We had the pleasure of going to the very first Failure-Lab show this week.

Ummm. I’m a huge fan. The entire night felt like one epic poem all to the common theme of what failure brought the seven storytellers.

There was even Kazoo action, a harp, and dancing. At each seat there was a program – the format of the night was; Performance, Storyteller (7 minutes), one minute of silence to reflect/write a note or tweet, and repeat.

The idea of the Storytellers, from what I gathered, was for them to tell us of a failure but not the lesson they derived from it. That was up to us, and that’s what the one minute of silence was for. I’m an over thinker, so I’ll just go there – but it was like an intentional space to actually connect to these people beyond the words they were giving us. We were invited into their lives, often some of the most vulnerable moments of failure – and then we were asked to feel something, or better, learn something.

So, yeah. This is my thing. I loved everything about Failure Labs (and how much of a non-failure it was). I’m really excited to hear what they do and where they go from here.

Funny thing is, we were asked to hand in our programs (with notes) at the end of the show. I gave mine up after I took quick photos of my notes, I wanted to remember it too.

Here’s my take away:

What I learned at Failure-Lab

Asking for help can change everything … maybe for the first time ever.

Reality of a dream is sometimes the muddy ground you thought you were finally getting away from.

…

Take it as it comes, then go get it.

You can’t do it all. Unless you’re good at it.

Art, some times, needs more structure to reach the mass of abstract.

What are you guys learning lately?

Your camera lens doesn’t even angle out, it’s 50mm lens fixed to your eye. Your view is so narrow, you can’t see it coming.

I have this huge vision for life, this hunger to taste it all. To see and do and hear. I want to feel the weight of the experiences.

But I want to choose them, too.

And I can’t. I cannot. I can hope for, I can even plan for them and then the world hits me.

On a muggy, sun-shining day: everything’s all right and yet it’s all too far gone. And it’s hard. Really hard to look forward and not straight down at my feet. It’s hard not to peer behind me and want to run as fast as I can back to yesterday, or the day before … before anything bad ever happened. Way before I understood what might come my way.

Or what might pass me by entirely.

A group of 7 kids drowned together in the tornado aftermath that hit Oklahoma yesterday (source). That one sentence won’t leave me alone. It won’t go away.

I can take all kinds of news and death, but children break me down. Because in that pool of water all I see are the backs of my own kids’ heads. Bobbing, trapped. The last thing they might have thought? Was it fear? Were they calmed? Who was there to hold their hand and usher them into the safe feeling before they left us forever? Who was standing next to them?

Because I wasn’t there. I won’t be there, I can’t. It’s physically impossible to protect them every single minute of the day. I can’t even protect myself most of the time. And it didn’t happen to me! This huge thing isn’t affecting me, but it is. Because the world’s children are scared.

And it’s not supposed to be that way.

And I’m angry and it hurts.

It’s a cup of tea cold
and a breeze that
needs a sweater cold
but it still smells
like spring and looks
like summer

The Earth blushing
a rouge to nature

I want the warmth a
glass of wine will bring,
the soaking in your
skin effect of purple
alcohol but I don’t want
the acid in my mouth

I want candles lit and
the little easel out with
bright white paper and
a brush to blot against
it

Little expressions pushed to paper
Big emotions born in nature.

(And my baby was still a baby)

But twenty-thirteen is going to be a good year. My fingers can feel it.

I don’t have pretty photos (yet) but it’s planted! And we have …

Summer squash, zucchini, cucumbers, sugar snap peas.

Basil, tomatoes, lettuce, swiss chard, celery (and just planed some green onions).

Melon, cabbage, brussel sprouts, kale, different herbs, and spinach.

In a smaller box not pictured yet we have raspberries and strawberries for the kids. I need to transplant my blueberries (I have two bushes) and at some point I’ll find a place for our 6-tree orchard. Pear, Cherry, Apple.

I might even get some bees.

On the flower front we have peonies, ranunculus, poppies, mums, a few things I don’t know how to spell, hostas, lily of the valley, lilac trees, some surprises, and tulips. I’ve started wisteria and hops for spreading vines and I can’t wait to throw dinner parties in the garden.

You’re invited.

Schools, addresses, even what we would keep or sell. These things take a toll on children (hindsight). She also has a blanket or lovie. I thought she would cling to hers like I did mine when I was her age and my world turned upside down.

Turns out she’s smarter than me. She values people more than the comfort of the memories that she can’t keep.

I knew I liked her.

We met this friend at church, then we were neighbors, then not and now … We are again. And the peace that this brings her is like being grounded for the first time after realizing gravity was always there.

She likes to climb trees and listen to music, she wants to swim every.day and always has a reason for a tent. She’s not a morning person, loves math, wants to be a rock star, collects stuffed animals and can bake bread from scratch.

These are the things I can chatter off to you, like a list in the air. Check, check, check. These are the things she wears for the the whole world to see.

What she keeps inside, those secret places for the daring, for the dreams. For those wishes we all count down on birthday cakes: those are what she shows me when she doesn’t know I’m looking.

Like sometimes she doesn’t feel like she fits, and she’s loyal to her core but confused when people disappoint her. She soaks everything in and, like the librarian of our actions, she can recite to you all the different ways we contradict ourselves.

She’s smart but embarrassed by it. She’s wild but held down for it. She’s curious.

I can see how she wants me to read her mind but I just can’t yet. I’m still trying.

Jessica’s a simple girl, she really only needs a few things in life.

First: she needs to belong somewhere. Then she needs to burst into color there. She wants you to watch her, but not sing along to the lyrics she’s composing. She’ll ask for your hand and always give you her heart.

These are the things I can see about her.

