Saturday, December 12, 2015

Ultimate Fighters!

In honor of his big win yesterday - and to offset the rather sad tone I've been stuck in of late - I thought I'd make a little post about that time my three silly kiddos took on Coach Ryan...AKA The winner of this season's The Ultimate Fighter.  Wooooooo whoooooo!!

TUF 22 Champ Ryan Hall with three vicious opponents
...Actually I don't even really have anything to say about it, I am just super happy for Ryan -and his fabulous wife Jen, an accomplished marital artist herself, who runs the business and supported him through this journey- and wanted an excuse to publicly congratulate them on this exciting development.  Yesterday Ryan dominated Artem "The Russian Hammer" Lobov to win a UFC contract, in addition to the championship accolades inherent to this show/fight.  We are all so thrilled, and proud, of our friends and teachers!

I am extremely grateful that we get to train with such high caliber athletes - and PEOPLE! Seriously, you don't find hearts this big and open all that often.  (They have even made their gym - Fifty/50 Marital Arts Academy - a drop off point for Carry The Future!) They maintain a fun, supportive, warm atmosphere at their studio which makes the high level training they provide like candy...we spend hours there every time we go, because we love being there, and consider the people there good friends at this point.  They're good folks.

So, Ryan and Jen - CONGRATULATIONS!!! We are beyond thrilled for you.  And while I'm waxing gushy anyway, let me just say - you guys have done so much for our family, and we do not at all take for granted how incredibly lucky we are to have you in our lives. Here's to new adventures!!

Calliope springs to action in a shadowboxing match with Ryan while her sisters & Jen look on...

Ryan gets a taste of his own medicine as Cadence refuses to get off of him. :-P

Hazel smiles with glee as she takes Ryan's back...kinda. 

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Finding a Purpose

Today would have been my Mom's 60th birthday.  Initially tempted to spend the day wishing she was still around for us to tease about getting old (and being proved decidedly wrong), I have found a far, far better use of this special day.

I spent a significant chunk of my adolescence and young adulthood working on educating people about the importance of empathy and the dangers of dissociating individuals from the overwhelming statistics that make up their circumstances.  As such, I have spent more than the usual amount of time questioning: "What would I do, if this was happening today?"  Obviously, we all like to give ourselves the benefit of the doubt and assume that we would stand up and do the right thing...but no one ever knows for sure until they are actually in the unfathomable reality of crisis. For so many Americans, Europeans, and relatively safe peoples around the world, it is all too easy to sit back in complacency and feel too removed to be effected...including myself.  

Ever since the current "refugee crisis" first made itself known, I have felt a deep, nagging, urgent sense that I absolutely HAD to do something tangible to help.  To practice what I have so often preached, and taken the risk of daring to reach out to people caught up in the overwhelming displacement.  But...what could I do?  I'm a full time, homeschooling mom, a freelance performer, a stuttered blogger, an amateur photographer...and I'm no where near the epicenter of what's going on and no one was going to come to me for help, and without a buttload of cash, there is nothing I can do to help the poor souls washing up on foreign shores, so far away, anyhow.  So I sat back and relegated that nagging need to do something to the bin of misguided dreams, and hid it under a thin veil of justification.

But that didn't last.  I am a mom, and that's a visceral reality that I can never truly turn off.  Seeing images of these families with young children arriving, soaked, scared, exhausted; watching videos of volunteers wrap tiny children in emergency blankets, and thinking about the long, dangerous journey most of them still have ahead of them, one of my frequent thoughts among the obvious heartbreak is:  how are they going to get those kids to continue to travel so far?  On limited food and next to no resources, carrying a baby or a toddler on such long travails - often over treacherous terrain - becomes a seriously perilous undertaking.  Any rocky slope would necessitate using your hands for stability or to catch yourself...which is next to impossible with an infant in tow.  I never used a stroller, for any of my three children, and am therefore very familiar with the comfort, sense of security (for both parent and child), warmth, and safety a baby carrier can provide - not to mention the ease of mobility and having your hands free!  I found myself thinking; "If only they had carriers, this would still be hard but it would be so much more doable."  But, still, nothing clicked, and I noted that my need to help was growing a healthy layer of guilt around it, but I left it in that discard bin, the veil of justification stubbornly insisting that I have no power.

