lost in there sometimes. 

xoxo

o is for...

I am sharing a few words from my friend Eileen (thanks lady)

"After all the lessons, all the shouting matches, all the creativity and showing them how to make choices...there comes a time when we just have to sit back and let them do things themselves. 

When we observe, we see their first steps, the unsolicited hugs they have for their friends and siblings, their problem solving, their confidence on the playground, and their choices.

When we observe, we see our children's true personality and character. The moment when we see as a parent that our babies do listen to us. And do want to make us proud."

Que the waterfall of tears when I read Eileen's words in response to an O word for this series. I really couldn't say it better so I hope she does not mind my overstep. 

Observe.

I love it. I need to do it more. I used to.

When I was younger, still growing up, (still am) I watched a lot. I wrote a lot. I retreated a lot. And when I did actually speak up, I realized (most of the time) people listened. It was a strange experience for me to see anyone perk up at what I had to say. I started speaking more but that's a story for another post ;-)

I still prefer to sit back, to watch and wait for what is supposed to happen. I was never the child that ran for the pinata when it broke. Even though I love candy. I was a tad timid but strong enough to know what I did or did not want. 

I try to imagine myself through my parents eyes. I wonder what they observed about me, how they watched me change and grow, struggle and triumph. I watch my own child on the playground, adrift in his own world, running with a hula hoop imagining who knows what, and I wonder where he will go.

I need to remember to do this more, getting to the school a few minutes early to observe him, slipping into his room at night to admire his little face just one more time before I go to sleep, letting him wander while we walk and just watching where he wants to go...

I always wanted to create. I always wanted to tell stories. This is a part of my fabric, it's what makes me, me. When my child tells me who he is I want to listen and enjoy the beauty of watching what is supposed to happen. I know he will make me, so, so proud. He already does. 

why I write...

Why I Write.

I write because I don’t have a choice. It’s a part of me. I write about little girls growing up into women and all of the adventure, sadness, joy and drama that exists in between. I write to let go of my past and to hope and dream about everything my future can be. I write because it's easy and I write because it's the most difficult thing ever. I write when I want to cry. I write to blow out the candle always burning in the back of my brain. I write to quiet the buzzing and to see through the blur. I write because I like myself when I see my words. I write to stop the hate. I write to show my anger. I write so I don't have to say it to your face. I write to forget you. I write to distract myself and to distract you from me. I write to avoid sleep. I write out of guilt and because of pain. I write to stay young. I write so I can pretend I know more than I do. I write for my child. I write for alternate lives I could have lived. I write to learn to love myself. I write so you remember me. I write to make myself miserable. I write when I'm afraid to paint. I write when paint inspires me. I write to avoid everything. I write because it makes me feel pretty. I write when I want to scream. I write to hang on. I write to keep my eyes wide open. I write when I smell funnel cake and cotton candy. I write when the fruit is ripe and gorgeous and it needs to be said. I write to feel the ocean. I write to celebrate your life. I write to bury you deep inside the earth. I write for the future of other little girls who run to books to help them understand their ever evolving worlds. I write when I feel like hiding. I write because the world is ending and there is no way other way to stop it.  I write to smell the night air and lose myself in the dusk. I write because there is no point. I write because the moon is ablaze, then it blinks and its gone. I write because I want to fly away. I write to try to understand if there is god or something like it and what that means. I write because I don't believe. I write because I want to believe something. The truth is buried deep down and it's a relief to break through the tangled mess of words woven throughout time. I write to live forever. 

I write to heal the broken and I write to break the strong. 

If you write...why do you?


If you don't write...why don't you start?

n is for...

I feel at my creative best when it comes to me naturally. 

There are times I am in the middle of doing something mundane and inspiration strikes...so I open up my art journal and start drawing something. Or I write a few words down on a scrap of paper. I often open up the notes feature on my phone and use the microphone to record some thoughts. Those random words turn into blog posts, stories and poems.

Natural felt right for this painting.

