after hours

lately, I have been more than willing to sacrifice sleep for free time. I crave hours where nothing is required of me, when the house is still and dark. I lay on the couch and contemplate. I am seduced by the possibility of the night. the books I might read, the projects I might work on. more often than not, I end up on the living room floor in the middle of an impossible mountain of laundry, folding and folding while watching bad television. and then all of the sudden it is the middle of the night, and I am hunched over the glowing screen of my lovely computer, reading and clicking and writing. and then, it is no longer the middle of the night but THE NEXT DAY and I have only a couple of hours to fit in a whole nights' sleep. I run and jump into bed, pull the sheets up over my wired self and shut my eyes quickly, as if I've been caught and immediately need to feign deep sleep.

I know this is wrong, it is not good, it has to stop. my children should have the best part of who I am each day. oh sure, I can fake my way through but I know that I'm eventually headed for a private meltdown. I can feel the exhaustion deep in the sockets of my eyes, in the depths of my joints. ava and ezra deserve more than this. and truly, I want to give it to them. the best of who I am is a happy and loving mother, a goofy, creative mother, an ALERT mother, one that is not the grouchiest, most delirious mommy EVER, one that posesses the amount of coherence required to assemble a simple puzzle, one that will not nod off mid-sentence, one that does not have the 'crazy eyes'.

the trouble is, I have always been a night owl. I think I was in junior high when my parents finally gave up trying to get me to go to bed at a sensible hour. they found me huddled under my blue satin bedspread with a book and a flashlight too many times to count and so they just gave up. this night owl-ness has always been a big part of who I am and then I married a night owl and we so loved being night owls together. and then we had babies and for the first time, someone, something was FORCING us into night owl-dom and we wept for the days (and nights) when we could sleep freely. oh sleep, beautiful sleep. it's so good. why hadn't we slept more? we could not understand why we did not choose to sleep for all the hours of our pre-children nights (if only in preparation for the relentless sleeplessness that only babies can bring).

now, I have come full circle. ava and ezra are sleeping well these days and so now I can sleep, too (in my own bed, through the night) and all I want to do is stay up. I want to stay up and make things, write, read, lay on the couch with ward and laugh and make jokes that don't make any sense and pretend that I don't have to be up at what feels like the very crack of dawn. last night (well, this morning), I was ever so innocently catching up on my email when I happened to glance up at the clock. I was horrified, HORRIFIED to see that it read 5:49 a.m. I would have to be up in less than an hour! what was wrong with me? was there even time to sleep? all these thoughts racing through my head as I tried to grab the tiniest, most pathetic shred of sleep. tonight, I will surely crash. and this week, I will surely succumb to the decent sleep routine of a normal person. I will catch up on the zzz's and feel good again. but I'm a little too much like a junkie (I need my night time fix, MAN) and it will soon be time for more night owl-like activities. I will find myself deep in project mode at 3 a.m. and will make more promises to the part of me who wants to be the best mother, to the body that is begging me for sleep. I will negotiate with myself until I see the pink light of morning outside my window.

butterfly

in my tireless search for old photos, I have come to appreciate the flip side. I never paid much attention to the back of the snapshots until after I brought them home. guess I was too busy looking at the front. and then one day I discovered a world of goodness could be found if you just took the time to look. words, phrases, names and dates reveal themselves at the flick of a wrist, and you feel as if you have stumbled across the very clues you might need to unlock the mystery behind the unknown subject. such an eloquent vernacular, this text. what I have come across has often been charming and oddball-like, sometimes creepy, always interesting. scrawled on the back of the above photo in a faded and wobbly script:

"I thought I was a butterfly."

something about this makes me happy.

self portrait tuesday #2

kindergarten

I watched her this morning, as she stood in line. new pink converse high tops on her feet, hello kitty backpack and matching lunchbox carried with so much pride. wide-eyed and quiet, like the rest of the children she stood next to, she waited to walk inside the old brick school to start her first day of kindergarten. thirty minutes earlier, she had been visibly excited, giggly even, but now she stood quiet. she glanced back at us and I felt at once such a mixture of panic and pride. I felt I might run screaming towards her for one last hug, one last pep talk. instead, I stood silent, watching and waving, smiling through air thick and balmy. my skin felt sticky and my eyes began to water. I looked down so that she would not see this. there she goes, I thought. off into the big bad world. and I prayed that she would make at least one friend this first day, that she would have no encounters with mean kids, that she would not feel so scared and unsure.

