Day 8 | 5x5 Challenge | Into the Woods

5 Minutes:
In honor of Father's Day, Jon, Jules, Kai, Demps and I hit the trail. Olin is a hard-core hiker (or was until family compromising cut into his time spent on mountains). Given the opportunity, I'd rather run for exercise and draw or dance or hang or flip around in the yard with the kids, but I try to get into the woods with Jon and the kids much as I can. I've learned I enjoy hiking best when allowed to stop and snap photos of centipedes and spiders, frogs, snakes and little boys pretending to be birds of prey. I guess I like hiking like a kid. Hearing leaves rustle and wondering if it's a bobcat, hopping over rocks in a muddy creek instead of taking the drier high road, looking for interesting plants, trying to spot the birds singing high overhead. But because I'm an adult, I do leave the trail not only in awe of all I've seen but grateful for having gotten out there and really paid attention. Thanks, Olin, for helping me—and our kids—to simply live better.

5 Snaps: 

Day 7 | 5x5 Challenge | Tag-team

Observation: the 5x5 Creative Challenge isn't the only numerically based, social-sharing centered game in town. There is, of course, #100happydays, a initiative in which you're supposed to post a picture (every day for 100) of something that makes you happy. Today, I read about #7daysofreality—proposed by British mum blogger (who, as it turns out, happens to be a friend of my friend). I love both concepts. Which perhaps is why my 5x5 post today combines perfect moments, pictured, and REALITY, the kind that bites. Until you write about it and it turns out to be pretty funny. 

5 Snaps: 

5 Minutes Writing:
The day began mellow, with both boys obsessively writing in the Star Wars workbooks we bought yesterday at The Flying Pig. These things were such a hit that they insisted that we bring them with us (along with a lunchbox full of crayons and markers) to the farmers' market. So we did. They sat and colored, then climbed the big pine, then each selected a treat—a Rookie root beer for Kai; a Stony Loam Farm egg sandwich for Jules—so nicely. Treats were consumed. Kai and Jon did somersaults in a semi-private part of the lawn. It was idyllic. It was not typical. So we went to the library. WITH OUR DOG.

That's when shit got real. And it wasn't the dog. The boys were running and jumping and loudly talking through the aisles; they were in and out of the little outside reading nook. Jon and I were handing them back and forth while the other of us tried to find a book. It all basically could be characterized as a big parenting fail. We left: me, feeling like we're overly permissible parents raising rude young men and lecturing about proper library decorum; Jon, just looking silently agitated. Our next stop: the school playground, to burn off steam, riding bikes.

Except that no one wanted to ride bikes. They wanted to throw a found softball at each others' heads. I dismissed Jon to go for a run with the dog. And tried to prevent the boys from injuring each other. Which mostly worked. Then Jules found a purple marker and I turned my back. I won't go into the details, as the photos above likely make it quite clear.

But I will say this: A lot of good came out of that little purple autograph. Jon and I, on a date tonight acknowledged the solid tag-team parenting/partnering that happened around it (I insisted on going home for cleaning supplies to fix the mistake; Jon insisted that he be the one to drive back with the boys so I also could get in a run). And, as a family, we'd reviewed an important life lesson:

We all do stupid shit and make mistakes. But almost everything is fixable. And, when you're fixing a mistake, it's good to ask for help.

#realhappy

Day 6: The 5x5 Challenge

I think I'm posting right now because if I don't I'm going to have to pay at least 4x as much to have dinner with three fabulous fellow 5x5ers as I would if I keep at it through June 30. Hilary, Amanda, Angela and I agreed that the first person to drop this challenge is treating.

5 Snaps: 

5 Minutes: 

It was the last day of kindergarten for Jules—a rainy one. So rainy that the heavy peonies, some now fully bloomed, couldn't hold up their heavy heads and so we cut one to bring inside. So rainy that end-of-school celebrations planned for the beach gave way to an indoor pizza party punctuated with a basement performance of a Frozen medley that melted into a laser-beam-lit rave featuring drums, a tricycle and pole-climbing. It all felt very Spielpalast to me. Beautiful.

Beautiful because these little players were creating purely out of passion and camaraderie. Their reward was the journey. They'd collaborated and coordinated and choreographed. And then invited us down to watch as sung/drummed/pedaled/climbed their new-1st-grader (and pre-Ker) hearts out. And then waited for the claps and cheers and beams. The affirmations that they'd done good. 

I think a lot about intrinsic and extrinsic motivation—at work and at home. What drives us to actually DO what we want to do and should do for ourselves. Do I run because it makes me feel good, or because my doctor told me to do it? (Feels good.) Do I give 100% to a work project because doing my best makes me feel good—or because I want kudos from my boss? Definitely the former. This struck me when I was finishing my (job) self-appraisal today. Yes, I care about the sort of review I get back. But I care more that I've created, and learned, a ton this year. I feel good about it. And I feel good about feeling good about it. 

So I'll run and I'll work and I'll write not for reward or lack of punishment but because these things make me whole. But if someone wants to reward me for unpacking the dozens of boxes still sitting in the guest room closets from last year's move or for planting the onions that have been hanging out in my kitchen so long they've sprouted antlers, I'll take it. Or leave these tasks for another day. Again.  

Day 5 of 5x5: Cool connections

I'm breaking my 5x5 Creative Challenge streak. Sorta.

