Art Every Day

During the Summer, I participated in Daisy Fellow's Index Card a Day. Every day, one piece of art on an index card. No holds barred, no worrying about perfection, cheap card, go for it. This year's felt amazing, I never got stuck in that feeling of duty and enjoyed every piece.

And yet since then I haven't continued to create every day.

I intended to. Kept my little art station set up by the kettle and all. Every morning I get up, take my supplements, drink a glass of water and wipe down the surface, put the kettle on for a cup of tea. In the Autumn that minute seemed to be for spacing out and staring at the willow tree. End of Summer weirdness.

Over the Winter I have painted again. Not every day, though that would be a good aim for me eventually I think.

Right now there is a lot of knitting to do. And a lot of facilitating for the children. So much to learn and do. Still, maybe today I'll pick up a brush again.

Seven Days of these guys being the busiest and me trying to keep up

 

Fuzzy, in-the-dark pictures today. I shan't apologise for them because it won't be the last time haha!

1: Canal boating.
2: Pyjama-d band practice. Morgan and friend playing Rainbow Connection.
3: Lucky Cat bracelet making.
4: Takenoko. We've played board games every day this week again.
5: A comparison of Rowan and Tali's foot templates, as they're only a shoe size apart right now!
6: Catan.

Not pictured: all the science, involved discussions about language, a thousand renditions of the songs Morgan is learning on uke, and some reorganising of Ashleigh's yarn stash.

Yarn Along: January catchup

Ash inspired me to knit socks again. I've completed a (lovely deep orange) pair for Rowan and a (rainbow stripe) pair for Talia too. As well as finishing the Sockhead I cast on just before New Year, and making myself a pair of mittens.

I think I'm on a knitting roll.

Baby socks for my nephew next, I think. Then perhaps the Barley hat from Knitting from the North in really tasteless clashing jewel colours.

Not that I'm avoiding Jenna's Hogwarts shawl at all...

Meanwhile, I've not been reading all that much. I finished the Storm Siren series and *whispers* found them really predictable. I've re-read Earthsea alongside them though which is probably horribly unfair and would tarnish a lot of writing by comparison.

I also picked up The Darkest Part of the Forest, remembering quite enjoying the dark fae stories as a teen. If you like a slightly more dangerous breed of fairy, these are good solid diverting fiction with a good take on the alternative fairytale. I enjoyed this not-Snow-White almost as much as I liked Ash by Malinda Lowe. 

In the same dark-fairytale vein, this just arrived. Always one of my favourite short stories by Neil Gaiman, and I'm looking forward to seeing how this new format has changed it if at all.

Catching up: Picture Dump

There's a London road trip in there, and a week of guests. Christmas, and New Years. I've been in quite a good place. Too busy to wallow in the difficult moments. Making, doing, seeing people. Not fitting in everything I want to, ever.

Sometimes it's really great to stop and think that these adventures are getting easier, that at some point I've stopped forcing myself to say yes and started leaping at opportunities. (Sometimes, sometimes the leaping is harder and more coaxing and handholding is required.)

I've felt some resistance to writing, and have been painting instead. I'll probably try to drag myself back here a bit to document more of these days before they're gone.

This morning I was woken early, to the sound of my button box being dropped in the kitchen (the shelf collapsed "for no reason" apparently "we weren't touching it!")! I'd stayed up until midnight to pay our internet bill and get services turned back on, and then had weird dreams I can't quite remember clearly.

It's still dark outside, mist softening the houses opposite. The cat is sitting in the middle of our season table, clouded in blue silk and purring smugly.

I feel like I'm running behind with everything, not keeping up with myself, playing catch up with my life.

Seven ish days of adventures and these big kids

1: Morgan, outside the William Morris Gallery in London (weekend road trip including a snowball fight with internet friends, and playing in the rain with a cousin).
2: I've been trying to capture more of the children using technology, because blogworld can reflect an oddly skewed picture of just the prettiest moments (here Jenna is writing fanfiction).
3: Sarcasm face outside the cinema, walking up there to see Moana with a crowd of friends.
4: Morgan is the boat girl. Our friend has a little canal boat and Morgan has gradually learned every task she can, from operating the engine to tying knots, from reblacking the little wood stove to doing the pre-journey checks. She has a lovely calm confidence about her out on the water.