I am counting the minutes until 2:45.

there was a party

and it was PINK AND RED. in fact, I needed a couple of weeks just to recover from all the pinkness and the redness. the wheels started turning in ava's mind this past spring when she was attending birthday parties left and right. she started to wonder what kind of birthday party SHE should have.

"mommy, I'm thinking about my birthday."

and so of course, I pulled out my trusty martha stewart kids magazines. sweet mary, the love I have for that publication. they're not kidding around, folks. deliciously colorful and well-designed pages filled with serious crafting, pages filled with a million projects that I often daydream ava and I might spend afternoons attempting. I am normally not so good at sharing this mag with the ava-girl, but on this particular occasion we had a party to discuss. we thumbed through page after page of picturesque birthday parties and finally stopped on a spread that featured a perfect-looking little pixie-like girl enjoying herself at a pink-themed soiree.

"hey! pink! a pink party! I like pink!"

then she furrowed her brows and shrugged.

"but I like red, too. red is my FAVORITE COLOR. no. we can't do it."

"ava, why don't we have a pink and red party? there's nothing that says we have to limit it to just one color, kid."

she got all bubbly at the thought and thus the planning began. yes, yes, I know. I am a creative visionary whose brilliance is unmatched (okay, maybe just in the eyes of ava, but I'll take that). and with the planning came the relentless search for all things pink and red. three months of hitting every dollar tree store, every party supply joint in hopes of scoring the pink and red goods. somewhere along the way, my dear cousin from texas (kristy jo) got involved. she had been wanting to plan a visit and when she heard of the birthday festivities... well, we didn't have to twist her arm. three things you should know about this fabulous woman:

1. she has the best laugh EVER and even though she (technically) goes by the name 'kristy', I have refused (since childhood) to call her anything other than 'kristy jo'. usually, it comes out of my mouth so fast it sounds more like 'KRISTYJO!'.

2. she is as crazy as I am (if not crazier) when it comes to parties and celebrations and all things kid-like.

3. one summer at church camp, she colored my entire nose in with a permanent black marker while I was sleeping and then FELL ASLEEP DOING IT. I slept on that marker the entire night, woke up in a pool of black ink. I even thought the prank was kind of funny until I discovered that it WOULD NOT wash off and was forced to walk around with a dark grey nose the rest of the week. the esprit muscle shirts didn't look so cool on me then, NOTHING looked cool on me and my 13 year-old hopes of snagging a cute boy were just so over. I still love her, though. and I have forgiven her and gone on to lead a somewhat normal life. KRISTYJO, YOU WILL NEVER LIVE THIS DOWN.

once my cousin hopped on the party train, I knew we were headed to crazy town. there would be no voice of reason, no one to control the unstoppable force that we are when we get together (I have written about my cousin here as well). three months of planning and emails that included discussions on possible pink and red foods, and what about purchasing a cotton candy machine? and how about a sno-cone machine, too? see, I knew she would genuinely share in the giddiness over my dollar store discovery of the pink paper lanterns and red inflatable tables and chairs. she confessed to me that for a short while, she really thought she might be able to teach herself how to make balloon animals. she knew I would understand and appreciate the madness behind that statement. and I knew the force was with me when she called from a mexican market in san antonio to inform me that she was about to purchase a very, very large strawberry pinata. it arrived at our house in a huge brown box the following week and I thought ava might just pass out from sheer happiness at the sight of it.

the big day has come and gone. watching ava with her little buddies in the midst of that pink and red frenzy completely justified all nuttiness. I will never forget ava (wearing a pink and red outfit she had so carefully put together) proudly saying, "welcome to my party!" to each guest that walked through the front door. the food was phenomenal (my cousin is a party food GENIUS) and the cherry red sno-cones were a smash hit. what else can I say? we did the limbo and painted faces. someone finally busted open the big strawberry pinata and many pink and red treats were snatched up by happy little hands. there was cake (strawberry cream, of course) and there were feathered party hats. I'd like to be able to say that I regret giving all the munckins party horns halfway through the gig, but I can't. that's what party horns are for, they're for tooting loudly and that's an ideology I can really get behind. there were also presents and lots of ripping and tearing of wrapping paper (crowd favorite: a vintage lite brite, courtesy of uncle nate, aunt kendra and luxie... SCORE). and then we sent them on their merry little way with goodie bags filled with pink rubber bracelets, silly sliding whistles, bubble gum and red pixie sticks. yes, I sent them all home on a sugar high to beat all sugar highs, horns in hand and I'm sure the parents were cursing my very existence as the shrill sound of whistles filled many a home that night.

but hey-- it was a party. turning five is a fantastic thing and I hope I have given ava something that she will remember for the rest of her life. I will probably never be able to walk through the dollar store again without scouting out the red and pink goods, but, aahhh-- such a small price to pay. and now we have our very own sno-cone machine (thank you very much, dearest cousin kristyjo), one that will make us the most splendid cherry sno-cones and always remind us of the fabulous pink and red party.

behold the pink and red party splendor here.

self portrait tuesday #1

I am joining the revolution and will begin to post self-portraits on tuesdays. though this photograph was taken in some random parking lot in 1999, it is exactly how I feel about my life at this very moment: I am always in motion.

