Just A Little More Time Please

June 6, 2014 | Coleen Patrick

For the last few months I’ve been working on a project that I really want to finish.

I’m frustrated with myself, because I was supposed to be done in March.

Back to the drawing board.

Oh, I’ve got a bunch of ~~excuses~~ reasons why I’m not done. For one, this project is pushing at the limits of my technological skills.

I took a Photoshop class this spring, but I still have some boundary stretching to do in the tech department.

A Grand Illusion

I’d say, don’t try this at home, but you can if you’ve got Photoshop!

Anyway, I’m not done. But all around me things are finishing.

Today was my ~~baby’s~~ son’s last day of high school. It was also my last official day as a parent volunteer at his school.

I sold school t-shirts, but they never made me wear the dragon costume. 🙂

Two days ago I made the 4,449th cheese sandwich (approximately) to go in my kid’s lunch box.

For the last time.

Because a Lunch Box Provided By Your Mom is not one of the choices for his college meal plan (I checked).

For the last nine months, there’s been his last cross country meet, last all district (and this year all state) chorus concerts, last music awards picnic, last piano lesson and recital, last prom, and lots of senior events that continue the You’re Finished theme.

But I’m not finished.

Not yet.

I just need a little more time.

Are you checking stuff off your To Do List? Tell me, I’d love some inspiration. Or a hug. Or a donut. And speaking of donuts…

Happy National Donut Day!!

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The Quickening: From Baby to High School Graduate in Sixty Seconds

June 10, 2013 | Coleen Patrick

The quickening.

It’s what the pregnancy books call the moment when a soon-to-be mom is physically aware of the movements of her baby.

I remember a bubbly effervescence, a tiny tapping, a feeling akin to little butterflies launching.

From that first motion on, parenthood became a quickening too. A series of moments accelerating. Too. Fast.

My daughter is moving at warp speed. One minute she’s appearing on an ultrasound screen, a bouncy, blurry greyness that I hardly could believe was real.

The next minute she’s graduating from high school. This week. Now. (Pass me the tissues.)

We tried to slow her down, if only for a minute, capturing memories on our front porch that first day of Kindergarten–and every first day of school since.

Taking her own photo on the porch.

It all seems just a little too soon.

What’s flying by too fast for you? And does anyone have access to a time machine?

Have a SWEET week,

Coleen xo

Habit is What Keeps You Going

May 20, 2013 | Coleen Patrick

“Motivation is what gets you started. Habit is what keeps you going.”
~Jim Rohn

A couple of days ago I stood next to the kitchen counter peeling a banana. I dropped the peel–and the stringy banana “hairs”– into our compost container.

Then, without thinking, I broke off the end–a.k.a. the butt of the banana– and added it to the pile.

I have no problem with the banana butt. But my son always has. When he was younger he wouldn’t eat a banana unless I broke off the ends. The ends grossed him out.

My kids are teenagers now, still under my care, but it’s different. For the most part, there’s less micro-managing (I say for the most part, because somehow I can still hear my echo of have you emptied the dishwasher yet?)

But it’s not uncommon to see me filling their glasses half full at the dinner table, a nod to the days when my kids were too old for sippee cups, but not so old that they weren’t prone to spilling.

Leftover habits, lingering. Happily. Because every time I catch myself in one of these random mommy flashbacks, I smile.

It’s definitely the kind of habit that can keep me going.

Kind of like a dangling banana butt.

What are your happy habits?

Have an awesome week,

Up for fun posts and cool pictures? Check out author, Patricia aka Jansen Schmidt. You may learn what a Xebec is, if you don’t already know. 🙂

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The Creative Life: Following your Bliss vs. Taking the Sensible Path

February 11, 2013 | Coleen Patrick

This weekend I heard a middle school choral director speak about supporting kids’ creative passions.

He said, kids often don’t continue with music (or art, photography, writing, etc) because somewhere along the way they are told it’s not sensible, that it’s not a “clear and trusted” practical career path.

But, he asked, what if a career in the arts is your bliss?

Photo credit: Mallari Sizemore

Dreams are important. When I was a teenager, I concocted big ideas for my future. One involved me owning horses, a show barn, and 537 acres of land, not because I loved horses, but because apparently riding horses with “your hair whipping away from your face” primes the creative pump. Either way, you get the gist, writing was pretty important to me.

My diary dreams.

But, now that I’m a parent of kids sitting (precariously) close to the edge of our family nest, I admit the dreamy thing makes me cringe a bit. There’s an element of fear.

