12 Days of Thanksgiving: G

Gourmet.

At our house, we have a Little People Thanksgiving set by Fisher Price that makes an appearance each year. It depicts a very cute version of the first Thanksgiving and includes two pilgrims, two indians, a bountiful picnic table and a little horse pulling a giant pumpkin in his cart. We usually make a big deal about getting it out as a celebration of the season, and this year it happened on Thursday. I was running behind in that part of our Thanksgiving ritual (typical this year), but that didn’t seem to dampen the excitement. After a few skirmishes over who got to help the pony drive his cart and who would hold the girl pilgrim, we settled into playing.

Little Drummer Boy and Bug have been immersed in Thanksgiving activities, programs and crafts this week. They’ve had Thanksgiving dinners at school, presented singing programs complete with chopping sounds and “10 little indians,” made pilgrim books and indian head-dresses, and read books. As LDB was setting up our little first Thanksgiving scene to his satisfaction, I made an off-handed observation: “They’re having their Thankgiving dinner.”  LDB was quick to correct me with a response that made me smile. And think.

“They’re having a FEAST.”

Hmmm. “Feast” is probably a new word for him, and I’m surprised he didn’t ask me how to spell it. We are in a perpetual spelling bee lately spurred on my the first steps in learning to read.

They’re having a feast. It was more than a lesson in semantics. Little Drummer Boy rightly recognized the distinction that our little pilgrims and indians weren’t just eating. It was evident to him they weren’t just getting by with table scraps. They were feasting.

It made me realize the truth that abundance is almost always in the eye of the beholder. Our mindset often determines how full our table is. And while I could expound a whole other post about the delicious family Thanksgiving recipes we look forward to, what’s steaming in the serving dishes really doesn’t affect our recognition of bounty. At least it doesn’t have to.

I’m so thankful for that reminder from my little Thanksgiving Gourmet this year. I want to enjoy this and the upcoming holidayseasons with a gourmet mindset, regardless of the circumstances. I want to cultivate a lifestyle where my eyes are always bigger than my stomach. I want to recognize and embrace the feast before me in each endeavor.

12 Days of Thanksgiving: A

Art.

I’ve been looking at pictures this morning. Little Drummer Boy, Bug and Baby Girl are fond of creating pictures and selecting prime locations to place them in my office. They each have a unique way of expressing themselves through lines and colors and pictures. Their varied creations are such a tangible reminder of the blessing they add to my life at every turn. And they are a reminder of the precious value of their own imaginations that I hope to instill in each of their hearts.

Little Drummer Boy is the storyteller. His pictures are illustrations. They record whatever seemingly random series of events playing out in his mind. He has recently been much more interested in recording these images in shapes and density, a penchant I credit to his kindergarten class where each day they “write” in their jourals, even if “writing” is really drawing. It’s communicating in written form.

Bug is the free spirit. His pictures are a symphony of line and color chosen with deliberation–the exuberance of his spirit unsquelched by the limitations of a crayola box. He makes much less of a production about presenting his work. I often find Bug’s creations scattered about in unexpected places–little slips of paper inside my desk, propped on the piano, inside his pocket, on stickies attached to various furniture surfaces, occasionally embellishing the furniture itself. He sees no need for a “finished” product. It’s not uncommon for him to add lines and colors to the same piece of paper for weeks. The act of making the lines just seems more important to him.

Baby Girl is the newbie. She’s more interested in the tools themselves. While she’s moved beyond wanting to eat the crayons and the paper, she would still rather make her creations with a crayon unencumbered by it’s paper wrapping. So her preparation time is filled with peeling it away to explose more color. Still, fueled by her brothers’ examples, she has begun making her own haphazard scribbles.

I find myself in each of their creative tendencies.

Since I began working from home in July, my office (and it’s many surfaces for artwork display) has become a center of excitement for my children. I suppose they feel that they are getting to do something special when they can hang out in Mommy’s office. I’ve tried to cultivate an office space that is inspiring for me, since I spend most of my time here creating and designing. But, I also wanted it to be a place where they feel comfortable and welcomed. It has been a wonderland for them to visit because they have never seen so many of the things that exist in the Small Pond Graphics hub.

