the sweet life no. 2

The Spring issue of Simply the Sweet Life is out! This issue includes my Bradley necklace project.  April Atwater always does an amazing job with this magazine.  You can view it here.

greeting cards and bare arses

It's hard to know how brilliant, or not brilliant at all, your children really are.  I mean, once they are in school you can compare them to other children their same age, but even then you don't know.  Some geniuses flunked out of school.  A lot of geniuses actually.

And I never was one to put much stock into having a "gifted" child. When I hear "gifted child" I think trouble.  I want average kids.  B students.  I want them well rounded and hard working.

But this girl I have, I think might be, maybe, oh boy do I actually say it out loud? Really smart.

She will be two on Wednesday.  And let me tell you something. Smart is a hard thing to deal with in a two-year-old.

Case in point:

The Bird has figured out the iPhone. Totally. She can cruise around, find the games she likes, make calls, take photos and generally really screw up your settings given a very small amount of time.

On Saturday morning while I was in the shower she nabbed my phone.  The Sugar Daddy had just gotten out of the shower and he isn't as vigilant with the phones and the babies as I am.  He could hear her snapping photos.  The Bird's photos are generally of the carpet or Frankie's blurry eyeball.  He paid little attention.

Skip to Sunday afternoon when I awoke from my nap to find a couple of texts asking me about my Instagram profile picture.

Profile picture indeed.

Evidently. Ahem. Evidently the The Bird has taken a photo of Ben's bare arse the day before and decided it should be my profile picture.

Now at first neither of us could quite believe that she did it.  We accused each other until finally we came to the conclusion that I would never want a bare arse as my profile. How rude. And that he, would never want his bare arse on the internet.

That left us with one, rotten, albeit very cute, culprit.  And how do you even punish something like that? Well you don't.  You just live and learn.

And hope that if she really is this smart she uses it in more socially acceptable ways.

Oh yes, and about the greeting cards. I just wanted to say that I will be selling some of my art as greeting cards and prints at Spark, so if you are coming, please buy some.

There will be no nudity on anything. Promise.

trivial civilities

I'd really love to know who the joker was that started the whole, "Hi, how are you?" greeting.

Is this just an American thing?  I think it must be.

Why can't we just bow like Japanese people?  I'm even up to the Frenchy three kisses on the cheek action.

Because here's the thing.  I don't really want to know how you are. And you don't really want to know how I am.  Let's just be honest.

We both just want the "I'm fine and you?" response.  We want to get on with our day.  Admit it.

If you ran into me in Trader Joe's and we were both sweaty and ugly in our gym clothes and you ever so politely and cheerfully greeted me with "Hi, how are you?" and I responded by telling you that I'm hanging on by a very thin thread, you would be uncomfortable. You would feel obligated to take one hand off your shopping cart and stand to face me. And you would be thinking, Oh no. How long is this going to take? I need to get home and change the wash and get the meat in the crockpot.

You don't really want to know that earlier that day I put both babies in their cribs and crawled into the back of my closet and cried until my tears ran dry.  That I feel fat and bloated and particularly unattractive lately.  That I second guess every business decision I make and obsess over losing blog readers.  That I have a blister on my foot that has been bothering me all day.

You don't really want to know. And you aren't alone. Nobody wants to know these things about most of the people we ask.  The checker in the grocery store. The teller at the bank. Meh. Unless they look outwardly ill, I don't really want to know.

So I've decided to change. I'm not going to ask how you are if I don't really want to know.  I am hoping this makes me a more sincere person.  I will smile and say hi.  And then I will bite my cheeks through the awkward silence.

If I really do want to know, and there are some people that I do really want to know how they are, I will look you in the eye and ask. I might put my hand on your shoulder.  I hope this will garner the truth and not a pert "fine", strained "ha ha" and side step away.  

And if I slip up and forget this new resolution, please tell me the truth anyway. Give me the long version. It will help me remember the next time. 

enjoy the process

Sometimes I make something or draw something and I stand back and think- that looks like complete amateur crap.  

Now that I think about it, I do this quite often.

But every now and again, I stand back and think- damn you're good.

I used to get bogged down by all the ugliness I produced. Depressed really. And frustrated.

But I had a life changing moment some years ago.

