Painting Boy

December 7 – Community. Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011?

This is obvious, it's you. You are my community. Even when I'm not writing, I am reading you, learning from you, getting strength from you. Much has been written about the blogosphere and the people who exist here. I would be adrift if not for you. So thank you. And mwah.

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December 8 – Beautifully Different. Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different – you’ll find they’re what make you beautiful.

Ahem. This makes me want to cry right now so I think I better stay clear. I've been staring at this question on and off for the better part of an afternoon and I would really rather clean the house ... oh wait, I promised not to do that for awhile. The very lax Reverb10 rules do stipulate that you can ignore a prompt or change it, so...

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… let me tell you a beautiful story about one of my boys.

I've often said that I'm certain John is reading. He knows his colors, he knows his animals, he knows the alphabet. How much is memorization, how much is actual reading? With a twin who started reading at two, aren't the odds in his favor?

When the phone rang last week, the school's phone number flashing on the caller id, I sighed. Is he sick? Did he fall? What did I forget to pack today? Instead John's teacher's voice was breathless. "I had to call," she said, "I am too excited."

You know how sometimes if you're really still, you swear you can hear your heart beat in your chest but then realize you've stopped breathing?

"I know we've talked about whether John can read or not — he does know a lot of sight words," she said, pausing. "I just gave him a book that he had never seen before and I said 'Read book?' Kal, he read that whole book to me."

Oh. My. Boy. I am both shocked and nonplussed. I knew it all along, I think. Lately, though, he is fascinated with books in a new way. I catch him flipping pages and muttering words. He sometimes prefers books to his itouch. He even prefers them to lining up blocks on the counter these days. Wow, he is growing up, I think.

He favors books from the Baby Einstein library: My Favorite Colors, Numbers, Poetry. He was enthralled with Baby Van Gogh and that has translated to being enthralled with the real Van Gogh — an obsession going on two years. He has carried around pictures of Starry Starry Night for some time, but now he wants to read books about him and now studies his less famous works: Sunflowers, Boats on the Beach, Irises. He asks me to draw them on index cards then demands tape to hang them on the wall. He jumps in front of them, happy.

Reverb10: December 1-6

Reverberate: to echo back; to resound.

So, what could get me out of this funk? I could start writing more... I just read about Reverb10 at Betty and Boo. Reverb10 is:

"an annual event and online initiative to reflect on your year and manifest what's next. Use the end of your year as an opportunity to reflect on what's happened, and to send out reverberations for the year ahead… it encourages online creators, through daily prompts, to dive into the past year and reflect on it to understand ourselves."

Just the kick in the pants I need. Anyone else want to join me? I am six days behind but you can recap posts or skip them altogether and start now…I'll go first.

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December 1 – One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?

2010? ANXIETY. It's just been an anxious sort of year, a rollercoaster year. One year from today I'd like to describe 2011 with this one word: BALANCED.

December 2 – Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?

Um, a million things? A million itty-bitty things interfere with my sitting down to write. What I need is a plan and a clean house. If the house were clean I could concentrate on my plan instead of finding yet another thing to dust, mop, wash. But what I'd rather do for this one month — holiday entertaining be damned — is ignore the house and the mess. Yes! That's my new plan.

December 3 – Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).

Oh, oh, oh! Honestly it's this one moment, running with my boy. I often dream of this night and think it has saved me each time.

December 4 – Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

Both of my boys fill me with wonder. No matter how shitty I'm feeling, the things they do, the things I thought they'd never do, awe the hell out of me.

December 5 – Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

The better question is this: What have you not been able to let go of this year? And the short-but-sweet answer is Control.

December 6 – Make. What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?

The last thing I made was our holiday cards. I would love time to work on my knitting or to start crocheting (which I hear is easier) or to finish a photo book.

It's So Loud Out There

I know I've been silent. Everything feels muffled to me these days — the way the streets do after a new snow. I reach out, I reach within and I come up empty. The words fail me because the feelings are all Pay attention to us! Don't be rational about it, just wallow! On Saturday morning I sat in a parked car and sobbed. In that moment I felt outside myself, a bystander to something foreign and a little embarrassing. The me outside myself looked down at the me inside her car and asked Do you feel better now? Did you just need a good cry? Will you snap out of it now?

The morning did not start well. It began with a fight with Twins Dad over dishes. Of course all epic fights begin with something this inane, clearly standing in for bigger things. I do everything. I don't feel appreciated. I'm scared. I'm tired. I feel like a bad parent. Who cares if it's true, it feels true in that moment. At one point I stood in the kitchen and screamed at the top of my lungs, exactly the way Sam does when he doesn't get his way. I felt outside myself then too. The me outside myself laughed at the me screaming in the middle of her kitchen.

I mean, it was a little funny — hours later, after we had hashed it all out and were speaking again. I realized that I can only change the way I react to this life, this huge life that we're living — I can't change much else.