Oddly, that’s one of the biggest blessings of this year. Before I started my business this summer, all they knew of Mommy’s work was that she did it. She dropped them off at daycare and went to that place in town they sometimes visited to do whatever Mommys do when they work. That was the extent of their exposure to the creative life that fills so much of my time. I’m so thankful that now they know more. Of course, they don’t understand it. They don’t know what the computers do beyond providing photo slide shows and access to Sesame Street games. They don’t know what all the books are besides colorful spines and strange pictures. They don’t know what the shelves house except the ready crayons and construction paper. But, they know something interesting happens here. And they know Mommy does it.

We are born creative. Of that I am convinced. There is much debate over whether humans are born good or bad, perfect or flawed, natured or nurtured. But, when I read that we are created in the image of God, the core common element I see is creativity. Of all His glorious and inexplicable actions, creating was the first act recorded for the Almighty. In His benevolence, he chose to imbue OUR existence with that same tendency. The opportunity to show my children that reality about themselves has become very important to me. However that creativity manifests itself, I want them to see how it shows up in me and to explore their own creative bents.

Several years ago when I started this blog, part of my motivation was to find a personal creative outlet that wouldn’t disrupt my time with the children or provide any hazard to them (in the way so many art supplies can). But, I had also come to the realization that there was this whole part of me that my children had never known beyond crazy cupcake and party decorations. I’m an “artsy type.” It was quite a jolt to realize that my children might not really KNOW me and the pursuits that matter to me. EyeJunkie provided a way for them to watch me, to see me writing, to see me thinking, to see me making pictures on the screen. Small Pond Graphics and its downstairs home has been another catalyst for them to know their Mommy in a new way.

Art in one form or another has been a large part of my life for a very long time. From my youngster days watching my mother use her creativity in various ways, to my years studying Architecture, to my day-to-day work life, “the arts” have impacted me. Because I work as a graphic designer, I’ve spent my adult life “doing” art every weekday. And although I would probably more accurately classify my work as “communication” rather than “art,” it’s been part of my job to expose myself to many vehicles of inspiration and to immerse myself in the work of other creative types.

With the launch of a new venture, I’ve had the opportunity to explore that creative inspiration with fresher eyes. It’s allowed me to focus more on the sheer act of creating. Given the freedom to set my own schedules and parameters, it’s allowed me to examine my best creative habits and tendencies more carefully. It’s given me the opportunity to get back to the basics of my own creativity–a blessing that can be so easily snuffed by the cares of real life. It’s a joy to me to infuse my day-to-day experiences with the expression of art and creativity. It’s a privilege to be paid for that sort of thing. It’s a blessing to share that love with the little creative minds I’m nurturing.

Gift Tag: Celebrating Fall

Little Drummer Boy has been pestering me about the “Welcome Spring” ladybug flag we’ve had hanging off our back stoop since sometime in June. I mentioned recently that it was almost Fall, and we needed to hang our scarecrow version instead. Since then, he’s asked me almost every day if I’ve hung it. I had to answer “no” each time with the promise that we would get it out of the cabinet like we do around the beginning of each October, and he could help me. Of course, his mind moved on to Transformers and other Super Heroes, and mine moved on to ten thousand other things.

October has really sneaked up on me this year. I’m usually counting down the days until this month begins with the Fall-like weather and changes in nature it usually brings in Mississippi. This year, however, I have had a hard time noticing. I suppose I’ve had other things on my mind.

I was sitting at the dining table with Little Drummer Boy this weekend. It was after a meal at some point, and I was lamenting aloud that I had forgotten something or not done something he’d asked or something I had planned. I really don’t remember. Whatever it was, LDB’s response was, “That’s ok.” Even at his age, he’s an encourager, wanting me to know that all is right with the world even if I hadn’t remembered something I was supposed to. He leaned in close with a look of intent in his smiling eyes and added, “‘Cause we’re celebrating Fall.”

