Memoria Arts~ Life in the Making

Letting a little geek show...

Guess what came it at the library yesterday?

I confess to doing a tiny bit of a happy dance...
I've waited and waited and waited- heard a lot about this series and wanted to see it for myself. It is perfectly timed for the last big batch of sewing and things that I want to finish before Christmas arrives. Hope James didn't want to watch anything else, right? *laughter*

Thankfully, he got used to my geeky history interests a long time ago, and listened as I debated which degree to major in, and all the late night rantings during my Modern Iraq class...long story.

U is for Unconditional Love

This is Joy's Husband (aka Blog Bandit), I have decided to post U in the Encyclopedia of Joy.

U is for Unconditional Love..... This is the most wonderful and most special kind of love. This is the Love that I have for Joy. I am so thankful that God has put such a wonderful woman in my life to be my wife and the mother of my children. I am truly blessed to have someone that is so special to be my soul mate.

T is for

...time. Which I never quite seem to have enough of, and which keeps slipping away at alarming rates. Ben turned five on Wednesday, and I was stunned that so many years have passed already. Wasn't he a baby just yesterday?

...touch. I am amazed by the power of physical contact...how snuggling with Lorelei can literally lower my heart rate and make me breathe easier...how my husband giving me a foot rub can make the world seem just a bit brighter. I find that I try to go out of my way to not only say "I love you" to my family, but to also touch them with love on a daily basis.

...temper. Heavens, do I have one. It rarely surfaces, but whoa when it does. I guess it's the German heritage in me. I wish I could avoid getting to the point that I literally feel like Rumpelstiltskin and want to stomp through the floor.

...tall. I have been the "tall one" all my life. It was always strange to be a full head taller than most of my classmates and friends and awkward to walk around a public place and realize that I could rest my elbow on most of the other patron's heads. And then there's the stares. It's made me feel so uncomfortable in my skin, that it is only within the last few years I've stopped minding so much. And don't even get me started on finding clothes that fit right in all the right places!

S is for Shady Valley

We have access to a plot of undisturbed land bordering the National Forest...it's got to be one of my favorite places on earth. Shady has come to define a landmark both physical and emotional: it's where James and I spent a lot of time talking and dreaming early in our marriage, where we escape to when life pressures get to be too much, a sliver of "God's country". I hope this land will pass from James, to our children, to our children's children. And I hope it remains this place of peace and calm for generations. So beautiful. And speaking of beautiful, can you believe Lorelei is getting so big?

R is for Romance

Ah, Romance. An integral part of what makes me, me. An annoying part, the whole 'heart on the sleeve' aspect of myself. I am one of those fools that actually thinks the prince will come, dreams will get fulfilled, and the world will return to it's rightful order. And you know what? I like it that way. Give me my Shakespeare, my Austen, my Grace Livingston Hill. Send me in raptures of poetry and prose. Let me escape, if only for a moment, to a place where Love reigns.

Somehow, it makes the reality of life easier to deal with. It makes it easier to believe in the good in people instead of the bad, to see through the 'right now' reaction and consider what it might have been that shaped the person in front of me. What fights have they fought? What have they overcome? What has made them who they are today? Oh, mine would definitely be a tragicomedy of turns and twists, with an ending not quite written, much like the unfortunate Bottom in A Midsummer's Night's Dream. But if there's one thing I appreciate about the dear character, he believed in life and love and all that there could be in ways that few would 'let themselves' because it was perhaps not 'grown-up' enough. I think I'd rather keep glimpsing the magic of life, even if it does make me a fool.

Q is for Quotidian

–adjective 

1.	daily: a quotidian report.

2.	usual or customary; everyday: quotidian needs.

3.	ordinary; commonplace: paintings of no more than quotidian artistry.

4.	(of a fever, ague, etc.) characterized by paroxysms that recur daily.

–noun 

5.	something recurring daily.

6.	a quotidian fever or ague.

I ran across this word, and good English geek that I am, had to look up the meaning...ok, so what is more embarrassing was that is was used as an insult in a Star Trek novel I was reading and I couldn't understand the insult... and had this total aha moment. How often do I get stuck in the "quotidian"? I don't do, or do things, because it's routine. I probably don't even notice that I do it. Maybe it's stupid, like always stepping into the right shoe before the left, or it's more predictable...always grabbing the same shirt and jeans, eating the same thing for breakfast. (Although, with the hypoglycemia, I have been trying to toss that up instead of my usual bowl of cereal and cup of coffee.)

I am such a creature of habit, and what's even funnier is that I don't even realize I've been doing it. And then it dawns on me that I have worn essentially the same outfit (different color shirt, though) for days on end. So my goal is to stop sticking to the quotidian, and try some new things. Or at least different things. To reach for that skirt, instead of the same pair of jeans again. To stretch out of the routine, and into the special.

