Yoga Bead Love

Sharing some post-event photos from my recent YOGA BEAD LOVE Workshop.  The next YOGA BEAD LOVE is for you and your little yogis on May4th!  We'll celebrate Mother's Day with a fun, family yoga and mala beads making.  Reserve your spots by visiting YOGA360.com

A Momentary Pause

Things have been pretty quiet in my blog for few weeks now. This is the reason. I've decided to take a brief pause from painting and writing to focus my time to the new addition in our family. In fact, I have him in my lap as I was typing this (with one hand cuddling him and one hand typing).

Such momentary pause doesn't mean idle time. How can it be? Working, raising a toddler and now another munchkin, fills up my 24 x 7. But I'm enjoying the 'ride' more than ever (with a new carseat in the rear). So pardon me for being away for a while. Babies don't keep. I want to enjoy their smallness, when I can still scoop them up with my two hands and raise them up in the air.

Because pretty soon, they won't be little people anymore. Worry not though, I won't wait 'til they're young men to resume painting and creating. The next canvas is already primed, waiting to be painted the next time their nap times coincide.

I'll be back with a promise to bring you even more exciting posts...very, very soon.

Pastels and Patience

'Robin's Peach Tree'Chalk pastel on paper. 9 x 12 inches.
I learned that although my boy enjoys painting with me, you can't expect two year olds to sit down on a 'real' art workshop. Not yet.

During the recent arts fest in our town, I signed him up for a two hour pastel workshop for a mere $8. The first fifteen minutes, he was doing fine. Until he realized that it was more fun to run outside. The 'fifteen minute attention span' won over.

So, there I was. Left with a box of pastels and a black paper scribbled with abstract lines and curves. I felt sad for the teacher, she must have thought my boy didn't found her workshop interesting enough.

I apologized and was relieved to hear she knows exactly how toddlers are. I decided to 'salvage' what was in front of me and this is what I came up with in less than an hour. The only time I could spare before I lose sight of my toddler and my four month old baby (in my sling) wakes up.

I could have left it as is and brought another abstract work to add in our growing collection (and I mean 'growing'). Moms and dads, you know what I mean.

Instead, I took that opportunity to show my boy what patience can bring forth. When he exclaimed, 'Mom! My bird, nice!', I knew it was worth the effort.

- Posted from my iPhone

Brush vs. Hammer and Drill

Step 1 to 5 Completed. Twenty five steps to go!

Instead of brushes, I chose the hammer and drill today. After months of searching, I finally found the perfect shoe rack for our mudroom. We scored this Ikea TV stand on a clearance sale. 70% off. If you haven't put any Ikea furniture together, let me warn you that it requires tons of patience.

Big help from our little man.

He enjoyed handing out the lightweight pieces to me.

There are no words in the instruction manual, only photo illustrations. The screws, bolts and nuts are all packed together, without separate labeling. You've got to figure it out which piece matches the one indicated on the manual.

All done! Repurposed IKEA TV stand serves as shoe rack.

After almost four hours of hammering, drilling, screwing and awkward bending, I finally finished putting it together (with extra help from my little man and my mom).

Now, we're able to walk in the mudroom without tripping on piles of shoes. It's low enough for our boys to sit on and if it can hold the weight of a flatscreen tv, it should be sturdy enough to occasionally sit on.

My next project will be to put a cushion on top. So, tune in. In the meantime, I'm headed to reward myself with a warm, lavender bath.

- Posted from my iPhone

Once there was a Nest

Carpe diem. Seize the day. A phrase we often hear, but only a few amongst us takes to heart. I, for myself is guilty of occasionally taking the hours for granted. Do you find yourself caught up in the busyness of your day that you forget to realize that there are momentary chances to make a huge difference even through our smallest deeds.

Like the day we found this nest in our yard. My friend and I could have chosen to ignore it and proceed to drive to our destination. Instead, we took the opportunity to teach my little man a brief, but meaningful life experience. To touch a precious nest that once held and nurtured tiny feathered nature friends.

Thinking back, I believe it was there to remind us to make the most of each passing moment in our days. Because someday, we'll all leave our own 'nests'.

