**I started another blog for writing things, and then figured, why separate them? This is my blog, I'll do what I want with it, so there will be more writing here, probably less sewing centric posts and more things about everything. Enjoy!**
A while ago I asked my kids what love means. What they think it means
to be loved, to love someone else, and to show love. I was
brainstorming something and was looking for some fresh eyes in
They whispered adorably for a few minutes, and then my oldest said one of those wisely clear things I was hoping for.
"Love is when the place you are in is the place you should be."
Isn't that perfect? I wrote it down immediately.
The day before I asked this was a little touch and go. There are some days that I find so
incredibly full of love, yet so incredibly frustrating!! Each
instruction I give, each reminder for caution, each prompt to be clean
is obviously given drenched in motherly love, rooted in my concern for
their well being! Obviously, these little cherubs of mine know this deep
down in their guts, just as I did when I was their age, but obviously
still do things with ignorance, and rudeness, and attitude. Of course
they do! They're kids.
I'm constantly wondering how
much concern is enough and how much is too much. How many reminders are
too many and what is reasonable and responsible. How much sass should I
tolerate and shrug off and what kind of lessons should I be teaching
them? It's a constant back and forth struggle in my head, as I'm sure
it is for all parents. It can be difficult to take comfort in that,
especially when if feels like I'm getting all the levels wrong, everyone
is reacting badly, like I've miscalculated the formula by just one
number and it ruins the entire equation.
noticed how resourceful these kids of mine have gotten, and how much
like me they are. I vividly remember clambering all over the kitchen
counters, snooping for my mom's chocolate stash, and then I found a kid
spoon stuck in the Nutella jar of our present day cabinets.
It's exciting and
equally terrifying watching them grow up, get stronger, expand their
world and their decisions, and become their own people.
also trying to intentionally cultivate my creativity and started with all those feelings swirling
around after this rough day we'd gone through. I drew a bunch of birds gathered in a heart, with a few flying
away and wrote "sometimes you have to let your
heart fly," which still feels incredibly immature and middle school, but
anyway, that's what I wrote and that's what I drew.
have a hard time expressing my own feelings, they always seem so syrupy,
naive, and unproductive that I usually try to ignore them so being
creative has always worked to help make sense of things, or at least acknowledge them enough to move forward. As long as
our mothering instincts come from a place of love and reasonable logic,
then the next generation should turn out alright.