tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21477164215178532182024-03-07T00:54:10.603-06:00Just a minuteIn my spare time, I'll blogBernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.comBlogger306125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-86968928690294408712011-12-01T23:56:00.000-06:002011-12-01T23:56:13.495-06:0030 Days with a Grateful heart - Day 1<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Ah, beautiful gratitude inspired by the beautiful <a href="http://blessherheart.typepad.com/bless_her_heart/2011/12/30-days-with-a-grateful-heart-2011-wanna-play.html">Jote Khalsa</a> and carried on by so many women I know. I'm in. 30 days of gratitude. day one. I'll start off with something pure and simple. I am grateful for 42 years of life with my sister Alma. I miss you Alma. I cry everyday that you are not here in the physical form I knew and loved. But I am grateful that I had you from the day I was born. And grateful that your lessons in this life go on and on. My heart is bigger and my life is more full and beautiful because of you. And if you want to talk to me, I'm ready.</span><br />
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</span>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-74970070329091349372011-11-04T16:13:00.000-05:002011-11-04T16:13:06.317-05:00It's not you, it's meI grew up in a big family. 9 kids. In the summers always more as we'd have 1 or 2 or 3 from the Fresh Air Fund in NYC and a few cousins sprinkled in here and there. It was messy. Chaotic. Fun. And exhilarating in the truest sense of the word as in animate, inspirit, elate. As a kid it was never a dull moment. As a parent I imagine it was also never a dull moment but in a different way. It was I know a lot of work, but my mom swears she'd do it all over again just the same.<br />
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Now in my own little family of 4 kids, the modern day big family of 6 people, and now with a special older cousin guest star bringing out household total to 7, there is never a dull moment. Not for lack of trying. It is a special kind of chaos that is sometimes fun, sometimes funny, sometimes loud, sometimes maddening, sometimes frustrating, sometimes ecstatic, sometimes overwhelming and well, you get the idea. It's a lot. A lot of emotions, people, activities, and everything else.<br />
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My man and I try hard to keep things easy for ourselves and for everyone else in the household but even that isn't always easy. We try to make sure that there is family time. We limit activities. We limit outings. And because there are just so many more people and so much more to do we have a lot more rules than smaller households. (based on our observations of those smaller households that is.)<br />
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Sometimes those rules feel really tight when we explain them to others. Things like no playdates after school on a whim. Playdates have to be prearranged and they have to work for the household not just for the person going. Very few sleepovers and when I say few I mean almost not at all. We have pretty early bedtimes, random chores and one day each weekend we try to keep for family only. No friends. Just family.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbpjNe1Tu3KMAVhZbObpp-DAk5FPmTJJPjEbPWu62gRFZd8DwB7q_llleVAYnIfhOwUF3au7X4htZjshUEhn8ND_7a00kyP-uJP1jgkyssEFLAiKINAwU27G0Ri49z3vEKTlYGWsAwTIul/s1600/photo%252851%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbpjNe1Tu3KMAVhZbObpp-DAk5FPmTJJPjEbPWu62gRFZd8DwB7q_llleVAYnIfhOwUF3au7X4htZjshUEhn8ND_7a00kyP-uJP1jgkyssEFLAiKINAwU27G0Ri49z3vEKTlYGWsAwTIul/s320/photo%252851%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I feel bad sometimes explaining to others that no our daughter can't come over after school today. I know they mean well and I know my daughter would most likely have a great time but that means that instead of her riding her bike home with her brother and coming home to play with the youngest member of the household, the youngest is home longing for her, and one of the parents has to go get her at a time when the household really is starting to spiral towards the blitz/dinner hour. Sometimes I think people take it personally and I know that might be me projecting but, regardless, it's what I think. And other times people kind of insist and push us a bit even when we first say no, in a "oh come on, they want to, you know they do" kind of way and I feel like a rule mongering heavy who doesn't want their kids to have a good time. <br />
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It's hard to keep a household of this many afloat. It's hard to handle all the comings and goings. It's hard too to make sure that it doesn't turn into just a bunch of people sharing a house while all going in separate directions at the same time. It's hard to make sure we don't feel as parents like we're really just chauffeurs and event planners and maids and cooks.<br />
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So, if you're out there in our bubble of friends and you have asked for the attendance of one of our people and we say no, please understand that really, it's not you, it's me. It's us. Just trying to keep this family thing feeling like a family thing.<br />
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And also, thanks for being there. We love our bubble and we love having you in it.Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-25806562564633181952011-09-20T09:29:00.001-05:002011-09-20T09:32:45.834-05:00Is this thing on?I don't know what you know about me but I sort of collect blogs. I have several. 3 main ones: <a href="http://www.slowfamilyliving.com/">Slow Family Living</a>, <a href="http://www.futurecraftcollective.com/">Future Craft Collective </a>and this one. Each one sort of holding a different position in my life. One crafty of course. One about slowing down family life and about events and such. And this one. My personal blog. The blog that started them all really. The one that will forever be, My First Blog.<br />
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As time goes on I find the line that separates them all becoming more fine and less defined. The craft stuff has crept into the slow world and the slow world has become personal until I really feel like many of the posts could really be interchangeable. Family, craft, slow, personal - all mixing together to make up the many parts of me.<br />
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This has sort of been a pattern of mine all my life. This sort of separating of parts until, little by little, they get all stirred up together and become not separate parts but one whole.<br />
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When I was about 18 I went to the Jersey shore for a week with my 7 older siblings and their various partners. No kids. No members of the generation before us. I think at the time we said no adults even though technically we were all adults. We just maybe didn't feel quite adult (and we certainly didn't act it that week.)<br />
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I was sitting on the beach one night where we had all gone together. Little by little they had all scattered - for a walk along the water, or a trip back to the house or wherever. And I found myself sitting in the sand all alone. My head was sort of overwhelmed being there with all these amazing siblings of mine who had had a hand in raising me after all. I wanted to be like all of them. And in some ways I was. Like all of them.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEzDaY8m7cgjOnzBU7TNVEBrw5_dqkmIIEsOHYqNDfY3j3X8qOXpor7UN5iXjyRhH-2tyBi_J5H_bQy8idc3fnt1ZkKrXICB9Qhk3FGc9evoZbLQfSxsgv_2j_KKZtV3Mx3vwu8EYuMmq/s1600/40598_1603978498945_1220598941_31746014_103919_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEzDaY8m7cgjOnzBU7TNVEBrw5_dqkmIIEsOHYqNDfY3j3X8qOXpor7UN5iXjyRhH-2tyBi_J5H_bQy8idc3fnt1ZkKrXICB9Qhk3FGc9evoZbLQfSxsgv_2j_KKZtV3Mx3vwu8EYuMmq/s320/40598_1603978498945_1220598941_31746014_103919_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div> But then I had a revelation and realized, while I was like all of them in some way, all of those pieces together, all the pieces they had contributed to making me, me had stirred all together with the essence of me and had become, not them, but me. And I realized too that for years I had wanted not just to emulate them but BE them. And that wasn't really going to work because how could you possibly be 7 different individuals? Hello Sybil.<br />
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From that point on I felt free to be me. Sounds corny I know and rather Marlo Thomas-esque. But it was so huge for that self on the beach on the cusp of true adulthood. And I was so grateful that they had all played a part in the making of me and I was also grateful that now, at age 18, I could step away, stop copying and just be myself. Just. Be. Me. Just be. Me. If memory serves I may have even done a little dance right there on the beach and I certainly went around pondering deeply this revelation of mine and sharing it with anyone who would stop long enough to listen.<br />