I took a weekend art course from Anahata Katkin.  When the class ended we were just hanging out and I was basking in her glow.  She's so radiant, I swear the girl actually glows.  Anyway, we were just shooting the bull and she was talking about how she paints all the time. And I asked her what she did with all her paintings and she said that most of them where just in stacks in her studio.  I just couldn't believe this because surely she could sell them no problem. Why let them just sit there?

And then she told me something I'll never forget.  She said that for her, painting is like taking photographs.  You don't show up at a shoot expecting to take just one photo.  You take a whole bunch and pick the best one.  She said she paints a whole bunch of pictures she doesn't like until she paints one she does.

This was big for me.  This made all my creative mistakes and bad decisions okay.  It made them part of the process.

My good friend Rhonna Farrer has made "Enjoy the Process" her personal mantra. Enjoy all the ugly messes I make?  Okay. I will give it a go.

hellocherie

I find that I am much more productive when I don't start each project as if it is my last.

I have found creative freedom in all my mess.

FYI- the photo at the top of the post was the best of ten.

Buying the vintage aqua squirrel vase was a decision I made right the first time.

peace out

I'm not one to spread my political agenda around like peanut butter.  I don't talk about politics in social settings and I don't like when other people do it.  

And I don't intend to ever use this blog or Facebook or Twitter as a platform.  I just don't roll like that.

Let's just say I try to inspect both sides of the proverbial coin. I think about it. 

Then I spend it on a gum ball. 

I've got enough turmoil here in casa de Meeker. Don't need more,  thankyouverymuch.

But I would like to say that I had a delightful time turning Schuyler Colfax into a butterfly bearded bohemian.  I think it suits him.

We all could use a little less stuffy and a lot more je ne sais quoi. No?

waltzing matilda

Here's a little hard core truth for you this Monday morning.

I used to eat bugs.

It's true.  

When I was little my family lived in Australia. Let me show you where exactly.

See where it says "NOTHING"? Right there. That's where we lived. In the middle of the outback.

This is not my map. I don't think Australia is all that bad. I have rather fond memories of it. But I do think that the whole country looks upside down.  Is is just me? But then again, maybe they are upside down. Don't their toilets flush the opposite way? Maybe the equator is the only true right side up place to be. Wow. I'm confusing myself.

So yeah. We lived in Alice Springs.  And I was a scrappy little dirt monger.  Who ate bugs.  I think the aboriginal children taught me that.  I had lice and worms and the soles of my feet were like three inches thick with calluses because I never wore shoes. I was a virtual waltzing Matilda.

And I was happy.  I was a very very happy child.  My bum itched a little because of the worms, but other than that life was good.

And now I'm a mother. And although my first baby was kept hermetically sealed in a germ proof environment until the day I got a grip, I let my kids grub in the dirt on a regular basis.  Because I have this theory.

I think that maybe, just maybe, when a human being puts their hands in the soil of the Earth, it's transformative.  It's almost as if we soak up life the way plants do.  When a child is allowed to explore nature with all of their senses they are happier and more well rounded.  That's what I think anyway.

We don't live in an area where my children can roam free the way I used to.  This makes me a little sad. But we do have a big backyard and plenty of fun nature places to visit.  My kids are yet to have lice or worms but Frankie has been known to suck on a snail or two.  I think they are getting a fair dose of nature. And they seem like happy kids.

And I have another theory. I think it might have been the bugs that made me bionic. Yep, I definitely think it was the bugs.

Photo of me by Bubba-Loo

Waltzing Matilda

i hate mother's day

Thom came home from school yesterday in a foul mood.  He whined. He sassed. And when he slammed the refrigerator door I snapped.  I grabbed him by the shoulders and said, “You have been a beast since the minute you got in the car. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’ll tell you what!”, he said, because he talks just like me.  “I’ll tell you what’s the matter! I was playing soccer with Jake and Hayden and Jake kept making goals on me and Hayden was the coach and he kept saying good job to Jake and laughing at me and I felt really mad and then Hayden made a trophy for Jake out of an orange cone and he gave it to him. AndIfeltlikeIwasn’tnanybody.  And I wanted to cry and I almost did but then I soaked it up because I didn’t want to cry. Cuz’ that’s embarrassing. So I just soaked it up.”

