It's the kind of mess...

While in the middle oft trying to clean the kitchen after lunch and at the same time picking up several rooms, I remembered I wanted to print out a few things off Pinterest. So I stopped dealing with messes. In doing so I ran across a cute photo of a handmade stuffed kitty in a giveaway and then patterns for hand puppets. In my highly disorganized and distracted state, I went to the hall closet and pulled out the felt and embroidery thread. I set out to make a kitty puppet because August had just said she really loved that  handmade stuffed kitty. While I couldn't whip up a stuffed animal without buying material, I was able to create a cute little felt copycat in puppet form.

August was long gone. She was dragging back the blocks I had just picked up from the living room floor, while I put together something I wasn't at all sure was a big waste of time. It was definitely creative procrastination. I messed up the clean dining room table in seconds. Felt pieces and thread falling on the floor I just swept. I thought, this is definitely a form of procrastination and prolonging my list of messes to clean. I always want a clean house by Friday.

The result brought a smile to my face. I loved what I just made. While it wasn't wholly original, I did copy the face, I was happy with what I whipped up in just a few minutes. My child, who I thought wasn't paying attention, actually was and came running saying,"It's finished, my kitty is finished?" She grabbed it from hand and said,"I love her, Mommy, thank you, lets play!" So we did. When Papi came home she proudly showed him what I made for her.

I then picked up the space and returned it to a dining room table. The rest of the house eventually fell into place at a slower pace but I was newly recharged. I felt good, better. I have to make something, anything, every day I need to bring out scissors and glue or thread and fabric and just make something. Long projects requiring several days of dedication don't come along often but I did recently make myself a shirt. I have made the biggest messes but in those creative messes comes complete relaxation and recharge. If a mess makes you happy, then by all means make that happy mess.

Garden Past

Yesterday evening I had a sudden yearning for the place we call The Garden, one of the community gardens in town. It was 7pm and we were on our way to pick up a few groceries for dinner. Instead we passed the grocery store and decided on a late dinner of various frozen pizzas so we could spend some time at The Garden before the sun set.

We wondered around in the heat of the setting sun, the orange light making us and the flowers glow. I remembered that light. The same golden show from a setting sun in my grandparent's back yard. I'd look and my Granpo would be walking back to the house, the sun in my eyes giving him an aura of colors. I waited for him to go inside where Granmo would have some Mexican cookies in a box at the table.

Wandering the garden I felt close to the things I love. I don't know if it's always this way there or if I was gifted a moment. Grateful, we got in the truck and headed to the grocery store with the sound of cicadas ushering me out of the past.

Confettti, Bubbles and Paper Dolls

I have often thought of ending this blog and starting all over again with the blog title:Confetti, Bubbles and Paper Dolls. For me it captures where I seem to be at the moment, the colors, the festive activities, bubble blowing under blue skies and the endless parade of paper dolls we seem to have around here lately. "Lately" is the key word. It will all change... eventually. August has already said that she no longer wants to be a Fairy Princess Ballerina when she grows up but a teacher. I was impressed but a little piece of my heart cried for the recent loss of the noble Fairy Princess Ballerina profession that she had created.

School is around the corner and I find myself with the very same butterflies I had when I was four and told I was to start school in a year. I remember how it would fill me with anxiety because I understood it as a loss of freedom. No more playing, no more Mommy all day long, no more baby brother. I didn't find the idea of a teacher, new children and being in one place all day long very exciting. I was a shy kid who enjoyed my very own land of make believe that would take off after I'd watch Mr Rogers. I spoke and danced with trees, I would often fly, my tricycle would kick up dust as I traveled from one universe into another using "freeways", I'd chew on clover and play with rolliepollies, mud pies...

Every morning I wake up to this little voice who has all these plans for the day. Our mornings have these sweet and gentle starts. Her plans usually get carried out but when they don't because I'm tangled and knotted up with busy work phone calls, paper work and unhappy errands to do...I get that anxious feeling. Exclusive August & Mommy days will be especially missed by me once they are gone. I'm in no hurry to send her off to school. So when she wants to make paper dolls, we make paper dolls. Sometimes we try to send them to space.

Getting back to the title of this blog, I just realized: Beatsville, beat, it's beatitude...it still fits. She has now said that she wants to be a Ballerina Teacher.