My NEW TOY!

Ok, so I have been screaming from the tops of buildings about this new toy of mine. I have been having so much fun playing with it. IT is, are you ready....a DSLR. Canon Rebel XT. Yesterday we went to Independence Grove and I played with it. I got a few shots that I liked. I am so excited to learn how to use all the manual functions. Holy moly, just the technical jargon alone is overwhelming. I think it will be years before I am fully manual but I am having fun learning. Check out my first outing with my XT. Do people name their cameras? I think I need to name this baby! Any suggestions?

Crash and Burn, sort of...

So this week. Well, Ted did go to Denver. But let me start first with the night I posted the last post to my blog. As I said, Cole had a temperature of 103. We ended up in the emergency room with a temperature of 104.8. They discharged him with the diagnosis of an ear infection. The next day he went to the pediatrician. No ear infection and blood/urine tests looked fine. Ted went to Denver. Tuesday, Cole started to throw up and have terrible diarrhea. He wasn't keeping anything down and everything was comin' out the other end. Back to the ER I went with Cole and my three year old in tow. Some IV fluids and back home again. Next day, same thing. We went back to the ER again. This time they kept us and Cole stayed for two days. That's the short story but everyone here is doing fine!

This Week, Flying Solo

This week, I anticipate will be a rough one. My husband is traveling for business, leaving me a single mom for five days. I made it my goal to remain completely positive about my temporary singledom and I was doing really good. And, wouldn't cha know it, the inevitable happened, my eight month old son got a temperature of 103.7 tonight, the night before my husband leaves for his trip. I will remain positive. I will remain positive. I will remain positive.

The Story Continues

About a six months after I had my first son, I was shopping at Gurnee Mills Mall. Within the mall is a store called "Archivers". I had had no interest in the store before and usually walked past without so much as glancing in that direction, but for some reason, that day it called my name. My husband hesitantly agreed to go in and he watched me carefully as I looked at the patterned paper and matching goodies (this is where the patterned paper obsession started). As I strolled the isles, I could feel the dormant creative beast within me start to come alive. Still, I resisted the strong urge to purchase. As I started to think about what I could make, I became completely overwhelmed. I had no idea where to begin or what to buy and the fear of spending a bunch of money and flushing it down the proverbial toilet played a good part in my wallet staying shut. We left the store without purchasing anything, much to my husband's amazement. I did leave with the store flyer that advertised beginner scrapbooking classes. I hemmed and hawwed for about a week; I just could not get scrapbooking out of my head (well, I could not get the patterned paper out of my head, oh the colors). Finally, I called the store and signed up for their Basic Scrapbooking class.

How It All Began.....

I have always been someone who needs a creative outlet. In high school I took almost every art class there was, and was even chosen for one of the coveted "independent art" openings . I absolutely loved having that time everyday to get messy with any of the supplies in the Art Department. When the Art Department was no longer available to me, I knew I needed to find a way to still be creative. That is how this quest for the perfect outlet for my artistic side began. I took drawing classes, dabbled in quite a few types of crafts, and even tried sewing. I would really get into whatever the art/craft du jour was, and then just as easily get bored with it. I bet I have the basic starters for every kind of art and craft known to man. So, when I announced to my husband that I was thinking about giving scrapbooking a whirl, he did his usual, "Uh huh, sounds great honey." I am sure what he was really saying was "Oh man, how much money we will be into this time before the excitement fizzles out?" Even I was really reluctant to try. Let's face it, I have a long history of intense interest followed by sudden boredom. It took me quite a few months of thinking about it, but I finally decided to take the plunge.

To be continued......

The Light Bulb Finally Goes On

I never thought of my family as being very strong on traditions. We had the standard family traditions, the same ones you find in every American home. Food was about as far as traditions got in our family. There just hasn't been any traditions passed down from generation to generation. I had always thought our family's lack of traditions kept me from having a common thread linking the generations. Now a mother myself, I understand I had to mature, and really settle into who I was, before I could see the thread has always been there. The common thread I found is so much stronger and deeper than any family tradition passed down through the ages, because this thread is as much a part of me as the color of my eyes and hair. It will forever entwine my grandmother, my mother, and myself. I can't believe I never saw it, especially since it was so obvious. It is one of the most integral parts of who I am, one of the parts I love the most about myself, and yet more often than not, I deny that part of myself, rarely acknowledge it. It is the artist in me.

I have never really called myself an artist because I was afraid to. In my mind, you were not just allowed to call yourself an artist. No, that title was not a self given description, it was an honor bestowed upon the greatest of talents and could only be awarded to you. I don't know what I expected, someone to show up at my door one day with the secret ring that says I could now call myself an artist and now I could begin to create. I also felt that since I wasn't "talented enough" that I may as well not do it. What was the sense? This seems to be another commonality between the generations. I remember complimenting my grandmother and mother on how talented they were, but they would always brush off compliments regarding their talent. Both women so very creative and talented. For some reason, they never really allowed themselves to embrace that side of themselves. Perhaps life got in the way, raising children, jobs, and house cleaning. Neither of them allowing themselves to create, just for the pure joy of creating. My mother is an unbelievable painter, yet still doesn't paint. She doesn't think she is any good at it. Really, she is. Once in a while, I hear her say she is going to start again, but the paint brushes are still collecting dust down in the basement. They both tinker in crafts, Grandma even having a craft business for a short time, but never fully and truly letting it all hang out and just create.

Here I am, the next generation of this family. I know I have been given an incredible gift and it is my turn, my turn to embrace the artist. It is time to stop worrying if it is "good enough" or not. I need to love the process and not worry about producing a freakin' Rembrant. It's time to just do it; time to stop overthinking and create just to love the experience of it. Learning to love the journey, I believe is just as important as the end results.