If you have ever wondered what a 3-year-old
who does not want her picture taken anymore
looks like, here it is:

Damian is weaned. I’m both happy and sad about this.  I’m happy to have my body back after three and half years of nursing two children, but I’m also sad that I will no longer share that intimate moment with either of my children… very sad about that actually.  That chapter of my life story has ended, and it was a beautiful chapter.

Lily is potty-trained and has finally moved out of the security of her pull-ups.

Damian said his first word which is “Yeah!”  We were all throwing our hands in the air saying “Yeah!” and then Damian did it too.  Since he only communicates through grunts and growls, “Yeah!” definitely counts as a word.

I have had a weekend filled with pain and drugs.  I woke up on Friday with my neck muscles locked tightly and I couldn’t move my head without extreme pain.  A doctor visit later, I was loaded up with Vicodin, muscle relaxants, and steroids.  I can now move my head and the pain is under control, but I have been doped up all weekend long.

… so kind of an eventful weekend actually.  Oh, and I’ve been working hard on RomancePodcast.com.  I should have the first podcast up on Friday.  For me, that is both exciting and scary.  There is nothing like having your ego readily available for anyone to download.  But what is the point of being alive if you choose not to live, right?

I hope everyone else had as surreal and progressive a weekend as we did at our little house. 🙂

Damian playing in the sandbox.
04 August 2008

I’ve decided that the folks who most benefit from wireless keyboards are cat owners.  No longer do we have to attempt deft maneuvers and contortions around the cat while trying to type on the keyboard.  We can now simply pick up our keyboard, place it on our lap, and type at our leisure while the cat sprawls across the desk.

If you’re thinking, “Why don’t you just move the cat?” then you are obviously not a cat owner.  Cat owners are a peculiar personality type and they do not move their cats from whatever comfortable position the cat has chosen, whether it’s the book we’re reading, our favorite pillow, or right in front of the keyboard on the desk.  We’ll buy a wireless keyboard before we’ll move our cat.

The spouse of a cat owner, however, has an entirely different view of the cat. 😉

Lindsey in London with St Paul’s Cathedral in the distance.
18 June 2008

Matt’s dad, Damian, took Lindsey and I to London, and we had a really nice day.  While there, we went to the top of St Paul’s Cathedral.  Before we climbed to the top, Lindsey warned us that she was afraid of heights.  Since neither Damian nor I are afraid of heights and have no experience with that fear, we both kind of muttered “Okay” and promptly ignored what she said.  As we climbed higher and higher, she became more agitated.  Damian and I continued to think everything was fine because we were fine.

At the top, she was still masking her fear very well.  She was nervous, but not immobilized, so I continued to dismiss her feelings.  It wasn’t until we were descending the steep spiral stairs and she was looking down a deep well with every step that her mask fell and her true fear of heights became undeniably obvious.  And it finally got through my thick skull: Lindsey is afraid of heights; I need to respect that.

It’s so easy to dismiss other people’s fears and anxieties when you don’t carry those same fears yourself.  I was thinking about this today because I am so happy in my home.  I don’t like to travel much.  This issue came up this year because we have been travelling a lot.  I like to work on my house and my garden, and to sit at my desk to write and draw and dream.  And many people don’t understand this because they want to experience the world and new people and new places.  And though I do love to travel very much and experience the new and see my family who are scattered about the globe, I don’t like it in heavy doses.  I miss my home life very much when I do.

But now I have a metaphor to explain myself to other people.  A fear of heights is easy to understand.  And just like Lindsey is afraid of heights and that is within her nature, it is within my nature to want to be in my home, nurturing my personal environment.  I have very little influence over the rest of the world and how it is run, but I can create a tiny paradise within the small space of my house and my gardens.  And that’s what I do everyday and I really enjoy it.

Lily was playing with her baby doll Belle while dressed
in her Belle dress today. It was very cute, so I said,
“C’mon, Lily. I want to get a picture of the two Belles
together.” My sweet little girl sat down and promptly
posed for me. Whether this is a function of being
a three-year-old or of being a three-year-old who is
constantly photographed by her mother, I don’t know.
But either way, I really enjoyed our modeling session
together. That’s my princess.