Fear is the thing that can derail a dream.

And fear can send a parent into the You Need to be Practical speech (you want your kids to be happy, but you also don’t necessarily want them living in your basement at thirty.)

Except I also know that it’s not my job to define their happy. So, so hard to remember after years of telling them when to sleep, eat, and blow their noses.

This whole following your bliss thing can be complicated. Do you take the risk, or stick to the more sensible pursuit? There’s a character in my YA contemporary, Come Back to Me, named Evan Foster, and Evan believes without question that you should go “balls to the wall” when it comes to your dreams. Now, balls to the wall is an old aviation term that refers to pushing the ball-shaped grip on the throttle all the way forward, i.e. full speed.

Full speed, like with your hair whipping in the wind and all that.

I don’t think there’s one answer, or one way to follow your bliss. Sometimes you are not exactly sure of your dream, sometimes all you have is a wispy idea.

Write those wispy ideas down. Listen to your heart. Talk to people who do what you want to do. Take classes. Keep learning. Continue moving forward.

If it’s your passion, find a way to keep creating.

Me? I got a degree in criminal justice, worked in a library (and a whole slew of other odd jobs, like delivering phone books), got married, became a mom (best job ever), worked some more odd jobs (selling makeup, crafts, and gutters—but not all at the same time), and now I’m writing again.

No, it wasn’t a straight path, and nothing about it felt particularly “clear and trusted.” But still I’m where I wanted to be.

And I’m picking up some momentum . . . I think there may even be a little hair whipping happening.

What do you think about following your bliss? Do you think you can balance the sensible and your dream? What’s the oddest job you’ve ever had?

Happy Monday!

Oh and I hope you stop by on Valentine’s day–I will be participating in the Indie-Kissing Blog Fest hosted by the INDELIBLES. 🙂

The Beauty and the Beast of Optimism

January 7, 2013 | Coleen Patrick

eeyore optimism

Each week I aim for optimism in my posts.

But some weeks I feel like gloomy Eeyore. I doubt the positive message. I feel like a poser, or a Pollyanna. I wonder if you’ll think,

Who is this woman handing me these rose-colored glasses?

Because sometimes behind that optimistic message I feel defeated, frustrated.

These were supposed to be stars and other assorted cut out cookies.

This past week was no exception. There was a moment where I found myself jumping up and down because I was so excited (news for a future post!), and then there was one where I cried tears of frustration.

Now before you write me a prescription, this wasn’t one big massive mood swing (although can’t say I’m immune to those either). This week it was two unrelated things.

And way more frustrating than a crappy batch of cookies.

Enough to make me feel like I suddenly had no business writing about optimism.

Then while perusing the food blogs in my Google reader (never underestimate the power of a pretty picture of monkey bread), I read some posts from a blogger who recently gave birth to her second child. In between posts on yummy confections she updated readers on the ups and downs of getting to know her infant. The sleepless nights, the tricks that work and don’t work, and the worry.

The opening notes to The Beauty and the Beast of Motherhood.

And in her story, I recognized myself and my daughter, how our first night home from the hospital (many, many moons ago) my daughter cried and cried no matter how many times I changed her, fed her, swaddled her, held her. I remember staring at her and thinking (and crying), just tell me what you want.

But we don’t always get the answers. Sometimes after life shifts, or plans derail, it takes time to figure out what works. Eventually I figured out that my daughter loved her swing and white noise. She’d sleep and so would I. Then that would pass and there would be something new and equally exhausting to figure out.

My daughter, the gift. She also inspired me to write songs with lyrics like, Please go to sleep.

And as I thought about the new baby posts and the super cute photos of this tiny new baby girl and her mother’s face glowing with happy exhaustion, I remembered the joy. Eventually, light seeps through. We learn to deal.

It reminded me that my current confusion will pass too. Maybe I haven’t figured it out yet, but at least I know I’ve done it before.

And I hope that by focusing on the light seeping through each week, maybe I can inspire someone else to remember the joy too.

A big thank you to Kristan over at Confessions of a Cookbook Queen and her tiny new daughter. Their story was the one I needed this week to remind me to keep on keeping on.

Oh and just in case you’re wondering, this is what I did with that funky batch of sugar cookies:

Cookie dough truffles.

Where do you turn to get a dose of optimism?

xoxo

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The Quest of Fatherhood: Fun and Avoiding Parasites

June 14, 2012 | Coleen Patrick

Children learn to smile from their parents.