Hmmm. So, we’re celebrating? To be honest, I had actually been dreading the “celebration” of the Autumn season, and I hadn’t been willing to really explore why. But, I looked in his vibrant face with the innocent confirmation of a joy some silly tradition I had randomly established created, and at that moment I realized we were already celebrating. I had been saying that we needed to celebrate Fall, that we were going to do it with some of the usual pumpkins and Indian corn and scarecrows we usually bring out for the season. But, I hadn’t actually gotten around to the celebrating part. Until I heard Little Drummer Boy’s declaration of it, I wasn’t really in the celebration frame of mind.

October is usually a month of evaluation for me. I think most of us have those times in the year when our thoughts naturally gravitate toward self-inspection and life-inspection. For me, one of those times is October. Perhaps the tendency began because my birthday falls at the end of the month. Plus, there is something about the first touches of coolness in the air that seem to inspire an airing out of my spirit after the long summer.

Airing out. I find myself writing (and thinking) about transition a lot recently. My essays tagged with “change” are growing in numbers. Of course, there have been a few logistical changes in my life recently–namely beginning my own business, a change that has affected my approach to work, my finances and in practical terms, how I spend my days. More than the physical changes, though, I’ve sensed my heart in transition. Over the last year, I’ve been seeing dormant areas of my life that need awakening. I’ve had a renewed recognition of the passage of time and of how quickly it seems to move. I’ve noticed areas of life that I’m just not satisfied with–areas I’ve determined must change in order for this journey to more closely match my hopes and dreams.

I’ll confess that these realizations have darkened the skies in my anticipation of Fall this year. I was beginning to see this season of typical introspection for me as foe rather than friend. For, the “taking stock” that so often accompanies October for me usually goes hand in hand with a strong sense of celebration in an inherently fruitful time, and a joy in the acceptance of change and newness that I’ve had a hard time mustering lately. Oddly, I’ve been holding myself back from my usual excitement about the arrival of Autumn. Perhaps in my mind, the change of seasons represents so much more of my own changes than ever before, the need for turning over leaves. Perhaps it reminds me more of the discontent that’s been taking root, and of the decisions and will to act that is usually required to produce sustainable change.

“That’s ok. ‘Cause we’re celebrating Fall.”

Somewhere in the five years LDB has been in this world, he’s caught on to the fact that life is worth celebrating. That Fall is worth celebrating. That it’s fun to do a silly thing like taking down the ladybug back yard flag and replacing it with the scarecrow version. It’s fun to notice the big pumpkins and sunflowers and the silly crow sitting on the scarecrow’s shoulder. And, somehow in his declaration of our “celebration,” I realized that indeed it is “ok.”

Whatever frustrations I’m laboring through with the changes I’m experiencing or anticipating in my grown-up life, there is still room for joy. Even if I’m not fully where I want to be, where I feel like I need to be, there is still the opportunity to exercise the discipline of celebration. Even if it only begins as a discipline, “that’s ok.” Even if my process of change has me falling short of turning over new leaves at the pace I was hoping, “that’s ok.” Perfection isn’t required for celebration. And given the choice, I’m not willing to hold off on celebration until perfection arrives.

I read something this week that encouraged me to open my eyes. To look around me and see with true awareness the realities of my life. It’s so easy to focus on areas where we want changes and to overlook those that offer continual blessings and laughter and enrichment. It’s so easy to say “yes, but.” I was reminded to look with eyes of potential and possibility at the circumstances that have been challenging and to recognize how far I’ve come. To CHOOSE to focus on the incredible blessings I’ve been given, the treasures entrusted to me. To choose to embrace the reality I’ve written of: that life is change, and change is growth. Each step–even the rocky or slippery one– is one taking me further on the journey of a life worth making.

On Sunday, Little Drummer Boy, Squiggle Bug, Baby Girl and I determined that the scarecrow in the cabinet had gotten lonely. We even thought we could hear him calling out to us. LDB was certain he was sad he hadn’t been able to “watch us play” this year. We pulled him from the pile and put him on the flag pole. A first step this season.

“‘Cause we’re celebrating Fall.”

Tues Ten 092110: Random Questions at 3:27am

Holy Microbe Insurgence, Batman! We have the stomach bug. My Super Mommy powers are seriously depleted, even with my trusty sidekick, Capt Lysol, on hand. As some of you may have experience, three children in the house all constantly loving (or pushing) on each other usually creates a stair-step effect with germs. When one kid goes down, the others often follow. Last night we began the process with Bug and sure enough, Little Drummer Boy followed.

