What matters most

What matters most is making my children smile.

What is a Scumbag?

What is a scumbag? I have encountered them in my past while working with homeless families and I have found that scumbags span across all cultures.

A scumbag is someone who treats themselves better than they treat their children.

They will never change.

Baby shower wrapping paper.

A close friend suggested I save the wrapping paper from the gifts I received at my baby shower. I did. I lined my son’s bedroom furniture drawers with this innocent, sentimental paper.

Opening a drawer revealed paper, which flashed a memory of my baby shower and the person who wished me and my baby in my tummy lots of love.

The paper stayed in the drawers for 3 years. And then someone who doesn’t understand sentiment and the value of memories took the paper out (she thought she replaced me as mom in the house?) and it’s gone. GONE.

Explaining my upset over this paper seems preposterous… The paper meant more than I actually realized now that it is gone. I can still see those baby patterns on the paper in each one of those drawers.

I’m pretty sad about this. I wanted to keep that paper and pass it on to my children. Especially my son.

I’m doing the best I can.
It took me 1.5 hours to get to work this morning. I forgot to kiss my kids good bye. I covered them, though. But I forgot to kiss them.

I put a smile on. And nobody can tell.

Keep the Couch

You can keep the couch. Raising my children by myself and starting from scratch is tough. And I don’t want to fight over silly assets.

I hug and kiss everyday what matters most. My children.

Keep the couch. It probably smells weird anyway.

Make something

Draw. Geometric shapes are my favorite.

Experimented with paint.
Back to real life… Lesson plans for school.

Art Check off list

I Remember When I Look At My Hands

I became wife and mom, happily.  I gave up much of myself to be these new people.  I was consumed with being these two people that I never nurtured the person I authentically was.  And still am. 

Have you ever seen my hands?

When I look at my hands at work I am reminded that these are the hands of an artist.  I make things.  I create things.  My hands create a world of beauty that comes from inside translated by my hands.  Only I can understand this delicate translation.  You can interpret what my hands have created and it will be your experience and your understanding of my creation.  That is the beauty of art. 

I am commiting to 30 days of art.  Simple art.  I can do this. 

I want to do what I love to do.  Wife and mom never did.  Meredith will. 

 

In the early morning

I will never regret waking early and listening to the rhythmic, shallow breathing of my children.

I look at their beautiful faces, innocent and peaceful and feel incredibly lucky.

I love to kiss their chubby chubby cheeks, while they sleep.

My babies will always be my babies.

It’s really as simple as that.

If failure was not an option.

If failure was not an option, how would that change so much of our lives?  What if we could not give up, throw away, say good bye or let down?  

Would we make more mistakes?  We only learn when we make mistakes.  Would we make less mistakes and find ourselves looking for the solutions to our task at hand?  We would find solutions.  And work at them.  Perhaps change who we are to fit the situation.  To find ourselves fitting in with our situation because we have found a solution that fits us best. 

Failure is not an option for myself or my children.  Why was it for my marriage?  Why is it for so many people in relationships?

What if failure was not an option in the relationship we were in?

How hard would you work to save it?