Valentine's Day

There was a lot of red and pink in our household these past few days.  Purple, too.  On the heels of Christmas, I always look forward to Valentine's Day.  I think, "Oh, I've got plenty of time to get organized for that holiday."  As I drive from activity to activity, I dream up projects and compose beautiful cards to my husband, my kids, loved ones, people I barely know...

I didn't actually get pen to paper for my Valentines, but the kids sure enjoyed some frenzied creativity during sub-zero temperatures.  We produced quite a bit, even as some of our ambitions remain undone.  Here's what we made:

• We sent Christmas thank you notes with Valentine hearts enclosed.
• We decorated lingering white Christmas lights with deep red.
• We sent packages to grandmothers that held everything but the kitchen sink.
• June personalized watercolor hearts with her growing vocabulary of adjectives.
• John practiced drawing stick figures on hearts.
• Clara and I sewed some paper bird and heart hangings.
• Pink and white paper around the house became confetti.
• Clara filled little bottles with lavender that we harvested from our yard in, oh 2008.
• Finally, Clara invited friends over to make a flag for the senior center nearby.  Despite our most noble effort, however, we didn't manage to deliver it until after Valentine's Day...

Anyway, here is some evidence of the mayhem:

My Little Vow: Coffee Cups

This past summer, I had the good fortune of going snorkeling with my kids.  It was a scene of mystical perfection, to watch with underwater altered senses as 3/4 of them dove down in slow motion, amidst such color and beauty, flipping and exploring and being amazed.

After our exploration, Clara and I took the long way back and swam parallel to the shore for a while.  Then, on the heels of my snorkeling reverie, I spotted a paper coffee cup and lid on the ocean floor.  In Mo Willems' "Knuffle Bunny, Too" fashion, when Trixie spots a duplicate Knuffle Bunny, our focus zeroed in on that cup like a telephoto zoom lens.  A coffee cup in the coral reefs!?!?!

I practically burst my eardrums diving down to retrieve the cup, but we walked away with it, along with a personal commitment: no more "disposable" coffee cups.  It's a single drop in the ocean, but it's something.

Photo Shoot: Railroad Ties

Recently, I came across some railroad ties.  I love the order they impose on a beautiful mess of leaves or rocks or grass.  One of these shots is from a hike on the edge of Boulder.  Another is at the Denver zoo.  It's both easy and scary to imagine kids on them.  The ties do call out like a playground.  But alone, they look quiet and dreamy and suggestive of some place far away.

Boots and Boats

John and I recently had some time in a wet field - time to make boats and float them in puddles.

Well, to be perfectly honest, John was first drawn to the playground.  I really didn't feel like chasing him around, lifting him onto zip-lines and trying to squelch my height advantage in tetherball.  I personally prefer to spend my time making boats out of grass.  Fortunately, John is a pushover when wearing his "puddle boots."  

So, I lured him into the temporary pond.  Then I got to enjoy taking pictures and thinking about how dreamy he appeared as he made floating objects out of reeds.  Actually, to be perfectly honest again, he stomped on the "boats" the second that they hit the water.   

Anyway, I got my idyllic scenes.  And I do think John had fun with his boots, and his boats.

 

Making Things: A Coat Rack

I am thrilled with our new, homemade coat rack.  It isn't actually functional, but somehow that seems secondary.  It was a collaboration primarily between Clara, John and myself.  Here is what we did:

1.  Clara whittled a huge stick / branch.
2.  I found the base of an umbrella that lost its umbrella to a windstorm probably ten years ago.
3.  Clara's stick / branch fit perfectly into the umbrella base.  (This coincidence inspired the rack.)
4.  John hammered holes in some strips of wood.  (See hammer above.)
5.  From John's holes, I screwed the wood onto Clara's stick.

The wood strips are a bit small, and they flop down under the weight of a coat.  Yes, I know the purpose of a coat rack is to hold coats.  But, some of John's jackets are light enough.  And, Jeff's windbreaker hangs on the top of Clara's stick.  Anyway, we made it so who cares?  At least three in this household consider it art.

Cranberries on Cedar

Today, amidst the cold and snow, Clara and I laid a bright red strand of cranberries on my favorite cedar tree.  Brave, bold colors await a brave, cold chickadee.

Just a few feet away, our warm home feels like a messy blur of color and tone.  Yet, we have our own clear contrasts: little joys and little sorrows, affection and anger, late night quiet and mid-day screams, cuddles and kicks, vegetables and sugars, sweet costumes and temper-inducing socks, dreams and worries, fears and hopes.

I remain inspired by the red on green and white.  Its beauty, its contrasts, and the clarity it inspires.  A nice vision for the new year.

Wimpy Kid

I have long taken the parenting position of "simplify," "take away pressure," "make things easy," "slow down."  I have done so often to make things easier on me, but also to encourage a peaceful, even thoughtful state of mind when facing the world.  Life is complicated enough already.

On a recent trip to the ski slopes, however, I began to question the long-term benefit of my approach.  I watched as other parents pushed their kids to ski, laid on the pressure, ignored cries, dragged them down the mountain, kicking and screaming.  Honestly, maybe these kids will be tougher in the face of pressures in the grown up world.  Maybe they're developing a thick skin when it comes to immediate challenges, whereas my kids might dodge the pressure altogether.  After all, these kids do seem to be skiing.

On the one hand, I want my kids to know how to navigate, even minimize pressure, but what about the times they can't avoid it?  Will they stand strong, or run for their Boulder yoga mats? (Not that I find anything wrong with that...)

To be perfectly honest, I can push right up against that pressure threshold, too.  We were out there skiing.  I could have easily prompted (or exacerbated) a panic attack had I not:

• Offered endless pieces of gum throughout the day;
• Dangled the promise of "hot chocolate" in front of them so much that they don't even want it any more!
• Picked John up after almost every fall, rather than let him lie there and fend for himself;
• Strapped on John's little cross country skies, rather than let him take forever doing his own;
• Taken great care not to touch John as he dismounted the magic carpet ("ALL BY MYSELF!") even if all those behind him had a look of terror, anticipating a domino effect pile-up of bodies should he fall;
• Carefully orchestrated an advanced math turn-taking system for who gets on the magic carpet first;
• Lied a little.

Who really had control in our overall situation, they or I?  Honestly, I'm not sure.  And with all my accommodations, am I heedlessly dodging pressures or subconsciously still throwing my kids to the wolves?

With four kids and ten years of parenting, I don't know the answers.  In fact, sometimes the answers become less and less clear.  I just know that most of us follow our instincts and hope they are good ones, at least a good part of the time.