Will’s genetic coding includes a large dose of pyrotechnics. He was interested in matches at an early age. Because I liked living with a roof over my head, I opted to teach him about matches when he first asked. I figure the more kids have their curious natures addressed, the more they’ll learn, and the less potential problems we’ll have. Better he learn about matches while I’m with him, than while he’s sneaking around by himself in the garage, surrounded by gas cans and lighter fluid.
I’ll go out on a limb and suggest that most boys are fascinated by fire.
To this day, Jenny has not lit a match. I’ve asked if she might be interested. I have suggested that she even light her birthday candles.
She and I are a lot alike, we like a cozy fire, we don’t feel the need to light it.
I will admit that I have added fuel to fires – literally and figuratively. When it comes to Mark, I don’t try to light anything on purpose. I don’t call to rag on him. I don’t send him nasty emails. I don’t stop by his business to make a scene in front of his employees. I want to avoid the chaos and the fire. Continue reading →
Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.
Because it’s Saturday morning. Because my friend just sent these to me. Because these bring a smile to my face, and hopefully to your face, too. But mostly because I’m a mom who is over-the-top proud of absolutely everything her kids create.
I’m not debating whether creativity comes from struggle or whether we are simply a tool to give voice to creativity. I believe we are all born with creative talent. Most of us forget that.
We get older. We lack encouragement. We forget how fun it is to create. We compare what comes from our minds and hands to others and we feel that we come up short. We become too critical of ourselves.
Creativity thrives in an environment where someone (Mark) isn’t telling us that the sun is always yellow, the grass is always green, trees always have leaves and we must always stay in the lines.
I do know that creating something is a healthy way to temporarily escape the stresses and difficulties that life may put in front of us. When we paint or draw or sing or write, our brains get a chance to quit stewing about issues. When we create, we allow our brains a little vacation from being grown-up and responsible. 
While we try to teach our children all about life,
I play mental tricks on myself. When we wake to nine inches of new snow and a temperature of 15 degrees, I tell myself, “Hey, we have lots of firewood, the furnace is working and the skiing will be great.” When our typically bright blue sky is overcast and gray for the second day in a row, I grouse a little and remind myself that I’m getting lots of chores done. When my kids complain about having to do lessons in the morning instead of riding their bikes or skateboarding, I remind them, “You know, you guys could be sitting in a desk at public school for seven hours.”
I’m looking out on the pond. The tall grasses framing the pond barely sway. The butterflies dance from the tips of the grasses and occasionally dip to skim the surface of the water. The pond is so calm it is difficult to discern where the grass meets its reflection. The quiet is heavy in a comforting, secure way. I feel safe and serene and untouchable.
Just received an email from a dear friend. Her youngest has gone off to college. She lives on the other side of the country, and yet I can feel how her life has shifted in a plate tectonics sort of way. I’d like to be camped at her house with cocktails, dinners, movies and whatever her favorite distractions may be. I know that the gesture would be appreciated, but that’s the last thing she would want right now.
What are we doing here?
