Be a Rocker Artist, Man

Children in the Musee de Louvre

Well, no. You don't want to thrust culture at them, for culture's sake. But there are those golden moments with young, still-impressionable children, where enthusiasm ignites like a well-kindled fire on a January morning, and you can feed the flames of their self-initiated interests. With Loverboy gone again this last weekend, the two children and I dressed and bundled as "rocker artists" (at their request, and my complete compliance), and we headed off to the local art museum.

This can potentially be futile, frustrating, a complete waste of money, when children under 6 are involved. But they were completely engaged. Standing behind them as they looked up to admire with partial fear the enormous African ceremonial masks, I remembered standing in the Louvre as a student in Paris, sure that I had reached the pinnacle of life; I laughed to myself this Saturday as one of the children thought that the collection of armor was lines of robots, and I thought, Paris, pffft, no, it doesn't get better than this.

How to be a rocker-artist

*Do your hair in a mowhawk, or make it look slightly disheveled and dirty (easy, right?).

*Wrap in a scarf--or bandana or kitchen flour sack towel, as was our case.

*Bring along blank 4-6 note pads and map pencils.

*Sit with your kids and sketch what you see in the museum.

*Talk, talk, talk about the art.

*Hot chocolate in the cafe can be a Pavlovian incentive, I'm just sayin.

*Line the small sheets along a wall at home for your own exhibit.

*Look through kid-friendly art books such as this one. This book does a great job of not only explaining each piece, but it offers a variety of art, from daVinci to Andy Warhol, to expose the little artists to.

Converting a Closet into a Micro-office

If you're someone who divides your time at home between parenting and work, designating a work space of your own can not only keep you from floating around the house with your laptop and trail of papers, it can provide a visual signal that you are on task. While private offices are wonderful and often necessary to those working from home, they can sometimes be too tucked away from the flow of family life. Yet sprawling work out on the kitchen table that inevitably has to be put away for snack time and Lego marathons doesn't always work either.

I thought the kitchen table, roomy and close to an outlet and the kitchen tea station, would work for me; but I was disheveled by the constant shuffling, the laptop giving me the low-battery-get-the-cord-now-or-else warning just as I sat down, and the crayon marks finding their way onto my documents. Not everyone is as territorial as me, but I need my space.

One weekend I'd had it, and I decided to turn what had previously been an accessories and bags closet at the end of our bedroom hallway into a makeshift home office. Take a look.

The hallway.

The empty closet with lame-ish functional shelving that the owner installed. I took the door off and I don't know if freeing the space was more satisfying (didn't Renee, the concierge in Barbery's book, say that nothing is uglier than an open door?), or my friend saying that I was completely bad*** for doing it myself.

The finished product, costing less than twenty dollars, and taking (from unhinging the door to sitting down with tea) under an hour. If we were in this place permanently, I would have thought differently about my work space, but for now this is perfect. The flat, uncomplicated surface suits my needs, the shelf above provides extra space and good lighting, and I file my work into the white bins beside my in-box.

My little darlings, watching me work. Inside my own head, I call it, "Real life embracing beauty." Oh, and sticky notes adhere really really well to the wall.

For more and better closet offices, see this at houzz.

Hot Chocolate It's Notcolate

The winter cold and the recent poor air quality (yes, pathetic) will be confining us to our warm indoors this weekend. With Loverboy away, the kids and I will be cozying up to moon sand play, doing drawings, watching old Charlie Brown cartoons, and rejuvenating their reading corner. And of course drinking lots of yummy warm stuff.

If you're wanting a cozy beverage for the kiddies but want to limit sugar overload: instead of cup after cup of hot chocolate (which is indisputably awesome), serve herbal tea such as chamomile or vanilla--teas that lend themselves to adding milk and mini marshmallows or homemade unsweetened whipped cream. For a bit of sweetness, add a dash of honey or agave nectar.

Happy winter weekend!

Resolution Revolution

Winter. The stillness after a busy holiday season carries within it a quiet energy and momentum that begs the question of what can be. January is named after Janus, the god of the doorway, and I don't think it's only the mountain of self-help and diet books at bookstore entrances that create the desire in us to walk into something new and rejuvenate our lives.

My personal idea of rejuvenating self has evolved over the years. There is a kind of poignant hilarity in the editing process of my resolution making. There are the detailed lists of goals from my teenage years--goals focused on the specifics of what I wanted to do with my life, valuing most that we can do anything in life if, hey, we just, like, decide to do it, dude. Goals like, write a novel before college, read one book a week for the rest of my life, visit two foreign cities each year and learn their languages. There are the goals that actually produced the opposite effect, like the summer Loverboy and I started running together through Central Park and I decided to become a runner. I hate running. Unless there's a fire or the UPS truck accidentally misses our house, I avoid it at all costs.

As I've had children and grown into adulthood, I see it differently. I do have specific goals for this year, such as take an international trip, buy and use a new beach cruiser, attend a live Bach concert. There are professional ambitions. Holistic health ambitions. My resolutions have changed from a set of goals to a list of what I want to do and be for the year. The abstract can drive that teenager lingering within me crazy, but those are the things that can mean the most. Live with optimal health. Write in my journal more. It's hard to discipline ourselves with such unspecific ideals, but it creates overall a more quality life. Another abstract goal? Hold my children more. That will not make me famous or change the world peace status, but in the dark early hours of morning when my arms surround their little ribcages that rise and fall like a little sparrow's, I wonder how I ever thought there was any loftier goal than this.

A suggestions of three friendly and effective ways to walk through the doors of 2010:

*Make a list of ten. Write down ten things you would like to accomplish or experience this year. When you mark one off, replace it with a new one.

*Make a pie. Well not literally, though a steaming piece of apple pie would suit the winter chill. Create a pie graph on a piece of paper and divide it up into how many roles you play (mother, boss, athlete...) and write one main goal for every role.

*Play four-square. Simplify your goals by placing them into four main quadrants: work, personal, family, giving back. Placing a few goals in each category will give a balanced look at your growth.

Merry Christmas, One and All

Am I simply a bona fide adult, or have I finally been touched unadulteratedly with true holiday spirit? I have never found as much joy as this year in the simple pleasures of Christmas. Sitting in the morning stillness of the kitchen with my chatty 5-year-old son. Making paper chains from old books for the windows. Watching the first flakes of anticipated snowfall. Finishing once again one of the most poignant novels ever. Reveling in gift and surprises that has had nothing to do with getting (yes yes peace on earth good will toward men and that handbag from Nordstrom).

Merry Christmas. May your holidays be merry and bright.

See you next year.