Evangeline and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I went to sleep with a pain in my shoulder and now I have a pain in my neck too.

My son was almost late for school, because he played with plasticine instead of getting ready, and then he couldn't find his gloves, and by mistake, I snapped at him, even though I knew that I was the one who should have been helping him stay organized, and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

My computer was really slow. My internet connection kept flaking out, and I have no idea why. I couldn't get half of what I wanted to get done on the computer.

Then I noticed that everything I had worked so hard to clean up earlier this week is messy again. How do I uncross things on my to do list? This means more housework for me, and I HATE housework.

Perhaps I should move to Australia.

It snowed a little, and the roads were a little icy. My car doesn't have its winter tires on yet, and I skidded even on that tiny bit of ice, and I knew it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

After lunch I tried to make a beautiful art journal page, but I smudged black paint right on the face of my painstaking sketch. When I tried to blot it off, the paper ripped.

When I went grocery shopping my spinach got squished, and a guy stared at me funny, and I didn't know why, and the cold made my shoulder ache even more. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I could tell, because when I went to make some yummy Indian food for supper, I was out of ginger root and yogourt, and I had already just been to the store.

I made another art journal page about how frustrated I was, but that one didn't turn out very well either. Then I wanted to make some gingerbread cookies to cheer myself up, but I knew my stupid shoulder was hurting too much to roll them out.

In the evening my husband was so tired, and I felt really bad about how little I'd gotten done all day. I didn't want him to help me, but there was supper and lots of homework to do with the boys, and I had to let him. I wished we could go to Australia.

When I went to bed, I knew I wouldn't sleep, so I took some stuff to help, but I took it too soon and my eyes closed even as I got to the most exciting part of my book. It had been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day!

But I know that some days are like that, even in Australia.

*********************

My day yesterday...modelled after the wonderful classic "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" by Judith Viorst (you can listen to it online here). One of those days when the little things refuse to go smoothly. I tore my rotator cuff several weeks ago, and it seems to be reluctant to get better. It is getting me down to have to take things slow when I am raring to go for Christmas. But chiaroscuro, you know...it's not all supposed to be peaches and cream. And being achy and squished spinach aren't much to be concerned about in the grand scheme of things...still, feels good to kvetch along with Alexander, everyone has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day once in awhile (even in Australia).

Inspiration and Influences: Dice Tsutsumi

Don Quixote
(Image courtesy of Hey Oscar Wilde It's Clobberin' Time)

I had a really hard time choosing an image for this post. It was hard to narrow it down, because Dice Tsutsumi's work is just so good! The painting above is the one that piqued my curiosity about his work in the first place, so after falling down an internet Dice Tsutsumi rabbit hole for an hour...or so...I finally decided that that's where I'll start off here too.

For more, follow my path down the rabbit hole: (beware: you will be amazed! I make no apologies for time lost and tasks left undone)

Dice Tsutsumi write up on Lines and Colors.

His website, where you can scroll through his oil paintings, illustrations and sketchbooks.

The Sketch Travel project.

A book you are going to want badly- Out of Picture. We are fortunate enough to have a copy, and it is brilliant! (Dice's story being one of my favourites)

Dreaming in Lego

My sons eat, drink, live , breath Lego. They must dream in it by now. Their Christmas lists, 100% Lego. What they play with, Lego. What they talk about with their friends, what they draw, what they read about, what they look up online...Lego.


Liam spent hours quietly at the kitchen table laboriously drawing and printing out page after page of plans for his ultimate Lego Power Miners set (sample page above). He got hand cramps. He took a break. He got back on it again.


Here's one from Elliot. This time a Lego Indiana Jones set. They dream of submitting these plans to Lego and having their sets made (Lego does this sometimes).

I came on here today wanting to share what was in my heart for my sons...the swelling pride, the crushing fears. But Maggie May at Flux Capacitor has already done it far more poignantly and eloquently than I ever could. How to raise these kids that don't "fit in the box"? How to keep hoping for them and holding onto optimism, when you see them lose all of theirs little by little, and when all you hear day after day are the worries, the problems, the diagnoses looming larger than the small boy himself?

My sons are only in Grade 4, but they struggle already. The burden of a painfully self conscious teen laid on 9 year old shoulders. Way too smart in ways, and in others impossibly lost. And always so different from the other kids. No hope of blending in with the crowd, and sensory, executive function and processing challenges that make it oh, so difficult to rise above, or even to keep up, or even to deal with going through the basic motions some days.

