saturday mornings.

” a look at my bedroom windowsill”

saturday mornings mean sleeping in.

maybe not sleeping but lying in bed with no rush to be anywhere.

sometimes girls in my bed, sometimes girls running up and down the hallway or behind closed doors playing with legos.

saturday mornings are about lengthy stretches and rollovers.  burying your face in the pillow or wrapping yourself around one.

saturday morning means lying around thinking about the weekend what we should or want to do.

saturday mornings mean drinking tea slowly rather than rushing  out the door to spill down your skirt on the way to the car.

saturday mornings mean a morning walk with the dog down the back path in the woods.

saturday morning means noticing the changes that are happening amongst the trees and getting excited.

saturday mornings are meant for egg sandwiches or egg wraps or omelets.

saturday mornings are about hoping for a lot to happen, which may or may not come to fruition.

still there is  a lot of promise in Saturday morning when nothing has yet started.

this Saturday morning there is sunshine and bird song.

it is one of those Saturday mornings I am in bed by myself and the girls are hidden behind their own door.

this Saturday i may hike or write or edit or stop by the farm.  maybe this saturday i will finish some collages.

regardless, Saturday is here and it doesn’t yet hold the tiredness or disappointment of Sunday evening.

it holds the promise of all those things yet to come.

home.

i’ve spent the last three days at home.  sick.  it’s been hard for me to be still, but these two are doing an excellent job of showing me what you do when you are home alone all day.

 

Who Am I?

{i think we should write these all the time, not just in elementary school}

 

I am a sister and friend.  My Mom would call me a daughter, but my aunts and uncles would call me a neice.  To my sister I’m a older sister, but in school I’m a student.  I am a grandaughter and a great-grandaughter.  Also I am the cousin of twelve other cousins.  I am very serious about my musician part in life.

My friends would tell me I am funny and friendly.  My Mom would say I’m pretty and sometimes worrisome.  My teacher would say I’m smart.  To me I’m a singer and a animal-holic.  My dad would say I’m creative.

Here are things I like.  I love burgers and books.  Some people know my favrite colors lime green and hot pink.  I like playing outside and flowers.  In winter I like sledding but in summer I like to swim. I like skirts all kinds of them.  I like to do make up and hair.  I love snow.  I like cool stickers and dill pickles.

–by Emily Istvan, the last stages of age nine.

 

**********     **********     **********     **********     **********     **********

 

I am a sister and a friend.  My mother would call me a daughter who is almost a clone.  My aunts and uncles would call me a niece.  To my sister and brother I am an older sister.  I am an aunt lost in translation.  I was and would even now be a poor student.  I used to be a wife.  I am not any longer.  I may call myself that again, but that is hard to realize.  I am a grandaughter and for a period of time a great-grandaughter.  I live in the place of my great-grandparents.  I am the cousin of seven, two of my aunts have kitties instead.  I am very serious about the photography part of my life.

My friends would tell me I am strong and a mindful mother.  My mother would say I am courageous and sometimes prone to worry.  My boss would say I am friendly and persuasive, he would say I draw people in.  My boyfriend would tell me I am the love of his life.  To me I’m a writer and a mother.  Also, I think I’m pretty empathetic.  My Dad would say I am impatient and quick to fly off the handle.

Here are some things I like.  I love pasta and a nice glass of wine.  I love getting lost in a really good book.  Some people know my favorite colors are blue and green, the colors of the earth.  I like being outside.  I love trees, but kill flowers.  In winter I like staying inside wrapped up in blankets with hot tea and chocolate chip cookies.  In summer I like to be among the trees.  I like skirts and prefer tank tops. I wear little to no makeup and it requires a lot of time to do my hair.  I like art and really sweet but sappy independent movies.  I love olives, I always have.

–by Jennifer Istvan, ten days short of turning 39.

6:55 am, friday morning

here i am.

6:55 am.  friday morning.

i’ve hit the snooze alarm too many times already.

each time choosing to fold myself back under a heavy comforter.

warm.

it’s raining.

raining, not snowing.

hooray.

the sound of the rain coming down is one of my favorite sounds.

perhaps it is just my love of water in all forms.

when i was young i would lie in my bed and listen to rain on a tin roof.

now i am listening as the rain trickles down this one.

melting all the snow outside for sure.

right now i am content to lie here and listen, from under the heavy comfort of the bedsheets.

but know i must get up soon.

pack the lunches, kiss the little ones goodbye, either a smack on the cheek or a nuzzle on the top of their heads.

slog through ten hours of work.

friday, the longest day.

but on the other side, freedom.

weekend.

a movie to snuggle up and watch together tonight.

friday nights the girls get to sleep in my bed and i camp out in one of theirs.

i have a free weekend this weekend.

had asked if anyone wanted to go out.

but now thinking about taking my camera to the ocean.

something about all that sea.

makes me think about endless possiblity.

lying here in bed, first thing in the morning.

faint light through the windows.

quiet.

makes me dream of possibilities.

before my feet hit the floor.

cold.

before the business begins.

but i’ll carry possiblity with me today.

i promise.

and hopefully, i will capture it through my lens.

this weekend.

and bring it home.

