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Thursday October 1st, 2009 “Tears are the safety valve of the heart when too much pressure is laid on it.”
Albert Smith
Pip seems to cry a lot in the late afternoon. I think it has to do with the fact that she could still benefit from a wee kip, but she hasn’t had a scheduled nap for almost a year now. If she happens to fall asleep in the car for twenty minutes or so in the late afternoon it makes life much more bearable. Typically, she wakes up at around 7:30 am, and her head doesn’t hit the pillow again for twelve hours. It’s a long day for a little girl.
Lately, when Pip starts to lose it I’ve been saying things like, “Pip, we can solve anything together!” and, “We’re a great team Sweetie; we don’t need to cry about things.” I’ve even tried giving her a mantra, “I can fix this,” but the waterworks have prevailed.
The other day Pip was crying about some infinitesimal matter and I said, “Should we cry about it, or LOVE ABOUT IT???” and I gave her a big hug. IT WORKED!!! She started smiling immediately and the tears shut off as though I’d flicked a switch.
Clearly my grammatical neurons weren’t firing when I coined the phrase, but ‘loving about it,’ might have some legs. For three days running, when Pip is moved to tears because her shirt-tag is itchy or her hands are sticky or Fig has the blue crayon, I say in a game-show-host-kind-of-way, “SHOULD WE CRY ABOUT IT OR LOVE ABOUT IT???” and open my arms for my emotional girl. It takes some patience to put into practice, particularly when I’ve ‘loved about it’ twice in ten minutes, but I sure appreciate being able to help Pip nip her meltdown in the bud.
(The ‘Pip nip’ combination is kind of fun, isn’t it?)
Wednesday September 30th, 2009 “Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains.”
Diane Ackerman
A load of laundry was left, forgotten, in the washing machine. I can’t even tell you exactly how long it stewed in the moist basin, but it was certainly left overnight. When I discovered it, a faint odor of sweaty socks rose to my nostrils. It was at that moment that I asked myself the critical question; do I run the wash again or do I throw everything into the dryer with a fabric softener and hope for the best? I opted for the latter. I had a load of whites ready to roll and I wasn’t about to waste water on a second run of the slightly-smelly clothes. Into the dryer they flew.
Believe it or not, when it came time to fold the laundry, I’d forgotten the potential stink-factor of the first load. I was watching a t.v. show in the evening and folding clothes at the same time. The kids were in bed, my husband was outside working in his shop, and as the subtle smell of hockey-gloves wafted up into my nostrils, I was faced with yet another choice. Do I run these DRY clothes through the wash again because they have a faint odor, or do I fold them, put them away and hope for the best? I considered the content; mostly pajamas and underwear. No problemo. Surely the smell would disappear in a day or two.
Cut to the following night, bath-time. My husband and I were each drying a daughter, and both girls smelled their usual, beautiful, fresh, clean scent. I opened a drawer to pull out pajamas for Fig and passed them to my husband. He immediately drew the p.j.’s to his nose and took a long, deep whiff. “Wow. What’s that smell?”
I was busted. I explained the whole scenario to Big Daddy-O…poor decisions number one and two resulting in stinky pajamas and assorted undergarments. (I warned him to check his undies before he put them on in the morning.) He just shrugged and said, “Oh well.” I appreciated his lack of judgement.
Ten minutes later I found myself upstairs in the dark, nursing a gym-bag. Fig felt the same, but she definitely didn’t smell the same. I couldn’t wait to leave the room. The thought that kept going through my mind was, “I hope that Fig isn’t so repulsed by her own scent that she can’t get to sleep.”
Lesson learned. When in doubt; re-wash.
Tuesday September 29th, 2009 “One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making new discoveries.”
A.A. Milne
Last Christmas we bought a gorgeous, second-hand Plan dollhouse for the girls. It was in mint condition when we bought it, and our daughters have kept it in wonderful shape until this past week when Pip decided to do some interior decorating. She felt that it needed some lovely blue scribbles on the trim.