Here's 1 snap:

And a 1-ish minute writing exercise:

I love interconnectedness. I love that pictured here with this Dirty Mayor cider is another 5x5ing friend and a friend who might 5x5 before the month's end. I love that the might-5x5 friend, a writer, randomly met another writer friend in a Brooklyn hallway years ago and, yesterday, made the connection that I knew her too because I liked a FB picture of her kid hanging with Tony Danza. I dig the awesome synchronicity of the fact that, just two weeks ago, I spoke on the phone with a dear friend of the writer-friend that still lives in Brooklyn—the mom of the "Tony Danza kid"—because she's soon moving to Burlington. From Virginia. And she's a writer too.

I think I just racked up five intergalactic connections. So I'm gonna count this post as a creative success. Over and out. 

Day 4: 5x5 Challenge - Expiration dates.

Four days in, not posting would make me feel guilty. But time-intensive posting also will induce guilt. So here I post quickly. Meaning finding five snaps—no formatting—and spending five minutes on the EXECUTION of the writing.

5 Snapshots: 

5 Minutes:
It's raining. Truly raining. Not sprinkling (a Western PA term that a friend on Facebook just reminded me is a really weird and gross way of saying light rain showers). I just want to lie and listen to it, maybe read until it's really, really late. But there is lots of laundry to be done. Because no one has any clean socks around here. It's sandals season. But tomorrow's relay day so Jules wants to wear his sneakers. I could dig through baskets for a matching pair—but I've been at that for weeks so it seems time to dive in and attack the problem head-on.

We keep accumulating stuff. And more stuff. It seems that half of my life now is about managing this stuff—mostly unsuccessfully. I never used to be into flowers. They die. They're here and gone. What's the point? I used to think. Now I know: That's exactly the point. It's obvious when it's time to toss wilting blooms, or rotting broccoli, into a compost pile. There's of none of that purgatory holding-on like I tend to do with clothes that are in 62% flattering and look brand new or 96% flattering and starting to fray—or with mugs that aren't my favorite but they're just a few spots away. You acquire them, you appreciate them, you share their goodness and when they've expired, you're grateful for the sustenance that brought you. But you don't hang on. You move on.

(PS: The Danmade mug is not in the purgatory pile and never will be. If forced to make a choice, I would donate every other mug I own and drink from this cup every single day. Olin: Don't get any ideas.)

5/5 Creative Challenge: Day 3

It's my Day Three of The 5/5 Creative Challenge. I'm on a streak. (And totally digging new posts by 5x5-ing friends: Amanda... Hilary. Who's next? Angela? Sarah? Another evolved "by 5" from Anna? My day today felt fleeting and fast in so many ways.

5 Snapshots: 

5 Minutes:

The hum of the dishwasher is both domestic and calm—a contradiction 'round these parts. Today, I edited a story that suggested a white noise machine in the bedroom for better rest, and also recommended stroking your man's hand or doing an activity he really likes, like watching sports, because it will make him feel good and therefore improve your relationship. I cut that part out. 

Both boys are in a flow. Jules is making a end-of-year card for his bus driver. "What comes after the 's' in vacation?"  Uhh....

What does a 16 look like? Kai talks over Jules, who gets frustrated and talks louder. "Mummmyyyy... what's next?" 

"Well, there's actually no S; a T sounds like SH," I tell him, damning the idiosyncratic spellings of the English language when his face starts to crumple. He recovers. Turns out he hadn't even gotten anything down on paper yet. Phew. "So an H comes after the T?" 

"What. Does. A. Six. Teen. Look. Like.??"

I silently draw the figures of a 1 and a 6 on the sheet in front of Kai. Satisfied, he starts to copy them, neatly but backwards. Lately, though, he's had a burst of interest and skill when it comes to scribing. It's cool. 

I spell out the rest of vacation for Jules, recognizing that a tiny mistake could throw him over the edge. He writes it all down and then proceeds to write, on his own, after "I will miss you on summer vacation," "But I will still see you." I am not so sure about that. But I don't say it. I'm trying to check my tendency of squashing magical thinking. In fact, I'm trying to do more magical thinking myself. 

Tap, tap, tap. It's Kai's pen bouncing impatiently on my shoulder. "Now what, Mama?"

My head is spinning. It's all so fast. By the time I react, they're on to the next thing. 

Day 2: 5/5 Creative Challenge

While there's work-work to be done, I'm sticking with my 5/5 Creative Challenge commitment, with the idea that it's going to get my brain moving in the right direction. Here's today.

5 Snapshots: 

5 Minutes:
I drove home with my window down and my radio tuned to the station that plays half good music (stuff that may exist on my own playlists)—and half songs I'd never pay money to hear. As each new car came close, in the opposite direction, its VROOM amplified—then faded as it passed. The onomatopoeia occurred to me—and also how much this sound sounded like the simplified version of it we share with kids. I thought of sheep and how it's true in this case too—sheep sound like humans trying to sound like sheep.

Little tufts of white cotton-looking things floated in front of the windshield. I remembered 12 years ago when I moved here that June and saw giant clouds of this stuff billowing down Battery Street. It was nothing we had in New York City or Western PA. It was beautiful. And bizarre. I wondered what it did to allergy sufferers.

I was feeling good, grateful I'd chosen to go to my writing group, despite not having completed the short assignment, even though I felt I had too much else I should do. But I went anyway, knowing that these fun and funny, clever and creative people would help lighten my mood.

And driving back home to my to-dos, with a few Angela-recommended City Market-scored snacks and some new inspiring Scouts Honor Co. designs, it occurred to me: I'm getting better at knowing what I need to keep my soul from slipping into a total slump—and making a break for it.