I'm so weird

everyone has some quirks, I think. I hadn't really given much thought to mine until my friend, the oh so lovely poppy, tagged me with this:

idiosyncracy: structural or behavioral characteristic peculiar to an individual or group. write down five of your idiosyncracies. then, if you wish, tag five people. so here we go:

1. when I sweep, I have a tendency to leave little piles of dust in various corners of different rooms. ward has titled these my 'non-committal' piles and they have caused many an agitated state. I don't know why I don't finish the job. something about the act of walking back into the utility room to get the dust pan, sweep up the mess and carry it precariously to the trash can. I always think that I'll get around to it. and another excuse I love to throw at ward from time to time: marriage is a partnership! we work together! I willfully leave these piles, testing the strength and truth of our love. ha.

2. I have become incredibly strange about my personal space at the movie theatre. I like to have many seats between myself and the other movie-goers. I can handle myself in a sold-out flick where I have no choice but to cozy up to complete strangers in the dark, but when I'm sitting in a theatre that's half-full and some clueless good-time johnny plops himself down right in front of me (or beside me, or behind me)... well, me no like. people, why? you have the entire theatre. I need to put my feet up, stretch and not feel all creepy. I have been known to let out an exasperated sigh, uproot my entire movie posse and relocate.

3. I get really excited when I have the exact change to pay for something. ward doesn't understand why I go to great lengths to pull pennies (often one at a time) out of my black fuzzy coin purse. handing over $2.31 IN EXACT CHANGE to the bored-looking teenager at the drive-thru window at mcdonald's fills me with a sense of satisfaction that I cannot explain. and refuse to defend.

4. I have no tolerance for overhead lighting in my home. we walk into a room, ward flips the switch and it's as if a thousand freakish florescent elves are shrieking all around me. I just want the dull, flat lighting to stop and be replaced with the warm glow of my lamps. oh, the lamps. they are a special little army that illuminate my days and nights and make feel safe and happy. I am partial to old ones with fifties-style mult-tiered fiberglass shades. they are all over house and yes, they are all usually on at the same time.

5. and here's one from ward: he says that I unwrap any little piece of chocolate given to me with such delicateness, you'd think we were living in war time. as if we were living under a bridge somewhere and I have been given one last morsel of chocolate to last me until the end of my days. as if it is the last piece of chocolate on the earth and covered in pure gold foil with the answers to all the questions of the universe written on the inside. I've never really noticed this about myself (perhaps I'm too wrapped up in the unwrapping). I'm not ashamed to say I'm serious about the goodness of chocolate, thus treating each piece with the respect it so rightly deserves. and if that is wrong, people-- I don't want to be right.

it's all relative, though. as strange as I think I am, I know it could be worse. there might be someone out there who feels the need to wear a tutu while scrubbing toilets. or will only wear red underwear every other thursday (but not if it's raining). this is the part where I get to learn about all the idiosyncracies that exist out there.

please feel free to share.

come on and sing it with me

there are graffiti pieces hidden all over the city. like easter eggs, just waiting to be found.

everyday, I find myself making the same drive down the long industrial stretch of dekalb avenue. I have become a loyal traveler of dekalb, much as I detest the grind of my daily route. this is because dekalb never disappoints. decaying old signs, impromptu gardens, bits of street art, marta trains that races alongside and up above. no shortage of visual gems. and my favorite-- the self serve car wash, whose humble concrete walls once held bursts of color (courtesy of hense, one of atlanta's most prolific graff writers). my heart sank when I discovered it had all been painted over. I looked for it each day as I zoomed by. I loved the idea that you could pull in, blast the dirt off your car and get an eyeful of color. all for a handful of quarters.