Shades of Summer

Today, I'm taking you to our backyard. It's the first thing I fell in love with, before we decided to buy our property few years ago. The old trees give a sense of nostalgia, which often makes one wonder their actual ages.




My husband built our beautiful paver patio as a mother's day gift. Now we get to enjoy the serene summer breeze under the natural shade and dine al fresco. My flowers are blooming too, what more can I ask for?

Perhaps, a little more painting time. Right now, it's all about the 'art of relaxing'. Because in few minutes, the silence will be filled with my boys' playful laughters.

- Posted from my iPhone

Monday Musings

Somebody was up early today to paint with me. I was preparing to start the first painting for my 'Hundred Gardens' Project.


Watching him work on his own space reminded me to enjoy the process with childlike wonder. To occasionally break the rules of art for the sake of pure creativity.


Watching his brushstrokes made me realize once more that we can be who we want to be. In this case, the artists we desire to be. Not defined by the style of art we do, but defining the art we make by who we are.


Just like his painting, others may see it as just another child's doodle. But for him, it's his own 'work of art'. A product of his thought and creative spirit.

- Posted from my iPhone

Baby Bursts

'Baby'

Watercolor Illustration. (c) 2010

I painted this for my cousin's baby shower. We're due on the same date! How about that.

I must have missed mentioning that we're expecting our second child. Yes! Another boy on the way. Growing the baby has been one of the things that was keeping me occupied that's why I wasn't able to update my blog regularly.

Although I've been down this road before, parts of the pregnancy journey seems all so new again. And I'm enjoying the perks that come with being pregnant. I get to use the 'Stork Parking' at Babies R Us and enjoy the heavenly foot massages courtesy of hubby, to name a few.

I've been receiving messages requesting updates on my recent 'projects'. Recently, I've been busy making baby gifts for relatives who are either having a baby or just had one. On top of that, I'm preparing for my upcoming one-woman art show this coming March in downtown Chicago. To make it even more exciting, the opening will be four days before my due date.

Hopefully, our baby won't decide to come out by then. I'll keep you posted if he decides to or not. If you're a mom who's expecting like me, the illustration above is dedicated to you too. I wish you all the joys a new baby brings.

Happy Belly Burst Day!

Crafty Cooking

Chicken Pasta with Homemade Pesto

My craftiness has extended to the kitchen, and no one's complaining (thankfully).  In fact, everyone leaves the dining table smiling.  

Thanks to online recipes, I'm able to whip up meals that are healthy and tasty.  For lunch today, I made chicken pasta with homemade pesto.  Love the sound of 'home-made', reminds me of my own mom's home cooking.  

I got the basil pesto recipe from 'Simply Recipes'.  I used whole grain pasta and sauteed the chicken in olive oil with onions and bell peppers.  Then, I put about a cup and  a half of the pesto.  A little dash of salt and fresh ground black pepper and lunch is served.

Simple, fast, healthy and delicious. Oopps, gotta wipe that pesto from our little man's chin.

Bon appetit!

Dad

A Father's Day Poem  by Sherie Sloane

Dad and our little man, watching the sunset.

One of my favorite random shot.

Because of you

I am steadfast and strong

Carrying on through the storm

Because of you

I knew right from wrong

Learning when to drift along

Because of you

I found courage in fear

Daring trepidation in tiers

Because of you

I stood up after a fall

Recognizing I never lost it all

Because of you

I triumphed after each loss

Applauding wisdom amidst the cost

Because of you

I am cherished and spirit's free

Living and loving in higher degree

Advance Happy Father's Day to all dads out there.  

I wrote this poem last year, thinking about my own Dad and all the years he stood by us through good times and tough ones.  

Dad, this is for you.  May our love reach you in heaven.  I miss you, we all do.

Feel free to copy the poem (please include author's name) and give it to the special men in your lives.

 

Carpenters Sew Too

Oven Mitten with Today's Broccoli and Cheddar Quiche

My first attempt at sewing.

I grew up in a home where creativity was highly encouraged.  Dad was always building something with his tools and mom sewed and made things for us.  There were no boys in the house (except for Dad), so I gravitated more on the 'tough' crafts like carpentry and painting furnitures.  It was inevitable for one of the girls to be Dad's handy assistant.  Luckily, it was me.

