Don't stare at the sun...

Sometimes, my friends and people I meet ask me about the 'why(s)' of my decisions. Why does someone have kids? What makes some mothers throw all semblance of privacy, or even a moment to freaking think, to the wind and choose to BE WITH THEIR KIDS ALL THE TIME? My answers are varied and, possibly on a 'special' day, troubling - but they all wrap around this idea that I believe that the most honorable and enriching thing I will do in my life is happening right now. Not that I will have no life when they grow up and begin their own adult experience - but that whatever I do after this phase of my life is 'toned down to a reasonable level of sacrifice' (that's just my sick sense of humor, I don't mean it. Honest, it has nothing to do with the fact that I can't see their bedroom floors and everyone groans when I mention the virtues of cleanliness) is for me. Because, even if I choose to become a servant/teacher/cook/pee-on/etc., I know that the experience of this time will make the rest of my experiences seem pale in the most beautiful way. How can you worry when you've already worried until you were dancing with total lunacy? How can you be afraid when you've already found that you are brave enough to guard the most fragile and precious of treasures? So, this week has been one of those weeks that I've had to really think about that - because it stopped me from feeling, every time I looked at my THINGS 1, 2, and 3, like I needed to say, "I'm sorry". Sorry that your world, too, will hold the entire experience of living. And, that sometimes that entirety of the human experience will include horrible pain. I put my arms around the mothers, fathers, friends and families of those who are suffering the unspeakable.

Because I am a southerner (even if I've adopted Maine as my home full-heartedly), I cannot leave without some optimism. Humor would be so much better but my humor machine needs a kick-start (and, the ironies of ironies being that my souther-ness also prohibits me from drinking before the school day has ended so beer is not in my afternoon itinerary)so optimism will have to do. I present further evidence to support my assertions (or wild fantasies) that I am doing something very right, here. Thing 1 has been most secretive, lately. Ya'll, realize, in the most harmless way....this child is even more neurotically honest than I. But, she's begun to work on her own projects (and, ghasp, buy other people's yarn- but that's off the point a wee bit - ego, hurts) and insist that I neither LOOK or speak of them until she's finished. I think, in 14 yr. old human language, this means she doesn't want help or the worse- unsolicited help or advice. I should, maybe, learn to shut up more often. Anyway, she's been stitching, grumbling, and generally hiding but for small lap-sized projects of bright, sunny yellow cotton yarn. At the beginning of the week, she entered my room just after I'd had my first few sips of the heavenly brown elixir, and offered her genius to my proud and blown-away eyes. A log cabin halter top (shown here without the lining we will probably sew into it) with a tie back and a beautiful little knee-skirt of the same yarn. There is no doubt she is awesome. I sometimes try to take at least a little credit.

Note: This may also be evidence that my 'knitting disorder' is genetic. Thing 1 says, whilst modeling her accomplishment, "I'm not buying patterns anymore. I much prefer to just make up my own". We should start a support group for those of us who have such an aversion to following rules that we believe it is worth the risk of making up our own.