Pardon me if these thoughts seem a little random this morning. After all, I AM running on depleted Super Mommy powers. But, it’s funny how their little personalities reveal themselves when they’re sick.

Bug, in true Bug fashion, took charge of his own little (and some big) throw-ups. He made it to the bathroom to do his business all on his own and determined each time whether he wanted to lay on the couch or his bed afterwards. Needing Mommy was really an afterthought, we he persistently begged me for milk. Bug is nothing if not persistent–a stunning quality in a man. In a 3yo with the stomach bug, it’s a little more challenging. He almost had me convinced with his “I am the captain of my fate” mentality [sudden Invictus reference?!] that he actually WAS feeling better and that he WOULD NOT throw up after having milk. It was as if he felt by some force of sheer will, he could prevent himself from throwing up after drinking his coveted beverage. If anyone could prevent it by sheer will, Bug is your man. Still, my better Mommy angels prevailed and I held out on the no-milk-until-morning conclusion.

Little Drummer Boy was a whole different story. In his intuitive and introspective nature, he took it as a personal afront that he had gotten the stomach bug–especially in the middle of the night when he was in bed. (And really, who doesn’t?) He was horrified that he had thrown up on his pjs AND his socks. And, he was very concerned about his sheets and pillow. His processing of everything he’d ever heard about the stomach bug came into focus and he bravely instructed me, “don’t touch me.” Of course, I didn’t buy it. Mommy not touching you when you are sick will NEVER do.

While Bug’s main concern after his 2nd or 3rd throw-up was where he had misplaced that darned sippy cup, LDB’s storytelling and inquisitive nature emerged. He sat down in the bathroom, with me on the side of the tub and soothed his tummy by asking a few burning questions. Now, I’ve mentioned the depleted Super Mommy powers. You can imagine that at this particular moment, my recollection of all things natural science and/or home economics related were a little fuzzy. Who knew that particular knowledge base would be required in the middle of Stomach Bug Night?

With that, I give you the Tuesday Ten: Random Questions I Answered at 3:27am

1. WHY do I have the stomach bug?
Short A: That’s a good question.
Long A: Because of a long list of biological facts that I couldn’t begin to recall. If I ever knew them.

2. Can we talk?
A: Yes. Famous last words.

3. Why do you have that angel there?
In reference to a stained-glass angel I’ve had hanging in the bathroom since before Little Drummer Boy was born. I guess he finally got around to voicing his inquiry.
A: Because Mommy likes it.

4. How do you make soap?
A: I don’t know. We’ll have to look that up.

5. How many months before we go see Mickey Mouse again?
A: I think in about two months. And…
Dear BancorpSouth Center in Tupelo, MS:
Please invite Disney on Ice back to your rink this Fall because I’ve been answering this question for the last 10 months and I’ll probably be in BIG trouble if it turns out I’m wrong.
thanks, Mommy.

6. What makes the light come on? No, not the switch, what makes the switch work?
A: Something about a circuit and connecting the power when the switch goes on. It’s all a little fuzzy. And, of course, Electrical Engineer I am not.

7. Do you know how to make glass? Sand is bunches and bunches of tiny rocks.
A: Well. No, I don’t know how to make glass. But, I think they might melt down the sand somehow.

8. What are those two things doing there?
In reference to the two little plastic buttons affixed to the underside of the toilet seat cover that keep it from crashing down on the donut to hard.
A: Some kid-sized variation of that, I think.

9. Have you seen a butterfly? I saw one and it has a rainbow on it’s wings.
A: I HAVE seen a butterfly. And, yes, they’re pretty cool aren’t they?

10. What is paint made of?
A: Different things. Some are made of plastic-type stuff and a bunch of color.

At this point, I began convincing LDB that it was time to get in bed. “But, we still need to talk.” Nothing like a 3am conversation with your 5yo over throw-up to let you know you’re a) not as smart as he thinks you are; and b) so in love with this little guy.

I think I’ll go to the library now.