(I have a special place in my heart for graffiti writers. I am married to the one they call canon)

getting me through the day

car wash graffiti, fresh lemons in my kitchen, ezra's toothy grin, the sunflowers on dekalb avenue, my turquoise necklace, a good sweat, the fountain at fellini's, ava's elaborate drawings/paintings/stories, my bright pink adidas (I never wear them but love to sit around and look at them), flickr, goat cheese, jack black, the large metal winged foot that hangs above our fireplace, orange fingernail polish, the new david sedaris book, the promise of a road trip, the promise of a dance class, the promise of a trip to the thrift store, the promise of a trip to the movie theatre, the promise of a foot rub, homemade cherry sno-cones in the middle of the afternoon for no reason, my brown leather wrist cuff, mos def's music, big mouth lip gloss, juicy chunks of watermelon, ava's gangster-speak, new crayons, singing HEY MAMBO! MAMBO ITALIANO! at the top of my lungs (and scaring the pants off of everyone in the house), silly straws, the moment ward walks through the door at the end of the day.

what's doing it for you?

redesigning my backspin

hey, that's me on the right in the yellow shirt. ron brown's class, american dance festival, 1998.

there was a period in my life when I lived in baggy sweats, cut-up leotards and a pair of deliciously decayed shelltoe adidas. my world was about movement, about teaching, about kids (not my own). my nights were filled with classes and rehearsals. I devoted large chunks of time to developing original curriculum, seeking out fresh music and researching the importance of arts in education. I remember feeling like I would exist this way forever and could imagine no other way of living. and now here I am, in a completely different place.

and this is a good place to be, it's a great place. but there are times when it feels slightly foreign to me and I experience a sort of achiness thinking about my old self. I'm fairly certain she still exists, it's just a little more of a challenge to find her these days. a while back, I wrote about my quest to pick up where I left off. it has been one steep hill, people. I feel as if the world that I worked so hard to create is passing me by. this past weekend, I happened to pick up a weekly arts/happenings guide only to discover that a dance company that I have been waiting for EIGHT YEARS to see here in atlanta had come and gone. I am sick to my stomach over this gross oversight on my part. folks, I AM SLIPPING. normally, I am aware of any and all upcoming performances way in advance. ronald k. brown/evidence is a phenomenal company out of brooklyn that I first happened upon in 1997 at the american dance festival. on a whim, I snuck into his class the first week of the festival. ninety minutes and a couple of buckets of sweat later, I was hooked and continued to slip into his class each afternoon (and I have mad love for mr. brown for pretending not to notice my sad little charade). then I saw the company perform and I'm here to tell you: that is some moving and dancing that will make you want to lay down and cry like a happy little baby. ever since that summer, I have been whining and complaining about the dance scene here in atlanta, wondering what it would take to bring a great company like this to the ATL. where are all the fresh, new modern companies? (yeah, I know exactly where they are and it's not here). I'm so sick of the atlanta stinking ballet. there is such a world of goodness and art and movement out there. I am tired of having to pick up the village voice at the bookstore just to keep up on the latest companies/performances. but I digress. my point is that I missed out on seeing ron brown, something that would've refueled me for days, for months, FOR YEARS in the juiciest, lovliest ways. thing is, I was wrapped up in ava's big birthday party. I don't regret this (not by any means), this time spent organizing and throwing her the big fifth birthday bash (I admit, I went overboard again and will be writing about it soon). I'm just unsure of how my two worlds will merge, if they will merge at all.

this fall, I will begin to teach for moving in the spirit again. neither my mind or body is even close to being ready, though I think just by writing this, I am taking some sort of step in the right direction.

birthday girl

for the past five years, that girl of mine has turned my world upside down in the most wonderful ways. today, we are celebrating. and I am celebrating her life in my own little way... click here for a little looky at all my favorite photos of ava taken this past year.

happy birthday, sweet girl.

I'm fixated

more scraps from the rolls of old wrapping paper recovered from auntie's basement. I'm sorry. I can't stop.

princess of coolness

ava gets lost in her pollies. she creates elaborate worlds with the tiny polly pocket dolls and all their microscopic accessories. actually, she will use anything that is in keeping with her vision of a pollynation... any little thing (marbles, rocks, straws, happy meal toys) that will further enhance the story of what she calls a 'set-up'. these elaborate scenes usually start out with a couple of items and then grow into expansive and highly detailed sets, with all sorts of goodies precariously balanced and placed carefully and intentionally. last night, we asked her about her latest masterpiece.

"so, what's the story on this one?"

"well, this girl here at the top is the princess of coolness and she is the one who will help to make all the other ones cool."

