On dreams.

I could say once upon a time I had dreams. Dreams of being successful, having a “good job,” finding Mr. Perfect, getting married and having two little babies. Dreams of big nice house, with rolling green grass, gorgeous flower beds and a living room and kitchen to make a magazine jealous.

I never did though.

I never had future dreams. I never dreamed of graduation and college. I never dreamed of jobs and careers and how I would survive in life. I never dreamed of future partners or spouses. I most certainly never dreamed of babies.

I was, to put it simply, impractical.

I dreamed of making art, not necessarily being successful, actually I usually imagined myself poor and bouncing from friend to friend’s houses. I dreamed of dying young and tragically and then, finally, being recognized as the artist I was.

I dreamed of one day finding out that I was something else – a witch, a fairy, a mutant – something magical. I dreamed of having powers and being reclaimed to secret worlds.

I dreamed of aliens and space and the world ending and going to live in the stars.

Years and years later I still dream impractical dreams. I dream big and bold and fantastical dreams. I still dream of magic and adventure. I still dream that one day I will have powers beyond my imagination, wings, or that a man in a blue box will fly me away.

Every so often I tether a few balloons and bring myself down. Then I dream of owning a farm and making yarn. I’ll dream of writing and illustrating children’s books, or even writing just a book. I will dream of selling my art because I can and want to, not from a need. None of these are still the most realistic dreams.

Mostly though, I still just dream of magic and adventure.

he dreams

and there he lay;
his head softly pillowed,
his mind off on adventures.
his dreams taking him off
to lands so far away.

he sleeps and he dreams.
he dreams and he flies.

he dreams
and he builds worlds
and futures
so bright.

he dreams.

this post originally appeared on my old blog on February 21, 2014

she is blooming

she is blooming.
she is no flower, weak and easily broken,
but a tree growing to tower and sustain life.
a sapling she may still be,
but every year that her leaves bloom once more
is a year that she continues to soar.

one day she will provide so much.
life. protection. strength. refuge. home.
but today she is still blooming,
and has a while more to grow.
her limbs are still reaching,
her bark gets thicker by the day.
her rings are still forming,
marking all of her progress and her change.

she is blooming – no she is soaring!
her roots will be strong and they will go deep.
and the storms will not easily bend or break her.

the red chair

this morning i sat you in your red chair.
you were wobbly, but that proud huge smile when you stayed up by yourself eased my worry of you falling.
i went about my day and i came every time that you cried out.
you played with your toes, i worked, we took so many moments of being together.
you on your red chair, i by your side.

this afternoon you climbed onto your red chair.
you are starting to fit it pretty well, you can get on and off on your own. “no me” you say when i try to help.
i went about my day and i came every time that you called for me.
you played with your cars, i worked, we took some moments of being together.
you on your red chair, i by your side.

this evening you sat down on your red chair.
your feet swinging, your toes scraping the ground. i no longer even offer to help you, but you still want me around.
i went about my day and i listened just in case you called.
you read your book, i worked, we took just a few moments of being together.
you on your red chair, i by your side.

tonight you did not sit down on your red chair.
you were too big you said, the chair too small. you would break it you said, i asked you to please sit just one more time.
this time i did not go about my day, i listened to every word you gave me.
i poked fun at your hobbies, you gave me small grins. i said that i love you, you said that you knew.
you on your red chair, i by your side.

the next morning your red chair was empty.
it is now tattered, worn and cracked. it now looks so incredibly small and fragile. it now looks lonely and sad.
i tried to go about my day, but your red chair kept calling me back.
you were not here, i was alone.
your empty red chair and i by its side.

inspired by this photo from Stephanie Pearl-McPhee

it’s time, my love.

it’s time, my love, to end your day and rest your head.
it’s time to change out of your played in clothes, wash off, and snuggle in close.
it’s time for a story, or two or three, and a song.
it’s time for last smiles, last hugs, last sweet little kisses.
it’s time for thank you’s, and I love you’s.
it’s time to rest your head on your pillow, and wrap in your blanket.
it’s time to hold your lovey close to you.
it’s time to close your eyes,
and it’s time to say goodnight.
it’s time, my love, to go to sleep and visit the land of dreams.

little boys (7/365)

little boys are so much more than muddy toes and scattered toys.
they are love and joy and silliness, and frogs and dogs and bugs.
they are happiness wrapped in gunk, they are dreams wrapped in gum.

little boys bring sunshine, but they also bring the rain.
a day with them is like a summer storm,
one minute a raging tempest one minute a calm day.

life without little boys is oh so very calm.
a lovely quiet stillness, a glassy waveless bay.
but for that calm you sacrifice oh so very much.

as for me I will take the storms and the messes and the bad, no good days.
I will take the craziness, because it is all balanced out by their neverending love.

lay your head on my shoulder (5/365)

lay your head on my shoulder,
the day’s been long, your eyes grow so weary.
we’ve done so much, explored so much,
grown a little more minute by minute.

lay your head on my shoulder,
they’re there for you, waiting to hold you near.
slow your breathing and listen closely,
my heart is singing out a lullaby just for your ears.

lay your head on my shoulder,
it is time to sleep, the moon is high.
the stars are out, the sun is sleeping,
and now it is time for you close your eyes.

lay your head on my shoulder,
i will still be here, right here, while you sleep.
loving you, holding you,
a safe harbor while you are off in the land of dreams.

asleep (4/365)

it’s the warmth when you hear them say “goodnight, mommy.”

it’s the calm you feel when the day is done.

it’s the happiness you get when you look around and see that all is as it should be.

it’s the love that fills you when you look at the sleeping faces.

it’s the sigh of relief you let out when you turn off that last light and go to bed.

it’s the “of course” moment you have when the baby wakes to eat as soon as you lay down.

it’s the triumph when he latches on and his eyes finally drift shut.

it’s the quiet while everyone is asleep and you are lying there awake.

it’s the comfort of his arm around you with a warm little body snuggled into your side.

it’s the peace of finally getting to fall –

The princess dilemma.