Flying Light

Today is Little Drummer Boy’s first day of “big school” kindergarten. We’ve been anticipating it and talking about it all summer, and the big day finally arrived. It’s really just one more episode in a thousand new things LDB has been experiencing. When you are young, change seems so much more acceptable for some reason. Perhaps it’s because so many monumental changes in size and communication skills and motor skills are compacted into those first few years, that it really becomes “old hat.” It’s no wonder we seem ready to slow the process as we get older.

Little Drummer Boy was raring to go, all dressed up in his yellow and khaki school uniform and boasting a Bumblebee Transformer backpack–no doubt all he needs to face the big world today. The most energizing factor about the backpack seemed to be the fact that it lights up when he moves. LDB was intent on making sure the lights would show up in all our “first day of school” photo opportunities. I guess something about the red blinking lights amped up the “cool” factor. It’s hard to squelch the light. A realization I’m enjoying at the moment.

The start of school always seems symbolically to represent the ending of summer for me, despite the reality that we’ll likely have at least two or three more months of summertime temperatures in Mississippi. Beyond that, this start of school for Little Drummer Boy seems to represent the ending of his “baby-hood” and his launch into full-fledged “boy-dom.” And although I often tell him “you’ll always be my baby,” there’s no turning back now. Yes, he was raring to go. And, I have to admit that I couldn’t help but want to hold the reigns a little tighter.

In the excitement of heading down the sidewalk toward Sudduth Elementary this morning, LDB stumbled and fell while holding my hand. My heart sank for a moment — a moment ripe with emotions and memories and hopes and a twinge of worry. Will he cry? Will a fall overshadow the fun of the morning? Will this squelch his excitement for the day and this new experience?  Little Drummer Boy’s response was to stand up without a flinch and say, “I’m ok. I love you Mommy.” It’s hard to squelch the light.

Earlier this week, the latest American Life in Poetry installment graced my inBox. The featured poem, Fireflies, couldn’t be more appropriate in my mind at the moment. “Lightening bugs,” as we call them around here, are the hallmark of Summertime and catching them is a typical joy for almost any “boydom” or “girlhood.” Little Drummer Boy and Bug have had their share of experiencing the chase and the wonder of these little incandescent creatures. Baby Girl hasn’t had the pleasure yet, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy the experience with her own flair in due time. Even as a grown-up, I can clearly remember that there is nothing quite as giggle-inducing or excitement-sparking as capturing the fly in two hands, peeking into the dark space to glimpse the light and then opening your fingers wide to see him fly away spreading his light into the night sky. That moment is beautifully described in this poem, and it reminded me… There’s nothing quite as exciting as holding their light and letting it go for the rest of the sky to experience.

Last Summer after one of the boys’ excursions in pursuit of fireflies, I recorded one of my favorite Little Drummer Boy quotes. I’ve shared it before, but I was thinking of it this morning. They bustled back into the house all sweaty and filled laughter. They had caught two lighting bugs. And in their inspection, LDB announced that one of them “COULD NOT turn his light off.” If there is any one thing I can hope for Little Drummer Boy as he embarks on this year’s new experiences it is that he CAN NOT turn his light off. It’s a brilliant light that deserves to fly.

American Life in Poetry: Column 280
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006

Marilyn Kallet lives and teaches in Tennessee. Over the years I have read many poems about fireflies, but of all of them hers seems to offer the most and dearest peace.

Fireflies

In the dry summer field at nightfall,
fireflies rise like sparks.
Imagine the presence of ghosts
flickering, the ghosts of young friends,
your father nearest in the distance.
This time they carry no sorrow,
no remorse, their presence is so light.
Childhood comes to you,
memories of your street in lamplight,
holding those last moments before bed,
capturing lightning-bugs,
with a blossom of the hand
letting them go. Lightness returns,
an airy motion over the ground
you remember from Ring Around the Rosie.
If you stay, the fireflies become fireflies
again, not part of your stories,
as unaware of you as sleep, being
beautiful and quiet all around you.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation, publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2009 by Marilyn Kallet, from her most recent book of poetry, Packing Light: New and Selected Poems, Black Widow Press, 2009. Reprinted by permission of Marilyn Kallet. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.