Change of heart.

6 year old B just pulled her bath towel into the tub with her.  A full sized bath sheet.  Got it totally waterlogged, and then pulled the drain.  While i was watching a TedX documentary in the next room.     It will take forever to dry.  And laundry day for towels was yesterday so we have a while to wait with soaky towel. My initial reaction?  Anger.  Frustration. Reprimands, and calls of "why oh why do you keep doing things like this to me?!!!"

.....

To me.

.....

Her response? "But it's MY towel!"
More arguing over the towel's 'owner'.
About who has to do laundry and who paid for the towel, etc etc. ....

And then it hit me.

To her, I was being the adult voice in those old Charlie brown cartoons -

"Wanh- Wanh-wanh. ...wanh-wanh-wanh ....wanh" 

She was learning nothing, gaining nothing, benefiting in no way from my ridiculous diatribe over a wet towel.

And really.  It was just a freaking towel.

I was yelling at my daughter for thinking outside the box.  I was yelling at my daughter for making ME think outside the box.

Me! Seasoned Pinterest hunter of new and creative and unusual ways to learn and have messy fun!

So I stopped. And looked.  Really looked.  And saw what she saw.  A medium for creativity.   Amidst the heavy folds of semi-submerged towel there were valleys.    And mountains.  And rivers.  And most interestingly,  a large dam, blocking the last of the water from descending down the drain.

And I regrouped.

 

So we talked a bit about the dam, and what it was doing, and how it worked. And we washed up B, no arguing over shampoo or soap, for the first time in ages, and made soap-sud mountain-peak snow...  and turned the shower on to replenish the reservoir (and rinsed her off)....and she happily played, and discovered, trying new ways to create a fountain or a waterfall,  or to connect rivers and lakes.....

cat assessing bathtub towel aftermath....verdict:  no biggie.

And when it was all done, I wrung out the towel and hung it to dry.

Later that night, putting B to bed, I shared my learning experience with her.  I told her about how frustrated I was at first when I saw only what she shouldn't have been doing, instead of what she was trying to do. 

And I thanked her.

For the learning experience. 

For teaching me.

my heart, divided

last lullaby ended
sounds of deep breathing
little breaths
i press your warm little fingers
to my lips

my heart fills
my throat closes and 
chokes on a 
sadness 
and love
and regret

i'm sorry, little one
for raising my voice
despite knowing
today
as every day
that it won't be
the solution

sorry
that i'm not filled
every moment
with the wonder and marvel
that is parenthood

sorry
that i choose,
occasionally,
to miss out 
to give up opportunity
choose, occasionally,
time just for me

sorry
that i haven't perfected 
happily laughing through
each tantrum
each meltdown
each disagreement
each "accident"

despite each parent
each relative
each friend
each stranger
each book
each magazine
each poster
each advertisement
each website
each tv show 

telling me
reminding me 
scolding me
flaunting wisdom and 
perfection 

reminding me
reminding me
reminding me

that these days will end
that they will be missed
opportunities dwindle
clock ticks by

reminding me
reminding me

that you will grow
and not want
the attention
that you now crave

now demand
now require
now expect
each minute
each hour
with every breath

reminding me

that you will one day
before i know it
leave me

and the middle-of-the-night calls
that wake me from my dreams
that tear me from soft warm bed
pillow
blanket
solitude

that we negotiate
plead
beg
hope
will end

may actually 
do just that...
...disappear

the cuddles
snuggles,
caresses
stolen in the single-digit 
early hours
1am, 2, 3....

whispers of
"I love you mommy"
 tight grasp of hands
tucking of tiny toes
into warm folds of flesh

my heart fills
my throat closes
and chokes
as i listen to you breathe
deeply
rhythmically
sweetly

that every moment 
can not be perfection
can not be appreciated
for the miracle that it is
for the wonder
for the special

that my patience
is not limitless
that my temper
can not always hold at bay

this tearing of my heart
keeping myself
and losing myself in you
this conflict
tug-of-war
between 
needing my space
and 
needing you

so many labels
so many words
so many emotions
so much of myself
given in the single word:

mommy.