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My point being, that this is what feels like what's happening with my blog world. All my various parts coming together more and more and becoming one. Or at least two. I certainly won't get rid of this part of that world but I probably won't be posting here much anymore. And I hope you'll check out my ponderings on both <a href="http://www.slowfamilyliving.com/">Slow Family</a> and <a href="http://www.futurecraftcollective.com/">Future Craft.</a> Because I just may have a revelation as big as the one on the beach that night and then, well, surely you'll want to be there to witness my proverbial dancing on the beach. Right?Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-49316578619834878562011-08-25T13:47:00.000-05:002011-08-25T13:47:33.132-05:00Pencil nubs and other random school suppliesLast year I went into my daughter's second grade classroom to talk about a pencil. I thought about pencils often when I was on the school campus because everytime I walked across campus I picked up AT LEAST one brand new pencil. Often never sharpened, almost always full length with an intact eraser. I had actually started to make it a point - to always pick up a pencil on campus. There were times when I walked across that 20 yards of grass and picked up 3 or 4. It started to seem like people were planting them there because they knew of my obsession. But alas, no, it's just the way it was.<br />
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So when my daughter's teacher said there was a shortage of pencils in their classroom last year I was confused. We had all bought a lot of them before school started. And surely so had the teacher. And yet there were no pencils. Anywhere. Not even crummy pencils - which I should add here I kind of hate - or rather I should say, I like a good pencil. A Ticonderoga black for example. One of my faves.<br />
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When I got the request, I volunteered for storytime, with full disclosure to the teacher who was with me all the way. Even in regards to good pencils vs. crappy ones. And I told them all the story that my mom told so many times from her own youth. How in 1930s, depression era New York City, a kid would have one pencil. That was it. Just one. They would have it at all times and use it until it was a nub and then some. They kept track of their pencil and if they did lose it they tried to keep it secret so nobody would get mad or so their parents wouldn't have to buy a pencil with money they didn't have. On your birthday you most often got a pencil for a present. Or maybe win a spelling bee in school and get a pencil for a prize. Sometimes perfect attendance would give them the coveted new pencil. Or maybe they would FIND one. Actually find one that someone had dropped. "Then," my mom would say and always with a delightful sigh, "then you would feel so lucky!"<br />
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So I think of pencils when I walk across the campus and I think how lucky my mom would have felt if she were a kid walking across these grounds. One a day. 150 or so a school year. That's pencils for a lifetime. Or for a whole school.<br />
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I challenged the kids in the classroom that day to try to keep their pencil as long as they could and use it well and keep track of it and don't just think of it as a simply disposable tool which was easily replaced by another. I think a challenge like this is definitely made easier by having access to a good pencil - one that really feels good in your hand and writes smoothly on the paper and looks good when you've put on the paper what you want to put there. The kind of pencil that kind of makes you feel like drawing even when you're writing. <br />
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For the rest of the school year some of them would tell me they still had their pencil. They were loving it and they were proud too! To be so resourceful. And to feel a sense of ownership to this tool rather than just feeling like it was yet another disposable item at their ready disposal.<br />
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Last week, when everyone was purchasing their school supplies there was a lot of discussion about pencils and crayons and other school supplies. And everyone kind of felt like we were buying too much. And I wondered why we always needed new stuff each year. New crayons. New scissors. New pencils. Where were all the packs from last year? And why does everyone need their own box of crayons vs. the giant bin of multi-colored crayons all mixed together in a shoe box? Why buy lots of the crappy supplies vs. less of the good supplies. What if we actually gave the kids less so that there was a sense of ownership in each item and less of a feeling of disposability? <br />
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We bought a pack of black Ticonderogas this year. I gave each of my school kids 4 to put in their pencil case. Really 2 probably would have sufficed. We etched a little mark in each one so they could keep track because they're challenging themselves to keep them all year. It's fun for them. And interesting too to see their sense of responsibility around this simple item.<br />
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I think I'm going to go in the classroom again and tell that story. Maybe I'll challenge the class again. Maybe I'll be the crazy mom who gets the reputation for telling the same pencil story year after year. And with one that hasn't even started there yet, I've got a few years ahead of me! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4Lc4LhiZwVbgF-m_z7q4rT-gj9F-d4fDFUusEto7YTpB3O0WRSLfv7ZcFNCuCQcBBNJZAAZWmOv_hfAtiCYswddPyYc-TpEYJyzv7B3yi7CwtUrLfyc_T4xzdicPNmFs-6KCOo1nNe-W/s1600/pencil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4Lc4LhiZwVbgF-m_z7q4rT-gj9F-d4fDFUusEto7YTpB3O0WRSLfv7ZcFNCuCQcBBNJZAAZWmOv_hfAtiCYswddPyYc-TpEYJyzv7B3yi7CwtUrLfyc_T4xzdicPNmFs-6KCOo1nNe-W/s320/pencil.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-21154513438344126072011-08-15T13:52:00.001-05:002011-08-15T13:53:17.414-05:00Calendar Girls (and boys)It's time here to start settling into routine. And start figuring out schedules. And supply lists. And bedtimes. And alarm clocks. And lunches. And homework. And sneakers that fit so that the PE teacher will let our child run. And bike locks found. And backpacks readied. And wowee. Really?? Already?<br />
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Yes. It's true. School starts a week from today. Monday. In August. Before Labor Day.<br />
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We start off with clean notebooks which always feels good, like having a clean slate and getting a brand new chance to really make it work for everyone. Some old ideas and some new ideas too.<br />
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This year's new idea is a weekly calendar meeting, which we're adding to our family's list of must-do's. Now that folks are getting a little older and getting more in charge of their own schedules and events and plans, it's even more crucial that we all get on the same page and figure out where and when and how everyone's going to be wherever they need to be. (And of course we'll ask why too which isn't always a liked question but imperative nonetheless.)<br />
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So we started last night with the giant office calendar off the wall and on the table. Who's got what? And it all gets penciled in in order that we can all help each other get what we need. And want.<br />
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I think it's going to really work for us all and give us a good sense of being on the same page, even when we're all running in separate directions. What do you do to keep everything in order?<br />
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Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-79340596047781275552011-08-11T11:21:00.000-05:002011-08-11T11:21:55.032-05:00GratitudeWords from my sister Alma, on her birthday. I wish us all this feeling of gratitude as we make our way through our days and weeks and months and years...<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><em>I am filled with gratitude for the abundance of life and for the gifts I have been given and continue to receive. </em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>I am the giver and the receiever.</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>My gratitude pours out of my wide open heart, creating a golden path for me to walk along. </em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>It brightens the dark road ahead so that I may see more clearly.</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>I am filled with light.</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>I am filled with gratitude.</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>I am gratitude.</em></div><br />
