I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be haunted. Not necessarily in the supernatural way, but more in the way that we encounter our past, near and far, in the traffic of our daily lives. And how the remnants of days and realities and identities of the past can hover like a stuffed sheet, waiting around every corner to jump out with a big, old fashioned boooooooooooo. This past year has kicked my ass in so many ways. In fact, in true 2014 fashion, I even started a post full of jokes about ways in which I can totally tell my ass is being handed to me, like the ways I find myself trying to multitask while using the potty. Seriously, one time I found myself trying to simultaneously scarf down my dinner while I sat on the can and I was like: This is a breaking point. Anyway, like so many things in the past year, that particular post didn't happen but here I am again, long overdue yet showing up none the less. Hopefully that counts for something.
My kids went on a walk tonight with my husband and brought me back this?!?
Then once in a while I get inspired, like this week, which really got the haunting thing going for me. I am now completely, totally, and officially obsessed with the Austin-based Shakey Graves. It was a slow fall, but after hearing multiple tracks from him/them, all of which totally drew me in, I heard this little numero which is certainly worth the $1 download from Band Camp:
I had one of those moments tonight- it was kind of like a
mixture of “Ah-ha!” and “Elementary, my dear Watson*,” all at the same
time.After 8 months of co-sleeping, we’re trying to
teach our youngest how to put himself to sleep and the process started last
night.I’ve read the “ferberize” method,
made popular by pediatric sleep specialist Dr. Ferber (his book is actually a
really good reference for lots of sleep related question), but following the
methodology to the letter just doesn’t seem like the right fit for our little
guy.He’s sort of extra-sensitive in
this really odd and funny way, so happy most of the time as he scoots his 26
pound body around with this funky three legged crawl he’s recently
mastered.It’s hilarious really, he’s
this big lug of a dude, and he absolutely HATES being alone.This probably shouldn’t surprise me, as it
sounds like many men I know, but to see it play out with him this young is
fascinating.And funny.He’s definitely a pretty tough guy until
everyone goes into the bathroom to brush their teeth without him, then all hell
breaks loose.Seriously, if you leave
his sight line it is nothing short of full-on wailing and gnashing of
teeth.
In lieu of a post today, I'm linking you lovely people to one of my favorite on-line sources of all things southern and inspiring. And more specifically, I'm linking you to a piece I wrote in said online source about my struggle to be a writing mom while staying southern and inspired. Can you relate? My guess is yes. Here's some happy reading for your Monday:
Finally, a fingernail polish AND parenting words to live by.
Happy Day to all those who are mothers, have mothers, or otherwise love women who work their ass off in any capacity. And hey, we all know a few of those.
My smart alec but still pretty funny husband shared this video tonight with a little chuckle. I wish it weren't so funny so I could stay annoyed:
It's South by Southwest here in Austin and that means a lot of things to a lot of people. For me, it means earning LOTS of cool points in a relatively short amount of time. I wish I could say that I was hip enough to know what is happening at SXSW, but honestly, I have no clue. I wish I could say that I fit in with all the people who seem younger every year and somehow all look devastatingly hip and relevant, but I'm still parading around in my rotation of three post-maternity outfits that pretty much scream "Yes, I had a baby, and soon, I too, will shower." And I always feel a little thrown off in the SXSW crowd because, in spite of such coolness, I swear everyone looks like somebody I know in this very weird way. I was so adamant about this yesterday that my husband now swears I have that facial recognition disability.
Kicking my boots up at SXSW, unable to recognize any faces. The free beer played no role.
Yet all this was not to keep me from cashing in on the little youth I have left and attending the Billy Reid showcase, which was a total blast and happened to be organized by one of my BFF's from childhood. Otherwise, like most things at South by, I would have never have known said showcase existed and gone to bed at 8 pm, happy and blissfully unaware of how the other half live. The cool half, that is.
My son, who may never know how the cool half lives if he continues to insist on parting his hair this way. Geez.
I was psyched to see my friend, and she is always an amazing event planner, so I knew we'd be in good hands. We spotted her across the venue wearing this white jumpsuit that I definitely can not afford but am now completely obsessed with. Thank you, Billy Reid, for inducing something close to mania in my fragile equilibrium of a life. I haven't felt this kind of longing for something so unattainable since middle school.
Yet I digress.
The party was a welcome break from the lovely but, er, slightly mundane domestic sphere. Two of the best takeaways: The set played by St. Paul and the Broken Bones who are now on the top of my love, love, love list for the spring, and an incredible public art project that we were lucky enough to catch (almost from start to finish) called Pi in the Sky. Here is a view from my brand spanking new smart phone. Slowly, people, I am joining this century:
There was definitely something magical about seeing five tiny airplanes trying to recreate the mysterious and never ending digital representation of pi. A reminder, perhaps, that sometimes the best things in life are the ones that do not have an exact answer or definition, and that sometimes we miss incredible feats of human expression if we never allow ourselves to look up. I'm trying to remember that a lot right now, growing in faith as the imprecise equation that is my family life often has me lamenting that there is no equilibrium to speak of, just beauty and mystery and the fact that, God willing, we just keep going.
For funsies, here is a You Tube video of St. Paul and the Broken Bones from Music City Roots in Nashville. The lead singer looked just as dapper yesterday, and sang just as soulfully. Could somebody I know please marry this dude A.S.A.P.? His total individuality and f---ing adorable bowties, not to mention that voice, seriously pose a threat to my relationship.
Missing this blog and those who read it something fierce. We've finally emerged from the "fourth trimester" but honestly, the pace of this two-kids-now-back-to-work thing is relentless. One of my close friends here in Austin is Chinese and she reminded me via text today that it's the Chinese New Year. Thank God! Like most people, I already blew my New Year's Resolutions in January so I always look forward to this chance to re-dedicate myself to the new year a second time around. But before looking forward, here's a quick photo recap of the past few months:
Henny still loves being a big sister. For any of you who knew the late, great Erika Smedstad, here is Henny in a pair of Erika's overalls from childhood. Back in the late fall, Henny requested to wear them and I snapped these photos. She loves them, and I love that she loves them. Rest in peace, Erika Amerika. December was a time full of memories. And while Henny worked my memory by working her denim,
Thomas went through a fat skater dude phase.
Then he went through a stoner phase.
We had many good mornings.
Then BOOM, the Fourth Trimester was over and our beautiful butterfly emerged
in all his blue-hooded glory...
I mean, it was pretty much like that. Minus the hormones, the crying (theirs and mine), the diapers- oh how many diapers- and the many sleepless nights.
Anyway, you get the gist. It's been a wild ride. God Bless you 2013 plus January, but I'm STOKED the Chinese New Year has arrived.