When I discovered Pip’s decorations, I felt disappointed, which is odd because it’s not my dollhouse. Why should I feel attached to it? Buddha says that all suffering stems from attachment. Was that why I was upset? Hard to say. I am happy to report that I had the presence of mind to calmly ask Pip why she scribbled on the house.
“I decorated the house Mama, isn’t it pretty?” Pip explained. My daughter and I were looking at the same little dollhouse, but where she saw creativity, I saw destruction.
“Pip, you made some lovely scribbles, but we only draw and colour on paper.” As I said the words I realized that I was a hypocrite. A mere twenty-four hours earlier, Pip had been allowed to draw all over the living-room windows. That’s right. She received some ‘window-writers’ at a birthday party and had a glorious time creating window-art.
 
When Big Daddy-O saw the windows he said, “Whoa. How many kids are allowed to do that?”
You can understand why I quickly revised my ‘scribbling rule’ for Pip. “Please do not draw on your toys, Pip.”
“But they’re my toys, Mama.”
Good point. “Well, this doll-house was given to you and your sister to share and Fig may not want the house to be decorated.”
“Okay, Mama.”
My explanation would suffice for now, but I was going to have to put some thought into this. Wasn’t there a successful artist whose parents allowed him to draw on his bedroom walls? Are we stifling children’s creativity by creating too many rules around art? I’m not talking about letting kids paint and draw all over the walls of a home, but if a child has been given something, shouldn’t they be permitted to ‘decorate’ it? If a bedroom is intended to be ‘their space’ shouldn’t they be allowed to decorate it according to their taste?
Pip ran off to play while I fretted about the potential permanence of the blue scribbles.
“Why don’t you try that special sponge?” my husband suggested as he wandered in to survey the damage. I’d forgotten about my, ‘Mr.Clean,’ sponge that was supposed to lift crayon off of any surface effortlessly. This wasn’t crayon, this was ink, but I gave it a try. At this point I can put my friend Heather, who sold us the beautiful doll-house, out of her misery and announce that the scribbles washed-off beautifully.
As I was scrubbing, Pip ran into the room, put her hand on my shoulder and asked, “How’s the cleaning going, Mama?”
Oh my.
Monday September 28th, 2009 “Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today.”
James Dean
 I actually had a little ‘book-launch-nightmare’ Friday night. I was standing in the bookstore with a crowd of people staring at me expectantly, and nobody was buying the book.
I rarely remember my dreams, but if I’m awakened suddenly by a crying child, (as I was Friday night,) it sometimes takes me a minute to differentiate between my dream-world and my real-world.
Walking into the Laughing Oyster Bookshop yesterday afternoon was one of those rare occasions when my two worlds merged. Launching my book was dreamy. Evelyn, the store owner, took one look at me and said, “You look excited.”
Initially it felt like I was reliving my wedding reception as my friends walked through the door and showered me with hugs and congratulations. There were some lovely surprises though, and I was lucky enough to meet some new fans of the blog.
In the end, the ladies at the Laughing Oyster called it a very successful book launch and there were only two books left in the store! (F.Y.I.: firefly: new beginnings and Blue Heron books also carry the book.)
Thank you friends, old and new, for making a little dream come true!
Friday September 25th, 2009 “We exaggerate misfortune and happiness alike. We are never as bad off or as happy as we say we are.”
Honore de Balzac
Who was Murphy and why must there be such a law? On the one night last week that my husband had to go back to work after dinner and skip bath-time duties, Fig defecated in the tub.
I had drawn a bubble-bath, specifically to lure my daughters away from the pleasures of parading around the house with an assortment of musical instruments.
They were both excited about the lavender bubbles and couldn’t wait to dip their chins and design their own bubble-beards. A few moments after the girls began their bath, an impressive series of bubbles erupted close to Fig as she proudly announced, “TOOT!” Pip and I smiled at each other and happily acknowledged Fig’s accomplishment. Then it happened again. “TOOT!” shouted Fig. I guessed what was coming, but I didn’t act fast enough. The red face, the quick grunt, followed by a look of contentment.
I cleared away the bubbles directly behind Fig and saw a dark, shadowy mass. “Pip, you need to get out of the tub right away.”
“Why Mama?”