I love the idea of "natural" when it comes to parenting as well. And no, I don't mean natural is in crunchy, organic, holistic etc. not that I find anything wrong with any of those things. I mean, as long as I can still have Oreos once in a while. Balance. 

Anyway, I mean natural in terms of the feeling of being a parent.

I had zero clues how to be parent before I became one. Really, I also had zero clues after actually becoming a parent. Currently, I have one, maybe two clues, and I hope those continue to accumulate as I gain more parenting experience. Although I had zero clues, I did have a hopeful heart. And apparently some of those parenting things actually do come naturally! 

I feel like a big part of the whole "naturally knowing how to be a parent thing" is you have a natural instinct as to what is right for YOUR child. Other people can give you all kinds of advice, tell you how they did all kinds of things, and while they might be doing absolutely everything right for their child, that does not mean it is a fit for your own. No way. I speak from limited experience here, but as someone with a clue and a half, listen to me. You know your child better than anyone. That will probably change as they start to really grow up and turn into independent souls trying on a variety of personalities and experiences, but right now, at these tender young ages, you know them. You do. Like, I, for example, knew my son wanted strawberries when he said "tartars" and "car" meant "car" while "car car" meant motorcycle. I also knew when some things he was experiencing at age 3 were not part of the typical child experience...and I knew he needed some additional help. 

I know it all feels overwhelming. I stood in a baby store, very pregnant and very confused, asking my bff if she could just pick everything out for me. (and she did, and that stuff was great) Of course, once my son actually arrived, I was able to learn from him about what he needed, what would work for him, what would work for all of us together as a family.

It was a natural thing that continues to evolve. I am finding I do my best parenting when I also let it happen naturally. I can plan and worry and try to make everything perfect but sometimes the day is just so much better when we stay in a build a couch cushion fort... because my very vocal child is in need of a rest day at home, away from the world and all of its demands, just for a day. I am not inside his head to understand every thing he's feeling, but right now I know what he needs.

It's only natural. 
xoxo

car loving kid craft

What is my favorite kind of kid craft? Probably food crafts. My child is most definitely inspired by food and it holds his attention a bit better. Basically, for one minute instead of thirty seconds. Plus, there are so many cute things you can make out of food items. Plus, food. Sugary, delicious, snacky "probably shouldn't eat that but I'm crafting so it's okay" food. They don't all have to be sugary and unhealthy but a little bit of sugar is fun too, especially on these long, "too hot to even play outside" very, LONG summer days.

My son absolutely loves all things car related and often takes candies or foods and makes traffic lights if he has something red, green and yellow. This is a super easy craft that requires little effort.

Here's what you need:

It's pretty self explanatory. Get some kind of red, green and yellow candy and something rectangular plus something to stick it all together to make a traffic light. Google the order of the traffic light colors if you care about that kind of thing. Feel free to use whatever you want food wise. I used skittles and honey to stick them to chocolate graham crackers. You could use peanut butter, melted chocolate or frosting if you need an excuse to eat a spoon of frosting. The best part about using the graham crackers is you get a little leftover bowl to eat after you end up breaking fifteen of them trying to break them apart evenly. And then giving up. Because they don't break apart evenly. Ever. 

This will give you approximately fifteen seconds of craft time minus the time spent telling your child to stop eating all the skittles. At some point he managed to sneak a purple one in to make the ever elusive purple traffic light. I feel like if purple was a traffic light color it would definitely mean you could do whatever you felt like. Kind of like how most people drive anyway. 

So, if you are inclined to feed something healthier to your child than candy and cookies fused together with more sugar, read on! Personally, my kid is only kept quiet in certain situations if I am constantly feeding him skittles. I wish I could say that wasn't true but sadly it is. #nofilter

I had this grand idea to make my own version of the adorable food cars I have seen on pinterest. My son loves olives so I thought those would make cute tires. Apples make the body of the car, cheese for windows and cherries for tail lights. When I started this adventure I realized I have no toothpicks so I cut some from those little cocktail umbrellas I bought one day thinking I would make fancy cocktails. (never happened) The process of cutting the toothpick part from the umbrella part led to me removing the stove burners to dig out pieces of toothpick that went flying. Does this happen to Martha Stewart? Doubtful. Allow extra time for this kind of thing.