Some of my favorite memories was helping Dad build my (then) baby sister's nursery closet and her matching doll's closet.  Digging our first pond and crafting our vegetable garden's fences were so fun too.  Everything was built from scratch using manual tools.  While I was spending time with Dad, my other sisters were either drawing paper dolls or watching mom sew.

Big sis learned sewing quick, she was a natural.  Soon, she was making us tote bags, skirts and tops to match our dolls.  Back then, I thought sewing was difficult to learn.  Watching mom and sis pedal our old Singer sewing machine with so much ease seems to be a skill reserved for the 'crafty queens'.  That's when I decided I'd rather build, draw and doodle with paints.

An Artist's Oven Mitten.  Detail.

Fast forward to twenty years (wow, it was that long?),  I bought Mom her first electrical sewing machine for mother's day.  It's high time she retire the twenty-three year old Singer.  And it's my time to teach her how to use it.  But I haven't used one before.  

This is when technology comes handy.  We played the instructional DVD that came with it.  She was still intimidated, that the machine sat untouched for a whole week.  So, one morning I dared the (formerly) impossible task - sew.  

I needed a new mitten for baking (or should I say 'warming' up frozen stuff), perhaps that will be easy.  In carpentry, Dad would say 'Measure thrice, cut once'.  I learned that in sewing the hard way.  But aren't mistakes the best teachers?  

After five hours of often interrupted (with a little tot tugging every now and then) of cutting, pinning and sewing, I finally finished my first project. 

Just in time to pull out our baked (warmed up) quiche from Costco.

What's in the Photo?

Tulips along Michigan Avenue.

Last week, I promised to tell you about the photo I posted for Wordless Wednesday.  Here's the scoop about those beautiful tulips.

After my first mile run during the Mother's Day 5K, I was gasping for air.  Before our little man passed the official 'toddler' mark, I didn't have much time to run.  So, you can imagine the shock in my body when we woke up that day at 5am and announced we're going for a run, a 5K run.

Back to the first mile, I decided to take the very premature breather I was saving for the third mile.  I didn't want to seem too weak, too soon.  So I found my excuse - the lovely rows of tulips along Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago.

Mustering a huge smile, I waved to hubby who's strolling the little man in his uber-comfy jogger (we call it 'buggy').  Give me the camera!  These flowers are b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l (spoken lengthily and slowly to emphasize how mesmerized I was).  Come on, I know you do that sometimes too.

I can see the perplexed look in hubby's eyes.  Handing the camera won't be an easy feat, especially with the thickening crowd between us.  We are several feet away by now, so I squeezed myself through the anthill of walkers and runners. Camera on hand, I set to complete my little mission to sneak a 'break'.

Snap.  Wait, this angle is better.  Ooopps, focal point out of scale.  Click.  Hmmmm.  I think this bunch will look better.  

There. Perfect.  Mission accomplished!  Breathe.....

Sandbox

A Child's Play

It's the weekend.   Nice spring weather, play park getting full and I hear the high-pitch cheers of tiny people (a.k.a. children) outside.  It's only a matter of time until our little one realizes he's missing out on the fun.

I love where we live.  Forest preserves and parks are just steps away from our backyard.  But like any other perks, there are few downsides.  For example, keeping the lawn weed-free is almost impossible.  Nature has it's way of relentlessly sending the seeds of the unwanted sprouts blown through our way.

Then, there are the tennis and volleyball courts directly facing the windows of my studio.  I swear they wave at me each day saying, 'We're waiting for you.'  I used to play tennis back in college but didn't got into volleyball that much.  I'm not much of a 'contact sports' person.  First time I tried volleyball and felt the tingling pains in my wrist last for weeks, I vowed to stick with non-contact sports.  

I lost count how many times I told myself, I'll get back into tennis or learn volleyball.  The courts are just right in our backyard anyway.  Oh, the many plans we make, and break.  This is why I don't mind watching the little man play in the sandbox.