“Fig pooped in the tub.”
“Where, Mama?”
“You can’t see it because it’s underneath the bubbles, just come and let me dry you off.”
I hastily lifted both girls from the tub, pulled the plug, and grabbed the towels. There was no time to rescue toys; my hands were full drying little bodies.
As I dried Fig, Pip stared at the draining tub. The bubbles were thick, but eventually Fig’s substantial carrot-coloured turd could be spotted. It was covered in a layer of lavender bubbles, and beside it, waving up at us, lay a smiling Gumby. What a fine example of maintaining a positive attitude in the face of adversity.
(Have a great weekend & maybe I’ll see you at the book launch tomorrow!)
Thursday September 24th, 2009 “Music is the mediator between the spiritual and the sensual life.”
Ludwig van Beethoven
We’re a musical family. Big Daddy-O and I both play guitar, I play the djembe, and our daughters already play a plethora of instruments. If we’re not parading around the house making the music ourselves, we’re listening to it on the stereo. The girls are exposed to many different genres but, I have to admit, we don’t listen to a lot of ‘Kids’ music. It would be more likely for Pip to launch into, “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door,” than, “Old MacDonald,” any day of the week.
Pip recognizes many of the artists by name, and the other day we were making dinner together when she asked, “Mama, is this Buzz?”
“What Sweetie?”
“Is this Buzz who is singing this song? Is it Buzz?”
It was Sting.
Wednesday September 23rd, 2009 “Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.”
Amelia Burr
I try to take the girls on an outdoor adventure every day, rain or shine, and last week was no exception. It was a blustery day when I packed a lunch and the three of us headed to Mack Laing Park. (Pip likes to call it, “The Creek.”)
Fig has been to The Creek many times in-utero, in the Baby Bjorn, and in our MEC backpack baby-carrier, but she has never hiked the whole trail out to the beach on her own two feet. For a novice hiker, she was very confident. She quickly took the lead and boldly toddled ahead of Pip and I on the path. Fig is a girl who knows her limits though, and when the terrain got a bit tricky at the end of the trail, she reached for my hand .
We stopped in a cool little ‘fairy-hut’ for our muffin and apple lunch, and the girls danced around inside a beach-fort, pretending they were the children’s singing sensation, “Bobs and Lolo.” We left the fort to toss a few rocks into the ocean, and it was then that Pip noticed an interesting log on the beach. As we approached the spotted log, I realized that it was a dead seal pup. Naturally, the girls were very curious, so I didn’t try to steer them away from the seal, I just asked them not to get too close.
The baby seal was perfectly intact. He had a few flies on his nose and a hint of blood around his mouth, but other than that he looked beautiful. His eyes were deep, black and wide open. They were so shiny, they almost appeared to be twinkling. His whiskers gave him a friendly, almost comical appearance like Dr.Seuss’s ‘Lorax’ character. His entire body sparkled with moisture. He looked as though he should be able to hoist himself back into the water at any moment; but he was completely motionless. I wondered what had killed him.
Fig wanted to pet the seal, so it was a bit challenging trying to keep her away, but Pip was very calm and respectful. She crouched down close to it and studied it for several minutes. She was absolutely still and silent.
The wind was really picking up and it was time to head home for Fig’s nap, so I asked Pip if she wanted to say a little prayer for the baby seal. “Sure Mama,” Pip said. I held Fig in my arms and Pip and I stood on either side of the seal, facing the wind. I sent a little prayer out to the universe, just acknowledging the life of this gorgeous creature and wishing it well on its’ journey. I ended with, ‘Peace and Love,’ and Pip repeated, “Peace and Love.”
We headed home. After I put Fig down for her nap, I thought I’d better check-in with Pip to see how she was feeling about her encounter with the seal. She’d been quiet on the drive back. “Pip, what did you think about seeing the seal today?”
“It was great, Mama!” Not exactly the response I had expected from my sensitive girl. I assumed she must have felt some sadness, and I wanted Pip to know that it was okay to have those feelings.
“You know, I felt a little sad when I saw the seal.” I prompted.
“Why, Mama?”
