Art & motherhood: things to be thankful for

In spite of this crap-heaped-on-top-of-crap year, I still have a few precious things that fill my heart with gratitude. 

The Boy folded up a little origami cornucopia and gave it to me as a Thanksgiving gift. He wrote the things he's thankful for on paper vegetables, like "toys" and "electronics" and other fun stuff. But he wrote the most important things in his life on the big pumpkin.

My favorites: "putting up with me" & "giving us stuff with sentimental value." ©Lisa Myers Bulmash

For the last two weeks, TwoBoo kept reminding me to come see him speak during his class Thanksgiving Day presentation. Which must be some sort of miracle in itself: anything else he would've forgotten in seconds.

TwoBoo also helped his classmates sound out the big words. ©Lisa Myers Bulmash

They're not angels: The Boy threw plenty of shade at me later today when he had to help put away clean pots and pans. And TwoBoo has yet to get through a whole day without contradicting me, or trying to correct my answers after he asks me a question. (I can't even tell you how hard it is let those ones slide.)

Marshmallow and chocolate chip eyeballs for Thanksgiving. ©Lisa Myers Bulmash

Still, I am amazed that I have a son who forgets everything but an opportunity to shine for me. I am awed that I have a son who expresses emotion in an artistic way... and trusts me enough to share these thoughts and emotions with me. 

So on this day that also symbolizes a lot of brutal history (you know, genocide, broken treaties...) I wish you the deepest love possible, and comfort in the art you love.

Call it retail therapy for artists

I always hear about artists who are "inspired by nature"...

Yeeaaaahhh. I dive for pearls of inspiration at the antique store.

I found a small encyclopedia set of ten books, which were mildly interesting on their own. And then I happened upon a jar of silver dollars... and that got me thinking.

More later on how I'm going to use them.

Just. So. Tired.

I'm going to make the understatement of a lifetime: this week was hard. Because I'm all out of pretty words, I point you in the direction of poet Maggie Smith. 

This poem beautifully captures the parenting dilemmas I've been wrestling with since at least 2011. (And again in 2013.  And in 2014. Pretty sure I'll keep thinking about this a lot.) Meanwhile, I'll spend this weekend regrouping. Perhaps next week I'll have more for you.