Wordless, again

It's done. I can't pretty it up yet or wrap the right words around the raw spiky places. As emergency surgery goes it was easy and she's fine now the half-teeth are gone. As fine as a stubborn and extremely miffed five year old can be when she lacks the vocabulary to express discomfort and just howls and howls for hours at a time.

I've been so anxious about this I haven't even written about her birthday, or Christmas knitting, or crafts, or the learning they are all engaged in. I feel really stuck. At least now it's more literally physically stuck what with trying to make her immediate world feel a little less horrible - rather than the emotional stuck of not-really-coping-with-anything and awaiting boiler repairs and surgery and landlord's inspection and more appointments at the same time as getting last orders out and saying goodbye to my mum as she flies out to Estonia to meet my new nephew...

Oh look, a few dozen words. Quick, shut them down before they overflow everywhere.

Ten

Morgan celebrated ten years yesterday. She has recently grown up so much and looking at her through milestone-primed eyes was a disturbing experience. I mean, look at her! Where have ten years gone?

Ten years ago I wrote her birth story. Nine years ago I secretly wondered if her adorable little elf ears would ever be even. Eight years ago I laughed at her pixie antics. Seven years ago I quaked at the depth of her determination. Six years ago I worried she might never really connect with other children apart from her worshipped older sister. Five years ago I enjoyed taking the slow route with her every time. Four years ago I marveled at how she went from never even having drawn a human-like figure to writing her name on the bathroom wall almost overnight. Three years ago I loved her happy dreamy little bubble. Two years ago I rejoiced with her as she started making real friendships. A year ago I wished fiercely that I could be more, for her, have more hours in my day just for quiet with her.

She's a dreamy little mouse, and she's immovable when she does finally fix on something she wants. She's accommodating and she's stubborn and loud when she has been pushed too far. She's thoughtful and yet cannot ever look where she's going. She's scarily smart and analytical, and she falls over her words (and her own feet). She's like a much younger child in some ways, and yet look how far she has come from a child who seemed always so alone and so unaware of anything outside her bubble!

Her current style is really quite punk, with elements of the floral layers she used to wear so often. Punk with lightness and pastel pink. Hippy with an edge of huge boots and black leather jacket. Her favourite things are prime numbers, red lipstick, board games, tacos, Pentatonix, Lego, and notebooks with plain paper inside.

Little starlight baby born under the Christmas tree, tall and strong and brave and bright.

Seven Days in which I don't have time to remember my own name

1: Advent in full swing, Saint Nicholas Day shoes
2: Crafting
3: And craft fayres (two successful charity events in one week)
4: She might not love board game cafes or board games but she's certainly a fan of attached comic book shops
5: Incredible art at Derby QUAD ("What a Loving and Beautiful World")

I don't know whether I'm coming or going this week. So much going on, and I'm not fully on top of any of it (except posting orders out, I am up to date with that and only have one more bag to take to the post office before Christmas). One out of the two back-to-back birthdays. Two craft fayres. Assorted attempts to get the house chaos back under control. Yeah. My head is a bit of a mess; this year I have found each birthday really emotionally hard. Something to do with not being able to make them perfectly happy and perfectly peaceful any more. Something to do with being afraid that I'm not as good a mother as I used to be (or not as confident a person, or something, I don't know). The elusive feeling of striving for good enough and not being sure I'm ever close.

Seven days in which I coax Morgan to eat, and we mess around at a garden centre

1: Rowan cuddling her baby cardigan
2: Walking a friend to dance class
3: Life goal; I would like to live in such a way that I deserve an introduction like this
4: Candle making
5: Snowflakes and babysitting
6: The obnoxious worksheet book (which Talia loves) has stickers. She put a star sticker on my arm and told me it was for being a lovely mummy.
7: Helping Ash pick out her tree. Lots of giggling and silliness at the garden centre, abd a photobombing dino.

After her sickness last week getting Morgan to eat food has been a mammoth task. It was Tuesday before she ate an actual meal. So even though she was doing better, and was much perkier last weekend, I've still had quite a worried week. On the other hand I'm laughing more, and this bunch of sillies have been immensely delighted by Advent activities again.

Every year I wonder if this will be the last year Jenna wants to do these things with us, and every year she is delighted by the simple and ordinary sharing. I'm glad they're not growing toooo fast.