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.
Some Warriors look
fierce, but are mild. Some seem timid, but are vicious. Look beyond appearances;
position yourself for the advantage.
- Deng Ming-Dao
Last week, as the nation celebrated Veterans Day, I felt my mind wandering. Maybe it's because I still feel pretty overwhelmed being the mother of two, but I realize how, in addition to military veterans, there are so many other veterans out there of all different kinds, some of them still actively engaged in their fight. I'm in awe of all the people juggling life, love, family, hardships, illness, big decisions, disappointments- all of it. Anyway, that's to say that life can be f***ing hard sometimes and it requires a fight from all of us to get through.
As fate would have it, the good fight must have been on my brain even earlier. Here's our oldest all dressed up for Halloween.
You might THINK she looks like a Geisha, and that thought did cross my mind, but it just didn't seem appropriate for a three year old. So we did the best we could seeing as the kimono was the only really costume worthy thing in her closet, and knowing how hard this little girl has fought for everything she does and is, we went with a lady samurai. Hopefully the plastic sword helped to clarify somewhat. Regardless- sword or no sword, could you say no to this face?
This is her sign for "Please, sir, can I have another?"
Anyway, I'm praying the samurai energy stays with her as I'm beginning to notice the disdain of some of her peers towards her differences. It sucks. It hurts. And I know this is just the beginning. What is it about the human animal that exploits weakness where ever it may lie? Are we all like this somewhere deep down? What a lesson for me.
But this blog is about optimism, so here's some:
I'm choosing to believe that every day is an opportunity. That if I try my level best every day, eventually, something good will happen. That even the weakest can be warriors, and I can be one for my child and somehow teach her to be. The reality is, she teaches me most days. The warrior is in her, but it's my job to learn how to open the door.
Thanks to luck and the fantastic Internet, I came across the Samurai warrior quote above (you reallly can google anything) as well as this one from Confucius, which I'm going to keep as my mantra for the next days and weeks:
It
does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop
From our little samurai to you
and yours, whatever your fight may be- hang in there!
Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.
-Vaclav Havel
Playwright and former Czechoslovakian President
This quote from Vaclav Havel means a lot to me these days as I try to ready myself for the adventure of adding a second child to our family. Like any expectant parent, there are loads of thoughts, fears and anxieties swirling around in the nether regions of my subconscious. I'm sure it's exacerbated by the fact that our fist child was born with special needs, so we have absolutely reconciled with the possibility of that happening again as we realize that anything is possible anytime. And besides the basic desire for a healthy child, which we all share, there are millions of other things that run through your mind: Do I have enough energy? Will our resources hold out? Is our marriage strong enough? Will there be any time left over, ever, for me? What if my kids don't even like each other?
Then, the other day, I came across this photo from my friend Hatnim Lee's blog and had this lovely rush of calm and synchronicity. If I have a few down moments here and there, I love to see what she's up to because a) I love her photography and the things she observes and b) it's often like stepping into an alternate universe which totally fascinates me and c) she's always on the go so I feel like I get to live vicariously through her adventures. At any rate, some of her photos looked a tad familiar when I last checked in and I realized they were from a region of Montenegro and Italy that my husband and I visited during our first extended time of travel together soon after our engagement. I've been working on chronicling those weeks and months in a book project for some time, but so often that dream seems far away as I work to keep up with the demands of our family life and a day job. Yet somehow, when I saw this photo of the moon over the Adriatic Sea, and a few photos later shots from the same all night ferry ride we took years ago from Montenegro to Bari, Italy, a rare feeling of peace and continuity set in. I had this sense that all the crazy vignettes that constitute our life together might be connected after all, and there is rhyme and reason to it. That we've been preparing for this journey, like every journey we undertake, every step of the way.
Nothing we do in life is ever fully planned. Nothing I've ever set out to do has turned out the way I expected, especially the big stuff. Soon after we got back from our crazy, fun travels in Italy that fall, my husband was diagnosed with cancer. But it worked out, and six years later, it's still working out. Before the end of my daughter's first year of life, we knew she would never be like other kids. And two years after that, she's still the best thing that ever happened to us. And we persist, and risk, and hope, and just keep doing. Sometimes that feels crazy, and more than a little brutal. Sometimes it feels like magic. More than anything else, though, it just feels right. And I love that Vaclav Havel put words to that feeling, the essence of hope. It's not about things turning out perfect, therefore validating how "right" a thing or decision is all along, but it's about knowing on the deepest level of your being that somehow the risk is worth taking and following that impulse, even if by nothing else than the light of the moon.
Sometimes that's all we have. More often than not, it's enough.
