It's going to be alright

Cemetery Etiquette

We stopped by one of the largest cemeteries around today, which happens to be about a mile from our house. It's a wonderful place to run around, especially in the fall. I found myself wondering about all sorts of things related to Proper Play at a Cemetery. For instance, is it okay for Anna to hop from one grave marker to another? So gleefully uninformed of what she's hopping on? She was quite respectful when it came to observing the enormous angels, and a little uneasy about the sculptures who were missing various limbs and digits. But I started to wonder: when is the right age to tell her what a cemetery really is? Is it okay to take a magnolia cone home with you? How far should I let Anna go on her own before I tell her to stop and head back toward me? And when she takes my hand and commands me to run, how far should we venture away from the car, where little Eli is sound asleep and unaware?

After poking around on the computer, I found some rules and guidelines regarding cemeteries:

1.Take only photos, leave only footprints. (Check)

2. Do not touch the memorials or artifacts. They are privately owned outdoor sculptures. (Oops)

3. Do not bring alcohol, firearms, or entertainment items into cemeteries. (Anna was entertaining, but I think that's okay; most of the time she provides entertainment without the aid of alcohol and firearms)

4. Maintain supervision of children and teach them respect for cemeteries. (Supervision of the child who was awake, yes...)

5. Do not litter, this includes cigarette butts. (Check)

6. Do not interfere with the plants or wildlife that inhabits the cemetery. (There was that magnolia cone)

7. Keep a respectful silence. Speak to your companions in a low tone of voice. (Totally broke this one)

8. Leave tombstones where you find them. (Oh, we weren't supposed to toss those around?)

9. Do not apply shaving cream to stones. (Um, check. I think this was for cemetery photographers, but it's definitely my favorite rule)

And I also learned that "Picnics are usually acceptable as long as you clean up afterwards." (Hurray!)

Then there's the countless wonderful names. I remember being pregnant with Anna and wandering through a similar cemetery, making notes and deciding we'd have to have a ridiculously large family in order to satisfy my longing to use so many wonderful names. Today there was "Millie Bell," "Mary England," Wellington McConnell," "Zulette Crumley," and "Ola Bob Jester Harbour." Mom, Dad, this is our newest child, Ola Bob.

*Note--I didn't have my camera; these photos are from last Thanksgiving

Addendum

I forgot to note that the night I posted my first entry, Eli started sleeping through the night. While I welcomed this long-awaited transition with very open arms, it also meant the end of those sometimes inspirational middle-of-the-night brainstorming sessions . However, some fever and fussiness following Eli's 2-month round of immunizations yesterday led to the old 4 am wake-up call. So I had about an hour to plan out some homemade Christmas ideas: I sorted through fabrics in my mind, visualizing aprons and tote bags and coasters. Maybe soon I'll have something to show for the mental energy I so often put towards projects which don't always materialize.

Listening to: the new Radiohead album
Reading: 'Misfortune' by Wesley Stace
Observing with Anna: Helen the spider in our backyard
Eating: Nutella and pretzels

Two

I'm not off to the best start. I struggled to recall my user name when trying to post this, my second blog entry. But here I am and I haven't a clue where to focus my thoughts. It's a strange thing to try to steer what I'm driven to write about towards those subjects which I can illustrate with photos. Not that I have to (and you'll see that I won't). But the blogs I find most interesting are full of photos. And as of today, there are over 5,000 photos in our I-Photo library. All scattered about with numbers for names. And all pleading with me to do something with them. Soon.

On a recent (and rare) shopping trip a couple of days ago, my search for a gift to cheer up a sad friend led me to the children's department at a local store. Since I've yet to find the perfect snuggly friend for Eli to grow old with, I perused the stuffed toys. As usual, they were all pretty offensive. But something under the mound of synthetic fur caught my eye. I reached in and pulled out a scrappy grey cat, all limp and nubbly and obviously well-loved. My heart swelled up inside. I thought of the child who might be missing their floppy old security cat. I thought of the time I left my SuperBoy on top of the gumball machine at the five-and-dime and how my granddaddy raced me back to look for him but without success. And how the monkey with the squeaky hand he bought me to replace SuperBoy didn't quite do the trick. What could I do to get this lost cat home? After tooling around the store for a bit longer, I decided to put the cat safely in my basket and tell the cashier that I'd found something that surely someone would be calling about. And then I hoped that the kitty wasn't disappointed that I'd taken him off the shelf where he was perhaps pleased to be posing as a brand new toy, convincing himself that he just might be chosen and taken home. Now all I can do is tell myself that there was a happy ending. And encourage Anna to leave her dolls in the car.

Nourishment

I'm good at making lists. Maybe too good. I make mulitples lists, get overwhelmed, sometimes letting my lists defeat me. But when I get the chance to mark things off a list, boy oh boy. So in these sleepless teeny tiny baby days, when the only thing I know I'll do for sure is get up around 4am to nurse my 8 week old, I make lots and lots of lists: mental lists. I sit in the dark and I compose letters and stories and Christmas ideas. Sometimes I feel inspired, sometimes I feel heavy with the growing lists of things I hope to accomplish. And in these aforementioned teeny tiny baby days, I can also feel pretty indecisive, what with all the constant decision making that's sorta thrown upon you when you have a child of any age. So while an idea might seem grand in the wee hours of the night, I begin to second-guess it the next day. Or second-guess my ability to put forth the energy to see the idea through. Last night, the theme of the 4am mental planning session was blogs. I go back and forth about how I feel about them, whether or not I want one, and what my motivation is or should be for having one. And like my lists, they can inspire me one day and bring me down the next. However, right now I need some motivation to create and I need it bad. So I figure it can't hurt too bad to follow the scattered morsels of popcorn into the world of blogging. I could put it off, like I've done countless times before, and I could make lists of what I'd like to have together before I start. Or I could tell myself that I'll start once I've settled into being a mother of two. But what if my littlest one starts sleeping through the night soon and I don't have all these nightly sessions full of growing (and nagging) creative to-do lists? I may actually miss them and I may miss the chance to triumphantly mark some items off my list(s).