People. I’m thirty-seven years old, but I can tell you right now that I wanted to go kick that little Hayden’s butt.  By the flag pole. Old school, play yard style.

This is motherhood.  It’s passionate love and excruciating vulnerability.  It’s letting another human being carry a piece of your heart around. Come what may.

Thom used to think he was the coolest thing happening.  He oozed self esteem.  These days he’s “soaking” up other people’s crap.  He’s swallowing what they tell him.

I want to shake it out of him. I want to scream “YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!” But he’s a boy. And that’s soooo not cool. And moms don’t know.  They are just moms.

So yeah I kinda hate mother’s day.  I don’t need everyone to be nice to me for one day.  I don’t want pancakes in bed or fuzzy slippers.

Don’t buy me a corsage. Get me a sword and shield to fight a safe path to lead my kids through this life.

I told Thom I know how he feels. I told him sometimes people are mean and it’s important to remember what it feels like so you will never treat anyone unkind.

I did not tell him that “kind” never defines mother bears, and Hayden better watch out.

the bradley necklace project

Here's a quick and super fun craft for mother's day or any normal day when you feel like being extra cute.

I call it the "Bradley Necklace and Bracelet".  Here's what you will need:

* Brads- either already made or ones you can assemble yourself.

* Jump rings

* beads

* Jewelry chain

* Clasp

* Needle nose pilers

* Clippers

All supplies are available at the craft store in the jewelry making section and the brads are most often found in the scrapbooking section.

I wanted to use my own fabric to cover the brads so I bought a tool called an iTop from Imaginisce. It allows you to easily cover metal brads with paper or fabric.

Just follow the directions on the package. Or you can just buy the brads already covered or painted. Either way is super cute.  

Once you have all the brads selected that you want to use start making loops onto the back using your needle nose pilers to bend the prongs. 

Like so.

Snip off the ends of the prongs so that you have a complete loop on each side of the brad.  Use your jump rings to join the brads.  For the bracelet, I used painted brads in a strait row, but for the necklace I added a brad here and there to create a cluster.

Play around with it until you get the look you want.  On the necklace I added a few beads and used my fabric to cover some large oval rings.

This project is simple enough to do with children from about age 5 and up.

brushes

When I was a wee lass I had hair down my back like a silky whip. It tickled my waist and covered my arms like a shawl.

I was fond of my hair because, well, all princesses have long hair. But the upkeep was torture.

"Grab the sink and bite on this comb." my mother would instruct me when it was time to brush through the snarls.

"You must suffer to be beautiful." She'd remind me as I groaned and winced.

What a wicked and cruel mother this princess had!

Yesterday I told The Boy to hold still while I brushed his hair.

"Quit moving around." I said. "Put your hands down. Grab the counter." I brushed. He winced.

And right there in the kitchen it came flying out of my mouth like a bat out of hell.

"You must suffer to be...cute."

Sheesh.

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While we are talking about brushes, I thought I'd let you know I have more digital brushes of my illustrations for sale.

Five bucks. What a bargain.

You can buy them on the digital brush page located under the header.

hope

Download this free wall paper here.

Sometimes I like people more than they like me.  I'm pretty sure it has to do with the paint ball splat to the face approach I have when I first meet people.

I'm working on that by the way. The mystic space between Ice Queen and long lost friend alludes me.

And I gotta tell ya, it really doesn't feel very good to like someone more than they like you.  It hurts my spirit and it makes me want to stay in the safe cushy place called home where my children and husband love me like crazy cakes.

But a girl like me needs to stretch her wings every so often and fly away from the nest with other like minded girls for a nice lunch or something of that nature.

These other girls, well, they don't exactly come knocking on my door and I must seek them out.

So when I splat them in the face and scare them away it hurts my spirit.  My mother likes to remind me that as a child I couldn't care less of what others thought. I'd shrug my shoulders, say "their loss" and run off to the next exciting thing.

I'm thinking she has to still be in me somewhere, this little girl.  I'm looking for her. I'm digging up old photos and laughing at her antics.  I'm hoping she will teach me how to love myself enough to say, "their loss."

"To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure, but risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing." - source unknown

Please enjoy my May wall paper. It's free to download here.