Week(ends)

(lots of smiles this weekend, all around)

Emily told me today that it was unfair that we only get two days for the weekend.  Not enough time, she said.  I have to agree, it seems completely unfair. So I told her that.  And then I said, “wait until you’re grown up and you don’t get summer or Christmas vacation anymore either”.  When did I become this person who says such things, such a mother.

So it is Sunday night again.  I wondered why at 8:00 p.m. I was vacuuming?  Why do I always save the housework until last?  I am a procrastinator extraordinaire.  But there is that list, you know.  The one for 2011.  The one that  maintains the three must do’s:  live, laugh love.  Vacuuming comes after.

I skipped the grocery.  Took a lot of photos of a beautiful snowfall.  Sat on the couch and drank tea and talked with my mother.  Took two hot showers in one day. Spent a lot of time at the editor.  Let the girls stay up too late making Play-Doh cakes and treats. Curled up on my bed in the darkness and talked and laughed until 2:45 a.m with a man I adore.  Stayed in my pajamas until after noon.  Went outside in the snow a bit with the girls.  Left the Christmas tree up for another few days because it is too beautiful to take down.

Perhaps it will catch up with me, this lackadaisical attitude.  Perhaps not.  We only get two days.  Best take advantage of them to the fullest.

So far, so good.

Wordless Wednesday: It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

30 Days of Gratitude

{today’s post from the 30 Days of Gratitude project for November}

Gratitude 4:30

Hot water, hot tea and a nice relaxing bath at the end of the day. Also, Burt’s Baby Bee Wash & Shampoo. I started using it because it reminded me of my girls when they were babies and have since found that it’s the best thing I could find for my skin and hair.

My days are so hectic that sometimes I just feel the need to escape from everything and everyone. I have found a new way to deal with my stress:

ipod, hot tea, candle, darkness and surrounding myself in the healing balm of the water, let the children destroy the house and the dishes sit in the sink, everything is okay right here.

 

on children…

It has been a rough last week.  Horrible cold and fever  took over both of my girls over the course of it.  We are still trying to figure out Emily’s stomach woes.  Blood test for Celiac and trying gluten-free this week on top of the already acknowledged lactose intolerance.  Today we did everything right and she went to bed with either a rash or hives on her middle.  It’s been frustrating.  But in all the household is feeling much better and somehow, someway I have escaped it, perhaps there is such a thing as miracles.

Today was a good day.  Tonight I saw this girl above skipping across the yard.  When she skips, it makes my heart sing.  It’s just a sign of pure happiness, and her happiness is my happiness.  When things are tough, when motherhood seems overwhelming and I don’t seem to be getting my way, I am reminded of this portion of Kahlil Gibran’s “The Prophet”, one of my favorite parts of my favorite spiritual guidebook, that any mother at any stage may appreciate:

“Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;

for even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves the bow that is stable”.

sudden undeniable exhaustion.

Suffering tonight from sudden and undeniable cleanout exhaustion, but the girls now each have their own rooms again, and…it’s…staying…that…way.

We were supposed to go to harvest festival today, but got rained out.  So here are photos from last year because, well, I’ve got to have photos.

My sheets are in the dryer, I’ll see if they make it to the bed.  The dishes are still sitting in the sink, but I don’t care.  We’ll wing it in the morning for school.

I love the actual result of a weekend spent working around the house, but I hate the feeling afterward.

And God, I wish I wasn’t on a self-imposed wine fast.

Just Now 9.2.10

current time: 9:11 p.m.

on my mind:  jumping back into the 100 things challenge.

in my belly: onion, swiss, asparagus quiche

in my ears: “Runaway Car” by Mat Kearney

in the fridge: almost nothing, make the rounds tomorrow.

on the editor: a photo of  a key.

last watched: “Down In The Valley”, what can I say, single gal loves Edward Norton.

feeling good about:  a three day weekend.

feeling bummed about: the amount of work I have to do around the house this weekend.

last thing that made me laugh: not buying milk from the local dairy this past weekend and having Karelyn tell me that the milk I gave her from the grocery tastes “stale”.

made me pause: having to list today two people i admire, and what i admire about them.