You shouldn’t pick on little girls for liking princesses and pink and all of that other girly crap because it creates unrealistic expectations or bad body views or a sense that they need someone to come save them. I constantly see it under attack and as the current thing that is horrible for your daughter and what will ruin her.

As a mom of only one girl, and three boys, I don’t spend an overly large part of my day on princesses. While Bella might love them, and yes, she’s very firmly in the Disney princess stage, they don’t rule our house. Do you know what does? Superheroes. Even the two year old has a deep love and appreciation for the Avengers.

So lets take a moment to look at superheroes instead. Most teach boys that they need to be big, strong, and tough. A lot of times they start as someone timid, weak, nerdy, that no girl would ever want. Then something happens that completely changes them – a lot of times to almost unrecognizable – and they are suddenly big, muscley, able to beat other people up, and all of the girls suddenly want them. Even the nerdiest and smallest of them all – Spiderman – starts as weak and scrawny and laughable, then after the spider bite he has muscles, no longer needs glasses, and is full of confidence in himself. None of these things are brought on by things that they themselves did, or if they were, it was always some sort of freak accident. That’s not even touching on the other world superheroes who boys want to be but could never actually be since these dudes aren’t even human. While superheroes do teach boys some deeper issues like good and evil and how to handle power, deep down, under that it promotes that they can’t be happy with themselves how they are. Nothing that they can do can change that. You can never become a superhero on your own – skip Batman and IronMan as I can guarantee that your son will probably never be a billionaire orphan with control of a huge company to be able to design and create gadgets and suits that will give them the illusion of powers – you need some outside mystical, freak, alien accident/trauma to happen to you.

Please explain to me again how princesses are bad for little girls to like and how they create unrealistic expectations of life and self-image issues. Start your tirade against princesses over and include superheroes for little boys and get back to me. Until then remember, it’s not just toys, media, and society that raises your child, you have the biggest impact and your child is going to take his or her cues from you. You want them to be strong and confident in themselves and their body – then YOU need to show them how to be those things. Yes, media and peers play a large role in your child’s life but you shouldn’t let that be a safety net for issues that you yourself don’t know how to handle or as a blame-all for the bad or negative things.

Quit blaming princesses for all that is wrong with little girls today or even your own shortcomings. Blaming fiction or a color is just a cop out. Enjoy them as they are, something to help you or your child escape the real world for a brief moment. Something that helps them build their imagination. Something to just enjoy.

i remember falling in love

i remember falling in love with a boy who wore glasses.

i do.

i remember where i was and when it was, and how amazing is that?

i was in seventh grade, sitting in math class. coming in the door i sat in the middle of the back row on the left side of the classroom and there was a window right behind me. seventh grade was a hard year for me, i was changing faster than i could keep up with. i didn’t feel twelve. i didn’t feel like a kid, i didn’t feel like a teenager. i felt… confused a good chunk of the time.

it was fall of 1999 and i had gotten this book from my grandmother the christmas before, but i had yet to look at it or read it. she swore up and down that she had only heard good reviews of it, and from everything that she had heard that it would be a book that i would love. i was doubtful of that. true, she knew my taste in books well; for they were very similar to her own, but i was still hesitant. buying and selecting books is a very personal thing. i had gone through all of my books that i knew i loved, and i wanted to try something different, so that day i picked up that book and i stuck it in my backpack to read at school.

i didn’t have a chance to open it and start it until my second period math class. the teacher told us to get out our books, and what we would be going over – and since i have always had a deep and vehement hate of math – i decided that would be a good time to start the book. i sat there, with the sun coming in from the window behind me, the teacher talking some gibberish, and pencils scratching around me and i read…

“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number 4, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.“

and i never looked back.

i don’t think i paid attention to a single class that day, or talked to anyone at lunch. i was sucked in and so in love with this new world that i couldn’t be bothered with the details of this one.

i remember being so relieved when i found out that book two had been released just a few months before so that i wouldn’t have to wait for it. from then until july 2007 i played a long game of hurry up and wait. i would get the new books and hungrily read through them in one or two days and then have to wait and wait endlessly for the next. i remember feeling so sad when i was half way done with the seventh and it dawned on me “this is it, there are no more.”

i got excited for the movies too, of course. but the movies never held that same spark and love for me. i do love them and i gladly sit and have harry potter movie marathons, but the books hold this special, dear part of me.

many teens and kids today who love harry potter just don’t quite understand that. they had this magic and wonder in their lives for almost the whole of them. me? magic entered my life at the same time that it entered harry’s. it was something wholly new and these kids who had to deal with it and experience it  – they were me. they were my age, growing as i grew. their stories were always new, i hadn’t grown up hearing them, or watching the movies. there was no one i knew who even read the books until after the first movie came out. it was this special world of magic, that was just for me. each time i read those books i went to a whole new world that no one i knew had ever experienced or dreamed. kids and teens today, they can’t get that from harry potter, not like i did.

i remember falling in love with a boy who wore glasses. i was twelve and sitting in the sun in the back of class and not learning a whit about math that day.