cooking dinner and melting fear

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Yesterday at 5:23pm 

My son (who has been feeling a little better every day) sits happily at my feet surrounded by pots and spoons, and is mixing together his own recipe of dried bean soup; (making a horrible mess) but proudly serving it to me again and again, saying things like, "This time I added cheese mama. Taste it again."

The girls, each at work on their own endeavors (reading, writing, photo editing) sit around the dining room table. They look up occasionally and alternately to scoop goldfish crackers from a communal bowl, and exchange stories about lunch, PE injuries, and upcoming field trips.

The sun steams in unfiltered. A strong spring wind whistles through a nearby cracked window. Ben Harper sings about Stealing Kisses. My hair is twisted and tucked and struggles to remain in a day's-end loose bun. I stand at my stove making dinner.

I stand at my stove making dinner and I think. I don't know so many things. Sometimes the unknowns scare me half to death, the frustrations threaten to overwhelm me.  I fear my inadequacy, my potential mistakes. I crush under the disapproval of others. I desire an undeliverable kind of comfort and security. I am still very much finding my way, and I definitely don't get it right every day.

But then, there comes a realization.  

In tiny moments like these, amongst everyday tasks and scenery, there is happiness and peace. I don't have to fear leaving them behind, or running out of them, or somehow struggling to create more of them. I love these moments. I love them because they are not dependent upon perfect circumstances, perfect relationships, or perfect people. Having it all figured out is not a prerequisite for enjoying the present.

Whether in struggle or ease I will always have the opportunity to do the best that I can. I will have the ability to build up others, to see good, to create fun, to laugh, to enjoy. No matter what I will always have the capacity to love. It's going to be okay, little moments like these remind me.  

And so I bask in that thought. I enjoy my children scattered about me. I smile at the messes I'm stepping in and around (literally and figuratively). I inhale the fragrance of food being prepared in my little kitchen where lilacs decorate the table. I look down at my toes painted baby blue because it's my favorite color...

And the fear melts.  

 

scenes from spring break

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I took the kids over to Olympia this week. The change in scenery was refreshing.​ Salty air, trees!!, moss, shy visitors to my dad's yard, even the grey skies--  all so lovely.

Sometimes I resign myself to the thought that having four kids excludes me from adventure/exploration. I'm not going to lie, It's a big deal traveling alone with them. It requires patience, preparation, a ton of energy, and it never fail fails- someone always pukes. Often times I'm overwhelmed and tempted to not go.

But getting out of our routines and familiar surroundings seems to open up this magical little space of time where we ​grow. Exponentially. Together. We are on the same plane of awe, and wonder, and experience, and they teach me. Children require a pace that allows freedom to follow their wanderings. In turn, we discover the most amazing marmalade filled croissants at a waterfront coffee stand. We hover over a snail that we've never seen before, and watch it leave a trail of slime. We spend 15 minutes laughing at the way the drinking fountain squirts water in our faces... I would've missed all of it had they not shown me.

It's messy. At some point we will get lost. There is always crying.  Rest assured we will argue. ​And in the end, we are worn out. However, what we take home is a delight in new experience, and memories etched in laughter. ​

I love these kids. I love our adventures.​

“People seem to think you should stop living when you have children, you should settle and stay. But i could never. They’d be missing out on too much adventure. All of us can travel and experience together, making memories, photographs, stories… most people may want to live first and then have children, but for me, having children will be living.”
—  Nirrimi Firebrace

A trip to remember

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Earlier this month I traveled back east to Pennsylvania. I went with my Aunt Emily to surprise my Aunt Joanne for her 60th birthday-- both of them my mother's sisters. 

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​I cannot tell you how much fun it is navigating airports, hotels, shuttles, restaurants, and life with this woman. Such an adventure! She just cracks me up, you have to know her! 

Our secret trip was a success until we ran into my unsuspecting Aunt the day before her party.  We saw her in the Dollar General parking lot, and needless to say, we were 3,000 miles from home and she wanted to know why!  What followed was a lot of hugging, and explaining, and a few tears too. Oh well. It gave us an excuse to start celebrating early.

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{My cousin Jason with us girls}

My family threw a lovely (no longer a surprise) party for The Birthday Girl. 

It was so fun to have everyone together all at once. It had been a very, very, long time.​ 

From there, the party just continued...

We went for a little "hike"​ (Central Pennsylvania is very flat).

{Anna, and Kane, and Ella. 2nd cousins.}​

We did some shopping and lunching. Such a treat!​

And then there was a trip into the city. Gorgeous day in Philly!​

Rural Pennsylvania had some lovely sights as well.​

We also worked in a visit to Hershey's Chocolate World, and another VERY important birthday (Mac's 1st!)​

Above all that we did, and all that we saw, were the feelings I felt.​

Being with these women was not only entertaining and fun, but also offered a familiar comfort. Sometimes I don't realize what I've forgotten about my mother. The sayings they use, the "march" in their walk, the way their upper lip disappears when they smile, the way they love strong coffee and bake cakes from scratch, the feisty gleam in their eye, the way their laugh trails off at the end... it all served as the sweetest little jog to my memory. I loved listening to the stories of my mother's childhood. It was important for me to be able to ask questions and get some of the gaps filled in. And, because my future model of what a mother/woman looks like is quickly fading as I approach the age that my mother was when she died, it was so wonderful to see, and share company with, these vibrant and beautiful ladies. I am so grateful for the time that we spent together.

And after 10 days away, there was a little tribe of people who were anxious to have me back.​ Home sweet home.