Kevin and I have a long-standing history of celebrating holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries by doing absolutely nothing for one another. We don't hate each other. We're just anti-establishment. The Man can't tell us when to do nice stuff and buy cards.
Skip to Valentine's Day, 2013, when we both really, but secretly, wanted to do something for our Valentine. Ridiculous, right? The most Hallmark of all the made up holidays, and we wanted to celebrate it. Secretly. Except that we're terrible at keeping secrets, and three days before February 14th we discovered that we were both secretly working on exactly the same surprise for one another. With a few artistic distinctions.
We are meant to be together, people. Forever.
ngmfilms milestones 720p from Sarah Hanson on Vimeo.
thatswhatsup from Sarah Hanson on Vimeo.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
On the Topic of Adaptability
The girls and I headed out on a new trail today.
The conditions were seemingly perfect. Twenty degrees. No wind. Snow barely flurrying. All of us fed. All hats, mittens, scarves, boots and snowshoes accounted for. Maggie eager to be strapped into the backpack. How could this possibly go wrong?
Jumping ahead, it didn't go all wrong. But there were some painful, frustrating, kid-vs-parent struggley bits that I didn't predict. Or, maybe I could have foreseen the boots kicked off, the areweTHEREyet? whines, the mittens-on / mittens-off / mittens-on / carry-my-mittens / carry-my-scarf / carry-me / put-me-down. But I wasn't interested in looking into that crystal ball. I had a gottagoforaHIKE agenda, and these two were coming with me by default.
This is the story of my life as a parent. Six and a half years in, I still find myself [often] wrestling against my children in order to do that thing that I have my mind set on doing. Only my ability to fake flexibility has improved over the years. I can pack a helluva diaper bag with just the essentials, and none of the space-occupying unnecessary junk. I can negotiate treats for help with errands, dollar bin toys for good behavior at Target, extra time on the Wii for peace and quiet while I make dinner. I can ignore a tantrumming tot in the middle of aisle 18C without mortification.
I certainly recover more quickly from the unexpected than I once did. But never without a heavy sigh and a long pause while my brain shifts gears, struggling to regroup. Nearly everything I have on my every single day agenda would be so much simpler without three small people. One of these days, all my faking it is going to pay off. I really will become that easy breezy person I pretend I am. I will reach mothering nirvana, where everyone's needs are seamlessly met and I flow through my days without nagging thoughts of unmade beds, critically low levels of dish detergent, or that book that I have been trying to finish since December. Somehow it all works itself out whether I internally harp on it or not.
I know you want to go home and have hot chocolate r i g h t n o w, Greta. But check out this fort the forest spirits left for you. Cool, no? Don't you want to go just a little bit further down the trail?
The conditions were seemingly perfect. Twenty degrees. No wind. Snow barely flurrying. All of us fed. All hats, mittens, scarves, boots and snowshoes accounted for. Maggie eager to be strapped into the backpack. How could this possibly go wrong?
Jumping ahead, it didn't go all wrong. But there were some painful, frustrating, kid-vs-parent struggley bits that I didn't predict. Or, maybe I could have foreseen the boots kicked off, the areweTHEREyet? whines, the mittens-on / mittens-off / mittens-on / carry-my-mittens / carry-my-scarf / carry-me / put-me-down. But I wasn't interested in looking into that crystal ball. I had a gottagoforaHIKE agenda, and these two were coming with me by default.
This is the story of my life as a parent. Six and a half years in, I still find myself [often] wrestling against my children in order to do that thing that I have my mind set on doing. Only my ability to fake flexibility has improved over the years. I can pack a helluva diaper bag with just the essentials, and none of the space-occupying unnecessary junk. I can negotiate treats for help with errands, dollar bin toys for good behavior at Target, extra time on the Wii for peace and quiet while I make dinner. I can ignore a tantrumming tot in the middle of aisle 18C without mortification.
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| Who, me? |
I know you want to go home and have hot chocolate r i g h t n o w, Greta. But check out this fort the forest spirits left for you. Cool, no? Don't you want to go just a little bit further down the trail?
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