We're both able to 'start over' again.  Forgive ourselves on the plans we break.  There, he builds, creates, digs, piles, and explores, and do it all over again.  While he's busy experimenting on new ways to line up mounds of sand into miniature hills, I savor that little 'pause' time for myself.

I'm able to reflect on few things, just few because within ten minutes or so, he'll be wanting me to jump in there.  If I'm lucky, there'll be kids who'll join him and I can resume my 'reflection' time.  Watching the kids play on the sandbox  reassured me that's it's okay if some of my plans don't materialize.   Or if the dreams we built sometimes break, and expectations fall through.

That it's okay to live imperfectly.  Life is a big sandbox, waiting to be explored.  

Maybe this time, I'll dig into mine with childlike wonder to see what treasures await me. 

Run, Mommy Run.

Still smiling at the first mile.

Last Sunday was Mother's Day.  My Day.  I shouldn't have done anything, right.  Revel in peace in a quiet home while the boys were out.  In my dreams.

Every year for Mother's Day, we go to our cousin's house a little after lunch for a dinner party.  We actually skip lunch since you don't want to stuff yourself and feel too guilty trying out all the sumptuous treats on the dinner table.

Several years ago, I devised a plan to shed our guilt off a little bit.  Wake up at 5am with bloodshot eyes, drive half an hour downtown, have breakfast in our favorite tea shop, rest for a while, then run the 5K to support cancer survivors.

Sounds like an easy feat right?  Only if you don't have a little toddler in tow.  Here's what happens actually.  Wake up at 4am, after more than a dozen attempts from husband to wake me up).  It's interesting to know that when dad says he's going to bed at night, he actually falls asleep.  

When mom says 'I'll go to bed', it really means, cleaning the last bits of mess left, folding laundry, re-checking and adding lists of things to do, rearranging appointments for the hundredth time, and so on and so forth.  Did I say, I was going to sleep.

Okay, so I was finally awake.  I packed the little man's diapers, wipes, drinks (notice it's  in plural form).  Amazingly, little people weighing almost thirty pounds can down liquids twice his weight.  Oh, and don't forget the change of clothes.  Just in case, we get blessed with a big 'blow-out'.  You know what I mean.  Okay, I'll spell it for you.  Mean poopie.

All set.  Don't forget the jogger!  Carrying a squiggly active tot for just half a mile is not my idea of getting fit.  At least, not that morning.  It was Mother's Day, so I didn't have to drive.  I planned on squeezing a nap during the drive.  That was my plan, until I heard Bebo the baby sign bear singing away from the little tube in the van.  

I turn to look at the little man, his big bright eyes beaming with excitement watching the little bear.  All the sleepiness disappeared.  Watching him has been my favorite past times ever since we had him.

We didn't actually run the whole 5K.  We walked part of it and I sprinted the last two miles.  The boys decided to brisk walked it, or I should say hubby did.  Jogger plus tot, equals fifty pounds at least.  Try running with it for a good mile without stopping, and I bet you'll be begging just to sleep the whole day through.

After an hour or so of walking and running, we finished the lap.  We skipped the free McDonald breakfast after much debating.  What's the point, we just concluded a 'let's get fit' mission anyway.  Hooray!  Luckily, the little man dozed off half the time in his cozy stroller.  That's why I was able to run the last two miles.  Otherwise, he'll be wiggling crazy looking for his 'Maymee'.

Back to home.  Hubby carried the sleeping little man to his bed.  We both can't wait to go back to sleep too.  It felt good to start the day right.  Later, we won't feel too guilty piling up the calories from the delicious dinner.  

I said I was going to sleep, right.  But wait, I got to prepare the things we're going to bring later.  I checked on the boys.  They're already snuggled together, sleeping so peacefully.  I can't help but smile.  This is why I love this job.

I might be running a marathon in this race called 'parenthood', but I have my eyes on the prize.  Right here, before my eyes.

So, run mommy run.

Lest I Forget

I always carry with me a little notebook, I call it my inspiration journal.  

Ideas, thoughts and inspirations come to me even in my most mundane tasks.  'Enrichment' moments are what I call those times.  Most of my rewarding endeavors started from one of those pages.  