Yet there is a spark, a warmth, an enthusiasm for what they love, a creative depth, an ability to persevere, an insight far beyond their years that belies their Aspie label, and incredible, incredible bravery. What will they become? And how can we guide them to it? How to shield them from the ass-hattery of the world enough to keep their abilities and optimism alive, while letting them learn the truth of how it works, and letting them test their own strengths against it? How much to push them out there? How much to gather them in to safe arms and quiet rooms, and let them recover from the attempts? When to be soft and when to draw the firm line? And how to find enough hours in the day to teach them everything they need to know...things that most kids just naturally learn on their own, but that my sons have to be taught, carefully, repetitively, plainly.

If only parenting had instructions as clear as a box of Lego. You need 4 of this piece, put them here, here, here and here, like so...very good, next step, and before you know it, you've built them childhoods that are amazing! But no, we muddle along, a piece here, a piece there, with no instructions and no clear picture of what the end result will be. We have to try to pry off the wrongly placed bricks as we go, and sometimes the whole thing falls apart in our hands...and we have to start again, and again. But the crucial thing, I guess (beyond just not ever quitting), is to never stop believing that it can and will in the end become something amazing.

It just has to.

How to Have the Best Christmas Ever Unbusy-Style

I got a book for the DQ about planning Christmas. It's cute. She's going to love it, but I realized while leafing through it, I won't/wouldn't/couldn't do half of that stuff, and I LOVE Christmas. But I love Christmas for the fun, not for the burden. I want an unbusy Christmas!

So my own "how to have the best Christmas ever" would look a little something like this:

1. BUY LESS STUFF!!! Less time spent in stores, less financial stress, and it's better for the environment too. Win, win, win! The present part of Christmas is for kids. (isn't it? I didn't actually have Christmas as a kid, so bear in mind this is just a theory based on adult observation. ;) I love buying presents for the kids in our family (including the DQ, of course!), but us grown ups...do we really need more stuff?

2. Say "no". No, to the Christmas party I hate going to. No, to the gift that's going to break the budget. No, to the project that will keep me up until 2:00 am on December 23rd pulling my hair out. No, no, no, no, NO. (yeah baby, being a self preserving Grinch is all a part of the Christmas magic too!)

3. Do more of what we love. My favourite parts of the holiday never seem to fall on Christmas day itself. I love the baking (this year I am going to bake my ass off! I have been dreaming of Panaforte and Linzer cookies all year!). I love all the special family activities with Elliot and Liam...the local Festival of Trees and Lights, belting out songs from Muppet Christmas Carol in the car on the way to Gramma's, packing our little shoeboxes for Samaritan's Purse, snuggling on the couch and watching unapologetically saccharine X-mas shows, playing in the snow, trimming our tree. I love time with my sisters, unwinding with the DH, and surprising someone with an unexpected kindness. This is where I want my energy to go.

4. Plan well and start early to free up more time in December. My boys and husband start their holidays really early this year (the 19th!). I want as much time as possible free for F-U-N then. Not shopping, not wrapping, not cleaning, not running around keeping this or that social obligation, but cookie-chomping, laughing, playing, sparkly-eyed fun.

5. Accept the chiaroscuro. At that inevitable moment when I am frazzled and tired, there's a mountain of dirty dishes or a family squabble...realize that familial friction, chaos and stress are all actually supposed to be a rightful part of the holidays too. It just wouldn't be Festivus without the airing of the grievances and the feats of strength. Take a deep breath and carry on.

And now that I am done unbusy pep talking myself, I need to get off the computer and get going! Number 4 isn't just going to do itself!

Merry unbusy to you all and to all a good night. x0

(36 more sleeps!)

Bridging the Intangible

9.5 cm x 9.5cm mixed media on watercolour paper

Lots of inspiration right now. I could live at my art desk!

Starting to get ready for Christmas. Packages ready to be mailed. Presents hiding in the closet. Daily phone calls with the DQ...stratagems and secrets, and keen anticipation. 38 more sleeps!

Chiaroscuro

Wikipedia says:

Chiaroscuro (kiːɑːrˈə.skʊrˈoʊ, –skjʊrˈoʊ, Italian for light-dark) is a term in art for a contrast between light and dark. The term is usually applied to bold contrasts affecting a whole composition, but is also more technically used by artists and art historians for the use of effects representing contrasts of light, not necessarily strong, to achieve a sense of volume in modeling three-dimensional objects such as the human body.