I love High School Musical.  Like everyone else, I heard of it from all the buzz that was flowing through the undercurrent of our society, so I eventually watched it.  Like all adults, I first thought it was very cheesy.  But then it grew on me, and now I like it very much.  I’ll put it on in the background while I’m doing housework, and the songs are on my iPod.  And I have the release date for HSM 3 on my calendar because Lily (another big fan of HSM) and I are very excited about going to see it in the movie theater.

I like High School Musical for the same reason I like The Cat Who series by Lilian Jackson Braun: the fictional worlds in which these stories take place are idealic.  It’s the kind of place where you would like to live if they actually existed somewhere in this world.  Everyone is kind and quirky and fun.  And there is a strong sense of community.  And, in the case of High School Musical, you have appropriate background music for your every mood and situation.

While looking up the Wikipedia entry for The Cat Who series, I surfed a couple of links until I stumbled upon the Detroit News Interview with Lilian Jackson Braun.  It’s short and, if you’re a writer, very worth the read.  It sums up beautifully why we write and why Lilian Jackson Braun is still writing prolifically in her 90s:

But, like many artists in various fields who are inspired by some inner need to create, her drive is neither money nor fame. She avoids interviews and lives quietly, writing every day.

What’s alive for her — and what keeps her engaged, curious, amused, productive — is the never-ending surprise of what’s in her own head.

I know that my own imagination keeps me entertained every day.  Who needs fairies, dragons, or a high school where there is no poverty or cruelty if your own creativity weaves fantastic worlds for you every day? 😉

Lily in a dress I sewed.
28 July 2008

My mom bought this fabric (the fabric in the above picture) for “instant dress” when she visited this past summer.  She wanted to sew it together with Lily while she was here.  All you had to do was sew a seam up the back and sew on straps.  But we were so busy while Mom was here that she didn’t have time to do this project, so she asked me to make the dress.

Fast forward a couple of months, and I finally pull my sewing machine out.  Lily, being a child, is instantly curious and wants to be a part of the action.  So she puts the pins away as I pull them out, and she presses the “reverse” button on the sewing machine when I need to reverse.  We had a really good time together sewing this little dress.

Then Lily says that she wants to sew a princess dress together.  So we went to Jo-Ann Fabrics together, and she picked out a pattern and fabric (shiny candy-apple red by the way).  I read the How-to on the inside of the pattern last night, and there are all sorts of things that I do not know how to do: sewing darts, zippers, slipstitches, make “thread carriers” (whatever those are), working with slippery, shiny fabric, etc.  I’m very excited and a bit intimidated.  I plan to take it slow and with lots of help from my friend, the internet.

There is a stark contrast between my experience sewing and my experience writing.  Since I am a beginning seamstress, I don’t expect my work to be the most amazing thing ever created ever, and so I have a really good time sewing.  I torture myself when I write.  The joy was lost somewhere along the way between learning the craft and mastering the craft.  Who wants to be a master if the very thing you love is no longer enjoyable?

I’m looking forward to making this candy-apple red princess dress for Lily.  Now I just need to Google “sewing darts”…

Grannie and Grandpa bought this little car
for Lily’s first Christmas. Damian has claimed
it as his own and scoots all around the house
on it. Lily follows him on her pink tricycle.
It’s very cute.

I constantly worry that I’m not working hard enough – that I have too much unfinished business I haven’t completed at the end of each day.  Then I stumbled upon this quote today:

Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.
                                 –Ralph Waldo Emerson

I love this quote.  It gives me permission to let go and be human.

Ben and Allison Woodings
21 June 2008
(We have four Mrs Woodingses now 😉 )

Sometimes I feel like I’m putting together a giant life puzzle.  Here are some of the various pieces:

A clean, welcoming home
A loving, healthy family
Financial security
Writing
Finding time to be with my husband
Run a marathon

These are just a few of the pieces; there are many many more pieces.  The edges of the puzzle are defined by time.  I feel if I can just figure it out — just somehow solve the puzzle — all the pieces will interlock with each other perfectly and the resulting picture would be me and the life I have chosen.

But I have not solved the puzzle yet.  I’m still fitting this piece with that, moving this other piece over there, taking a sip of water, and then trying a different tactic.  Sometimes I feel like I’m missing one crucial piece — the final piece with which all the other pieces will fall into place.

