Lovely World

control

Do you ever try to control the people and things around you?

I do sometimes (I used to do it a lot more, I'm loosening up). And it never really gets me anywhere. I have begun to note that the harder I push at controlling people or things, the worse it feels. My body and mind become tight, constricted, and inflexible as I try to impose outcomes that would probably be well enough left alone.

My children and my husband are often at the receiving end of my efforts to control. I think this comes from the perceived role I have taken on to make the day, and our lives in general, run along smoothly and on schedule. Do you ever find yourself barking out orders like a drill sergeant? In particular, I do this in the morning as the kids get ready for school and in the evening as it gets close to bedtime. This is good for no one. And interestingly, on the days I am not working myself up into a tizzy, everyone gets off to school and to bed just fine.

Another potential area of trouble: food. Trying to control what my kids eat. That is a tough one. (One of the very funniest essays I ever read touches so beautifully on this: Ian Frazier's "Lamentations of the Father" in the Atlantic).

So where is the better place to be? Of course, it never hurts to ground myself right there in the moment. No worries about what comes next. My infatuation with the past and future only act to unanchor me from the task at hand.

I recently found myself sorting it out this way:

control = fear of loss of control = burden to self and others

loving care = interdependence = closer trusting relationships

So, I can be a parent (or be a wife, or a friend) who acts out of a place of fearful control or out of loving care. I pick the latter. How about you?

I've noticed this process of control vs care in knitting. When I'm knitting without angst, the yarn gently unwinds from the ball and twists itself into the piece I am making. If I am in some way frustrated with my progress, I am more likely to drop a stitch or knit too tightly or botch things up some other way.

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"Only in an open, nonjudgemental space can we acknowledge what we are feeling. Only in an open space where we're not all caught up in our own version of reality can we see and hear and feel who others are, which allows us to be with them and communicate with them properly." Pema Chodron

haircut

It was hard for her to take care of it by herself. Sometimes we fought about it. She asked for a haircut and I said yes.

She is more aware of herself now at 10 years old, and how she fits in with her peers. It is my job to help her find her way. I secretly like that the haircut make her look younger.

more snow

We are in the grip of hard falling snow. Again. Maybe two more feet before it is over.

This excessive amount of snow, and a case of crazy cabin fever, has led my family to jump off the roof. Our house is of modern design, with a flat roof. (In New England? What was the architect thinking?) We have to shovel the snow off the roof, and this has made great piles of snow around the perimeter of the house. It is into these piles that the jumping occurs.

Of course, I was not home for the first episode of jumping. I'm sure I would have given my husband the evil eye and put the over-protective mother kibosh on the whole affair. I've relaxed about it now, though.

I think taking (controlled) risks can be good children. Gaining a sense of mastery, and overcoming anxieties, can mature a child in a healthy way. There are so many unhealthy risks for children to engage in. Perhaps building safe risk-taking into my children's lives will make the unhealthy risks unnecessary and less attractive.

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Do you know about wingsuits? Humans flying? Watch this:

 

place of rest

Our sense of the world is shaped by what we experience. A child's first sense of place is the home. Memory is formed in the landscape of home. What must it be like to have no home, no safe place? What must it be like to have to leave a beloved home because of war or persecution or poverty?

I have deliberately created a place my children can rest. All children will come to know the inevitable ugliness that exists in the world. Memory of rest and beauty and play can be a lifelong balm to adult angst. Is this where optimism rises from?

Clearing blue sky, a promise in bare branches. In winter, there are sunny days. In adulthood, childhood can return.

birthday boy

Happy birthday to my little boy.

Today you are 7.

You are busy, kind, a good friend.

I told you to stop growing so fast. You said you'd try, but you didn't think you could. That is okay. I enjoy watching you become the person that you are meant to be.

back home

 

Today I picked my 10-year-old daughter up from her two weeks away at camp in Vermont. This is the first summer she has been away to camp. The first time she has ever been away from home for more than a night or two. She had a fantastic time. It was just the two of us for the entire ride home, and I got to hear about everything. I'm so happy for her. I told her that this is just the beginning of her venturing away from home and family. We will always be here, with our love and support. This is her home. But, she will find many adventures and friends apart from us. I never thought I'd be at this place when she was born a decade ago, but it feels just fine.

hospital-bound handwork

My son spent the last two days back in the hospital for bleeding after his tonsillectomy. Time stands still when you are in a hospital, particularly with a child. We are exhausted, but very glad to be home. Bleeding is a potential complication of a tonsillectomy, but of course we had hoped it wouldn't happen to Adam.

I had begun some new embroidered felt brooches last week. The stitching was quiet and I could do it with Adam hanging out on my lap. When we ended up back at the hospital, I needed a portable project to keep me busy as I sat for the long hours on the Pediatric ward. I was able to finish up a bunch of the brooches and I am very happy with them. As many of you have probably noticed, I am partial to animal imagery (and nature themes in general) for creative work. I also like circus imagery.

The bottom photo shows an 1870s watercolor, "Man Feeding a Bear an Ear of Corn," by an unknown artist. I found it in the book "The Flowering of American Folk Art." It inspired the brooch I made with the black bear and red ball.

Two notes:

** I plan to list some of these brooches and others in my etsy shop shortly, so keep an eye out for the update.

** The little mushroom I have been using as a portable pin cushion (shown in photo above) is a pin sent to me by Fanja of Le Train Fantome when I ordered one of her Lumi dolls.

who could this be?

Who could this be? He is such a shy, quiet creature. He is gentle and never makes trouble. He looks a wee bit royal in his blue cape.

He is a bit of a work in progress. I was experimenting with a pattern for a polar bear. This guy was a discard. I had thrown him on the floor under my sewing table. My daughter wandered into my work room the other day and picked him up. She liked the look of him. She asked me if she could have him. Of course. She disappeared into her room after rummaging through my scrap bags. Back for a needle and some embroidery thread. When she returned again she revealed this lovely creature. She had made the cape with velvet trim and embroidered this very sensitive expression on his face.

I am continually thankful for the ways in which my children complete my life in so many (unexpected) ways.

quotable sunday

She discovered with great delight

 that one does not love one's children

just because they are one's children

but because of the friendship formed while raising them.

- Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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(My daughter made these wild-haired, happy folks the other day. She is a clever girl, and I do find such pleasure in having her around.)

quotable sunday

Sweet and Low

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,

Father will come to thee soon;

Rest, rest on mother's breast,

Father will come to thee soon;

Father will come to his babe in the nest,

silver sails all out of the west

Under the silver moon;

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

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Since having children, sleep has taken on all kinds of new meanings. This poem reflects the gentle, quiet times that co-sleeping has brought to my life. My children are getting older; sleep is easier. But, falling into dreams together continues.

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Be sure to check Friday's post if you have an interest in sharing old quilt blocks!