I am grateful for you Alma!! You have made my life so beautiful.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPd4IDHcOHpFD6GBv6V4-v4TzvEIkWCCZ4agFVism4ofgmljLnRzH4zcXzInfgu6O1TtzlboJ739kEbWmmFOvriNwav4kRZSqB1-Bs9YNa3MkqcciBfjcfPi9jQcEkrOTSxmnaME6kd2tv/s1600/alma+coffin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPd4IDHcOHpFD6GBv6V4-v4TzvEIkWCCZ4agFVism4ofgmljLnRzH4zcXzInfgu6O1TtzlboJ739kEbWmmFOvriNwav4kRZSqB1-Bs9YNa3MkqcciBfjcfPi9jQcEkrOTSxmnaME6kd2tv/s1600/alma+coffin.jpg" /></a></div>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-25794090654871509192011-08-06T23:26:00.002-05:002011-08-06T23:29:30.739-05:00My PathThese words are from the journal of my sister Alma. She would have been 58 this week. I am going to share some of her words here because she was so thought provoking and profound. And because her ideas and her words are the part of her that lives still...<br />
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<em>"I am writing the book of collective consciousness. The perception of time is an illusion. There is only the ever expanding now. If my past lives in my memory and I create my own reality, then I contain the universe as I create it. In the pause before the response, lives all possible futures of the world. As I pause in the synapse between action and inaction all I can choose is my own response. I put my action into the universal energy pool, knowing that it will indeed matter. I am pleased with the effect I have created. I have done my best to consciously choose my path."</em><br />
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Happy birthday Alma. Happy was the world the day you were born.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZnWuxYoTMXxWO3hkM1RX0kloRH-QxhRORDjp0kSqBh20IID-p8sCzmZ5zFNAg41Mt0GTiDdANgF_FUYpM0L32-4GdRP30hfOx1lWl8Wjf1XCfAf43B-E3Rg0bPs098fQuOwI7yOwPhEv/s1600/alma+and+bern.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZnWuxYoTMXxWO3hkM1RX0kloRH-QxhRORDjp0kSqBh20IID-p8sCzmZ5zFNAg41Mt0GTiDdANgF_FUYpM0L32-4GdRP30hfOx1lWl8Wjf1XCfAf43B-E3Rg0bPs098fQuOwI7yOwPhEv/s320/alma+and+bern.jpg" t$="true" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-65783802311601628792011-07-27T13:43:00.000-05:002011-07-27T13:43:21.312-05:00Calming the physical first. Letting the emotional follow-suit.I approached my teen last night with an issue I had. I stormed into the room. I laid right into her with my problem. She sneered. I paused. And I asked for a do-over. I walked out of the room again. Stood outside the door for just a minute and took three. Long. Slow. Deep. Breaths. It was 60 seconds max before my body calmed and my emotional state followed.<br />
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And I walked back into the room again. <br />
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This time calmer. This time more ready to approach with a solution in mind rather than seeking a fight. We talked. We solved. And we talked some more. Getting to the core of the issue as opposed to just touching on the obvious display of behavior we could both do without.<br />
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As I emerged from the room my mom sat at the dining room table. "Good job," she said. "You made a friend instead of an enemy." <br />
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I laughed and I agreed and I vowed to do it again. Next time. And if I forget I hope that it's just for a moment and I'll be given a chance for an immediate do-over. Wherein I can calm my body first and let my emotions follow suit.Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-75439498835458988092011-06-23T07:57:00.001-05:002011-06-23T07:59:33.864-05:00One. Thing. At. A. Time.And time is still marching on. And it's feeling a little bit crazy these days just how fast time does march. In my head I think school just ended then I look at the calendar and realize we're just shy of a month out of school. A month is not "just ended". And so rather than spiral into the panic of time's velocity...<br />
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I. Take. A. Deep. Breath. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.<br />
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Come on. Do it with me. Just one or two or three deep beautiful breaths.<br />
<br />
And then I make a list. Of all the things I need to do in the next 5 days before phase 2 of summer begins. Before our big <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Make-Stuff-Together/196365767067430?ref=ts#!/pages/Make-Stuff-Together/196365767067430">book release party</a>. Before camp this morning. Before our journey east. Before the weekend. Before bedtime. Before the toddler wakes from his summer siesta. <br />
<br />
And when I make the list I realize it's all quite manageable and not at all more than I can handle and really, in the big picture of things people need to do in a day, the things on my list are not only attainable and manageable but some of them are actually kind of fun. Sew a patch. Pick up the keg for our book party. (yes, that's right, we're having a keg at our book party) Make flags for another book event. Practice a printing technique for camp. Order a case of books for a signing event. Pay a bill. (okay that one's not that fun) <br />
<br />
My point being though that when the things were swirling around in my head they were overwhelming. And seemed like way too much. When I put them down on paper in my book that I always have with me, they were totally under control and not beyond my abilities or time constraints at all. <br />
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And it makes me realize too that often this is the case with things that worry us into a bit of a panic. In our swirling heads they overwhelm and sometimes even overtake us and keep us from sleeping properly and make us cranky with our children. We need to get them out of our heads and put them in a place where we can see them. And they can live on their own. Ready to be tackled just one thing at a time.<br />
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All we can really do is one thing at a time. (Despite the myths of multi-tasking) So why hold them in our brains as a group when all it really does is stress us out. Just take them. One. At. A. Time.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGWpPgj7TBRyLND5MBverj4xg3EIN6upgZ8O7ACaCBexhf8PEOqADD-qnnZoqT_fdslTDVI-dIBTCEdPwIbnlNQ6oFWJP5tnMsfoHJyd4P9w9h9H8qj9UuY7xA6m5jkgJducXXG2M_5Hby/s1600/lucy-20110314-2050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGWpPgj7TBRyLND5MBverj4xg3EIN6upgZ8O7ACaCBexhf8PEOqADD-qnnZoqT_fdslTDVI-dIBTCEdPwIbnlNQ6oFWJP5tnMsfoHJyd4P9w9h9H8qj9UuY7xA6m5jkgJducXXG2M_5Hby/s320/lucy-20110314-2050.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-4572383457512331192011-05-24T08:36:00.000-05:002011-05-24T08:36:37.586-05:00Nipping away at summer chaosJust 7 more days of school counting today but hey, who's counting? Around here we always kind of excited about the end of school. No more rising at the crack of dawn. No more stacks of papers waiting to be examined, signed, returned, filed. No more snacks to be packed and backpacks stacked next to, in and around the livingroom closet. <br />
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We look forward to sleeping in. Extended time for all kinds of craft projects. Play time. Reading time. Swim time. And lots and lots of hang time.<br />
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What comes with everyone home all day however is that chaos tries to rule our kitchen. With kids waking at different hours and snacks eaten on a whim instead of on a schedule, the kitchen rules must be somewhat tight. And if you've ever seen just how many glasses one family of six can use in a day, you'd understand what I mean.<br />
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I believe I may have solved one problem however with my little creation this past weekend. No more 30 glasses on the counter by day's end. No more "whose glass is this anyway?" And one little nip away at chaos' attempts to infiltrate our kitchen. One glass. Each day. Per person...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fgkUZGMoD8z6JHuvqKc-KQm4VU5hc6u754NlhDKGoXkN7Km32kbfMcmASe1KuGDwLpflOJTMafNppL9_GmKpiADkHoLVRpXFaQgwreA0vEqxnW4FVtmQgUkGsWGB19dZvOpsbjZ1NfXf/s1600/IMG_2668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fgkUZGMoD8z6JHuvqKc-KQm4VU5hc6u754NlhDKGoXkN7Km32kbfMcmASe1KuGDwLpflOJTMafNppL9_GmKpiADkHoLVRpXFaQgwreA0vEqxnW4FVtmQgUkGsWGB19dZvOpsbjZ1NfXf/s320/IMG_2668.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-31475336796857114852011-05-19T14:21:00.000-05:002011-05-19T14:21:17.570-05:00The Learning CurveToday I have no answers. Only questions. One particular question actually. One question that I feel like I've been asking for a long time and only occasionally do I feel like I have the answer. <br />
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When will I learn?<br />
<br />
When will I learn that when the 13 year old says I need a few minutes to calm down, to actually allow her those few minutes.And by doing so I can avoid a lot of confrontation. <br />