I feel that final piece is confidence or diligence or focus or faith… something… something that finally breaks the code.  I’m missing the key to my puzzle.

Very cute picture of Nana and Clara in Conroe
06 July 2008

I just finished catching up on my brother’s blog (I hadn’t read it in awhile), and I discovered something: my brother is a bit dark.  He did just go through a divorce though, and I imagine that I would be pretty dark after a divorce.

Reading my brother’s blog illustrated perfectly why I like blogs so much.  Blogs are just our rambling thoughts – whatever we’re thinking or feeling at that moment.  When we physically interact with people, there are a couple of things going on:  1) We are responding to the other person’s words and body language; the conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue.  2) We all put on masks — various different masks depending on who we are talking to and the situation — when we are face to face with people.

Blogs are just one person’s unedited thoughts.  You learn things about people — people you love very much and want to know intimately — that you would have never learned otherwise.  Blogs are digital windows.

I really like blogs.

Parents, in their omniscient wisdom, always insist
that children eat ice cream popsicles outside.
Here’s why (these are pictures of Clara, Damian,
and Logan eating popsicles with Nana on July 4th):

It’s so we can literally hose them down afterwards:

As someone who has not grown up in English culture but is constantly exposed to it in her adult life, I feel like an anthropologist studying the modern English social system — observing all the gentle lubricants the English apply in their daily life so the machine of society runs smoothly.

As any outsider will tell you, one of the first things we can’t help but notice is the use of tea.  It is ubiquitous, involves social rules, and is one of the main lubricants of English society.  I’ve truly enjoyed watching the rituals that revolve around tea, but on this last visit, I noticed how tea was used on a more mundane level for its caffeine.

In America, we have the most enormous mugs.  Sizes vary, but American mugs can hold from 10 ounces to 18 ounces of liquid.  I just bought a huge 18 ounce mug from Starbucks that has the picture of downtown Austin on it.  We fill our unusually large mugs with coffee and wake up our brains for work.

I think, like many things, we perhaps overdid it with the mugs and the coffee.  Tea has about half the caffeine as coffee and English mugs, as a general rule, tend to be smaller.  I always marvelled that the English would drink five cups of tea in a day until I realized that, by drinking tea in smaller cups, they were spreading their caffeine more evenly throughout the day instead of one giant jolt to the system in the morning and then another giant jolt in the afternoon.

As a firm believer in the use of caffeine as a motivational tool, I find the English system a little easier on the body and mind.  I don’t think Americans will be giving up their coffee or giant mugs anytime soon, but I thought I would just pass on what I had observed overseas. 🙂

People transform when they play with children.
In these pictures, look at the faces of the adults.
It’s like bringing a box of puppies into a 3rd grade classroom.

Auntie Allison with Lily
17 June 2008

Uncle Sam and Auntie Bev with Damian and Lily
20 June 2008

Andy with Damian and Lily
23 June 2008

Lindsey with Lily
23 June 2008

I’m attempting to write for RomancePodcast.com.  I’m attempting to pull wit, beauty, and insight from deep within my soul and weave these elements into a masterpiece of storytelling.

But fuck! is it hard!

Really.  I’m not kidding.  I can’t imagine training for a marathon would be any harder than writing.  And somewhere between fear and desire, I completely forget why I started writing in the first place:  I really really enjoy it.

I must somehow reclaim the joy of my childhood writing experiences.  I was fearless.  I was Supergirl.  I wrote for no other reason than it was fun.  Now I torture myself searching for the perfect word, the perfect nuance of character, the perfect twist of plot wrapped in the perfect cadence of poetic narrative.

I love to write.  Have you ever heard a toddler laugh?  Their laugh is pure joy and it makes everyone around them laugh.  The feeling you get when you hear a toddler laugh is the feeling I get when I am writing for the joy of it.  I have to let go of perfection and simply live in the experience.

As an adult, that is not an easy thing to do, but at least now I have a beacon when darkness descends on me while I’m writing.  When I begin to worry if I’m writing utter crap or if I’m struggling to find perfection, I need to remind myself that once I was Supergirl… and I can be her again. 🙂