~Shinichi Suzuki

See what I’m teaching my kids?

I’m simply passing on my version of the funny I learned growing up–thanks in big part to my dad. He is a master at telling a funny story, and watching him, I learned the value in being able to get people to smile, to laugh and to share joy.

And I learned other things.

Growing up, my dad was big on safety. He made us wear sunscreen (thank you Dad!), and after a sudden stop in the car, he always threw out an arm in front of whoever sat in the passenger seat–even after our car had seat belts. Plus, he did not allow us out of the house without shoes.

No skipping around barefoot for me.

Why?

Because of hookworms.

You see those little suckers could burrow into tender kid soles and make their way up and . . . well, I don’t remember the rest. He had me at hookworm. It was all I needed to know–and believe me when I tell you, I had the softest, callous-free feet in my neighborhood!

I have done zero research on hookworms, so I cannot tell you if this is true. The only thing I know for sure is that as a parent, protecting my kids is of utmost importance. I will never forget the first time my husband and I left our kids home alone. On one hand it was exciting that they were finally old enough, but as we moved to walk out the door, my husband turned around and said:

No eating!

Because apparently as I showed my oldest the list of phone numbers, my husband had worst case scenarios running through his mind. By decreeing no food, he felt he eliminated the choking scenario.

“There’s a lot of ugly things in this world, son. I wish I could keep ’em all away from you. That’s never possible.”

~Atticus Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird

So maybe it’s not possible, but dads will try. Because like moms, dads like to dispense advice too:

“This is life. So go and have a ball. Because the world don’t move to the beat of just one drum. What might be right for you may not be right for some. You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have … my opening statement. Sit, Ubu, sit. Good dog.”

~Peter Griffin, Family Guy

You never want your kids to see you scared. You want to be that rock that they grab a hold of in a stormy sea. Actually, a rock would sink. So a floating rock.

~Phil Dunphy, Modern Family

Dad = floating rock. Oh, and let’s not forget dads can be FUN:

“This is no longer a vacation. It’s a quest. It’s a quest for fun.”

~Clark Griswold, National Lampoon’s Vacation

Me, my dad and one of my sisters. It’s possible she’s checking the ground for hookworms.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!

I’d love to know–what is your favorite Father’s day gift to give or get?

Carry Weapons of Minimal Destruction and Other Motherly Advice

May 7, 2012 | Coleen Patrick

When your mother asks, “Do you want a piece of advice?” it’s a mere formality. It doesn’t matter if you answer yes or no.

You’re going to get it anyway.

― Erma Bombeck

Growing up I got great advice from my mom. I’m sure of it.

However at the moment, all I can think about is the time she told me to always carry a hat pin when riding a city bus. You know, in case of unsavory strangers deciding to get a little too close.

It was advice she dispensed for my safety. You see once I hit the 7th grade, I liked to go to the mall. A lot. I didn’t ride a bus there and I’d never owned a hat pin, but maybe my mom was worried about me going without her. So she offered up a quick tidbit from the stores of her own immigrant mother’s wisdom stash. The hat pin was a reflex.

Hat pins, weapons of minimal destruction.

She quickly amended the advice to this:

Stay away from strangers a.k.a. unsavory sorts. If need be, act a little crazy to encourage them to stay away.

Or at least that’s how I remember it. The mistakes in this advice are all mine, but you get the gist–she wanted me to be safe.

Because that’s what moms do.

They advise you:

“Do not eat chips out of a communal bowl. You might as well stick your hand in a toilet.”

~Lorelai Gilmore, Gilmore Girls

They love you:

buffy vampire slayer joyce summers

“I know you’re afraid. I know the world feels like a hard place, sometimes. But you’ve got people who love you. Your dad and I, we have all the faith in the world in you. We’ll always be with you. You have got a world of strength in your heart. I know you do. You just have to find it again. Believe in yourself.”

~Mrs. Summers to Buffy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

They teach you (and maybe humble you):

dorothy and sophia petrillo

“Jealousy is a very ugly thing, Dorothy. And so are you, in anything backless.”

~Sophia Petrillo, Golden Girls

And okay sometimes they confuse you:

mom daughter Portokalos advice

“Don’t play with the food! When I was your age, we didn’t have food!”

~Maria Portokalas, My Big Fat Greek Wedding

But it’s wisdom from a (longer) life lived. And it’s meant to be a good thing.