Until yesterday.  Yesterday, I came across a news article about a mom in California, who - just as I had - saw the need for carriers for these families, but unlike me, she didn't let herself rest within that uncomfortable complacency.  She grabbed the bull by the horns and said "ok, let's do this."  And she asked people to donate carriers, then packed them up, flew to Greece, and personally strapped these babies in safely by fitting each one onto a struggling caretaker.  I was in AWE.  I cried.  In that moment, my hands shaking and my whole being rattled; that need to help threw off that veil, burst out of the discard bin, and manifested in a full, unshakeable form:  I had to join her.  I have to do this, and not just donate carriers and spread the word...All the work I've done over the years, all the effort I have put in to rallying people, it was all culminating in this moment.  This was something I could viscerally relate to, something that I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, will help these families in a simple, tangible, and potentially even life saving way, and with the skills I have honed in my years of production and management, it is something actually within my means to do. I absolutely must go there and do this.

So, I am.  I have joined her organization, Carry the Future, as a volunteer.  Over the coming weeks I will be collecting new or gently used baby carriers* and plan to fly to the Greek Isles (or wherever we are needed) and assist with the direct distribution of these carriers to the families that need them. Not an easy undertaking, I know, but I felt called to do this, and committing to it brought on an enormous wave of relief. I can't be true to myself - or to anything that I aspire to - if I don't get out there and get my hands dirty in an effort to do just a spot of good. And in the end, I will be coming home to a warm, safe, happy home filled with family, support, food, and security...who am I to deny even the tiniest relief to these families who deserve no less, and yet have been caught up in circumstances beyond their control, leaving them with virtually none of it. Regardless of politics, I am sure we can all agree that the children do not deserve any of this.  So please, help me to help them.

If you would like to donate a carrier, please let me know.  I am working to establish easily accessible drop off points around the area (and have partnered with many other wonderful volunteers to coordinate efforts across the DC metro region, spanning north to Baltimore and south to Richmond), and will be collecting donated carriers at my home and at local meet ups.  I may even be able to do some local pickups.    
Alternatively, anyone can ship new carriers directly to the organization’s headquarters in California. 
I will be doing this in honor of these families, as well as my mom, and of course of my dear friend Zoë, who I know would be right there beside me on this one if she were still around.  We lost her last year and never did get to go with her to her family home in Lesbos as she so often said she wanted.  I may well see those shores soon, Zoë, and I wish you could be there with me.

For further information about Carry the Future and what we do, please see our website:
Your help in spreading the word would be greatly appreciated! 

Carry The Future founder Cristal Munoz-Logothetis with one of the many recipients of her efforts. Photo used with permission.
Love and peace, all.
*soft structured baby and child carriers only. No car seats, no metal frames, no strollers, no wraps, no slings. Soft Structured Carriers (SSCs) are basically any carrier that has clasps or harnesses, and Mei Teis (square cloth with four ties). A few examples are Baby Bjorn, Kolcraft, MobyGo and Ergo.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

3 years one more time...

Happy happy happy 3 years to my little
Spitfire. Calliope, you inspire me, and floor me, and I love you so incredibly much. Happy birthday my crazy little Callipillar!

Newly 3-year-old awesome

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Adventures in (not really) being a Pinterest mom

Hera help me, I've decided to try to sew.

In a fit of domesticity, I've made good on my decision to try to make my kids' halloween costumes when I can.  This year, Calliope is putting me to the test.  She wants to be a Cake for Halloween.

EDIT: Ok so I kinda skipped the documenting it part - BUT! I successfully made Callie an Orange Layer Cake Costume for Halloween!  See???

Materials are mostly felt, some interfacing, and some plumbing tubes.  It essentially functions like a hoop skirt, so she can sit, stand, run, jump, climb stairs, and even be picked up and carried, completely unencumbered...I'm admittedly a little bit surprised and proud of the fact that I was able to engineer this design.  Everything I saw (mostly, yes, on Pinterest) wasn't practical or fun to wear (or easy to store!! This collapses down to a couple inches thick, the diameter of the base layer.  Easy peasy storage!) so I set off on my own to make this happen.  So glad I did, even if I'm not the best seamstress (and I broke every single one of my sewing machine needles in the process) because the kid's eyes lit up and she wore it all night with no complaints...she adored it, which made everyone adore it, which made her proud (she came up with being a cake - an orange cake - all on her own) and that in turn made me proud so...yeah, I may not be a Pinterest mom, but I am a slightly crazy and happy one.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

The paralysis of being 2 years out

Because words don't seem to be today's thing:


I love you. I miss you. My heart feels clogged and stuffy when I allow myself to notice that you are no longer here.

