Art & Motherhood

I read this the other day and it struck a pretty loud chord inside of me, loudly enough to make me wish I had written it.  Of course the tantrum part didn't resonate, because I'm waaay beyond that, but the rest of it about the messiness of motherhood and art is really good.

So in that vein, I'm too tired to write a proper post tonight, but I need to keep showing up; I need to keep up this blog so that it becomes a habit in my life.  I like how thoughts of this blog bump around in my head and remind me to look at the everyday with meaning-seeking lenses.  Here are some pictures of life around here.  If each of these is worth a thousand words, I figure I've done my work for tonight.

My children always smile and giggle and play together joyfully.  They never fight.  They never throw tantrums, and they certainly never bite each other hard enough to leave teeth marks. *cough*Annalyn*cough*

Brilliant Husband came up with the idea to name our transitional time, in our transitional house, Camp Ifland.  It has helped all of us.  What is camp? the children ask.  Well, camp is:

• a place away from home
• a place you stay for a while
• a place in the forest
• a place with routine
• a place where you can have adventures and make crafts and play music
• a place of growth

Looking out from Kingston across Puget Sound.  Seattle skyline with Mt. Rainier in the background.

My almost-two-year-old sweetie who never tantrums, never bites her brother hard enough to leave a mark for several days, and is exceptionally rational.  Ha. She makes my days better, though.

Seth and I never tire of foraging for berries here at Camp Ifland.  The blackberry season is just about to explode, and my mouth waters with the thought of all the delicious pies I *am* going to make.