life and write

This year I wanted to give my eight-year-old and three-year-old some creative options for their school Valentine exchange. Sure, I could have easily gone to the store and bought a few pre-packaged Valentine’s Day greetings and that would prove to be easy enough. But I want my boys to know they have options when it comes to things like gift giving and holiday greetings. We have plenty of art supplies (and recycled materials) here at home so we don’t always have to go to the store to buy pre-themed greetings. We can make (and say) our own!

What we used:
8 1/2 x 11 cardstock
paper cutter or “Exacto” knife and cutting board (for the adult to use to pre-cut shapes and paper)
rubber stamp and ink pad
stickers

I kept our DIY creative project easy and we had only minor clean-up and recycling to do after we were done. I don’t know if this project was more about making our Valentine’s Day greetings or more about spending some time together. Maybe a little of both.

Out of the dark and into the hallway, my three-year-old appears. A jittery beaming light in his hands scrapes the pale paint with white. Shrinking and stretching shadows, he writes on the walls without ink.

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In between 25% off and free shipping, words… Circle, clip, list, recycle (maybe shop a bit too).

I found these interesting words in a few random fashion, home decor, and lifestyle catalogues.

twist
burst
red
cocoon
mute
stitch
nod
sea
blush
bronze
frame
skin
fresh
plenty

A few years ago an artist friend of my mine mailed back the holiday card I originally sent to her the year before. However, the card she sent back to me was affixed with new adornments and a new message. I loved this idea and since then have been thinking about eco, reuse inspired ideas for the holidays or any time I want to send a greeting. One idea is to take past cards I’ve received, cut out textures and text, add other textures and handwritten or printed text, and collage to create a new card.

Here are some handmade holiday card designs I made using all recycled, repurposed all-natural materials.

Happy Holidays!

What do you get when you mix a strip of tape, a plastic USC cup, and a mini basketball? According to my three-year-old, ice cream of course! This morning on the end table I found remnants of my three-year-old’s imagination—a hand-made, re-purposed ice cream cone with just one colorful swirl (notice the single strip of tape). It’s a good thing this delectable treat didn’t melt, or maybe fall over, I might have missed yet another time to celebrate the creative things kids do with random stuff around the house.

Yesterday, while in the kitchen, I overheard my son playing with the cup and the ball, but I had no idea he saved his simple creation, and added a piece of tape to it. Or maybe he left it out on display for us to see. Either way, finding this continues to remind me that the ordinary shapes and objects we have around the house open up an imaginative world we busy adults don’t always have access to.

Imagination does not become great until human beings, given the courage and the strength, use it to create.
—Maria Montessori

…Funnel Love

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Text in the City…

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Confetti Word Frenzy

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Vote by Ballot, by Crayon, by Pen

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…One Vote between Us

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I’ve been engaged in myriad conversations over the past few weeks about creativity. This subject keeps coming up. Where does creativity come from? How can we encourage it in children, in ourselves as adults? Why is there a battle in education, in our homes, in the workplace between critical and creative thinking? Why do those spaces want to choose between the two—which is more rigorous, beneficial, salient? Why can’t we (as humans) young and older practice both in learning and in the wider part of our lives? Why does education (and often other aspects of our lives) strip us of our ability to see our creative selves, think creatively? I keep coming back to some of the same sensibilities. We have to undo what it is that blocks us from wonder, play: stress, excuses about time, space, money, fear.

I work with young people on how to “undo” some of that fear of creativity before they reach adulthood and can’t find that sense of wonder anymore. I work with adults (other educators/parents), to encourage, give “permission” to allow room in their lives, their student’s lives, their children’s lives to think creatively, to wonder. I watch my own children access their creative selves everyday. They remind me how it’s is done…

I typically use the funnel in the kitchen pouring liquid, grains, from one container into the next. But when my three-year-old gets a hold of the funnel he is much more imaginative. That sputtering sound I heard the other day was no trumpet but rather my three-year-old composing his best kid rendition of some unknown tune on his newly imagined funnel horn. And while I thought that horn might be the only trick he had up his sleeve that trumpet quickly became a birthday hat for his younger brother (not sure if the younger brother was thrilled about that). But you can’t have a birthday hat without birthday cake, so my three-year-old ran to the other room and brought back the small plastic containers I use to organize stuff around the house, for his pretend birthday cake, when the funnel had one more magical use, as the candle on top.

