Creating a Mess

Bunny is very creative. She loves to draw and color and paint. It makes her happy.

And seeing her happy makes me happy. I love that she loves art. As some of you know, I've taken a challenge to create something everyday for one year over at my new blog Juniper and Coffee. It makes my life so much easier that I can sit down and create along side my budding Picasso.

And her approach to art is very inspirational. She just dives in. She doesn't care what people think. She only wants to put the paintbrush, crayon or marker on paper and see what comes out. I love listening to her little comments as she is going along. "Oooh Daddy's gonna to love this." "Isn't it pretty, momma?" "When I'm done its gonna be so nice."

She's all about the process. She doesn't sweat the details because its going to turn out just fine. She doesn't agonize if there is a mistake because there are no mistakes. Every stroke belongs on the paper just where it is.

Now she and I have received about the same amount of artistic training, which is to say none. However, I often freeze when it comes to the output because its not what its supposed to be. Its not "art". I've seen art and what I produce isn't art. So I get frustrated and scrap project after project because its not perfect.

That is why I am loving the challenge created by my other blog. I have to throw caution to the wind. I have to get over my preconcieved notions about what is or isn't art. I have to let go of the hang-ups I have over my abilities or lack of abilities.

In other words, I need to get in touch with my inner three year old.

Almost There

The days blurred together. We were racing the sun. It was dark but it was never night. Today became tomorrow. Almost time but not quite.

You spend your whole life trying to find north on your compass. Looking for your true north, the path which you are supposed to travel. And here I was finally setting out on that path on a plane traveling from today to tomorrow to my future. Staring out into the vast nothingness of the North Pole waiting to turn south, waiting to head to my true home. The home I would find once I held my daughter in my arms.

The plane landed. Planes always do. In a city full of buildings and lights and people, so many people. It was in Hong Kong but it could have been New York, or London or Rome. I was not home yet, I might as well have been half a world away.

Night became day again. Another plane ride, one step closer to home. The plane landed. Planes always do. A smaller city full of buildings and people, so many people. And in one day it would hold yet another person. The most important person of all. In one day the city would hold my daughter. In one day, I would hold my daughter.

Day One

It was two years ago today but I remember it as if it were yesterday.

Bubs and I checked and double checked everything. We set the timers for the lights. We made sure the cats had enough food and clean litter until my mom could stop by and give them more. The house was okay.

The suitcases were loaded in the car and we were off to the airport. I was so anxious I could hardly control myself. I reached out to grab Bubs' hand to make sure that this was real, that it was not a dream.

We arrived at the airport, the sun was shining. I was sure there would be no delay. We would be on our way in no time.

But when we arrived at the gate, we were told our flight to Chicago was overbooked. They offered to send people to Chicago via a bus arriving at 10:10. Our connecting flight was at 10:48 so we chose not to take the bus. We did not chose wisely.

We boarded the plane and it pulled back from the gate. This was it, we were on our way. And then they told us there was a delay in Chicago so we would have to wait on the tarmac. So we waited, for an hour. There was still a delay in Chicago so they allowed us to go back to the gate and wait for the ok to fly. So we waited at the gate, for another hour.

We had already missed our connecting flight. I was in a panic. We were supposed to be on our way, not sitting in the Milwaukee airport.

We were finally allowed to takeoff and after 45 minutes arrived in Chicago at 12:15. We didn't know what to do. I tried calling to find out what plane we were re-booked on. But I could not get through.

So we, along with countless others who were delayed, got in line and waited to talk to a customer service agent. After waiting for another hour we found out that we had indeed been booked on another flight, the 12:18 flight. Which left 3 minutes after our flight had landed. That didn't quite work. So they rebooked us on another flight for the next day.

I had been waiting for this day for two years. I knew that one more day would not kill me. We would arrive in China. We would meet our daughter. Soon.