My friend Deb often refers to chiaroscuro in the life sense, the interplay of lightness and dark that makes up our day to day. Like the touch of bitter that makes the sweet taste sweeter, or the long winter that makes the warmth of spring fairly explode in green and gold. We are supposed to have both, life would not be as rich without the contrast...but I forget that sometimes.

Sometimes I just want sweetie, sunny, lollipops and tulips, happy, happy, safe and sound, sex in the afternoon, buttercream on cupcakes and laffs and fun, and pleasant, peaceful times. I forget about that other stuff, that it is coming, always around the corner, always a measure of it to be mixed into your cup (hopefully just a small measure, just a teaspoon or two, if you please?). Or I don't forget, I get askeered...nervously waiting, fretting, worrying, what's coming next??? And I'm not even enjoying the sex and the buttercream, and my dimple-faced kids, because I am too busy anticipating trouble.

What if ((dramatic pause))...what if I could just accept the chiaroscuro of life?

Could I?

Wow. I don't know. I may have just blown my own mind. It is so antipathetic to my own personality. I am a planner and a worrier, not an easygoing bone in my bod. But what if I could just embrace the light and the dark, respecting that life ever has been and always will be balanced on the tensile wire of the two?

I will be sad. I will be frustrated. I will show my impatience. I will try and fail. And that's OK.
Grief will come. Bad luck, bad judgement, hard times, illness and struggle. Angst and boredom. All a part it. And that's OK...really OK, not indicative of a larger failure, a lack of planning, lack of faith, or weakness of character...just part of being human, part of life, as natural as breathing, as inevitable as -40C in a Winnipeg winter.

Because there is the other part too...the light, and I have noooo problem accepting that (funny how that works).


Been playing with some new texture and colours in my art journal. Oranges, purples and reds. I love this page, but can't seem to get a really good pic of it. It is rich, full of light and dark and beautiful all the same.

Giveaway & Advent

Names in a pirate hat:

Drawn by my handsome young assistant, who is home sick from school. Name #1:


Name #2:



Name #3:


Congratulations! I will be in contact to get your mailing info. Thank you so much to everyone who entered!

And in other news, we spent several hours on the weekend working on these. They were truly a family effort, with the DH and I doing the cutting and pasting and the boys helping to design, number etc.






They are gum advent packs. We got the idea from My Little Mochi. So easy and cute, and a great way to countdown until Christmas. Only 44 more sleeps! (...or so I hear)

Deeply Rooted

Today is my dad's 60th birthday. We wanted to do something special for him...something to make him feel celebrated and appreciated. Being a family of modest means, who are scattered across 3 provinces, meant that a lavish party, a vacation in the sun or any of the other big ticket items that we would love to give him are a little beyond us right now, either geographically or financially. He isn't a "things" person at all. It's like pulling teeth just to get him to put a couple of items on a Christmas list for our annual exchange, so just buying him stuff wouldn't feel at all meaningful. What to do? It had to be something unique, something personal, something that fairly oozes care and effort on his behalf, something that we could accomplish together, although we are 100's of kilometres apart, something full of love...

Deeply Rooted

12 cm x 12 cm squares of watercolour paper on a 16" x 40", 2" depth canvas. 8 different contributors, ranging in age from 9 to 50-something-ish. Materials from ink to pastel, watercolour to pencil crayon to stuff found in the backyard...oh, and love. Can you feel it? I swear I can feel it when I look at it, like a palpable warmth mixed right in with the paint and glue. I hope my Dad can feel it too.

1 Year Blogiversary & Giveaway

It's been a whole year! Over a year actually (am not very good at remembering birthdays, anniversaries and such in a timely fashion...just ask my sister...sorry Elizabeth. Happy 28th!), it would have been exactly a year on Oct. 24th.

I started this blog as a writing outlet, when I very much wanted to, but couldn't do Nanowrimo last year. This year finds me in a different place. I have the time (being unbusy and all), but realized that I was approaching Nano like a plate of brussel sprouts this time around...sure it would be good for me, but I just don't really wanna right now.

What I really want to do is finish off my Super Nova art journaling course with the ever awesome Julie Prichard, and then mess around in my art journal with all my new skillz. I want to finish my twin nails painting which is still in the works (slow and steady with that one), and start something new, with new colours and texture so deep and rich it makes you want to wrap yourself up in it, like a blankie on a cold day.