Here is what you need for healthy craft cars that your kid will not remotely be able to assemble!

You might have one of those children that is ready to be on that Master Chef Junior show. I do not. I quickly realized how terrified I was to even let my four year old near a toothpick let alone a knife. After a few minutes I realized this would actually be a mommy craft to show to my son, let him admire it for a second, then remove all the toothpicks and just have him eat it. He of course showed no interest in this cute little car whatsoever until I demolished them and gave him his lunch plate. At that point he asked (very accusingly, I might add) "where is the car mommy?" before trying to recreate one and then giving up just as quickly as I did. If you decide to actually make these, cut up the apple, cut the olives in half and the cheese in little squares. Awkwardly stab a toothpick through the apple and add the cheese and olives to dangerous sharp sides of toothpick. Look at the cherries with a puzzled look, cut a piece off the bottom of one and simply place it on top of the olives long enough to snap a photo.

You should have plenty of leftovers to eat with your glass of wine...that you should most definitely enjoy, celebrating that this craft time is over.

xoxoxo,

m is for...

Have you seen photographs floating around about the painted rocks? Kindness Rocks. Lovely people are painting images and inspiring, thoughtful words on rocks and leaving them for other souls to find. I think it's a fantastic way to connect with the world, to share a little bit of love with a stranger. Intentional love, reaching out to the world without worry or care about who will find it. Everyone is worthy of this expression of love. Everyone deserves kindness. Hopefully each rock finds its way to a person who needs a little message of love or hope, something beautiful in this often very ugly life.

I hadn't heard about the painted rock projects until I found one myself. 

I was walking my dog on one of our usual routes. A flash of yellow caught my eye and I doubled back to take a look at this huge tree stump. I thought it was a pin or sticker but as I got closer I saw it was a rock. And it said...

It was so perfect. I walked away smiling, so thrilled I found such a fun little message. It really felt like it was meant for me. I didn't even think about taking it so I hope someone else found it and is enjoying it. I went by the tree trunk later and it was gone.

This weeks painting is inspired by the rock that totally made my day. Thank you fellow human, you inspired me and made me smile. You are kind. YOU are magic. 

Magic is a perfect word for creative mothers (and all creative people). We make so many beautiful things out of scraps of nothing. On those who so frustrating days, when we are about to absolutely lose our shit, something makes us remember ourselves and we stop, take a deep breath, pick up the paintbrush or the pen or whatever method we use to create and we make some magic.

Magic.

Remember, you are magic.  Now get out there and paint some rocks and leave them for someone to find. You might be the catalyst for something beautiful. I plan to be the same. 

about memories...

I wrote this poem a while ago. It's about my brother, inspired by this photograph. 

I really would like to see this poem published, it would make my whole world.

Carousel


There is a photograph of us, taken
when we were children with sticky chins
and round eyes full of stories rich
like chocolate éclairs, fluffy
with the sweetest cream,
in our darling outfits, red and blue with stars,
orange soda can in my tiny hand,
candy fluff stuck to your little boy fingers,
at some festival before our turn
to ride the colorful horses


A curious girl full of questions,
I asked our mother if I could
rewind and fast forward
in my mind the way our then new
video recorder played back pictures.
She told me about memories
and how they are felt, how they live
in every smell and sound.
Now I see them as water
rolling in, around and
through my mind until
they freeze and fill in with time.


I picture you, still
little boy face on a man
in uniform, gun in hand
with grim look, dusty
and dirty in a land
I’ve never been to and
I can’t understand
muddy grit that fills
your old soul eyes and
shows hollows below.
That heavy look pulls
and twists me inside.
The feeling lulls
in the morning time
when the blender of ice
spins, shatters and slows.