Because they want you to be happy.

Oh and that reminds me of another pearl to share. Here’s the first stanza of the song my mom used to sing to pull a smile out of us when we were having the mopes:

Nobody Likes Me (Guess I’ll Go Eat Worms)

Nobody likes me, everybody hates me,
I think I’ll go eat worms!
Big fat juicy ones,
Eensie weensy squeensy ones,
See how they wiggle and squirm!

Happy Mother’s Day!

What is your favorite bit of motherly wisdom?

Finding Meaning in the Mess

April 23, 2012 | Coleen Patrick

While flipping through a magazine last week, I saw a two page spread of Pretty Things You Wish You Had or something like that.

Anyway, I saw a cute, colorful glass tumbler and immediately I got caught in the glow of something sparkly.

I thought: I want my kitchen to look cute too! I must replace my mismatched (read: broken) sets immediately!

Then my house will be pretty and in magazine-like order.

Okay maybe not exactly like a magazine, because I’ve been known to overlook a tub ring for far longer than the Tub Guidebook recommends. But I do love organization. I like when everything has a place. And I like to look at pretty things.

Still somehow in my house, jackets migrate to chairs (or the floor), papers can’t find their matching files and those pretty bathroom towels that coordinate with the shower curtain find themselves under the muddy feet of a sweaty boy after a game of frisbee in the rain.

Because not everyone I live with cares about the pretty. Or even organization. And I am outnumbered.

**Warning: If you’ve looked at Pinterest recently, then the following image may be offensive.**

You can lead a horse to water, but doesn’t mean he’ll put his shoes in it.

Several years ago I declared our living room my Serenity room. It was the one room that was not allowed to be a dumping ground. I could have a few pretty, unbroken things set up in my serenity room and whenever I passed it, it was proof that I actually could keep a house clean and in order.

But now I don’t bother with a serenity room, and it’s not just because I know sweaty kids have been plopping down on the so-called serenity couch.

No I didn’t give up. I readjusted my idea of meaningful. Because when I really thought about it, I realized that all those messy habits kind of come with the territory.

And I like this territory.

Because those stacks of papers and scattered shoes mean people I love live here.

And kids grow up, they move out. Someday there will be less stuff to pick up and put away. And pretty glasses will stay in sets.

So maybe I will put a bookmark in that magazine, but right now I am happy to set the table with my mismatched glasses, because for now it means I get to see this:

“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow.”

― Melody Beattie

What messes are you grateful for?

The Hulking Generation Gap

January 9, 2012 | Coleen Patrick

A couple of weeks ago my husband and I were playing a trivia board game with our fifteen year old son. Our son is a bit competitive and usually beats us when it comes to geography and presidential history, but he wasn’t so happy when he pulled this card:

Name a character from Hogan’s Heroes.

“Come on,” he said sounding annoyed. “I don’t watch this reality TV stuff . . .ugh, okay fine, Hulk Hogan.”

An American TV show featuring spandex clad wrestler, Hulk Hogan, in charge of a crew of Allied prisoners in a POW camp?

My husband and I laughed, but it was an honest mistake considering Hogan’s Heroes started airing before we were all born. But the next time we played that game, this card came up:

Name a comic character Johnny Carson played on The Tonight Show.

My son’s response?

“Who’s Johnny Carson?”

It was a little astonishing that he didn’t have any reference for the thirty year host of The Tonight Show. Johnny Carson was such a fixture in my house from the time I was a kid until right before I got married.

Generation Gap: A chasm, amorphously situated in time and space, that separates those who have grown up absurd from those who will, with luck, grow up absurd.

**~Bernard Rosenberg, Dictionary for the Disenchanted, 1972**

You know what else is absurd? My kids don’t know what a library card catalog is . . .

The card catalog and paper–the two things I needed to do a school report when I was a kid. No Google.

And (*sigh*) they don’t even know how to use a cassette tape, the pain of it unraveling, or the power of a pencil in that respect.

Both my kids do however know the 17th century stockade:

Captive in Colonial Williamsburg

This is one way to bridge the generation gap.

However, I am grateful that my kids know not only what a library is, but the feel and smell of actual books. That even though they listen to their music via iPods, I am happy that they know the power of music.

So they may not know the once famous fixtures of bygone decades, but I am glad that they find some significance in their family–at least enough to sit down with them and play a game.

Coleen Patrick

Coleen Patrick children's book author illustrator

parenting