Doing Hard Things

I was reading something recently (I can't remember what it was--a book? a magazine? a blog post?) in which a mother told her child whenever (he? she? they?) struggled with something, "You can do hard things."

A few months ago, when I first picked up a crochet hook, to try to make little rock cozies, having only ever crocheted a hat, it was hard.

I had always thought of crochet as knitting's easy kid sister, but I found not only my yarn twisting up in tangles, but my brain, too. Knitting I understood--you put a row of loops on a needle, as wide as you want your finished product, and add loops to the loops until it is as long as you want your finished product. You can increase or decrease, join to make a round, but it's easy to see that what's below the needles is what you've already finished, and the blank space above the needles is what you have left to do. It's all very, ahem, linear. Also, I grew up in the home of a knitter, and though I didn't teach myself to knit until after I'd moved away, I had seen sweaters and socks and hats and mittens grow on knitting needles my whole life.

Meanwhile crochet (at least what I was trying to do with it) went around in a circle, and there was no needle marking clearly, this is where I am, that down there is where I have been, up there is where I need to go. And the directions were confusing (why did single crochet involve two steps, double crochet three, triple crochet four? Eventually I figured out that the first step was just creating a loop, not actually making a stitch). I started and discarded. Started and discarded. The whole time, I felt my dendrites growing, my synapses snapping, my myelin sheaths thickening. I figured out hook gauges (the number goes up as the size goes down) and yarn gauges (ditto). I finally found the right sized hook (it had to be bought in a package of ten) to go with the right sized thread (#12 perle cotton). I tried different sets of directions that explained things differently (and more clearly, for my brain).

I tried and tried again, and finally figured it out (I still have to look things up--like half a double crochet--and I can't just wing it, making up my own pattern as I go along, but then again I can't do that with knitting, either).

I think I've successfully staved off at least a year or two of Alzheimer's disease with the mental effort I put into it (take that, Sudoku!). And now, when my kids struggle with something that is challenging--drawing or spelling or piano or baseball--I can tell them honestly, "You can do hard things. And it will feel so good when you do."

(More stones here, here, here, and here)

Valentines

 This year's Hearts in Nature Valentine (taken last winter on a hike at one of my favorite spots):

A heart-shaped rock (I found on the banks of the Colorado River last October, dressed up for a Valentine's Day present for C):

This year was the first since M was three years old that I didn't make homemade Valentines with the boys (some Valentines past here, here, here, here, here, and here).

I just did not feel like it. Instead, I printed out these Animal Valentines from the National Wildlife Federation, handed them to E and Z, along with scissors and pencils, and left the room.

Z, who has never once participated in Valentine making in anything more than a reluctant, half-hearted and mess-making way, finished his first (complaining all the while, and saying he'd rather make the clay hearts that we made last year...ahem, the clay hearts that I made last year).

I had been a little worried that they might find the sentiments on the cards too mushy for giving to boys, but I forgot that eight-year-old boys are not yet uncomfortably with expressing their feelings toward other boys, it's the girls that gross them out. On every girl's card, Z wrote, "Hey, it's my mom's idea," or "I don't actually like you," or just plain "No." (I made him erase the last two--the holiday is, after all, about being nice to people, isn't it?).

Weekend Things--Free Time

People keep asking me what I'm going to do with "all that free time" now that I've finished grad school. I try not to get too annoyed by this--anyone who has ever been a mother knows that every moment of "free" time has to be both stolen and dearly paid for. I know what they mean, kind of: now that I don't have homework as an excuse, how am I going to account for my movements in the evenings and on weekends.

I think I'll keep doing pretty much what I've always done: play Rat-a-Tat-Cat. Take walks in the woods. Make stuff. Read. Take pictures. Write. Submit. Field rejections. Get giddy over acceptances.

I sent out two short stories and an essay over the weekend. I'm trying to wrangle another idea--on a topic both dear to my heart and exceedingly complicated--into an essay. Dipping my toes into lyric waters. Trying to decide where I want to send my other short stories. Musing on a new story idea (thank the muse...I was afraid, as I always am, that I had spent my last idea). Working on a book review due at the end of the month. I've gotten back into yoga after a two-year hiatus and am trying to coax my body out of bed and to the pool at least two days a week.

What are you doing with your "free time" these days?