A little note about "making a deal"

Dear well-meaning bargain-hunting customer:

I appreciate that you are on a tight budget.  That you are single income, that you can't afford to spend the prices I may be asking for the products I create.  I hear you when you say you can buy a similar product at Walmart or Target or Macys for half that price.  I occasionally share your feelings when I see a beautiful piece of pottery that someone has handcrafted and know that I can't justify spending $60 on a mug.....

But here is where we differ.  When I see something beautiful that I can not afford, I do not ask the artisan to lower their price for me.  I do not ask them to sell me 3 or 4 or more at a significant discount.  I do not ask for them to give me things for free if I spend money on other things they make.Something that my potential customers may not understand:  When I set a price on something, I already take into consideration the cheap versions of my items out and about in discount stores, mass produced for a pittance by overworked underpaid production workers in China, India, Thailand, or wherever they've come from.  When I set a price for my work, I leave out the time it takes for me to source my materials (hours a month), or to come up with ideas and create prototypes (hours a month and dollars "wasted" on things that will never be sold).  I also leave out the cost of selling online, advertising online, the percentages taken by paypal and Etsy, or Visa, Mastercard, American Express.  I don't charge for the cost of my Market stall each week.  What is left is the actual cost of the materials being used, and what I value my hours of work at.  Generally, I work things out so that I am actually netting about $5 per hour.  FIVE DOLLARS PER HOUR.  Some things I make a little more on, some things a little less.  LESS than $5 per hour.  This is what I get paid to spend time making things for your little one, for your gifts, trinkets, toys...  That is less than half of current minimum wage here in Ontario.  My time away from my children, away from my housework, away from my own leisure time, television time, often even sleep time!!!

I justify this wage because sometimes I can work while doing things with the kids or watching television.  Sometimes. I justify it because I do enjoy it.  I get to create things I want, things you want.  I get to hear praise about my work, suggestions, ideas...I get to see your beautiful little ones...  

But mostly, I just swallow it.  I accept that crafters never make a living wage on their work.
Consider your own job.  Would you work for less than minimum wage?  Would you accept your boss asking you to work extra hours and offering to pay you less to do so?  You are a stay at home mom?  Guess what.  So am I.  This is what I do around my time with my girls.  One with special needs.  Working more for less means less time with my girls...  Less under the tree for my girls this time of year.. Less opportunity to support other crafters with my purchases...

So please.  I ask but one thing.  PLEASE, don't ask me for a discount.  Don't tell me you can get it cheaper somewhere else.  Don't ask for a better price if you buy more than one.  Selling two means exactly twice the work and twice the time.  Selling three, well, you get the idea.  Why should I make less money for doing more work?  Do you?

Sincerely,
a very tired, and slightly overworked,
Me

my daughter

our bodies,
which were once one
fit together still

your little head 
tucked perfectly against me
little fingers picking
at the softness
of my sweater

we were meant to be together
you and i
our differences more similar
our similarities more different

you mirror to me
all of my hopes and dreams
my strengths 
my weaknesses
my fears

from whence you came
you shall never fully return
but my heart
and yours
shall remain
connected

as you reach out into this world
exploring
growing
learning

in your own way
because of me
despite me
to spite me
regardless of me
learning

stumbling
more than others
perhaps
finding strength
more than others
perhaps

overcoming
all obstacles
never alone
always with my heart
connected

my strength 
connected
my happiness
connected
my love
connected
to you

little toes
pressed firmly 
against warm 
weathered flesh

little heart 
pressed firmly
against warm
weathered heart

giving
taking
connecting
loving
learning
teaching

you are

my daughter

Thank GOD I'm CrAzY!!!?!