"oh... wow."

and I wanted her to explain what she meant. as in, what is your definition of coolness, li'l girl? should mommy be concerned? should mommy worry that this may be the beginning of a neverending pursuit rooted in everything that is wrong with our empty, image-obsessed society? but we never got that far and I don't really think that. it was bedtime and we were all tired and just beginning the long, long process of putting the kids down. as she was jumping into bed, she made this dramatic declaration:

"mommy, please don't touch this set-up because in the morning I have A LOT OF WORK TO DO."

you and me both, kid.

flower power

my great aunt louraine saved everything. rolls and rolls of these vintage wrapping papers (circa 1960s? 1970s?) were found in her basement last week and I fell in love with them. there were also polka dots, butterflies and tripped-out bridal shower and birthday patterns. I think that we are going to be very happy together, me and my new papers.

free flow

last week, you could find me in a small town in illinois. I packed up the bambinos and spent a week at grandma and grandpa's house (while freedom-boy ward feasted on brown sugar pop-tarts, attended numerous midnight movies, slept peacefully through the night and ran recklessly through the house in his most rancid and ragged boxers, yelling YEEHAW). I could write for days about so many little adventures and have been stuck for several minutes now over the very thought. I want the words to flow effortlessly and form lyrically descriptive sentences that speak of cornfields and peaceful small-town nights, but I am so tired. and what is coming from my mind is this: it was good. it was not always easy, but it was good.

ava spent hours playing with my old barbie dolls (cher with her hair whacked off and the lovely and decaying farrah fawcett). she has been talking about this trip, salivating over these barbies for weeks and weeks. and when it came time to pack up and come back home, she did not want to go. who could blame her? we visited mema's best friend out in the country where we saw the most beautiful horses. infinite cornfields and aging red barns, it all really does exist. and yes, there was fresh air to be taken into the lungs.

the fabulous grandma that my mom is, she had cookies with pink icing and lucky charms cereal on hand. she read many, MANY books, dragged out countless old toys and helped ava to set up the mother of all barbie homes. we had a delightful time catching lightening bugs in the front yard to take with us at bedtime. and she stayed with the munchkins while I visited my favorite local thrift store (best find: little black vintage clutch for a dime. THAT'S TEN PENNIES, PEOPLE). she tirelessly followed ezra up and down the stairs while I grabbed moments of alone time in the cosmetics section of wal-mart. so many little acts of kindness, mom. too many to name. thank you.

ezra drove me a little nuts. actually, he drove me to a place of craziness inside myself that I have not visited in awhile. he was into everything and going full-speed at 73,000 m.p.h ALL THE TIME. the nights were the worst and I have not experienced such sleep deprivation since the first days he was born. I was jarred from sleep several times each night and often found myself standing and holding him at four in the morning. sitting/reclining in any way was not acceptable and often met with high-pitched screams and full-body protests. only when I was standing perfectly still did his little body relax into sleep. this is such a torturous thing to do when you're in that drunken half-asleep state that is usually so delicious. too tired to cry, I felt it necessary to devour as many little cupcakes as possible while watching the magic bullet infomercial in the dark. I've decided that everyone should own a magic bullet. and if you have to ask what the magic bullet is, then you are missing out on a world of goodness.

the ez had his moments, though. they were so ridiculously sweet that all the dark hours I spent in sleepless frustration must be forgiven. on one of our nightly walks in the neighborhood, he learned that if he held the pinwheel up in the air, the wind would make it spin. his little squeals of glee upon this discovery were almost more than I could take. we continued to walk through the quiet, my cheeks wet with tears. everything sounds different in a small town. I can say this because I grew up in a very small southern illinois town. it really is quiet, there really are the sounds of crickets. and people sit out on their front porches.

every moment seemed so full of some sort of something going on, something always happening. I'm having difficulty believing it all went down in the course of seven days. there was a lovely lunch with my best friend, such a rare luxury that I could cry just thinking about it. there was a visit with my great aunt louraine, one of the most fantastic women I have known in my lifetime. there was the momentous occasion of ava placing the stamps on her birthday party invitations and then the big walk across the street to the post office where she dramatically mailed them herself. there was ezra imitating mema and papa's dogs barking, learning to say 'thank you' and feeding himself (and everyone around him) ice cream for the first time. I never got tired of the sight of the old downtown movie theatre marquee lighting up each night. and my dad and ezra-- they were amazing together.

there's so much more. there was a trip to ryan's buffet that needs to be addressed, the discovery of some splendid vintage gift wrap (courtesy of my great aunt lo-lo) and my inability to allow ward to guiltlessly experience a little bit of freedom. oh, there's so much more but I'm feeling the need to stop here and possibly do some sleeping. it was good. it was greatness.