Growing Family

Go Texan Day

So we've been doing this Texas gig for about seven months now. It is more and less Texas than we anticipated. And by Texas, I mean big hats, big boots, and bit attitudes.

Our family has a little game (stereotyping, other people may call it) called "that's so Texas!". If we see a truck the size of most people's houses drive over the center median, doing a u-turn accomplished only by about 15 feet of clearance that the tires provide, we yell "That's so Texas!" Now that I think about it, most of our observations center around massive cars and poor driving skills. That and meat, meat, and more meat.

Idling next to this bad boy tailpipe this morning was more rumble than I expected during the school run.

Not long after arriving here, Sprout said, with a gleam in her eye, "what if you're so Texas, you say ya'll to just one person!" She about split her sides with laughter, and so did we.

Today is "Go Texan" day at school, and judging by the attire of the ladies at my doctor's office, in Houston in general. It was yesterday afternoon that I ascertained that we owned one bandana, all our jeans were skinny, and all our plaid hipster. I wasn't about to run out and buy expensive cowboy boots, and denim skirts and leather vests. After a shout out to the internet, ideas rolled in and I'd say we pulled of an acceptable attempt at being Texan for a day.

If you need any cattle or horses wrangled, let me know. I've got one little cowboy ready to go. His technique may need a little improvement but, he's eager to please.

Rodeo season, here we come!

Wednesday's Table

I believe in moments. I think I find happiness in moments that overflow to helping me feel happy in life in general. Conversely, when I experience bleak moments, all of life can lose colour.

Currently in our schedule, Wednesday is a day that has the potential for lots of fractious moments that can combine to it feeling like a rotten day. We have extra things to remember in the morning, two different after school activities, and we arrive home in the dark, hungry (and usually grumpy) right at dinner time.

Parents, you know what those nighst look like. Everyone collapses into the house with book bags falling every which way, and instruments, dance or sport bags plop right underfoot. Homework still needs to be done, lunchboxes unpacked and repacked, and dinner sorted, while school papers are deposited on the kitchen benchtops, all amidst a chorus of "I'm hungry!"

I worked out that a slow cooker dinner really saves my skin on Wednesday, but now I've discovered another thing to change the dynamic from meltdown to a better kind of moment.

I set the table.

It is such a small thing, but it makes a big difference for me. After dumping my purse and keys, I walk through the dining room to the kitchen. The aromas from the slow cooker fill the house and the kids yell "what's for dinner? It smells amazing!" (It doesn't matter what it is. When you're tired and hungry, the fragrant promise of food is enough.)

I lay out cloth napkins. In our house the dinner table has three levels of fanciness for a "regular" meal. We always use the same dishes and silverware, but there might be disposable napkins (nothing special), cloth napkins (a little special), or a tablecloth and coordinating cloth napkins (getting pretty special). I put out my favorite Australian op shop glasses, and include something fresh or flowery on the table. These are coleus cuttings I was propagating on a sunny windowsill, so I just grabbed them for the table. 

I find it also helps if I put any condiments or components of the dinner on the table that can sit at room temperature. As little prep as necessary is the point. Even though I set the table, and I made the dinner earlier in the day, it still feels special to me to come around the corner to see a welcome table, with dinner hot and ready. We plop down, light some candles, and share some moments. With full bellies, and connected hearts, the rest of the evening goes more smoothly.

Do you have any strategies for turning something you dread into something you savor? I've been amazed at how differently I feel about Wednesdays, and as we all know, when Mama is happy, everyone else feels better too!

Play/Work

After a heady weekend decision to start my own business, making up business cards and a name with excitement, and spending more than my husband probably realizes on supplies, I began to have second thoughts. Doubts crept in, and amidst the tumble of the Other Things Going On In My Life, it just seemed too intimidating.

Last night I was talking to my sister. She is an exceptional person. Since she has graduated high school, she has moved to four entirely new cities, on her own, and created a successful life for herself. Most recently she decided to move to New York to pursue her interest in design. Her talent was recognized in school, and now she is doing very important work for one of the biggest labels in the accessories design space. She dreams, she jumps, she flies.

My sister gave me a little pep talk, and as we talked, I felt again how excited I am about this idea. If it works, this business would allow me to spend my time doing what I love to do, and hopefully making some money at it. 