“Well, I was thinking that the seal wouldn’t get to swim around in the ocean anymore.”
“Oh, don’t worry Mama,” my little sage began, “the seal still has all of its’ power. It still has all of the power to swim, even though it won’t be able to swim in the water.”
Sometimes Pip’s words take me aback. I feel like I’m mothering an old-soul.
She was being perfectly honest when she happily told me that seeing the seal was ‘great.’ She was excited! It was fascinating for her to see a seal that close. She wasn’t connecting the interesting creature on the beach with the notion that its’ life had ended. To her, it was a scientific discovery. A fact of Life.
I thanked Pip for our little talk about the seal. I got a lot out of it. Aren’t I fortunate to have such a patient little teacher?
(I didn’t take my camera on the hike through Mack Laing park, so I’ll leave you with a photo of another local piece of paradise: Goose Spit.)
Tuesday September 22nd, 2009 “If we’re growing, we’re always going to be out of our comfort zone.”
John Maxwell
Okay, it’s time for The Grassman Update! Prepare yourself…
I have to report a rather unfortunate development in the area of Grassman’s eye-grass growth. It seems that some ill-placed grass-seed has grown behind Grassman’s left eye and is fiercely pushing his googley-eye off of his face.
I know; ouch.
I’m sure that Grassman isn’t alone in his discomfort. Perhaps you or someone you love suffers from FCD : follicle cornea displacement. If you have any treatment suggestions, I’d love to hear them. Otherwise, we may be forced to remove the eye and stick it somewhere else.
Monday September 21st, 2009 “When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So what the hell, leap.”
~Cynthia Heimel
So I made a little book over the summer, and I’m launching it at a local bookstore, Laughing Oyster Bookshop, this Saturday, September 26th at 1:00 pm. I can’t quite believe it. When I read the posters that say, “Local author Karen Pantuso-Swanson…” I feel like an impostor. Author? Anyone can publish their own book. What was I thinking???
Perhaps that’s the key; I didn’t think about it too much, I just did it. I took a leap, and the jury’s still out as to whether or not I’ll look like a ‘gigantic idiot.’
I was inspired by my cousin Sheryl and her friend Andreas, who used BLURB, an online self-publishing site, to create a stunning book of Andreas’s art. I thought that the writing I had been doing for my blog would translate nicely into a little gift-book for mothers.
Creating the book was a blast! I am passionate about the subject matter, (motherhood,) and photography and writing are my two favourite hobbies at the moment, so this was a ‘H.O.E.’ project for me. (Heaven On Earth.) The book was made with pure love.
I’m proud of the book. It is no great literary achievement, by any means, but I accomplished what I set out to do: make a tender little gift-book for women of all ages and stages, in honour of the sacred role we play as mothers.
I wish I could give the book away to anyone who wants it, but I’m not in a position to do that at the moment, as it’s rather expensive to self-publish. To be honest, I’m not happy with the retail price of $34.00; it’s a lot of money!
Please know this: I will not be the least bit insulted if you come to the book launch and do not buy a book. By reading this blog right now, you are already supporting me and I appreciate it! So if you’re a local resident and you’re free next Saturday, come on down to the Laughing Oyster; I would love to meet you!
And who knows, you might win a free book! I’m going to have a draw for a free book on the day of the launch and there are two ways to enter:
1. Become a fan of ‘The Grateful Mama’ through facebook.
2. Leave a comment on today’s post.
(Don’t worry, if you live out-of-town I’ll mail the book to you!)
If you can’t make it to Laughing Oyster, the book will also be available at two of my other favourite stores:
firefly: new beginnings (Courtenay,) and Blue Heron books (Comox,) as of September 26th.
And now, here’s a question for you: What constitutes a H.O.E . project for you? (Leave your answer below and your name will automatically be entered in the draw.)
Saturday September 19th, 2009 The lovely Robin Rivers of Our Big Earth reviewed my book today. If you’d like to read her comments, please pop over to her site by clicking on the ‘family’ widget on the right sidebar. (There’s also an opportunity to win a free book!)
I’ll write more about the book launch on Monday!
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