I feel your presence in the very core of my being; you are in everything, you are here and present even as time marches farther from your physical manifestation.
And so I feel supported and loved as though nothing has changed, until I stop for a half a second.

Until I think of something perfect I just know you'd love to hear.

Until I find news that may help you somehow.

And I can't reach out to share.
I can't call, or text, or talk your ear off as I always did.
I can't hug, or tease, or comfort you and I can't subject you to my latest culinary experimentation...
In those moments, in those moments my heart breaks.

Part of me doesn't want to thrive anymore. Part of me wants to just stop and go find mom. Part of me thinks it's unfair for you to miss the best parts of my life, so I shouldn't strive for more than the wonderful things I have now.

But I also know that the part of you that refused to die because "Kate won't be Ok" would be hurt beyond belief if I gave up. That the part of you that gave up so much in the name of motherhood and giving your kids the best life had to offer would be offended, that your determination to do everything well would feel betrayed, were the child you raised to stop striving for her own goals and dreams, didn't jump at opportunity...

And really, I don't want to stop, I don't want to settle or lose my connection to my own children, even if they are harnessed to the breakneck speed of life and there is no looking back. 

But I miss you something fierce, mama, and I wish I could still have you here with me, and we could get to see the kooky old lady you were always supposed to become.

Mom & Hazel

Saturday, July 11, 2015

What the...

I am currently on a bus en route to a two week immersive intensive retreat. I am so excited...except that every fiber of my being is screaming out to just turn around and go scoop up my babies. 

I know they will be more than fine, and I know this is good for all of us, but man does this feel like an inability to breathe! I have not been away from an of my kids for even as much as 24 hours. For the last 8 years (9 if your count pregnancy) I have spent no more than a few hours at a time away from my children. And now, all of a sudden, I will be away from them for more than two solid weeks. 
I have no doubt that this will be weird and bizarre for them, too, but I trust that they will also have fun - they have each other, and James, and the kitties, and Kelly is in town to hang out with them in my stead, and this weekend my dad and Pepper are even here...they will be fine.
As for me, I know this will be fun and beneficial, but I have been on my own since just before 10am and this already marks more solid, unbroken, uninterrupted solitary time than I have had in something like a decade and I'm not sure how to handle it!
It's so weird to have only me to focus on, I feel like so much attention and awareness is suddenly just on me that it's like I'm living in my face. I know that is a weird statement, but watching out this bus window I feel like I see and hear and feel so much just for myself that it has become sensory overload and it feels like my face is buzzing, or something.  THIS IS SO WEIRD. Where are my kids? I need to give them big hugs.

The very full house I left behind. I love you all so much! Miss you already!!

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Year 8 complete

This kidlet-o-mine celebrates 8 whole years today...I cannot believe it. I am so proud of and inspired by you, Cadence Ann.  I can already feel you growing away from the tiny creature you once were, beginning to sprout your wings and move on to becoming an independent being, off in the world.  I'm gonna hang on to these amazing days we have now, where I still get the occasional cuddle and constant companionship from you. To say I'm going to miss you when you are grown is a massive understatement; but I adore watching you flourish and expand your horizons and take those leaps; you are doing splendidly, my dear. I love who you are, who you are becoming, seeing you realize your deserve so much more than I can give you, so go ahead and create a life worthy of YOU. You're off to a great start.

Happy Birthday, my Cadiebug!

Friday, June 26, 2015

A Historic Day of Love

I cried when I got to tell my children that they and their friends will be free to marry whoever they want to when they are grown. My heart soars knowing that, whatever social prejudices may linger, a basic respect for love is now on the side of the law, and I cried when I realized that their own kids, should they have any, will grow up thinking that those prejudices are so weird and retro. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who worked towards this.

This doesn't feel like victory, it feels like the lifting of a heavy weight, like regaining the ability to breathe, like relief.