My sister helped me realize that I need to practice talking about what I do, what my product it, and what I'm selling, with confidence. If someone asks for something that is beyond my scope or scale, no worries, I just clarify exactly what it is I have to offer. 

I firmly believe that the thing we dream about, is the thing we should pursue. If I fall asleep at night with certain visions and ideas, and wake up excited to pursue them, that is what I should be doing.

I recently came across this fantastic piece by Peter Gray arguing that children need More Play, not more extracurriculars. He talks about how play is the way children's minds learn to solve problems, and if we withhold unstructured play time from children, we rob them of that necessary skill set that will later enable them to solve the world's problems. I'll write about it more later, I hope, but I was thinking about the concept in regards to myself.

It is important to do work that we find pleasure in. We grow as people when we engage our creative minds. I don't want to shy away from this opportunity because I am afraid of excel spreadsheets.

I spent the whole morning working on this little business of mine, and enjoyed every single moment. I'll reveal what it is soon, and I hope you'll think it is as fun as I do.

Feels Like Spring

Houston's winter was much colder than I anticipated. I bought a wool coat in the big post-Christmas sales, and wore it. When I found a vintage, calf length heavy winter coat in the op shop, I bought that too, and felt the pinch as the cost to have it cleaned was more than the coat itself. I digress.

This week we've been hitting 80F/26C and once again, the kids ended up in the pool one sunny day. Finch's darling little friend informed me "It feels like spring, but it's not. Spring starts March 22nd." Even so, I've got flats of seedlings launching themselves towards sunlight under my windows, bulbs are breaking soil in the garden, birds are twittering to frenzied heights, and nests are being built all around the neighborhood.

Trees are unfurling green flags, and some days I feel that heady madness of changing seasons. I step outside with the dog in the middle of the night, and the air is warm and moist. In the early pre-dawn mornings, the scent of orange blossoms hangs in the air, and in the afternoon, the jasmine I have next to the front door welcomes all our guests.

Spring winds blow strong, and then the air sits full and heavy. The seasons are changing, even if the title of spring has not yet been bestowed.

I sometimes feel a sense of wild fright at the change. What will happen next? Will we make it?

This move has brought beauty and pleasure. At the same time, I do not know if I have ever had such an extended season of fear and stress. I had postpartum depression after birthing Sprout, but that was more a heavy languid blackness than piercing terror.

Since moving we have had thing after thing threaten my confidence in the security and safety of our family. Very little of it can be shared or discussed here. In fact, these are things hidden in my heart that I have scarcely whispered to my mother, in the hoarse tones of robbed sleep and eyes red from crying.

My close friends are far away, and the vessel of letter or phone call is too fragile to hold these fears in my heart. New friendships can't be burdened. My worries would be like rocks thrown on a lilly pad, sinking it quickly and sure.

In the early hours, I speak to God. I hold my handful of woes, I look for the promised light burden. I speak to my spirit, words of hope and future. I bring to mind previous times when darkness has cleared in a moment, pain has lifted, and light has been victorious.

They say that moving is one of the most stressful experiences one can have in life, and I remind myself that I am still working from a deficit. I am simultaneously trying to root myself, while looking forward. I am trying to settle into "normal" when there are still so many unknowns in these next months for us. 

I am trying to connect to bud and blossom, fragrance on the wind, and the evidence of future hope and present joy in all the moments I have been blessed with.

These things that terrify me may blow away like pollen from the trees. In the end they may be nothing of substance. Nothing at all. I may have spent all these months cowering before shadows. I would like to learn to live bravely under threat, bravely in the face of real challenge, and joyful in all the seasons I face. This spring I would like to be strong.

Small Sun Takes Flight

Last weekend we experienced another first, and another fulfillment of the dreams we had in our hearts when we decided to move closer to home. 

Our baby bird flew the nest, for the first time.

That is, Small Sun took his first solo flight to go spend the weekend with his grandparents.

I was pretty much cool, calm, and collected until the check in guy walked my baby boy down that long jetway, and after he paused to give one wave at the end, he disappeared into the belly of the plane. As all the other waiting passengers streamed on to the flight, I acted calm. It wasn't until they were all on board, and out of sight that I began to pace along the windows, worried that a weirdo might sit next to him, or that the plane would hit turbulence and I wouldn't be there to reassure him.

