Five years ago today...

This amazing little spirit is celebrating five whole years on this planet today. I can't believe it.

Hazel, you bring me more joy than you will ever know. You never cease to inspire, delight, amaze, and challenge me in all the best ways. You are an amazing person, and I love you more than it's possible to express.

Happy Birthday!!!

Caught in the Current

Tonight I stayed up way too late, remembering with my sister. Remembering all the weird little moments leading up to so many deaths in the past couple years. Laughing, letting it all suck. It feels very grounding to be able to talk about it, and especially to talk about it with someone who doesn't feel the need to heartbrokenly listen to the stories with a pitying sorrow - don't get my worng, sometimes that is just what the heart orders, but sometimes...sometimes those experiences need to just be allowed to BE, just like any other part of life.

Somewhat tangentially I was scrolling through old photos, trying to figure out how I had mis-ordered them, when I stumbled upon the visual record of the chunk of time in the first half of 2013 when mom was still alive, we still lived in NYC, I had all three of my children, James was finishing his last semester before taking on his hard won clerkship, we saw friends often, the kids adored school, I was doing aerial and stilting and unicycling, developing a film and planning many other creative endeavors...our family was thriving, and I felt like my life, while amazingly difficult was - well, it just...it just fit. It felt right. I felt potential in everything we did, and even preparing for the inevitable decline of mom's health that we knew was coming felt purposeful...at least I was able to provide this for her, there was so much we could do to comfort her, to try to help her live and love and learn enough in that year to make up for the forty years of future she wouldn't see, and to revel in everything she had to offer me...it sucked, it was painful and gut wrenching, but I felt alive. I felt like I had managed to create for myself the life I hadn't even known I wanted, but everything during that spring, wonderful or horrible, just seemed to fit in a way that gave me a sense of fulfillment that I knew my mother would be proud to witness, but more importantly, I suppose, brought me a sense of peace.

It made me reflect on what has happened since, and where I find myself now.

It's hard to explain how upside down everything has felt these past two years or so. I feel like we moved to DC, my mother died, my health declined, and everything just unraveled. I still have my wonderful family, and I'm still taking steps to try to regain that sense of fulfillment that made me feel so whole, but when it comes right down to it, I don't feel happy anymore. 

It's hard to admit that. Especially in a forum where I know so many supportive, loving friends and family can see it and be offended or saddened, but it's an honest element of the experience and I don't think I can move past it without admitting and acknowledging it. They say the first step to fixing a problem is to admit you have one, right? So hi, my name is Kate, and I am struggling with grief. 

So here I find myself; 30 years old, with a wonderful husband who has a reliable, meaningful job that will support our family enough so that I have the awesome opportunity to stay home with our three amazing children. We are in the process of buying a house and heck, maybe I will throw in a white pickett fence just to round out the stereotype and drive home the fact that I've somehow fallen into the American Dream. 

I certainly dont mean to come across as ungrateful, because what I have and the opportunities I have been given are utterly priceless. But this has never been what I wanted. 

My soul felt happiest navigating the crazy streets of NYC with my three littles, soaking in every sight, sound, and opportunity. Creating moments of truth in my art that could touch people, maybe scratch their minds enough to think a little bit beyond their usual box. Making connections, making things happen, and sharing opportunities...here, I feel stifled, isolated, voiceless...and the thought of settling into a suburban house for a decade makes me feel like a little bit more of my soul is dying. 

These days I don't see my friends very often. I found a job that was briefly fulfilling but quickly turned toxic. I spend my days fretting over whether I can live up to the task of homeschooling these kids while realizing their skill sets are so far beyond expectations that just returning to a regular neighborhood school would be crushing. We are looking to buy a house that we will "settle" into for the next decade, and it makes me feel like a little bit more of my soul is dying. I don't feel at home here. I feel like a fish out of water; homesick, lonely, and powerless. My career network exists on a plane I can't easily reach from my geographic location; and even emotionally. I have a lot of work to do before I can join my peers in creating meaningful work again.

Hypothesis!

Calliope, tearing into the kitchen at breakneck speed:  "Mama, mama! I have an idea! I have an idea! I have a hypothesis!"

Me:  "what's your hypothesis, my dear?"

Calliope:  "that I love you!"

I love you too, you amazing little Callipillar. 

A glimpse into my reality

A brief narration of how I spent my evening:

I took the cat to the vet and (since I got stuck in traffic both ways) got home kinda late. The little one was really fussy and just wanted me to pick her up, but I needed to feed everyone, so I bargained with and reassured and entertained her as best I could while I got dinner ready. She was done before I was even finished serving, and just wanted me to pick her up...but I hadn't eaten yet and didn't have a chair, so James let her sit in his lap, and she ate my food while I got drinks/napkins/more heat for the big kids' dinners. After a while I relented and picked her up and held her while I tried to eat a bit...but I wasn't more than a few bites in before James (who is currently out of commission due to a nasty injury and subsequent surgery) called for me because the toilet was overflowing in the hall bathroom. He had heard water running and went in to check; it must have been going on for a while because by the time I got in there the whole bathroom was flooded.