Celebrating in style

So happy today.

Sunday, June 21, 2015

For my Dad

Dad & I at Niagra Falls in 1980-something

I want to wish you a super duper happy Father's Day... I am so lucky to have had the wonderful love and support you have provided me with throughout my entire life. It is a love and support that I can always count on, and always take great comfort in as I move through my own crazy life. I certainly don't take it for granted.

Thank you for helping me to be the person I am today. Thank you for arming me with many of the tools I use every day as I face the weird challenges life provides, and thank you for sharing your humor and your respect in the process. I always know that I can count on you to have my back, even from myself. And I always know that you are there if I want to share a silly video or a cool new bit of performance art...thank you for still being such an important part of my life, despite the geographical distance.  I hope that will continue to be true forever!  (Except maybe that distance bit.  I do hope that someday it won't be such a big gap.)

I love you so very much.

Happy father's day!

I love you, Dad!

Friday, June 12, 2015

10 years after a very important question was asked...

Dear James,

9 years ago today, we exchanged vows and rings in a sunlit atrium filled with family and friends. We began a journey of a lifetime, a beginning that elated us... despite both having raging head colds and being young enough to have no idea where life was going to take us, we knew this was a Big Good Thing.

Nine years, three kids, 12 moves, and countless ups and downs later, I can honestly say that it absolutely was a Big Good Thing, one that has lead to more Big Good Things than I can count.

9 years ago today - photo by Terry Donovan
I love you so much, James, and I am so proud of you, of our family, and everything we have built. As we embark on our tenth year of marriage, facing ever new trials and opportunities, I want you to know that making this commitment to you was unquestionably one of the best thing I have ever done. 

Time - experience, really - changes people. It changes one's sense of self, strengthens one's identity. It nudges world views and philosophies and dreams into new paradigms. Sometimes, what fit as a bright eyed young adult may not fit as well after time has taught its lessons, even if it it is still every bit as wonderful as it ever was. And sometimes, what you take on at a young age is bigger than you know, and over time you grow into it, and learn so much more than you ever knew you would find...

We have undeniably changed and morphed and grown over the past nine years, and I want to honor that fully. Ten years ago, as a man of a mere 20 years, you asked me a very important question - and as a young woman of 20, I said yes.  Now, 10 years older and wiser, I want to take a turn asking a very important question:

James, after everything we have been through, and knowing all that you now know, being the man that you are now at 30, will you agree to meet me a year from now, and exchange vows once again?

As the woman I am now at 30, I can say without hesitation that I love you far beyond all words, and I want to be able to continue to change and grow and morph right along with you as we take on the relative confidence of not-quite-as-young-adulthood. If you, as the person you are at this point in time, can honestly say that you feel the same way, then let's mark next's years anniversary by doing it all again, and allow our commitment to reflect all the richness that we have added to our lives over the course of this decade, with eyes to the future and its many possibilities.

I love you, James.  Should you say no, I will still love you, and support you, and will continue to be extraordinarily proud of who you have become, and where you are headed. My heart will hurt, but I will still be so very grateful for the time we have spent, and I will know that my time was not wasted.  I am not expecting a rote answer from you, and I don't want you to give me an answer based on obligation or history...I hope with all my being that you will say yes, but I can't fully honor the person you are now without accepting the vulnerability of letting this be a fresh choice.

With my whole heart

UPDATE: He said yes. :-) 

So much love

Today also marks my parents' anniversary, and I want to use the opportunity to honor the fact that, however things played out in the end, there was so. much. love. there, and nothing can change that. 
I love you both so much.

Mom, Dad, and Coriander

Saturday, June 6, 2015

Profound words

Tonight, as we were laying calmly in the dark, quietly waiting for sleep, Hazel (who was cuddled up with kitty Lily) began to sing very softly. It was a beautiful little tune of her own making, and I found this teeny snippet remarkably profound (and wonderful:

"When you hear a heart beating, how can you not sing along?"

Touché, Hazel my dear. Touché.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

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!!!

Friday, April 17, 2015

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 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 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 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, 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.

Monday, April 13, 2015


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. 

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

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 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

Friday, March 13, 2015

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.

Friday, February 20, 2015


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!

Sunday, January 4, 2015

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 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.