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When will I learn that when the 4 year old is running around like the proverbial headless chicken that it usually means he is either hungry or tired.<br />
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When will I learn that the 8 year old needs way more sleep than the 11 year old and that even though she's mostly extrovert she also needs to spend some time alone filling up?<br />
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When will learn that the 11 year old doesn't need to be told to say thank you. That actually he is quite a polite little lad and has a good handshake and even looks people in the eye without being told to do so.<br />
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Sometimes I need to step in. But other times I need to just back the heck off.<br />
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When will learn how to differentiate?<br />
<br />
When will I learn that a lesson learned one day might need to be learned again and again and again?<br />
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I'm just gonna take it day by day by day by day by day.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XEvnA3g3J2tc9ZgMlCyvdz6DxRs7_AnEusvPPkw-OaHRoRvl0jgHJoD-kbQk6ojIAY8w_cd6Kz09jVKxQ79liX2L_T_XMbBMfZLvI1EGFmq0mOrEwHfWkS4lMuQ5cchuaIbVDGMnBhXV/s1600/photo%25285%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XEvnA3g3J2tc9ZgMlCyvdz6DxRs7_AnEusvPPkw-OaHRoRvl0jgHJoD-kbQk6ojIAY8w_cd6Kz09jVKxQ79liX2L_T_XMbBMfZLvI1EGFmq0mOrEwHfWkS4lMuQ5cchuaIbVDGMnBhXV/s320/photo%25285%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-48520835877650071342011-05-07T22:01:00.000-05:002011-05-07T22:01:10.287-05:00Mother's Day traditionshttp://www.facebook.com/?tid=1799849713388&sk=messages#!/event.php?eid=189212431124325Mother's day has taken on many faces in my lifetime. There were the cards of my youth to my own mom. There was the pressure on those days to behave kindly to each other and I remember one time we didn't and my mom exclaimed, "Mother's Day, Schmothers Day. It's all BULLSHIT!!! There I said it!!" My mom really wasn't a swearer either so this was big.<br />
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For the past few years my friend Lynn has held an amazing mother's day event - for adult women only. Mother's and others but only adult women. It was reflective and therapeutic and super special. But this year, no way. Too much on her plate and life spinning a little too fast and maybe, just maybe, what she and we need from mother's day is different now that our littles are becoming bigs.<br />
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I'm reading at an event tomorrow afternoon at BookWoman - <a href="http://www.facebook.com/?tid=1799849713388&sk=messages#%21/event.php?eid=189212431124325"><b>Mother, she wrote.</b></a> A bunch of women writers, mamas, reading about the subject of motherhood or otherhood. I'm excited. It's a new way for me to celebrate and ponder motherhood.<br />
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Today I released my children from any burden of motherhood. Sure, a little extra snuggle or appreciation will be nice. The hugs for such occasions are always welcome. But as for burden of gift or obligation, forget it. I really don't want it on a certain day. Instead I'll take it organically as it comes. And on my birthday of course because that was just last week and it seems a little too soon for yet another obligation. Really, this is partly why I gave them dispensation. Because I just had a day, make that a solid week, that was really about me celebrating and being celebrated.<br />
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I decided my new ritual will be me appreciating and acknowledging motherhood. What's good about it? What do I appreciate? What has it brought me? I may delve into what's hard too but maybe not. Maybe this will be focused solely on the positive.<br />
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I'll start my list tonight - I appreciate the connection of it all. I appreciate sitting up in the evening with a big kid who is becoming an adult and who one night cries in anguish about how hard something is and the next hugs me with deep passion and tells me she is in love with her life. Yes, I love and appreciate that connection.<br />
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I appreciate sitting in the alley in the evening watching my lad attempt the "whole" jump. It's amazing to watch his fortitude and commitment to this one task. And tonight I loved being part of that. Sure some nights the "watch this mom" becomes too much but sometimes, when I can truly sink into it, it is a gift of deep appreciation.<br />
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I appreciate the ability to sit at the table with water colors and paper and an incredibly creative and art loving 8 year old girl. We can sit for hours and when we do we can talk and dive into our pictures and discuss what's happening in her world.<br />
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I so appreciate this final child of mine, this 4 year old who is one minute so tender and so loving, bending my ear, (literally) so he can kiss a particular spot. And the next minute this energy shifts to the 15 foot rope swing in the yard and he is swinging like a monkey and squealing with delight. <br />
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I appreciate biking around town with all my kids - whether in a pack or individually. It feels amazing to be able to move about so fluidly and feel such incredible pride at their ability to navigate their way through this city life they are living. They are funny and smart and kind and loving and full of vim and vigor and when they are introduced to someone new I so appreciate how they look right into that person's eyes. I love being connected to these kids who walk this earth and who came to this world through me but are their own amazing beings. It is wild to feel so connected and remember so much of my own youth and yet watch them make their own way. It is hard. But it is lovely too.Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-61851409210830481472011-04-29T14:08:00.001-05:002011-04-29T14:21:00.828-05:00Time is marching on......and time is still marching on. I'm older than I've ever been and now I'm even older, now I'm even older, and now I'm older still.<br />
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Thanks to <a href="http://tmbw.net/wiki/Long_Tall_Weekend">They Might Be Giants</a><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=justaminute07-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B003MPAOCO&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe> for the inspiration for today's blog post which holds so much weight/meaning/information for me right now as I cross over for another trip around the sun.<br />
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My birthday was full of wishes and handmade cards and lovely gifts and thoughtful notes and even a pedicure for me which is a rare treat indeed. I love birthdays. I love the honoring and celebrating and the idea that all this love is flying around the world directed right at me in appreciation and acknowledgment of the day I was born. And the Facebook birthday just sort of amps up that feeling a big giant notch which makes the love flow even more.<br />
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I definitely felt the loss of my sister this year. My godmother. My favorite wise woman on this earth. This was my first birthday without my dear Alma and I thought of her all day. All week even. She was always the one to call and celebrate and honor me all my life. No matter how far away we might have been from each other.<br />
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But I thought of her not just for the missing of her. Of which there was plenty. But for the many gifts she has given and continues to bestow upon me. There were the tangibles for sure. The handmade sky blue overalls with the little kitty cat buttons when I was eleven. The handmade woolen authentic kilt when I was 14. The endless cards and letters from South Dakota or New Mexico or Wisconsin or any of the other far off lands she lived when I was home in New Jersey just a kid. And beyond all that was the lifelong gift of wisdom. Which I'm only now beginning to truly see and feel for all its incredible worth. I'm seeing it and feeling it, both for her absence and for the fact that I am getting nearer to my own crone-ness with each passing birthday. And oddly enough now I will catch up to her. If I'm lucky I suppose.<br />
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Now at 46 I am experiencing the understanding of a sort of wisdom I never knew before. An acceptance of the fact that life's lessons are gifts to our own growth. A realization that what seems like a wrong direction at first usually turns out to be exactly right in retrospect. A knowing of the fact that in our angst or frustration comes just the information we need towards the next time. And a general acceptance of the idea that all things are connected - whether it's a missed invitation which then in turn puts us exactly where we needed to land. Or a film brought into our view which holds a piece of information we didn't even know we were missing until we had it. Or an introduction to a seemingly random person who becomes a lifelong friend. Whatever, wherever it brings us to the next here and the now.<br />