There is power in writing.  Make a record of your thoughts.  At first, some won't make sense. And that's okay.  Patterns will emerge as you go over the things you wrote.  Perhaps, an idea or plan is surfacing up from the same phrases, names and thoughts you wrote.  Give yourself some time. 

You may not understand what it means today but in time, you will.

So, start writing. Believe me, you won't remember those mental notes in a week or month's time.  

A Lesson in Creation

He looked above

And I told him

It was made blue

Especially for you

He touched the grass

Then I whispered

It was made green

Especially for you

He heard the birds 

While I nudged him

They were made

Especially for you

He stared at me 

And kissed my nose 

I knew I was made

Especially for him 

I held his little hands

Thanked God

He was made

Especially for me

For you, my little one, for the lessons we learn together.

When It Rains

It was raining
The first time they met.

They held on tight
Under one umbrella.

I like us this way
Me too, she said.

I don't mind the rain
Me too, he said.

Then the rain stopped
And seasons changed.

They forgot the day
It first rained.

Yesterday, she told him
To look outside

There's a huge rainbow
Up in the sky.

The rain has stopped
Soon the sun will shine.

Perhaps she said, we can give it
Another try.

The rainbow yesterday was beautiful, it was the first time I saw it's colorful arc in its entirety. The scene was altogether serene and melancholic. After the rain, everything seems so refreshed. It's definitely one of my favorite times of the day.

The rain has passed and we can all start anew. Reconnect, reconcile and forgive. I hope you take that chance too.

Celebrating Imperfection

Is there any part of your body you would want to change?  

I cringe whenever I hear that question.  Assuming you have the power to do just that, will you opt to differ that one spot or part you are least proud of?

I would.  My toes.  Mine are not the prettiest, they have callouses and little bumps on top, a result of one of my childhood explorations.  Poor little toes, I decided to vent my creativity on them one day when I was seven, playing 'I can fix it'.  I'll leave it at that.  

Two decades forward, I walked down the aisle with my imperfect toes to say 'I do' to my husband of three years.  Few years after, I was trotting with a huge bump on my belly for forty one weeks with our firstborn.   And last night, we heard the sweetest sound on earth - our little guy's first spontaneous belly laugh.

With raised feet up on the air, I wiggled my toes (yes, those plain toes that need pedicure).  He found that so hilarious, for reasons only a baby knows.  Once again, I thank God, not just for my toes but for our little bundle of joy.

My parents did a fantastic job raising us to always appreciate our God-given features, always noting that we are wonderfully made, no matter what.  Pretty toes or not.

So, cheer up for being imperfect.  

A Time to Bloom - Part 2

"Time to Bloom 2"
Mixed Media on Paper, 18x24 in.
Watermark not present on actual artwork.
Click here to buy archival print, $20.

Winters passed and seasons changed
She breathed within her range
The warmer breeze of Spring
Filled her with the joy it brings

Walking calmly
She proceeded without hurry
Looking to see what blooms
Today will fill her room

Not too far
Almost torn apart
A familiar bloom
Lay completely in gloom

Trampled and wilted
Her branches almost dead
Once again her tears dropped
This time it didn't stopped

She picked her up with care
Saving her roots from the tear
Thank you for picking me up
It muttered while leaves flop

Hush my 'little bud'
Bloom again and be proud
In my garden just like in my heart
You'll always have a spot

A Time to Bloom - Part 1

"Time to Bloom 1"
Mixed Media on Paper, 18 x 24 in.
Watermark not present on actual artwork.
Click here to buy archival print, $20.

Where has she been? Looking back, she realized she is no longer her 'little bud'. She has fully blossomed, ripe for the picking.

As much as she wanted to get her for herself, she cannot. This time, she belongs to someone else. There, with him, she'll spread her own seeds and plant a garden of their own.

My time to nurture her has come to end, she said. She is yours now. Hold her gently and don't let her wither away. Her heart twitched with pain and bliss as she let her go.

You'll forever be my 'little bud', she whispered as tears dropped on her petals.

P.S. Friends, this post is a special tribute. Watch out for the second part of the story. Post your comments and let me know who you think this tribute is for.