Conspiracy of Love

Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.
~ Hamilton Wright Mabie

Sometimes, in the rush and chaos of a major holiday season, we forget the original reason for the season. Being a single mom, going back to school full-time on an overloaded schedule, all led me to an overloaded month of December. Having to write over 300 pages of papers and projects in the three weeks leading up to Xmas is almost cruel and unusual punishment.

Ok, so I chronically overproduce, and maybe it wasn’t necessary to write quite that many pages. But I did have 9 papers or projects, plus a history final to take.

This last week of school, I worked a full day plus two half days. I helped with two class parties. And the girls and I baked and baked and baked, getting cookies ready for their teachers. We made 5 kinds of cookies, went through 5 pounds of butter, I don’t know how much succanat and spelt flour. The cookies were delicious, the teachers grateful, and my girls were happy that they helped make someone else happy. My back was a bit sore, but I was happy because my girls were happy (and had the bonus of eating lots of yummy cookies for the last couple days!)

This year, again, I had the misfortune of dealing with a last minute emergency present substitution. Once again, Magic Cabin ran out of stock, and didn’t bother to inform their customers that they weren’t going to receive their orders. I don’t get it. They’re a toy company. Why do they think customers are ordering from them? How could they ever think that one stupid postcard, mailed who knows when, would be enough notification that a present would not arrive? How could they not understand that when orders are placed online, acknowledgements received online (including everything in stock and on its way acknowledgements), and emails sent advising customers to track their orders online, that customers will GO ONLINE to check the status of their order. And how could they think they could print on the package invoice that other items will ship separately, still have a message online that items will be shipped separately, and not have customers trying to wait patiently for items to arrive?

So, Magic Cabin will never again receive another order from me. Never.

I’ve made this vow before, and it took me about six or seven years to change my mind or relent or whatever I did this year. What a mistake.

In comparison, the two companies I found who helped me replace a Santa present at the last minute made personal phone calls to work with me to ensure delivery on time. So if you like Waldorf-inspired toys, and have girls who adore fairies, I heartily recommend these companies:
http://blueberryforest.com/
http://www.willowtreetoys.com/
http://www.seasonsnaturaltoys.com/

Ooops. Sorry. Little detour into feeling sorry for myself there. Bak to what I started to write about: remembering that conspiracy of love. In the end, the endless round of cookies and the last minute frantic internet searches don’t matter. In the end, the look of wonder on a child’s face as she walks into the room, the look of awe as another opens an unexpected box, the hug from the daughter who received the unexpected, those warm wonderful feelings are why we parents put in the time and effort that we do.

This year, in spite of the frenetic pace leading up to Christmas, was quite peaceful for the last two days. We bought a tree very late – Christmas Eve afternoon. I was grateful to find a tree farm still open. A small place, and a very nice gentleman who was able to accommodate my insane schedule. He helped us find a perfect tree, loaded us up, and we arrived home at 4 pm on Christmas Eve, frantically swept and vacuumed the downstairs, put up the tree, and then relaxed to decorate with a new single mom friend without children that evening. We share a bottle of wine, the girls bickered a bit over which decorations should go where, and we survived the experience, got everyone to bed by midnight, and all got a decent night’s sleep.

On Christmas, we had a leisurely morning opening presents and playing games! It was the kind of Christmas that I love, no needing to run out to grandparents, no frantic rushing to get ready. Instead, we drove 20 minutes to another friend’s house, where we had a simple dinner together, played with her little children, talked and shared more wine, bemoaned the problems of poverty and whether they were solvable or not, ooohed and aaahed over pictures of the cosmos, taken by the Hubble Telescope, and remembered that we are just tiny specks in an enormous universe.

We gave hugs, came home to bed, and slept a long peaceful night. Today, we’ll head over to my mom’s for the Christmas party with my extended family!

Joyous Solstice, everyone!

Semester DONE!

I am finished the semester! In the last four weeks, since Thanksgiving week, I have produced over 300 pages of papers and projects! That doesn't count the duplication or borrowing (with permission) that I did from one unit plan to another!

It feels good to be finished.

What was amazing to me is that I realized, as exhausted as I was, that I was still filled with joy, still full of enthusiasm, still working in bliss.