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I am loving this aging process. And this wisdom I feel like I am opening to. And the idea that this sister of mine left me with all these amazing gifts both in her living and in her death. Sure I'd like to see her real self but the part of I'll forever hold in my heart brings endless gifts of wisdom and understanding. And for that I know I am lucky.Happy birthday to me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNimVTScScoUgi6nNWFjRmEkx-pP-E-KZ9PiTxI2rFBN-sz3RWmag022jevvPoeW6ikjgAVTm-ZbAan8Sdz2otl38nUBELWdLNcvf_z6EMFBo-CdIaKbJTio-2ClT-FKhAToz5rDceWvp/s1600/218925_1994107250026_1163783398_32384599_1324154_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNimVTScScoUgi6nNWFjRmEkx-pP-E-KZ9PiTxI2rFBN-sz3RWmag022jevvPoeW6ikjgAVTm-ZbAan8Sdz2otl38nUBELWdLNcvf_z6EMFBo-CdIaKbJTio-2ClT-FKhAToz5rDceWvp/s320/218925_1994107250026_1163783398_32384599_1324154_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-85886498222566013072011-04-11T01:06:00.000-05:002011-04-11T01:06:22.453-05:00Love is the answerNo matter the question lately, it's feeling like love is the answer. It sounds so corny and hippy, doesn't it? But it's seeming like the truth these days. Not just love of humans we know but love of where we are and what we're doing at that particular moment of time and love of life's experiences and hearts ripped wide open. And so, since that's feeling like the ever present answer, I share this great post on Let the Baby Drive blog. I don't usually do a lot of blog linking, but here it is to read, soak up and ponder...<br />
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<a href="http://letthebabydrive.com/letthebabydrive/Raising_Child_Who_Loves_Well.html">Raising a Child Who Loves Well </a>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-33768709392003118922011-04-03T01:16:00.000-05:002011-04-03T01:16:10.964-05:00Crafting with Children and motherly mantrasI spent the day down at Art City Austin today under the umbrella, tent really, of Future Craft Collective. The project was super sweet and fun to do. (says I who made it up) Felted wool flowers, (cut from an old wool blanket don't you know) embroidered around the edge, with a button in the middle and a ponytail holder sewn onto the back. I had it figured out in the simplest way to do it, that could be explained to 75 or so children over the course of a day. <br />
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Many of them had never sewn before. My pat line, which sounds like such an old lady thing to say, "Have you ever sewn before?" "No." "Well, after this project you won't be able to say that ever again in your life." Hardy har. Little smiles. But the thought bubbles might have said, "Can we get on with this lady?"<br />
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Several kids really struck me. For many reasons. Their tenderness. And shining eyes. For their love of the process. Their understanding of the concept (of needle pulling thread!). Their sheer joy in watching their project unfold. And then that moment of completion when they were just about busting out with pride. And I taught them the famous line of Leslie Bonnell, "Thanks I made it myself!" Some in this boat had mad skills. While others were just okay but their love of it all was overwhelming. One little girl was so in love with needle, thread, fabric, project, that I made her a little bundle before she left of needle, thread, wool and patterns all tied up like a little package. I could tell she was going to get home and sew it all up that day. A lifelong sewer perhaps? A girl can dream can't she?<br />
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The variety of parents was wide of course. Some really provided beautiful support. Others were hands off and that worked out just fine. Still others seemed to want to rush through the whole thing as if, "c'mon Suzie, time's a wasting. " And then there were a few, thankfully not many but a few that I'd like to talk to again if I could. Their need/tendency to dominate the project. Each choice made was questioned. The needle was taken away while the parent finished. (not because they were asked I might add) And then there was one little girl...who literally sat curled up in the chair while her mom sewed over her head but in a position of outstretched hands in front of the girls face that suggested it was the daughter's project but really it wasn't because the mom took the needle out of her hand after one stitch and told her "remember you're afraid of needles". That little girl was asked by her mom to pick out "her" button only to be told, nope. sorry. let's pick this other one instead. Oh my. Sigh. But that's okay right? Because at the end the mom probably said, "good job." And I wish I had thought to ask the mom if she wanted to make her own instead. And therapists will still need patients in 20 years right?<br />
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So, though I usually try not to go to the complaint and I guess I'm still not really complaining, rather I am using this blog to deliver a public service announcement to all the parents out there who tend to be a little heavy handed in the creativity department...<br />
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If you have an idea of how your child's project should turn out at the end. How it should look. Or what color it should be. Which string or button or shape or material should be chosen from a pile of choices, which then aren't really choices because you're deeming some of them incorrect. If you want it to look a certain way, I beg of you, please, <strong><em>MAKE YOUR OWN!!!</em></strong> Share the experience of working side by side. And let your child have their very own experience of making something of their own mind and hands. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjrQ5E9YUti0zlEy19ZXhw3Nj0zOX9Z2oz18Dk2qZHFjnIZIO_jff2sNOWfnabxb6BwpmOVk8oCmag7d-lQztQ7Tvyl_TKCO6VjLTDiLPzkreCYelNogDJPo-rOrkEbPP9zLgD4ncq7eI4/s1600/lucy-20110314-2050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjrQ5E9YUti0zlEy19ZXhw3Nj0zOX9Z2oz18Dk2qZHFjnIZIO_jff2sNOWfnabxb6BwpmOVk8oCmag7d-lQztQ7Tvyl_TKCO6VjLTDiLPzkreCYelNogDJPo-rOrkEbPP9zLgD4ncq7eI4/s320/lucy-20110314-2050.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>And if I ever see that little girl again at an event like this, I hope I say something. Gently. But enough so that she gets to make it herself. <br />
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And I am reminded of my own necessary mantra, with my own children, <em>I am me. She is she. He is he. And I am me. I am me. She is she. He is he. And I am me.</em>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-78739578805619083742011-03-22T13:13:00.000-05:002011-03-22T13:13:41.368-05:00One minute to the nextIs it really mid-March already? Are we really just about through with the first quarter of the year? Did you ever pause long enough to ask, "HOW DID WE GET HERE??!!!" (I'm not shouting, I'm just being emphatic)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/196684_1898226653071_1163783398_32280900_7974292_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/196684_1898226653071_1163783398_32280900_7974292_n.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I try to live an intentional life but with 6 folks in the house I find myself in a reactive state instead. Most days, the only thing I can truly keep intentional is my approach and my mental state. And lots of times, that is more of a "coming back to" as opposed to a maintaining sort of thing.<br />
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Just yesterday, I was kind of grooving along. I had finished my work for the day - writing copy for someone's website, making cards for someone else, getting ready for a teleclass, when BOOM! WAIL!!! I hear the scream from the 4 year old. It's amazing how immediately I knew that was not the usual "she took my turn" kind of scream. More of an "oh shit, this is serious injury" kind of scream. I had literally just sat down on the screen porch with my teen gal for a few minutes of quiet before moving onto the next when we heard it. Instantly we knew - emergency room. Big gash over his left eye that looked like an extra misplaced mouth. (one more mouth to feed?) Towel, ice, keys, wallet, and off we went to the nearest e.r.<br />
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7 stitches later and less than two hours later we were home. He is fine. Sad and quiet but fine. The tv is on today for his recovery. And we feel relieved that it was only this.<br />
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I know that all life lends itself to the possibility of not really knowing what's next. But life with 4 kids seems to definitely bring about a bit more. More trauma. More excitement too. More unknowns for sure. And all we can control really is how we react. And sometimes even that is hard. (ask his siblings who couldn't help but gasp when looking at his injury)<br />
