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A Perfect Dream

I had a dream the other night. In it, I slept the entire night without being woken up, once. In addition to this indulgence, the sheets I slept on, and the duvet I slept underneath, had just been freshly laundered. AND I was wearing the most comfortable, new pajamas.

It was the best dream. I woke up so happy.

And then, I thought about how happy I felt—after such a tremendously boring dream.

And that made me feel a little sad.

“We see but in dreams the ideal.” —Henri Cazalis

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This entry was written by kara, posted on February 5, 2012 at 12:46 am, filed under All and tagged dream, parenthood, sleep. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.
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    Those two shadowy figures are inspecting the front window for cracks after their Wiffle ball hit it hard, and they have no idea I’ve witnessed the whole thing. It reminds me of one of my dad’s favorite childhood stories. Sitting on the porch under a quilt, working. Checked the mail. Gut punch. Thought I was out. ⬜️🟫 “Boys, go outside and draw something happy on the sidewalks.” I went outside 40 minutes later to take a walk. At first I thought, This is all they drew? Then I looked down the sidewalk. “We drew 107 of them!” they said. Their goal is a 1,000 before it rains. They’re out there now. I’m a bit perplexed because I don’t know how many things I’ve suggested they can do in lieu of screen time and THIS is what they’re currently obsessed with. But I will 100 percent take it. (Also, thanks to our neighbor Scott for buying chalk for all the kids on the street and encouraging this. Not sure if it’s what he had in mind but this mama is loving it! ) I usually go to bed after midnight. Tonight I went to bed a little early. Turned on my ceiling fan ... check on your friends with stir-crazy kids who have nothing else to do tomorrow (after NIT) but plan pranks. We are not OK. Twelve candles in a homemade cherry pie. A friend sneaking over early morning to fill the yard with pinwheels and the sweetest sign. A huge flower delivery from Grandma. Pork with the magic green sauce, layered scalloped potatoes, Caesar salad, warm bread. Tea from the glass pitcher you made earlier today. Red high-top Converse that look impossibly big. Brush markers in all the colors. Twenty-some of the sweetest notes, pictures, drawings and texts from family and friends. Pop pop practicing all day on his new guitar to play “Happy birthday” for us all on Zoom. Clapping and laughter and loved tinged with sadness in the acknowledgment that the world is different right now, you want your grandparents at your birthday dinner, a canceled sleepover is a bummer and the bitter is sometimes a bit brighter than the sweet the older you become. Growing up can be so hard but all your genuine smiling today and hugs reminded me of the grace that comes with maturity and, despite the eye rolls, how much you’ve learned. 12, almost 13. How? I’m so lucky I get to be this kid’s mom. This is from Tomie dePaola’s Book of Poems (a fitting poem, by Emily Dickinson, art by Tomie dePaola). Strega Nona was one of my favorite childhood books ... “Bubble, bubble, pasta pot; Boil me some pasta, nice and hot.” He was one of the first people in the picture book field to accept my FB friend request despite my having no fame in the field, and I always thought that was so gracious of him (even if it was an intern or assistant who did it). I loved his Art-Mail, which he so generously shared with all of us. I was so sad to hear of his death. First meal of the year outside and playing on Sophie’s new yoga swing. I told them if they cracked their heads open Mom and Dad would have to play doctor to fix it ... (they love this thing!). After spending all day working on a story, I had a date dinner of takeout @grassrootsandvine with this guy on our front porch. I even wore the velvet top I had planned to wear on our date to see Tommy Emmanuel at the Taft (which was rescheduled for July). Grateful for work and this weather. For strings, Sophie has to record at least 20 minutes of practice each day. Today though, her teacher said if they submitted a picture of them practicing in a silly place, they could skip practice tomorrow. Hence, this picture. (We made sure she was totally safe.) Thankful for creative, fun and flexible teachers during this time. (It was a bit of a nightmare after when the boys insisted they wanted to play their recorders on the roof and we refused but that’s another story.) Also, we have a teddy bear in our window for any local kiddos going on a bear hunt! Love? notes while working. (Second one refers to electronics of course.) This is the most beautiful game I’ve ever played. Wingspan, Christmas gift to the kids from Nini and Pop Pop. Also, Went up to the attic and found ALL my wallet-sized school pictures! Remember those? So many have notes on the back too! And then I found my 4th grade picture. Best school picture ever. (It was a very unfortunate haircut.) 275, Friday night. Quiet. Friday vibes: sunshine, windows open, long walk up next, virtual happy hour on deck, this tee. (To be fair, the kids bother — I mean, ask us for help — equally. But Andy’s office is in the basement so I’m more visible. Today though, all I gotta do is point to the tee!) Also, I don’t know how to take selfies. This rain! But I have this guy (whose hair is going to be super long by the time this all over) to help me make chocolate chip cookies today. Mom, we each ate a spoonful of dough (sorry!). Dad, halfway through Owen said, “You know there is no chance these are going to be as good as Pop Pop’s.” This was my “in my spare time” project at @lostartpress Four years later it’s done and, as long as society hasn’t collapsed, it will be shipping in May. If you are an artist, writer, crafter, creator of any kind, I promise you will love this book. It’s a book of essays and it’s some of the best writing I’ve read on art, work ethic, building, making, literature, craft, war, spirituality, history, poetry, nature, societal expectations, industrialism, hobbies, home, gardening, self-sufficiency, writing, progress, the past, the future and life in general. Written in Britain in the 1930s through the late 1960s, these essays have basically been hidden away (from anyone who isn’t a woodworker) in back issues of The Woodworker magazine for half a century. I promise you this book isn’t just for woodworkers. It’s for anyone who has a hobby, a passion, of any kind. And despite the time period, it all relates. It’s remarkable, actually, how much in life is cyclical, the same, despite all the change. Like a book of poetry, it’s meant to be picked up and read sparingly, an essay here, an essay there. My colleague Megan did a beautiful job with the design. And I was so pleased to see Chris (who was very patient with me as I worked on this) price it on the low end at $34 (it’s 474 pages and super high quality). Lost Art Press publishes books on woodworking. This one is a stretch. I say woodworkers and the general public alike will adore it. Chris is worried it will flop (not that he cares financially as he believed it was a book worth doing — I’m so lucky to work here). Creative friends especially, I’d love to prove him wrong. We chose Honest Labour as the title and you can pre-order it at lostartpress.com. COVID-19: Sophie cut up catalogs which she then used to make an accent nail. I was impressed! She also said I’m out of OPI Top Coat ... 1!
    TAP

  • Favorite Essays

    Choosing Compassion in a Culture of Fear

    Seeking the Bigness in the Everyday

    The Love in Trying

    The View from Up High

    Season of Innocence

    The Huffington Post guest post: Apologies to the Parents I Judged Four Years Ago, a TIME's top 10 opinion piece in 2012

    Simple

    Changing Love

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