Even after the check in guy returned and said "Mom, he's fine, he's already made friends with all the flight attendants, and looks like he's done this a million times.", I considered making a run down the silver tube, just to give him one last squeeze.

I know some people think that 8 (almost 9) is too young to fly alone. For my son, who has flown the globe regularly, since his first passport with baby curls haloing his face, a direct flight with mum on one end, and eager grandparents on the other, was totally appropriate.

This is why we moved. So that our kids can go spend the weekend working on the tree house, stoking bonfires, playing endless board games, and eating stacks of blueberry pancakes. It was a big first, but it is only the first flight on what will become a well-worn sky trail, between our place and theirs. Sprout is already begging for her turn.

Are We Brave?

I have moved overseas four times. Four different times I have reduced my entire life to luggage and boxes, and launched my boat into unknown waters. 

People tell me "you're so brave, I could never do that."

I've adopted a child, and fostered several, and cared for others that landed in my nest for awhile.

People tell me "you're so brave, I could never do that."

Risk looks different to each of us. Moving overseas does not feel so scary to me. It is familiar. More familiar than staying in one place.

Other things in my life require bravery.

I, for example, don't wear lipstick. It's just too risky. It could end up on my teeth, or smudged on my face, or faded and weird. I just can't handle that level of stress.

I am taking tentative steps towards starting a small business. It will be an outflow of my creativity, and creating the product to sell inspires and delights me. The idea of filing for a tax ID number, and balancing budgets, and filling out spreadsheets, and keeping track of sales and who knows that else, sends icicles down my spine. 

I'm planning to start small. I know to ask for help. After that I have dual fantasies of being discovered for my talent, and being featured in magazines where I can talk with nostalgia about the Sunday I spontaneously made business cards and decided to give it a go, and also hoping that no one will ever call the phone number on those business cards, so that if it is a flop, I won't have to acknowledge that reality.

What can you carry off without a thought, what do you know you will never try, and what are you taking small steps towards?

 

Austin, Texas

Several weekends ago we had foster care training Friday evening, all day Saturday, and a half day Sunday, so with Monday being free (Thank you, Dr. King!), we decided to hit the road Sunday night and go to Austin, which is only three hours away.

We were all exhausted, but after such an intense weekend (on so many levels), we wanted to get away for a change of scenery.

Somewhere past Brenham the kids all had to pee and since we were in the middle of nowhere, we pulled over to the side of the road and had a little pee party (totally illegal in Holland!). It was while the waters were flowing the the kids looked up and said "Whoa! Look at the sky! It's amazing!" It was. For the first time I saw the "big Texas sky", inky blue, with stars covering it like a spilled jar of beads. In that moment, I started to love Texas, and as the kids fell asleep in the back and it was just The Captain and I driving in the dark, talking in the glow of the dashlights, it felt like magic. 

We spent the night with some friends from our Nashville days, who were gracious enough to open their home to all five of us, wandering in, bleary eyed, late at night. In the morning, after breakfast, we were off for a day of adventure.

Fossils! Finch was in!

Here you could dig for fossils with the buckets and shovels around. Sprout unearthed a giant spine.

 

Maybe it was the color of the sky, or the abundant use of natural stone, or the gold hue of winter grass, and green grey cedars, but Austin immediately felt like Australia. Like HOME.

The day was just gorgeous, and after the morning at Champion Park, we went into downtown proper and enjoyed some antique browsing, and lunch. With full bellies we arrived at the Botanical Gardens.

I love to visit botanical gardens in winter because I enjoy seeing the shape and the form of the garden's bones. All good gardens begin with the bones underneath, even if the blooms and flush are what catches our eye.

I have an ongoing love affair with Crepe Myrtles. Don't judge, I'm a tree hugger.

 

I loved the giant structure on the right for planting climbing beans, and the stone paths and raised stone beds with winter lettuces.

My favorite feature was the narrow channel shaped in natural stone that led you through an extensive amount of the garden.

Boys + Koi pond = Fishing Opportunity

 

Of course the children ended up taking off their shoes and socks to wade in the stream, and I found a perfect bolder on which to sit, feet submerged, and watch them. They fell in, of course, and had a wonderful time.

We returned to the car soggy, happy, and with enough blue sky in our hearts to carry us forward.