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Each night I write down my "intentions" for the next day. Two nights ago I wrote, "Keep doing and enjoying the work that is part of this journey." And funny enough, even the trip to the e.r. felt enjoyable in a sense. I felt calm and comfortable and glad that I lived in a place where the e.r. was so capable and close. And I was glad too to get to offer some comfort to my little guy. And that 2 hours was the extent of this medical adventure. A blip really in the big giant picture of the world.<br />
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I think of the moms in Japan right now. Who can't offer the comfort of easing the physical pain. I wonder what their intentions might be. I send them all love and wish them some small comfort in all of their immense pain.Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-60113004118705266062011-03-08T15:51:00.001-06:002011-03-08T15:53:44.255-06:00Remembering Alma by Esme<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHXKeS0qfxoif3g1p5-Ewx_pIwQC8GmWIzLpTjDNax1XmGhGLKg5ZDmZTCH3OJzsut198NoMxy63FQhlEyWiNdvFZpBD6Sqv9bvdZpTRSt1UhE5jHleU6gjmSJ14w3bLMtgnf_vEAHWXQ_/s1600/day+of+the+dead+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHXKeS0qfxoif3g1p5-Ewx_pIwQC8GmWIzLpTjDNax1XmGhGLKg5ZDmZTCH3OJzsut198NoMxy63FQhlEyWiNdvFZpBD6Sqv9bvdZpTRSt1UhE5jHleU6gjmSJ14w3bLMtgnf_vEAHWXQ_/s320/day+of+the+dead+001.jpg" width="244" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjYgnsCU-9OZI3pVSbh8BLnTOHmpXg6lnA2cAPwhBnHGzIj2JFtskMfTC9vq3mIhbHUL3Po_LOtOZSVJ-o-kbSTcgMoyPMSahS-ct8M5BuVHk8msti3xYJNg9N2d9dUUwX7MbZEsId-rH/s1600/day+of+the+dead+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjYgnsCU-9OZI3pVSbh8BLnTOHmpXg6lnA2cAPwhBnHGzIj2JFtskMfTC9vq3mIhbHUL3Po_LOtOZSVJ-o-kbSTcgMoyPMSahS-ct8M5BuVHk8msti3xYJNg9N2d9dUUwX7MbZEsId-rH/s320/day+of+the+dead+002.jpg" width="247" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Alma was my aunt. I liked going to New Jersey and seeing her. I also went to the beach with her. She had to children. She died on October 11, 2010 and she was 57 years old. I liked going swimming with her. She was very fun. I loved going canoeing with her at my grandma's. She was a good helper with fairy houses and we built fairy houses at Snake Mountain. </div>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-9242819926793098792011-03-07T14:40:00.001-06:002011-03-07T14:42:00.517-06:00If at first they do protest, try , try againI like to have at least one day during the weekend that is reserved for family time. Most often I like to spend that day at home, in the yard weather permitting. This weekend was no exception. Saturday we were action packed: creek clean up in the morning, party in the afternoon and another party in the evening. All within biking distance but still, a lot of action and a lot of people to be around. We had a blast at each and every one. <br />
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On Saturday evening I declared that Sunday would be a home day. No friends over. Nothing big planned. Just a yard day with a few chores, lots of play and maybe an art project too. Groans and protests came up from every child. "That's boring." "I want to see friends." "We never go anywhere." "You're gonna make us work all day." I stuck to my guns though and explained that if we don't do a fill-up day at home then we spend the rest of the week feeling disconnected from each other. To them it sounded like, "blah, blah, blah." Or something along those lines. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1oUG0Nha4-ua7jHDFzz7j5sH3gAwKTrpw7Pl3NZ2NoP3VeUdWEMA0uRBPXdMjJY-WT9Xjpt5JS1ky9v1NVslKEuiifAM6iO5AqDphlRsbt9vXsbOWoHPtyb-AgYdVKtSO-TXxUKXRmzLh/s1600/ZF-2396-74017-1-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="214" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1oUG0Nha4-ua7jHDFzz7j5sH3gAwKTrpw7Pl3NZ2NoP3VeUdWEMA0uRBPXdMjJY-WT9Xjpt5JS1ky9v1NVslKEuiifAM6iO5AqDphlRsbt9vXsbOWoHPtyb-AgYdVKtSO-TXxUKXRmzLh/s320/ZF-2396-74017-1-007.jpg" /></a></div><br />
And so Sunday morning began. One playing ball in the alley. Another building a "set-up" for his Calico Critters. Two others creating and constructing a toll booth in the yard for all the passers-by from the new cafe next door. <br />
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All the while were in and out of each others' activities. All the while I was working on refinishing a chair I had found in someone's trash. And cleaning out the screen porch from top to bottom. And making delicious meals from seemingly nothing in the house. (There's always parmesan!) And everyone was having fun. And getting along. And getting recharged as well. And listening to the ENTIRE JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR UNINTERRUPTED!!!<br />
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I knew we needed it. But I almost buckled under the pressure to engage with the world. I was glad I didn't. And by day's end, everyone else was glad too as at dinner time each person's high point, everyone, was "day at home together." <br />
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They might protest next week too but I'll just hold onto this as an idea that suits our family. As a whole. And as 6 separate individuals. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6B8AIjd1mVX7F6hpy_wH-FjgXZgmzUfTILSu7p_8S7trbeeUDBGqpj3DF1kQqDxijUmUiJeMm0WkMXUzv8xvbuSGuoM5UfUpP_qzt8mA9yU7twy3NAeWc0LwfebYO0txT45JvxcWi7b4W/s1600/alesi_20100304_2455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6B8AIjd1mVX7F6hpy_wH-FjgXZgmzUfTILSu7p_8S7trbeeUDBGqpj3DF1kQqDxijUmUiJeMm0WkMXUzv8xvbuSGuoM5UfUpP_qzt8mA9yU7twy3NAeWc0LwfebYO0txT45JvxcWi7b4W/s320/alesi_20100304_2455.jpg" /></a></div>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-63639333318712699772011-03-01T12:37:00.004-06:002011-03-04T09:56:46.697-06:00One Day Girls Collective Camps<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our girls' collective has been so amazing and fun. It has been a real treat for me to get to hang with the girls and discover things about life and self that it took me a long time to learn. To get to share some of that wisdom with them, and at the same time get to dip into their own youthful wisdom has been priceless and profound. During the two weeks of Austin spring break I'll be offering two one day camps for girls...</span></div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>GIRLS CAMP AT AAMP</b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Austin Artists and Musicians Partnership) </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-small;">411 W. Monroe St. 78704 </span></b><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This is a one day camp run by Bernadette Noll for <b>girls ages 7-10</b> who would like to spend time during spring break discovering, crafting, singing, learning and exploring all that life has to offer. Together we will ponder the power of our creative selves and our connection to the world around us.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We will start the day with some stretching, playing and discussion. Before lunch we will spend a few hours crafting, all the while discussing the beauties of reuse and of being a maker. After lunch we will spend our time outside exploring and working on a natural art project. (weather permitting)<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Two one day camps will be held to accommodate the variety of spring break schedules around town:<o:p></o:p></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>Camp 1: 9:00-4:30pm* on Monday March 7<sup>th</sup>.<o:p></o:p></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>Camp 2: 9:00-4:30pm* on Monday March 14<sup>th</sup>.</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Fee is $60.00 for the day.** All materials included. A $30.00 deposit will hold your reservation and balance is due the morning of camp. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Email Bernadette at: <a href="mailto:nollanderson@sbcglobal.net">nollanderson at sbcglobal dot net</a> if you have any questions.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Girls will need to bring their own lunch and water bottle.*** A healthy snack will be provided. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">If you want to read more about Bernadette’s work check out:<o:p></o:p></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.futurecraftcollective.com/">www.futurecraftcollective.com</a><o:p></o:p></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.slowfamilyliving.com/">www.slowfamilyliving.com</a><o:p></o:p></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bernadettenoll.wordpress.com/">www.bernadettenoll.wordpress.com</a><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>A portion of the proceeds will be donated to AAMP - <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Austin</st1:city></st1:place> Artists and Musicians Partnership.<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX69ChioaB_QTgdjT2-72Du8D-_9M0FphtoBQhemLGP2nZTgx_L8OAmUV_pohdPr5LkSTbREahtsZa8fh61cjc53af3DYwKHLFNtq4PPmK7HzjBEdwnuk4-rW_BlF0Gf4_tBziR3P2j68J/s1600/October+2009+328.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX69ChioaB_QTgdjT2-72Du8D-_9M0FphtoBQhemLGP2nZTgx_L8OAmUV_pohdPr5LkSTbREahtsZa8fh61cjc53af3DYwKHLFNtq4PPmK7HzjBEdwnuk4-rW_BlF0Gf4_tBziR3P2j68J/s320/October+2009+328.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">*Later pick up can be arranged if necessary<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">**Tuition assistance is available if needed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-size: 10pt;">***Please no soda or candy</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