Now I will have to go back to using my funnels in that same old boring and practical way. But next time I use that funnel I’ll remember metaphor, and how even kitchen utensils have creatively secret and interesting lives of their own.

What toys? Kids find play in anything, everything.

Happy Friday!

My three-year-old isn’t writing just yet, but his eye for language led him to some remote corner in the house inside the black bin where we keep our shredded text, including bills, junk mail, and other bits of random paper. And as a writer I was so proud to see my three-year-old trying to “write” (sort of) standing in the middle of a blizzard of black ink and broken typeset, a storm of fonts, letters, broken and bending words.

The rambling shreds spread all over the floor were remnants of our identity ripped and twisted by child’s play. I imagine he was drawn to the pool of white slivers, until he discovered those peculiar little paper strips appear even more magical piled on the hardwood floor, like snow flurries indoors or pollen in the spring. I do love his graceful lettering, sculpting far beyond his vocabulary into a land of faceless characters, unknown “found” poems, and accidental, nonsensical lines of language. Instead of digging for a ready-made story, today he wrote one himself, building on jagged little shapes, crooked strands of paper, a pile of interesting mess. There are some things that are simply better in shred, and I guess today, “play” was one of them.

“A piece of creative writing, like a day-dream, is a continuation of, and a substitute for, what was once the play of childhood.” —Sigmund Freud

For more thoughts on word play read: Freud on creative writing and daydreaming by Maria Popova

Open up the refrigerator or the pantry, what do you see? I know—food, but look closer—words, right? And where there is food in boxes, cans, or frozen bags, there are interesting and descriptive words (see the vegetable broth label if you don’t believe me). We often take those words that grace the sides of packaged pasta or breadcrumbs for granted, but they are there for a reason: to describe flavor or texture, to entice us, to give us ideas about dinner, and to of course inspire our writing. Who knew?

Take an even closer look, where the warm of ingredients may inspire your setting, or the details of a recipe may trigger sensory cues for dialogue, a scene, or a poem. Food, ingredients, flavors, are good for conjuring up memories or inspiring our imaginations. As you’re exploring your cabinets and thinking, write down a few bits of delicious, and grab a snack while you’re at it. Make a list (on paper or in your head) of all the words that jump out at you from the pantry (crushed red pepper flakes, mustard seed, vanilla), the refrigerator (rich, flavor, perish(able)) , the kitchen cabinet (cork, grain, simmer), or all three. Don’t spend a ton of time in the gathering (or the snacking). The real work is in whatever you create with these words—gourmet dinner or your next delicious line. Bon appétit and good luck writing.

Back by popular virtual audience demand, my observations and musings on the everyday objects creative kids (and adults alike) find amusing. There is typically a laugh (and a lesson) somewhere in these stories so enjoy and remember—it’s not necessarily what you play with, it’s how you play! 

As I reached for my toothbrush a few mornings ago, my eye caught a glance at what looked like a tangled blur of red and blue. As I looked closer, I thought, “Are these ninjas battling to the death in the bathroom sink?” By the look of things they’ve been tossing around in there all night.

And though I’m not a fan of fist fighting, I will endorse an occasional (and respectful) verbal fight (or debate if you prefer) every now and then. But from what I could tell, this brawl was surely not respectful or verbally debatable—these guys (or ninjas if you will) were at each other’s plastic throats. The head of one bruised and broken body is already missing, but something tells me he didn’t lose it in this present brawl. My hunch is some adventurous toddler might have gotten to him first.

I would like to think the sink is straight forward—simply for washing our hands, brushing our teeth and other such hygiene related things. But with kids, I know better. That sink has been known for many a days play with soap and bubbles, cups as waterfalls (that end up in a watery mess on the floor), and as evidenced here: a “battle royale” of headless action figures. And by the look of this porcelain battle ground, there’s not much hand washing going on at the moment. Ninjas, if you will excuse me—I need to break this battle up and brush my teeth.

Happy Friday!