I want to make all sorts of Christmassy crafty thingies, and bake Panaforte and Linzer cookies, and do all those little holiday-ish things that will make my boys' hearts glow. I want to talk Kris-muss with the DQ on the phone every night (she starts planning in August!). I want to knock her socks off with the most magical, love-filled, sugar-dusted, pine and cinnamon-smelling holiday of her little life. I want squeals of glee and shining eyes, and kids that feel completely enveloped in familial warmth.

I want to keep blogging here. This blog has become so much more than a mere writing outlet! It is my conduit to the larger world, a place to share, meet friends and to tell the truth of me out loud. I certainly didn't expect all this when I started a year ago. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has taken the time to read or comment, and to those of you who are willing to share yourselves on your own blogs too. Soul food, that's what it is.

So to celebrate this 1 year milestone, I want to do a giveaway...which seems to be the done thing. When I was working on the tree project I did several extras with this in mind (always thinking ahead, am I). Like this one:

12cm x 12cm mixed media on watercolour paper

I would be honoured to send this, and 2 other different Tree art cards out as a thank you for supporting my blog. I wish I had one for each of you! But as it is, I will have to do a draw. Please leave your name and email or blog address in the comments if you would like to take part, and I will do a random draw in one week, on November 10th.


PS I will post about the tree project itself very soon. :)

A Moment of Silence for Owen Meany

When I read a really, really good book I have a hard time beginning a new one. Different than the restless reader's block I experience from time to time, where I just can't seem to settle on a particular book, this is more about digestion of ideas and a reluctant good bye to characters that have newly become a part of my own emotional landscape...so it is with "A Prayer for Owen Meany".

It was on my "to read" list for years, but my friend Mel's love for John Irving finally gave me the impetus to bump it to the top. Well written, definitely. Irving's manipulation of the timeline in this book is masterful. Thought provoking...belief vs. doubt, predestination, the power of religion...I am left with a lot to mentally chaw on. But the genius of the book lays in the character of Owen Meany, the strange little guy, with the permanent scream and the unshakable faith. A character that could have so easily become a caricature or a mere curiosity, becomes a revelation of humanity and spirituality.

Owen Meany went straight to my heart like an arrow. I am pierced with him...wounded, heavy, bleeding thought and feeling.

I need a minute, time to digest, time to mourn, time to recover.

A moment of silence for Owen Meany if you will.

The Unbusy Revolution; On Being Selfish

On Monday the DH and I attended our first Parents of Kids on the Autism Spectrum Support Group meeting. It was interesting, to understate it. The families represented had kids ranging from low functioning, non verbal, to high functioning Aspies like ours, and everything in between. At first we wondered if we could even relate to what was being shared. I mean, we are very lucky, E&L are very "easy" and oh, so smart, but as the meeting went on, we were humbled as the commonalities emerged.

The homework given for the month was to take time everyday to "do something for ourselves". The idea being that caring for special needs kids can be incredibly stressful, and if we as parents don't take care of our own emotional and physical well being how can we take care of our children's? Now you all know that personally I am all over that idea, but as I looked around the room at the beleaguered, skeptical faces of the other parents, I was reminded once again of how automatic it is to default to resistance when it comes to taking time to care for ourselves.

It's so easy to prioritize the really important things that demand our attention...kids, jobs, homes, bills etc., and to persistently ignore our own health and happiness. Because that's not as important, right? Certainly not as important as the needs of others...especially our children's. Sooner or later though, it catches up to all of us...with an increase in impatience ...edgy, snapping, snarling...doing a shitty job at those important things we do for others...organizational skills, energy and enthusiasm out the window...stress, stress, STRESS...health problems...relationships suffering...anxiety...depression, etc, etc.