Ali had a great perspective on this in her recent newsletter. I love how she often inspires me not only in my creative pursuits, but also in other aspects of my life.

O is for Owly

Okay, so technically, he's not an owl per say, but Owly is is his name. We found this little blue bird of a guy at a Starbucks and got such fits of giggles! He is obviously reminiscent of another member of the family. And he is forever popping up in strange places...in front of the steering wheel, peeping at you between gallons of milk...it's becoming quite the game to see where Owly will pop up next.

N is for nerdy nonsense...

Confession time.

I knew all the lyrics to most of the Veggie Tale Silly Songs before I was married, or even had kids.

I can quote vast swaths of Season 6 and 7 of Star Trek: The Next Generation, and my favorite episodes are when Q or Laxwana Troi arrives unexpectedly to torment the crew. And I have a secret crush on Captain Picard.

I use the "daily word", like egregious, in daily speech, without help. 'Course, this is why half the population can't understand what I mean most days. I refrain from correcting others' speech, though, an English geek habit I abhor.

I laughed the first time Henry said "it's just something I know," on Ugly Betty (my current favorite TV show) because I often say it myself.

I can set up a wireless network, reformat a hard drive, and fix most common computer errors, but that's my husband's fault. He enabled my geeky-dom.

(and if no one ever reads the blog again, I'll blame this post for being so egregious!)

M is for Motherhood and Mayhem

'Cause I swear they go hand in hand.

Sheesh. What is it about being a momma? Why are we so hard on ourselves, and so hard on all the mommas we know? Isn't the job hard enough without the constant second guessing guilt trips and over-the-top measuring sticks?

Why is it about kids, for whom we want to give our very best, that often bring out the very worst in us?

I'd like to know...

I don't consider myself especially qualified to speak to the experience of motherhood any more than the next gal, but I often get told that I do because of the number of toddlers I have. "You must have the patience of a saint!" they say. "Better you than me..." blah blah blah. They also don't see me on my bad days when I've yelled at the kids and lost my patience and a million other things. I say, each mom has their own battles to fight, their own challenges, unique to their situation. What seems simple to me might be incredibly difficult for my friend, and what boggles my brain cells comes easily to her. It's all in the  balance.

When I was pregnant with my first, Ben, and even a little of the way into Isaiah's babyhood, I had this ridiculous set of expectations of myself: a good momma does this, a good momma does not do that, a good momma makes sure that her kiddos are given all these opportunities, music, play, enrichment...in short, I totally set myself up for failure. Reality came crashing in pretty quickly. There was no way that half of that "list" was going to get its requisite gold star...some days I was lucky if I got a shower and my teeth got brushed! Somewhere along the way, I realized that what my kids needed wasn't a list, a playgroup, or a  classical CD for their brain...what they needed was me.

Don't get me wrong, I still struggle mightily with this whole motherhood idea. I think I always will, and if I ever start saying I've got it all figured out, I'm probably sitting in the loony bin and completely off my rocker. But if there is one thing I do know, I know that motherhood is a journey, not a beginning or an end point. There's going to be mountains and valleys, mayhem and calm. I don't have to build a path, I just have to walk it. Some days are going to be great, and others I'm going to barely make it through. And it's okay. And if I do my job right, my kids are going to leave...and start the whole process over again. One foot in front of the other.

L is for the Little things...

I recently had a conversation with my mom that really made me stop and think. I had been sharing some of my parenting frustrations with her regarding the boys, and she said something entirely unrelated that made something click in my head: I've stopped listening to my kids. Sure, I "hear" Ben or Isaiah, but I've forgotten to listen, to really hear what it is they are telling me. It was one of those "aha" parenting moments where I just kind of sat back and thought for a while. I am not sure where it started. Maybe it's just the fact that three noisy toddlers will create quite a din that you almost have to learn to tune out the nonsense, like when they are arguing over who stared at who first, or which dinosaur growled the loudest. But I kind of stopped listening to them when they were trying to tell me something important, like how they felt about a situation. I had kind of forgotten that Ben is going through a huge transition into school. Forgotten isn't the right word. I know on an intellectual, emotional mommy level that he is going through a transition. But I failed to let Ben tell me that he was going through a huge transition. Forgot to hear his heart.

The thing is, when I stop to listen to the kids, I see and hear things that I would totally fail to notice on my own, or even pay attention to. But to a child, these things are huge momentous events. And you know what? I think they're right. They see mountains and rivers in a piece of sidewalk, universes in a single cloud formation. It's almost as if they truly see the big picture. They have an amazing sense of wonder about the little things. I want to remember that. I want to see the little things for what they truly are: a necessary and vital piece in a bigger puzzle that is glorious and wonderful. And that includes really listening to my kids.