I’ve been an alumni Dutch Dancer for 7? 8? years, maybe more. My shoes have my initials JMS on them, before I was ever promised S as my last name (Don’t tell Aaron. Ok, do.) So more than 10 years, actually. Either way, I’ve had a few years off with having babies or partners who had babies but I love everything about Tulip Time.

Here’s my go-to tips for how to make it fun for the whole family (and not spend your entire month’s budget on vendor food and carnival rides.)

Tulip Time is all about the Tulips (and festivals, parades, food and fun.) but mostly – per it’s namesake, it’s about Tulips. You should see some.

Windmill Island is a great place to walk around for photos and to get a good feeling for what life used to be like. Rumor has it they have a new park for kids too, which, awesome. It will cost admission during Tulip Time, more info here.

You can always tip toe through the Tulips at Window on the Waterfront. This is our favorite place. Every year we take photos of the beautiful tulips and the kids.

Walking around Centennial Park for Tulips or up and down any street close to the downtown district will yield beautiful photo’s as well.

You can’t miss the food vendors all around during Tulip Time, but your wallet might be wise to. I decided to try and make our favorites at home so we could still enjoy Tulip Time without feeling taken advantage of by our favorite little city. As much as I love Tulip Time and Holland, $6 for a lemonade kind of makes me want to stab things. Tourism!

My absolute favorite: Caramel Apples.

Our kids’ favorite: Corn Dogs!

Parade food: Walking Taco’s.

Everyone’s favorite: Elephant Ears!!

If you’re venturing into Holland for your very first Tulip Time (even though you’ve lived in West Michigan your entire life!) don’t forget to check out these family friendly places:

Mom’s in Tow is doing their annual Family Rest Area during Tulip Time with activities, specials, freebies and a safe place for you to change/nurse or let your kids be free from a crowd again this year. Usually on 8th St in Pocket Park (next to Cold Stone).

Tip Toes store has a great little tree house that kids are allowed to climb and play in. Shop around, let your little’s use some of the creative energy before being strapped in a stroller.

The Peanut Store is a must. Instead of cotton candy, give your kids $1 or two and let them purchase a treat from Holland’s candy store. (FAVORITE)

I could keep going, this literally is one of my favorite times to live in Michigan. Tulip Time and the summer season that follows. Full of fun!

Ask question in the comments and I’ll be sure to give you my inside guide/tips.

Happy tip-toeing!
xoxo

geared up to the sky
with happy eyes

I could give you a picture of socked feet
and naked legs

of baby ducks in every which way,
scattered across the floor

a bed half made and one lamp on …

but I hear the smack of legos on the table
and the boys’ voices discussing transformers

Next to me is my girl, with Tinkerbell, painting
zebras and I look up to see the towels strewn
about the bathroom floor

A white and beige mess and her suit hanging
from the shower bar

and this is what I want to keep forever.

Oliver turns 5 on Sunday.

I remember standing in our kitchen on Ardmore St looking down at a positive pregnancy test on September 6, 2007 with a due date of May 13, 2008 (My late-dad’s birthday and my mom’s birthday, the book ends to his story). I excitedly told Jessica that “Mommy was taking a baby brother test!!” …

No longer a baby, this is my boy.

It’s an understatement to say we all loved him instantly. This son we had waited for was finally here. A Sun. We, the earth, that rotates around him.

I do have favorites. I have a favorite girl, she’s our moon. The supernova star in our lives. She is everything. She does this thing to my heart that no other human has ever done. She undoes me, winds me up, and ties me all around her spirit.

I have a favorite boy, too. Who once was a baby at my breast is now a warrior at our door.

All the things they tell you about time are absolutely true, but they’re not reality until it passes. And here we are, on the other side of baby: now a boy, watching him become a man.

Happy birthday, tadpole: you just got your legs.

Love,
Mom

There seems to be a cusp I walk right up to, look over the edge, see the success (or whatever it is my vision of success might be) but the fall, maybe the climb, to the destination is too unknown. Or it’s entirely too much to chew all at once. So I sulk backwards. To safety. I gather my goals and we cheer each other on (hooray!) and then, together, we hold hands as we seek comfort underneath our blanket of voices telling us we’ll never get that far.

Sometimes it feels like this inside my heart; a mess of colorful ideas strewn about my wakeful moments … none of them in order, most of them out of focus.

Last week I had the privilege of hosting a meeting in my home with a few other bloggers. (86 Lemons, Girl Meets Paper, Stacey Says) We shared links, got excited, encouraged one another to go further … to lean in.

Then, as I was going through the backlog of posts in my Reader, I came across a few different ECourses, some great posts on pushing yourself, and I wanted to share them just in case you’re there too.

Some of these links are geared towards the blogger-minded. Take what you can from them, pass it on.

I haven’t read this yet, but I want to: 31 days to a better blog

The “Treasure Hunt” e-course caught my eye, got me thinking about color and how much I crave it when I’m hiding: SuperHero Life Courses

Young House Love does an amazing job of being a two-person team. Not all blogs that are successful take time/energy from resources so often outside of our reach. Their honest approach to being “just two people” really inspired me to think big(ger): Young House Love breaks it down

This site was passed around as a great resource, one I’m excited to start to use: Blogging with Amy

Another link passed around: How to pitch blog campaigns

These classes are $10 and not limited to members, this was another link passed around I hadn’t seen before – but the topics (and price point) are worth a second look for me: The Influence Network

Lastly, this blog (mega information/inspiration) and the courses offered are highly recommended: Braid Creative. I actually took their first course (I think) but didn’t get what I should have out of it. I was in transition and thinking through my creative process or dreaming big was such a chore for me at that time. But as I gear up, I’m excited to check back in and see what I can gain from their community.

What pushes you when you feel like the only person at the dance without a date? How do you keep yourself from becoming the wallflower in the abyss?