And the irony is that the people who need to take the time to attend to their own spirits the most, are the people least likely to do it. Like the mom raising 3 young sons on the autistic spectrum, whose husband travels all the time, and won't get on board with helping with the kids in the way that they and she needs when he is home. I could see her turn a paler shade of grey at the burden of having to try to take that time for herself this month. But who could be more needed as a healthy, functioning, positive individual? And who has less time and space to make it happen? And who has less inclination? I could see her passion about making a better life for her children, stimulating, teaching and building the confidence of her children. She desperately wants them to be healthy and happy. I could hear the devotion and concern in her every word...I could recognize that ardent, anxious focus, because I feel it too. I want it too, more than anything. I obsess over it. It keeps me up at night. What wouldn't I give to help my precious boys in any way? It's not only the logistics of making the time for ourselves that is so difficult, but the feelings surrounding it. It feels selfish. It feels counter productive to that overwhelming passion to give our children the best possible childhoods, even though logically we know it isn't. We know our kids need us to be strong and whole and happy as much as they need anything else we can give them (more?), but in the moment it is very, very, very hard to shut the door on a weeping child to take a few minutes for yourself, no matter how much you may need it.

And I have been using the example of moms and their need to care of their kids, but you don't have to be a mom to feel selfish about taking time for yourself, or to have a hard time erecting boundaries around your own unbusy time. We all let things get in the way of taking care of ourselves. We all have those nagging guilty, "I'm being selfish" feelings.

So I think I am going to do pretty well on this month's homework. ;) Right now, right here doing this...this thing that we do together. The blogging, the sharing, the solidarity, the inspiration...this feels pretty good to me.

(and I am only feeling slightly guilty about the pile of unwashed laundry, the kitchen floor smeared with pumpkin from last night's carving and the school meeting that I have coming up in exactly 19 minutes that I could be spending this time getting better prepared for...)

'Tis now the very witching time of night...

Awesome pumpkins courtesy of Zombie Pumpkins.com , and 3 hours of hard labour on my and the dudes part. It's almost HalloweeeEEEeeen peoples!

The Truth About My Dad

My parents got married when I was 5. I thought my new dad was wonderful. I was so proud of the fact that he adopted me. He chose me. He wanted me to be his daughter, and I wanted him to be my dad. This was way more special than when daughters were just born to fathers! This was finding and choosing and deciding that we would be a family.

I adored him. What he said was law. When he was happy, so was I. When I disappointed him, I just wanted to die.

So of course, there had to be the inevitable fall. Even in a family that wasn't in the stranglehold of the million rules and rituals that made up the twisted religion to which we adhered mind and body with every waking breath, there was often a fall...a teenage rebellion, a sundering of opinion or affection. It's really pretty normal. But in our family, bound up so tightly, watched so closely, the fall was explosive. My teenage years were a war zone, and the deep well of admiration that I had for my father turned to poisonous rage and a disillusionment so complete I could taste it, acrid on my tongue.

Frankly, I don't think he liked me much in those years either.

It took a long time, and a lot of work to be able to remember the attachment that I had for my new dad. Our relationship is still very much a work in progress, but I am happy to be able to love him again...and with a much better kind of affection. This time it is founded on an understanding of the fallibility and frailty of us both. It's founded on truth.

And the truth is that there is a lot to admire in my father.
I admire that:

He's the kind of guy who will drive 5 hours, fix your deck, help wash dishes, chauffeur your mom around for shopping and drive 5 hours home again on his only days off that month.

He's the kind of guy who will take on a brand new, completely different career at the age of 54, after an adulthood of ministerial work just isn't making ends meet.

He's the kind of guy who rarely, if ever, complains.

He's the kind of guy who can change.

He's the kind of guy who takes his grandsons fishing...and swimming and skating and bowling, and teaches them archery and tells them stories, and who doesn't give up, even when it seems impossible to connect with two small boys who find connection difficult at times.

He's the kind of guy who can be oh, so tender and gentle with his youngest, special needs daughter.

He's the kind of guy that gets up at 3 in the morning to go to the hospital and minister to a family of people he has never met, who have lost a child at birth and have asked for someone to come and comfort them.

He's the kind of guy who is not afraid of faith,

not afraid to say he's sorry,

not afraid of hard work,

and not afraid to say "I love you".

And I love him too.

Deep in the Forest

The tree collaboration project is almost finished! It has been really exciting to see the contributions from my partners. Here are some of my favourites:

by my sister Victoria

by my sister Elizabeth

by the DH

by my son Liam

by my son Elliot

and by my sister, the one and only DQ (Dancing Queen!)

Yes, this is a family collaboration. I am proud to say that I have a family just bursting with creativity! This is the first time that we've all gotten together to work on one project, and it is turning out fabulous. I can't stop looking at it! I find myself wandering into the room where it is, just to stare at it and gloat several times a day.

Some more trees from me:

The big reveal is coming soon!