So I shut off the valve and quickly got to work plunging etc. and then set about the cleaning process. I decided I might as well clean the toilet bowl while I was at it, and if you are already doing one toilet, ya might as well do both, so I put the cleaner in the bowls to set while I sopped up all the dirty water and put all the affected small items like the step stool and combs and bath toys that had been affected into the tub to be cleaned...when I heard James and the little one making a mad dash to make it to the potty on time. Realizing I was cleaning the toilets and not wanting her to splash the cleaner onto herself, James stuck a wholly offended 2 year old into the (other) tub so she could pee in the drain, since this was clearly an emergency situation. She was NOT having it. She screamed. she wailed. She did not pee. I tried to finish cleaning the toilets as fast as I could. James - who, mind you, is currently a one-armed non-bendable creature who has instructions from the surgeon not to lift more than a pound -tried to carefully lift her to transfer her to a more desirable location so she could finally relieve herself, but the pressure of the awkward lift combined with all the screaming  she was doing was too much for her poor little bladder, and she loosed its contents in mid air, no longer neatly controlled right over the drain, this pee went on the adventure of a lifetime- exploring every dimension of the bathtub, even the outside, and the surrounding floor, and the bath mats and stools and...so I finished cleaning the toilets to the dulcet tones of utter humiliation and discontent, and then set about washing off The kidlet. She didn't much like that part, either. Cleaned and wrapped in a towel, I sent her off to sit by the fire with James while I cleaned up THIS bathroom. Scrubbed the floor, cleaned the tub, whoohoo, it's all clean!

Now back to the original task at hand; cleaning up after the broken toilet in the first bathroom. Finding the steam mop broken, I scrubbed that place by hand, and then stuffed all the towels, bath mats, rags, my clothes...anything that had been in contact with anything in this encounter into the washing machine.

Next up, I got into the shower to wash off all the contaminated stuff I'd tossed into the tub. I wash it all off and am finally ready to wash myself off.

Now is probably a good time to mention that I have a skin condition that necessitates that I limit my contact with water, ESPECIALLY hot water, and I realized about halfway through washing myself off that after all this I should probably try to avoid getting wet for a while...which means that I wouldn't be able to help James wash himself off later, so I called him in to let him know and we decided he should get cleaned off, too. At this point I've been in the Luke warm water long enough that my fingers are sluggish and I'm shivering, so I turned up the heat to try to warm up. It was too hot for James, though, so I turned it back down and shivered through getting him cleaned off and then rushed through my necessary post-shower moisturizing routine...meanwhile, the little one was screaming again, this time just outside the bathroom door, and as I becon her to come in so she wouldn't have to be alone, I smelled something....and she confirmed that she needed to poop, and had an accident but she didn't know where. Sure enough, while rushing her to the other bathroom (the one with the working toilet) it became clear that she had started off in there, and then ran to try to get help, leaving a sad trail of poo all along the way.

So I left her to do her duty on the toilet and went back to clean up all the poop. And then of course I cleaned the kid off. And then scrubbed everything down. And put more stuff in the washing machine. And then I got the kid dressed. And then I got myself dressed. And then I got the kids to bed despite my hands having lost all their elasticity. (My palms are shiny!!)

And emerged from the bedroom to realize; it was 10:30pm and I hadn't yet had dinner.

Giant bowl of blueberries and cream for dinner! 

Yeah, it may be crazy sometimes, but I got this. ;-p

As High as Heaven Itself

No matter how crazy life gets with job changes, moves, medical mishaps and new adventures, there will always be time for us to share some...Aerial Shakespeare!!

This is our entry for this years iShakespeare video contest.  The kids had the idea to incorporate their aerial work this time, so we scoured the text for an appropriate quote. Struck gold with Romeo & Juliet, Act 4 scene 5.

I love that this is the kind of stuff I get to do with my kids.  I think they kinda rock.

As High as Heaven Itself from Kat Stroot on Vimeo.

Lucky

We've been keeping pretty busy lately, and things only stand to get a bit busier in the next few months. I know that I tend to lose track of corresponding with people easily, so as I did the usual dump of family photos and videos from my phone last night I decided that it might be nice to give you a tiny glimpse of one of the many crazy things in my day-to-day life for which I am profoundly grateful.

Believe it or not, the footage below is mostly unremarkable in the best way possible.  These kids have built up a beautiful relationship with their parkour teachers and this sort of amazing play has become a staple of our lives.

 

So very many thank yous to all of you crazy folks.  We are lucky to have you in our lives!

The ultimate unintended glitterbomb.

Dear children of mine;

I admire your creativity, spontaneity, and passion, and I am thrilled that you found a way to make it feel like you were really throwing icy blasts like Elsa. 

The Floor.  Everywhere.

And I certainly hope that this is one of those childhood memories that you take with you for the rest of your lives and can think back on fondly no matter what.

seems innocent, but note the dusting on her shoulder, and down her arm, and in her hair...

Because otherwise, I have no words to describe the level of...sparkle...that has inextricably overtaken our home...

I pet the cat, and came away with some glitter on my hand.

From this day forth, everything about our family shall shine; our floors, walls, towels, sheets, clothes, hair, cats, brooms and vacuums, and yes, even our food (and therefore our very excrement)- shall gleam and glisten in the light...as will anyone or anything that happens to exist near a member of our household in the near future. (Stand by for Stories from the Court: the Glittering Judge)

Cameras suck at capturing glitter carnage; but you can note some shimmering on her pants.  and forehead.

(And here I thought the battle was limited to two coated palms in the kitchen...the more fool I, for as I focused on my work, the entire house was beseiged by battling handfuls of projectile 'magic', and as of now, I haven't found a single surface that has been spared. Except, mercifully and to your credit, for the computer desk.)

Yup.  glitter.  the pixie dust kind that doesn't wash out, like, ever.

I love you fiercely, my wonderfully troublesome little faeries.

What is left. Oh yes, these were full before the attack. I had used a sprinkling from each one for projects.