“I’m going to reuse this paper. It’s just an old multiplication worksheet.”–My seven-year-old

My husband just got back from duty and brought both boys new shiny black jet fighter planes. Cool right? Well, the boys do love their planes and hold them in their hands, pass them back and forth to each other and roll them on the wall, the sofa, and the floor. They also fly them through the air throughout the house and in the car. My seven-year-old naturally gets a bit more altitude because of his height, but my two-year-old seems fine to fly a little low (and swipe his brother’s plane when he’s not looking). And while these planes are cool and new (these kids seem to like anything new for at least five minutes), those mini metal aircrafts still don’t seem to compare to the old standby, the craft that will never let them down, wings that glide and soar through the air (or at least our living room).

What am I referring to? None other than the paper airplane of course. One might think compared to those shiny new metal planes; paper planes would have no appeal. One (meaning me) would be wrong. I suppose paper has a sort of accessible quality, it makes a way out of no way, junk mail, old school work, random paper lying around, and my favorite—planes formed from loving notes scribbled on the inside that read: “I love you mom” or “you’re a great dad”. I guess that’s proof that the tiny pilots in my house are full of adventure and affection.

Anyway, as I think about paper’s appeal, I imagine the boys find it easy and immediate to fold, shape, and recycle their own handmade aircrafts out of life’s colorful leftover stock. Now that I think about it, there are more images, textures, and weight of paper to play with. I imagine these planes are more interesting with their advertisements and colorful wings, with their lightweight nature and glide time of at least a few seconds from the living room to the dining room or from the top of the stairs to the landing at the bottom. I believe part of the secret to the appeal of paper planes is that they fly…and beautifully, when well engineered and crafted by little people with big ideas. A fold here, a tuck there—my seven-year-old designs and turns out these planes as if an engineer, a skilled craftsman, or just a kid having fun. I love how simple plain paper can take on a life of its own, entertain the kids, and fearlessly take to the sky (or at least just below the ceiling).

It’s a good thing we recycle. Those planes do tend to clutter up the house, the car, or wherever else these boys fold and leave them. But I guess that comes with the territory of creatively turning the objects in our lives into toys and wonder, or in this case sudden makeshift airports.

Fly on boys, fly on. But when you’re done, don’t forget to clean up and recycle your creative little mess.

What is my two-year-old doing? He was looking for music. He was attempting to listen to the tiny crevice he found in the tile surrounding the fireplace. I didn’t tell him there’s no music in the fireplace because I found it more interesting that he would look there in the first place. Maybe it’s because the crevice between the tiles was too tempting to pass up, the narrow end of those headphones seemed to fit perfectly in that crevice so he tried over and over to get the jack to fit. I wonder what (if anything) he heard. When I asked him what he was doing, he replied, “music.”

I watched him try for a while, those headphones, slightly too big for his tiny ears, slid to his shoulders, but he kept trying to fit that jack into the tile. His determined look seemed to suggest he believes music lives somewhere in that fireplace. The birds sometimes call their song from the top of the chimney, and I suppose he wondered if there are other noises he could find with his headphones plugged into the unknown world behind that tile. And even as I know there is no sound, no music on the other end of those headphones, I also know my son’s imagination was intent on listening, looking for rhythm in the most unlikely of places.

And even if he never finds the sound he’s looking for, the music that will make him dance and sing, I hope that won’t stop him from trying to listen again to something else random and ordinary in the house. Looking, listening for the sound around him, creating magic of the everyday.

No those odd-looking goggles on my two-year-old aren’t some new fashion statement—although in some alternative universe they might help him see the future. And with no swim lessons for him for a few more months and generally not much water in sight other than a bath (the occasional playing in sink water and random spills don’t count), my guess is maybe this kid is channeling something more interesting, more cunning.

Well, good for him, I assumed those goggles only helped my little one see everything in front of him in blue, but maybe he’s not telling me something. Maybe they allow him to see around corners or through walls. Maybe when looking in the mirror, they allow him a vivid reflection revealing mysteries and secrets of the past and present only he can view through those tinted oversized lenses. And while those awkward looking spectacles don’t seem a requirement for any part of his adventurous little life, he’s been wearing them on and off around the house for the past few weeks ever since my seven-year-old ditched them for a new (and from what I hear better) pair of swim goggles. So what would little brother possibly need with big brother’s reject goggles? I would assume nothing, but what do I know? Maybe the magic of futuristic x-ray vision only works for little kids wearing big blue goggles with wide eyes and a crafty spirit.