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Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-56895884006405918512011-02-26T12:08:00.000-06:002011-02-26T12:08:37.938-06:00Gratitude revisited<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This note is for a few months ago but lucky for me it is true every. single. day...</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Today I am grateful for the bounty of beautiful people in my life. I am continuously blown away by the pure luck goodness I have to be touched by so many hearts-wide-open, minds-wide-open human beings. My circle expands on a seemingly daily basis as these circles of mine overlap with the circles of others who are living conscious, kind, thoughtful lives and we join forces and ideas and spin on this big world of ours. The concentric circles swirl and grow and expand until the universe that is my bubble is beyond belief but then, exhale, it is true. Oh so true. And for that, for the beauty of humanity, for conscious lives, for kindness and compassion and understanding I am thankful.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPJ0bGK6PqNElv7JIOawScDCjMD6yL0cTEn9wuSy7kLRpMxheqBoxzULmOVAo44nZijDDIrmAlhjxyFheUMIPHbBOAb-6eCewMZ1f9awF-5SG3-DlFjfhhDRG7wNgipQZV6HzpuZHzev6V/s1600/1012100920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPJ0bGK6PqNElv7JIOawScDCjMD6yL0cTEn9wuSy7kLRpMxheqBoxzULmOVAo44nZijDDIrmAlhjxyFheUMIPHbBOAb-6eCewMZ1f9awF-5SG3-DlFjfhhDRG7wNgipQZV6HzpuZHzev6V/s320/1012100920.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-88327622357671371832011-02-17T20:48:00.001-06:002011-02-17T21:24:42.487-06:00What life brings our wayThis week life brought me a round trip ticket to Fort Myers, FL to be with my mom who is in the hospital. Thank goodness for frequent flier miles which come in most handy for these spontaneous adventures. I did want to come to Fort Myers, that is true. I've been saying for a few weeks that I'd like to figure out how to get there/here. I was thinking more along the lines of vacation - not hospital stay but as the emergency hospital visit for my next week 86 year old mom kind of forced my hand, I put this into the be-careful-what-you-wish-for category.<br />
<span id="goog_1620033604"></span><span id="goog_1620033605"></span><br />
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I have loved this time with my mom. One on one for 6 days straight thus far and a couple more to go. Another brother arrives tomorrow just in time for a Friday night party in the hospital room. We'll make it fun. A bottle of wine (for us not her as she's on strict nothing-by-mouth orders) and a few hours together and we'll shake this room right up.<br />
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Dozens and dozens of hospital employees have filtered through my mom's room in her so far 10 day stay: nurses, all manner of doctors, nurses aides, cleaning people, x-ray techs, nuclear medicine specialists, bed flippers, transporters and more. Some she's seen again and again, some just once. Some come in for long stretches, some for just minutes at a time. Of all the ones who have come through, she knows the life story of every. single. one. She looks at pictures of children and grandchildren. She knows that the nurses aide has a 4 year old son who speaks both Creole and English and whom she sees in the day as she lays on the couch trying to get some sleep after her all night shift. She knows that the cleaning lady has one grandchild and on her day off will be spending nearly 3 hours wages to take her to the movies. (my mom's calculation not the cleaning lady's) She knows that the young handsome transporter is finishing up his GED and has joined the Army and will be stationed in Georgia. She occasionally dispenses advice and she tells this young man, and every other young single man whose path she crosses, not to become a father until they're ready. "It'll change your course and you won't have a choice in what you do next."<br />
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After staff here meet her once they come in time and time again, further adding to the collection of life stories she has amassed in her nearly 86 years. Being here so long her room has become a sort of destination for the staff. A place they can come when they are tired or wanting to chat or just wanting a chance to connect on a human level and feel like they are making a joyful difference. Even when she is not their patient, even when they are assigned to other rooms holding other patients, they come to see her and check in and see how she's doing and they give her hugs and kisses and even shed a few tears with her for her current painful condition. <br />
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It is a marvel to behold this mother of mine. This mother of nine. Even lying in a hospital bed. So tired. And in pain. She is connecting to the people all around her. She is listening to their tales. Hearing their life stories. And marveling at the fact that "see that, everyone has a story." After some stories she cries at the beauty of that life lived. Or at how lucky she feels in comparison to the 60 year old grandmother cleaning hospital bathrooms for 40 hours a week. Or at the amazement that someone could survive such a saga as the one that was just told. She listens. And asks questions. And connects. She dispenses knowledge. And listens and asks some more questions. She honors the idea that everyone needs to feel special. Just by listening. And connecting.<br />
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It's tiring to sit in the hospital this many days in a row. But it's something I wouldn't trade for anything. This time with my mom. Spent watching her. Listening. And connecting too.<br />
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Feel better soon Mom!Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-79060346374828571012011-02-02T14:50:00.002-06:002011-02-07T23:02:47.931-06:00Picturing connectionMy girls are 5 years apart. Sisters of the heart and of the bloodline too. At the younger's birth the older stepped in like a mini-mama. So happy was she to have a baby to hold. So happy was I to have an extra set of hands to coddle and soothe and entertain this third child of mine. Lucky us all around. So great was the connection that the decision to homeschool became clear. How could I send her off everyday when she so loved being at home with this new little life, little sister. <br />
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For years the connection thrived and grew. Delightful sisters playing all sorts of games of dress up and house and climbing trees and orphanage. With the big brother/little brother in between. A sister sandwich full of love and light and lots and lots of laughs.<br />
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As the older moved out of imagination land her needs in a sibling changed a bit and the relationship grew a tad bit persnickety at times. Still mostly friendly but sometimes suffering from that "you're an embarrassing little sister" thing that can sometimes happen. I saw it. I remembered it. I didn't really feel I had much power to sway it. <br />
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Then came the camera. Big sister saved up her baby sitting money for a super sweet camera and started taking photography lessons from an artist/photographer friend of ours. He specialized in portraits and shared that love with our oldest. Her assignments were portrait based - perfectly satisfying to my oldest who had a house full of subjects to choose from. <br />
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She tried us all on for size. 4th child was too opinionated. Mama was too busy and couldn't keep her mouth shut long enough for a good pose. Papa was pretty good. 2nd child was good too but tired quickly of the sessions. Little sister was just perfect!<br />