Does that mean I am where I am meant to be, at least for now? Perhaps Pema Chodron says it best:

If we learn to open our hearts, anyone, including the people who drive us crazy, can be our teacher.
~ Pema Chodron

Art Lessons

My daughter learned a tough life lesson this morning. I suppose, in the overall scheme of life lessons, it could have been a whole lot worse. In retrospect, she’ll understand that it truly was just a little thing.

She didn’t think so this morning.

And as I watched her trudge onto the bus, head hung, posture screaming absolute defeat, my heart broke into a million pieces for her.

Parenting is truly a heartbreaking work of art. We put a gentle touch here, a stronger statement there, a delicate hint another time, and a bold statement that just screams right across the middle as we work longer on the piece of art. You’ve had those screaming bold statements, haven’t you? The ones that we just can’t help … passion overtakes us, and in the end, the bold touch has as dramatic an effect on our children as it does on a Van Gogh painting. Hopefully we don’t lose an ear in the process, although I sometimes wonder, as blistered as my ear feels after some of those bold touches.

This morning, as I watched one of my pieces of art, one of the pieces that grew as if by magic, one of the pieces that just poured through me as a vessel which I had very little control over, my heart was shattered once again. After spending far too many hours helping her prepare a watercolor for an art show ... hours on the phone trying to find a way to cover the artwork in plastic (not framed), a long detour to Lowe’s to find stretch wrap, the best alternative I could come up with after phone calls to every frame shop in two counties, and an early waking this morning to help her cover her piece ... I finally read the rules to make sure she had everything attached properly.

And there, in black and white, right in the requirements for the show, it says, “Maximum size 11x14.” Her painting is 11x18.

She’s devastated. She really wanted to show this painting. It’s good, produced at the end of a summer workshop on watercolors. I’m proud of her work; even better, she’s proud of her work. The contest had a cash prize, and she was hoping to win some cash for her exchange program this summer to Australia and New Zealand. Her last words, as she climbed out of the car to trudge to the bus were, “I had a sketch the right size. I could have entered that instead.”

I’m angry at myself. I should have read the rules at the beginning, too. I would have caught the size requirement. I might have been able to save her some anguish.

On the other hand, she did learn a lesson this morning. It was painful. She won’t ever forget to read all the rules to a contest again, though.

It could have been a whole lot worse, like drugs, or teen pregnancy. For that I can be grateful. One day, she will be able to laugh about this. And in the meanwhile, I will guide with delicate strokes and hints of color here and there, allowing her to make the kind of mistakes that will help her grow into an amazing and awesome work of art. She will become stronger, more vivid, full of the confidence of someone who learns lessons well. And my heart will shatter again and again and again as I watch the struggle of the birth of a full and rich human being.

If I accept you as you are, I will make you worse. However, if I treat you as though you are what you are capable of becoming, I help you become that.
~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Information Junkie!

It’s the end of the semester, and I have nine major projects or papers due in the last three weeks of the semester. I can’t remember the last time I slept a full eight hours, and I’m so groggy in the morning that it takes two cups of coffee to get me going, and tea steeped a long time for max caffeine to keep me going all day!

All I begrudge, really, is my sleep. The work is exhilarating, and my head is ready to explode with new ideas, theories, creativity…

I realized at some point last week that I’m an information junkie though. It’s sad, really. Papers that should take me five hours to write end up taking 20 hours instead, because I start researching, and one article leads me to another, which leads to yet another, ad infinitum, and next thing I know, I’m reading about disciplinary literacy instead of multiple intelligence theory, and it’s all so fascinating I can’t stop, but the next project is due on Wednesday and I’m still trying to finish my lesson plans on global warming for the Thursday group project and now I just found another fascinating literacy paper on the Carnegie website. Ack!

So far, the disciplinary literacy paper that I found last week will be used in my global warming project due this week, and the Carnegie paper will help me with my Literacy course unit study. And the fascinating site on mini-offices has visuals that will help me with both the literacy project and the tutoring I’m doing twice a week for IEP students, so it’s all good, but I need to make it stop so I can write!!!

Anyone have any suggestions?

Our minds are finite, and yet even in these circumstances of finitude we are surrounded by possibilities that are infinite, and the purpose of human life is to grasp as much as we can out of the infinitude.
~ Alfred North Whitehead