It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.—Henry David Thoreau

Is it still bad luck to open an umbrella indoors? I guess I’m not really that superstitious, but I hope not, considering that my two-year-old discovered his brother’s Batman umbrella and played with it until its metal brackets and frame came unhinged, until it could do no one any good in the rain as it lie there broken and bent out of shape in the middle of the living room floor. Batman looked less like a superhero and more like a shadow of himself in tights and begging for mercy from my curious and determined little boy.

Who is Batman’s archnemesis? If you ask my husband, who I’m mildly embarrassed (for him) to say knows all about these comic book characters, he might suggest “The Joker”, “Riddler”, “The Penguin”, or “Two Face”. Don’t ask me how he knows these things. I might also add that once I got him talking about comics, it was hard to get him stop. But after considering all those imaginary enemies the masked man in tights battles in comics, on television, and on the movie screen, I imagine his real (and ultimate) challenge might actually be my curious and somewhat destructive two-year-old as he repeatedly opened and closed Batman’s flimsy fabric wings, turned the umbrella upside down and spun it like a spinning top, and dragged that poor superhero down the stairs and all throughout the house. There was even a point when my little boy stomped inside the open umbrella (I think) just to see what would happen. I knew what would happen—it would lose all its superhero powers, and therefore lose its playful mystique. And of course after a few minutes it did. So how do I break the news to my seven-year-old that his little brother broke his Batman umbrella—my guess is very gently.

One would think that surrounded by colorful action figures and tiny race cars, my toddler would surely have no interest in the awkward looking, two-toned, cone-shaped contraption conspicuously sitting on the sofa. I was wrong. And you know my theory—kids can have all the latest, most interesting, most technologically crafted toys in the world and still find themselves most curious about the simple objects around the house. It’s not a scientifically proven theory of course, but I see my kids each week reach for odd things around the house to dazzle their curiosity and inspire their creativity.

The seemingly uninteresting Dirt Devil hand vacuum is no different. I typically try to keep it on hand because these boys are notorious for adorning my slightly post-modern sofa and slick wood floors with their “crumb nation”: Goldfish, graham crackers, bread crumbs, you name it, they eat it and spread the aftermath all over the house. So I finally invested in a cheapish “hand vac” to quickly remedy those eyesore crumbs and attempt to keep my house (almost) clean. Mind you, it will never be “fully” clean until these boys grow-up and get out of here, but a girl has a right to try.

Recently I’ve given the vac to my seven-year-old to use while he’s doing his little chores around the house, but my two-year-old must have wanted in on the action. I suppose he was curious about this little machine that makes things like crumbs, lint, and dust disappear. Maybe he thought to himself, “what else can I make disappear?” It would be one thing if he (meaning the two-year-old) used the mini vac in the way it was intended, but no, that would be much too easy.

I watched him the other night entertained for quite a while as he measured (by eye) the toys scattered on the sofa next to him to see if maybe one of his smaller toys might disappear in the narrow open mouth. He turned the vacuum on and off, then on and off again, countless times, until the battery begged for a break and began to run with a slow, muffled groan. I guess it’s a good thing this machine runs on rechargeable batteries. It puts a time limit on the random mischief my kid can get into and hopefully will spare the life span of my vacuum.

Maybe one day instead of plotting to suck up toys, he’ll clean up his mess with it. For now, that’s probably unlikely, but I’ll keep my fingers crossed, you never know, he might just discover that vacuum is for cleaning and not for unleashing tornado havoc on his action figures.

They play with the laundry basket instead, and pretend it’s a tent, or a cave , or a car, or a thing they climb in, turn upside down, or fill with stuff. They might get upset or frustrated when their laundry basket won’t do exactly what they want it to do or if they can’t seem to find a way to climb inside of it, but once they master their basket’s magic, those fake tears will dry up, replaced by focused, hands-on play.

Kids are imaginative with that basket; they throw stuff inside of it (not clothes of course), turn it into a castle or a dumping ground for action heroes, or fill it with a blanket and turn it into a bed for stuffed animals. What was once a plain plastic container with a practical (dare I say boring) purpose, transforms into a cost-effective, curiously engaging “toy” of choice (for the moment). Now if I can just figure out how to borrow that magic basket and transform doing laundry into something much more interesting and exciting.

Imagination does not become great until human beings, given the courage and the strength, use it to create.
—Maria Montessori