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Turns out little sister loves to pose and pose for hours on end. And dress up in outlandish costumes both of her own design and of her big sister's choosing. Wild hats, boots, dresses. And to pose she'll go wherever she's told to go and strike a pose of her own design and of her big sister's dictation. In fact, little sister takes dictation amazingly well. And I don't mean scribing a letter but going and doing and wearing whatever big sister dictates to her. They'll work together for hours on end biking to all sorts of neighborhood locations with wardrobe bag in tow. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ogWF4sI4juXlDB-Q-V2oKkCmqHgSJvg437cv8S146VkytGYzGjDa3zPeIfhG67vaK9ofIKI-F8zl1xLyyBJ80c1kbcjCVPMEv6JPpY2pvpk9cajIiaiIzUWNUvc7BCWeSNkfz-viQ-aW/s1600/IMG_9442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ogWF4sI4juXlDB-Q-V2oKkCmqHgSJvg437cv8S146VkytGYzGjDa3zPeIfhG67vaK9ofIKI-F8zl1xLyyBJ80c1kbcjCVPMEv6JPpY2pvpk9cajIiaiIzUWNUvc7BCWeSNkfz-viQ-aW/s320/IMG_9442.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And the photos are amazing.<br />
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Both in their artistic capture and also in that they show a bond I didn't know could be captured on film. There is a gaze in the subject's eye that is nothing short of adoration. There is a love between subject and artist that is palpable. There is an ability to connect through the lens all the way to the soul and it is lovely to see.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I talked to<a href="http://www.500poundleon.com/"> our photographer friend</a> about this beautiful gift coming from these lessons and assignments. A lifelong gift of sisterly love and connection, a documentation of every step of the way and a collection of sublime portraits of this sweet 8 year old of ours. He smiled sort of knowingly. As if he understood what can happen when an artist photographs those he loves. And as he smiled and I thought of all the breathtaking portraits I had seen of his, I suddenly realized it was about more than just setting or subject. It was about love. Love of the craft and of the vision held in the mind's eye.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeApSyc__OeK9aEN9SJ4eDgG4NxRmdllwneeUl2q2UyN2CFq9R1qTZ42XXoa3PP5VfWze59pVFo686zlcrQWUGr5gcauN34Y1EXb7ZAaoUUuARg5pfu2YGdF64-mZQbw7AX_9M0gCVQy7l/s1600/leon_alesi_bernadette_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeApSyc__OeK9aEN9SJ4eDgG4NxRmdllwneeUl2q2UyN2CFq9R1qTZ42XXoa3PP5VfWze59pVFo686zlcrQWUGr5gcauN34Y1EXb7ZAaoUUuARg5pfu2YGdF64-mZQbw7AX_9M0gCVQy7l/s320/leon_alesi_bernadette_blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I truly believe this moment of time will forever etch each girl's heart and soul with the love that will last them a lifetime. <a href="http://www.500poundleon.com/">Thank you Leon</a>. Thank you digital photography. Thank you homeschooling. Thank you sisters for showing me the beauty of that bond. And thank you lucky stars of mine.Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-2821382177744527482011-01-26T22:44:00.000-06:002011-01-26T22:44:33.121-06:00What a difference a day makesWell, this is about more than just 24 little hours but still. I feel like this week was just jam packed with nuggets. Juicy little tidbits of life's lessons just kept appearing. Maybe it was the moon. Maybe it was my own personal planetary alignment. Whatever it was/is, stuff is moving and I am open to it all. And let me tell you, being open to it all as opposed to resisting, just feels exactly how I would choose to feel. Which was lesson number one...<br />
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Rather than being attracted to outcome, I have shifted my focus this week to feeling. How do I want to feel? I can't control the physical situation, or the moods around me, or the answers that come to the questions I present, but I can get in touch with how I want to feel. Simple as that. As I move through this day, this event, this great big world of ours, how do I want to feel? And I have learned, thanks to Michael Brown, and my <a href="http://www.earlyparenting.com/">good friend</a> who is a big fan, that when I sort of pre-program that feeling, I'm way more likely to get there. <span><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=justaminute07-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=1897238460&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span><br />
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<span>Lesson number 2. Model what you want to see in your children. Of course I've known this awhile. And I speak of it here and there. But after seeing the new documentary film, <a href="http://slowfamilyliving.com/2011/01/play-again/">Play Again</a>, I realized that if I want my kids to be present, to love the ones they're with, and to turn off their screens and machines in order to really be here now, I've got to do the same. I've got a new commitment to screen-free times and it feels really good. I'm less cranky (because I'd get cranky sometimes when I'd be interrupted while trying to read an email) and I'm less distracted and I'm more present and more able to see and hear when they're willing to show and tell. And any parent knows, especially as our kids get older, if they're willing to show and tell, we've got to seize the moment and be ready to see and hear. </span><br />
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<span>Lesson number 3. Appreciate. I knew this. I know this. But it's a lesson I can't learn too much. Appreciate more. And more of what you appreciate will appreciate. I love this. And I appreciate it too. </span><br />
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<span>Lesson number 4. Understand that all is as it should be. Truly. When something seems like not what we wanted, eventually it brings us what we need. Which sort of goes back to lesson number 1. How do you want to feel. </span><br />
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<span>Lesson number 5. We are free to do things differently than we are sometimes told they should be done. If your child is in school and they tell you homework takes precedence over play, you get to decide when that's true and when it's not. We are part of the communities we participate in but that doesn't mean we have to take all the decisions without any thoughts or input at all. We can ponder. And decide. And we can make the process work for us. Plain and simple. After all, what's education if there isn't a little bit of questioning behind it? And critical thinking too. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpPbjFaSmouwa5hkjXOqAeClSO9I2iZt1WpGWGYzKQsEclaNPLcx7-aF0UTa_sjXgt1RkXXiDLy4atMW5auhAtppyOZxHKUi1tFTKv-nA9mvEh_miQJlXTtxmFFXTKmmZd8WoEITns8LM/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpPbjFaSmouwa5hkjXOqAeClSO9I2iZt1WpGWGYzKQsEclaNPLcx7-aF0UTa_sjXgt1RkXXiDLy4atMW5auhAtppyOZxHKUi1tFTKv-nA9mvEh_miQJlXTtxmFFXTKmmZd8WoEITns8LM/s320/025.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span>We do get to navigate this journey of ours just a little bit. But if we've added humans to the world and they are sharing our abode, they also get to navigate this journey of theirs. And since we are a part of theirs and they are a part of ours, well, we'll all just bring each other what we need to see, hear and learn. </span><br />
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<span>So there you go. A little light thought for a Wednesday night. Happy trails all. </span>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-68926894970968618922011-01-11T21:21:00.000-06:002011-01-11T21:21:24.458-06:00Time has taken on a new feelToday. 1/11/11. 3 months since my dear sister died. 3 months that feels like an eternity. And feels like yesterday too. So much has been revealed. So much life has taken place since then. So much pain. And laughter. And wonder. And unknown. And unknowing still more.<br />
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I participated in a show last week at Austin's Continental Club. I got to share a piece about that dear sister of mine. You can read it <a href="http://writerism.blogspot.com/2011/01/uninhibitedinhibited.html">here</a>. At my other blog. (one of my collections don't you know) Not to steal blog posts from one to put on another, but, well, sometimes it's what you've got...Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2147716421517853218.post-57661639612407637102010-12-28T02:53:00.001-06:002010-12-29T00:31:30.983-06:00It's hard growing oldI was helping my 4 year old with some shoes today. We were both frustrated because he doesn't currently have a pair that is easy to put on. As we tied him into some sneakers he sighed a big sad sigh and looked like he was going to cry. "I wish I was still 3," he sad oh so sadly. I asked him why and he told me with another sigh from deep in his belly, "cause then I could still wear my blue slippers. I loved those." Then another sighing pause, "It's sad to get old."<br />
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Yes indeed my little old soul.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFtL25mqBnGGaQ4S0_rEfuAQp_sfmd0R93GNt9J0G0TcfpTvh2NMmrj8PQA6VGj84pxBGCUxmoxVDtvDBtDuJaL59J0rNNdcIsOXsXMh1yIaunS81WG_w5w2rwZdbjv2z8idjz0SKwW1jf/s1600/thenolls3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFtL25mqBnGGaQ4S0_rEfuAQp_sfmd0R93GNt9J0G0TcfpTvh2NMmrj8PQA6VGj84pxBGCUxmoxVDtvDBtDuJaL59J0rNNdcIsOXsXMh1yIaunS81WG_w5w2rwZdbjv2z8idjz0SKwW1jf/s320/thenolls3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Bernadettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18084828649773917404noreply@blogger.com1