So there's something to be said about being a little loopy.  Whether or not the loopy came before the kids is a debate for another day, but it's a useful tool in the day to day world of parenting, let me tell you... 
here's my favourite parenting tool, The Voices In My Head - 
These are perfect for maintaining an exterior of calm, while inwardly screaming at kid top volume.  As we see in this dialogue:


Outside Voice, the one the kid hears - "Did you just turn on my sewing machine again?"

kid - "yup"

Inside Voice, the one screaming in my head - "G-D kid.....how many TIMES do I have to tell you to leave my REALLYEXPENSIVEMACHINE ALONE!!!"

Outside Voice- "You know I don't think it is safe for you to play with my sewing machine without me, right?"

kid - "Yup.."

Inside Voice- "GRRRRRRR..."

Outside Voice- "What made you think it was a good idea to use my machine without me?"

kid - "cuz I wanted to....."

Inside Voice- "OMG if I did everything I fricken' wanted to just cuz I wanted to....and you should KNOW BETTER, I ONLY TOLD YOU THIS 3 FRICKEN" MINUTES AGO!!!!!"

Outside Voice- "I love that you have good ideas in your head that you want to explore.  I love that you wanted to make something all-by-yourself..I just don't like that you aren't listening when I'm trying to keep you safe, so now we have to leave the sewing room, and we can't finish the project that we were working on together."

kid - "YELL, SCREAM, WHINE, SHOUT, COMPLAIN, PROTEST.....!!!!!!!!!!"

Inside Voice- "OMG, IF I HAVE TO LISTEN TO THIS ALL DAY I MAY GO POSTAL...CUT THIS OUT THIS INSTANT!!!"

Outside Voice- "I hear that you are upset by this change in events....but it isn't safe to have a person who is having troubles listening in the sewing room - we could get hurt, so out we go..."

kid -"I love you mommy, we will sew later?!"

Inside Voice- "Not if I have anything to say about it, that's MY sanctuary, and you will stay the hell away!"

Outside Voice- "We will discuss that later after your bath."

.................etc etc.....ad nauseum.......

"Completely convinced that each white hair is one inside voice dialogue leaking out my skull...."

Important lessons in life taught to me by my special children...

• My schedule need not always apply.
• Sometimes there's nothing more lovely than toes on a warm heating vent.
• Just because I'm the adult, doesn't mean I always know better.
• Feelings are subjective:  
• Scary for me isn't the same as scary for you 
• Loud for me isn't the same as loud for you
• Bright for me isn't the same as bright for you
• itchy for me isn't the same as itchy for you
• hot for me isn't the same as hot for you.  
• etc...etc...   
• You are never too old, too sophisticated, too tired, or too busy to drop everything and dance to the music in your head.



Winter Garden - sticks, plastic bags, tape, and a 4 year old.

•  Pyjama days are a necessity of life.
•  Crafts do not need training, store bought supplies, or Pinterest - tape, scissors and a plastic shopping bag can make beauty.
• Sometimes an hour of clean up is worth it for 15 minutes of exciting discovery and creativity
• Cleaning the house is not as important as doing a puzzle.
• Being a kid IS harder than being an adult - we were right!
• Proper spelling is subjective - D4 works just as well as BEFORE , depending on how you pronounce it in the first place...
• booboos are TRAGIC - but only if you can SEE them - Band-aids do make you feel better.
• The only opinion that really matters is that of the cat.
• You can have way more than ONE favourite ANYTHING.
• Of COURSE birthdays mean parties!?!?!!
• Spinning around in circles is a necessity of life.
• There's no point in staying upset, or holding a grudge.
• Stickers on the door frame do constitute beautiful interior design.     
•  Sleep when you need it - not when it's scheduled.
• Most learning doesn't happen in school, or by direction.
• The box has WAY more potential than the toy inside.
• Not everything you read in the parenting books applies to me.
• Love is unconditional.
• Everything I expected to be and do as an adult was wrong - But this reality is WAY WAY better. 

The *ahem* ART of being messy

I love my central vacuum.  I mean, really LOVE it, in a protective, take-it-away-and-face-the-wrath-of-J sorta can't-function-without-it kinda way.  We use that thing for every possible clean up activity.  Rice on the table and floor from messy kids at dinner?  Vacuum.  Ground coffee spilled around coffee pot in early-morning delirium?  Vacuum.  Kid gets popcorn crumbs all over self and in shirt?  Yup.  Vacuum.  we even do our precursory dusting (on the occasion that the dusting actually gets done, i.e. we're having company) with the brushy-little-attachment-thingy on our vacuum.  Post baking flour mess, cat kibbles and bits of playdough, gunge between the couch cushions, VACUUM.  That thing comes out 2 to 3 times per day.  I'm not even exaggerating.

When the girls were little, we even adored our baby-vac nasal aspirator.  For those that don't know it, it is a pressure-regulated tube that successfully sucks the boogers out of your child's schnozz by attaching it to the hose of your VACUUM.  I swear I saved B from imminent choking to death on milky spit up with that thing on more than one occasion in her infant year...  If I thought I could convince my partner, we'd probably own one of those Flowbee things...okay, that may just be pushing it a bit.  Can you believe that thing still exists?  I remember laughing at the late night infomercials with friends at a sleepover when I was a kid.

gooey playdough ingredients before cooking

Why do I love my vacuum so much?  My house gets messy.  And we're not talking the usual 6 to 9 crumbs on the floor from dinner, a bit of road salt from shoes at the front door and cat hair on the rug sorta messy.  We're TOTALLY talking about the mommy-lets-the-kids-play-in-2 lbs-of-flour-and-dried-lentils at the kitchen table, makes magic mud every few weeks, 4 year old still eats with her hands regularly, crafts up the yin-yang, home-made playdough crumbs, and the kids get to feed the cats their kibble (all over the floor, rarely all in the bowl) sorta messy.  Oh, and my youngest hardly EVER wears shoes or socks, indoors or out in the sandbox/garden soil/dried leaves/SNOW, we like to eat messy foods over the living room rug, and the small one likes to tear pieces of bread to smithereens, or crumble crackers to pieces...finger paints, finger foods, dried leaves, catnip, cat hair from 3 cats, sawdust from the disastrous -garage-workshop, raw wool and sheepskin hole-punches, bits of thread, wool sweater, yarn and fabric from my craft room, diligently dragged through the house by wool socks and cat feet...

sensory bin play - flour/dried noodles and beans/lentils

I always apologize for my messy house to everyone that enters.  I'm not sure why...Maybe it is because of the archaic voice in the back of my head that tells me that I should be keeping this place clean as the "stay at home mom"....but I look at the piles of craft supplies, kids' drawings, school projects, junk mail, bills, kids' magazines, etc... that adorn the side counter of my kitchen, mingled with the beloved blender, microwave, toaster oven, bowl o' fruits....unwashed dishes, mason jars or lids from mason jars...my house isn't scuzzy-dirty, just "lived in".  *realllllly lived in.  But really.  given the opportunity to wash a dish versus play in magic mud, what would YOU choose?!  

the tidiest fingerpainting she's ever done.. thanks pinterest!

B, about 6 or 8 months ago, told me that I wasn't an adult...that I was a "Kidult"!  Remember, this child wasn't quite 4 years old at the time.  I cling to that title like a badge, let me tell you!  And how does a kidult spend her day as a stay at home mom?  Especially when there's a 4.5 year old to play with?  Well, occasionally I take a break from playing hi-ho Cherry-o, UNO, or painting pictures to do some real life "mommy jobs" as I call them...I do some of the real work...but compared to what I imagine other moms who stay at home are capable of, I often feel like I am falling flat. 

I comfort myself by using the mantra that my super mom-in-law taught me.  "This is a living house - it is for living in".  I take that to mean that we are allowed to get messy here.  it isn't a museum. 

And if I want to make magic mud and vacuum up the remains, more power to me.