The Dream House (part 2)

We stopped getting e-mails from our loan officer, then C lost his job. I had a few conversations with our bank and contractor, who were both quarantined with their families at home, scrambling to figure out which pieces of reality still existed and were still important. We were not. And it was honestly a relief to us that we hadn’t already started the project only to get stuck in the middle of it. Also, there would have been the problem of having no income…

So we counted our blessings and sheltered at home. Which, by the way, had gotten even smaller in January because we’d found mold on the window sills of those sheets of glass in our kids’s room. We had torn the drywall up and hastily moved our kids out into our living room. Our 600 or so sq. ft. of living space had turned into 500 or so. 

Fortunately, this summer, we were able to break away from our “cozy'' little home for a week here and there to go to my parents house in Entiat. While we were there, we started trying to picture what it would feel like to live somewhere less expensive than Seattle. C got a new job and we spent a lot of our summer in our own backyard, but very little time out enjoying all of the things we usually love about Seattle. Even our people were off limits; still are. The fact that the most expensive thing we do is just to live in this city, in Covid times, was starting to feel not worth it. Also, of course, no school, no lessons, no preschool, no childcare. Any sort of relief from this, for me, would be very nice. It had been my idea to take a few years off from work to get our kids through their young years, and make it possible for C to start a new career that would better support our family financially. The plan was, when they were in school, perhaps I could start a new career, or delve more deeply into writing and illustrating children’s books if I somehow had managed to get that dream off the ground. Like most of us, I didn’t plan on being a full time homeschool teacher. I had imagined my kids going to public school and me working again. Covid has made those years seem potentially quite a bit further down the road. 

Any big plans for building our DADU or an addition were on permanent pause, so we went ahead and spent some of that inheritance on a new roof and threw away the plastic sheeting that had been not so perfectly protecting our sweet progeny for the last three years. Why not make sure that our tiny living space didn’t get even smaller by complicating things with more leaks that cause mold and thus ensuring that the living room/bedroom/ would also soon be a school. Once we got the roof on, my parents offered to help us install some new windows. C insisted that we get used windows to save money since we weren’t very particular, and in the city, someone is always tearing out and getting rid of windows, kitchen cabinets and building materials, just because they want something different. (side note, we have a whole brand new kitchen, including dishwasher, in our shed, waiting for our DADU). So I scoured Craigslist and the Second Use website and sent C postings almost every day. He was too busy or just didn’t have the brain space to realize that we had a looming remodel opportunity that I didn’t want to miss out on. I was, as you remember, the one who would be spending the fall transforming our living room/kids bedroom into a school every morning and back into a bedroom every night.  

Finally, when I almost just ordered new windows from Lowes, so that we could have something when my parents arrived with the tools and the skills, C caved and did some research himself and picked out two windows from Second Use. I said, "perfect", and quickly tried to morph my brain around totally new window dimensions and designed that 90 square feet into a space efficient landing spot for my babies and their stuff. 

All of this happened while we were in Entiat with my parents, and though an argument about the ability of my Dad’s ancient dump truck to make it over the pass and back, threatened to put a stop to the whole plan, we were a go for replacing those leaky windows, gutting and remodeling the room. During that week in central Washington, we continued to muse about living in Entiat or Chelan. We were pretty sure that we could afford a larger and more comfortable house around there. We even looked at a few houses that were for sale in the area….however…. as much as I would love living near my parents, and the drier climate and beautiful scenery in central Washington would be a nice change, I still couldn't quite stomach the idea of raising my family in the same place that I grew up. It is an amazing place, to be sure, and who knows, someday we might end up there after all, but right then, it didn't feel quite right.

What about the peninsula? Not far from C’s parents. Also, full of breathtaking beauty. Life with ferries, (appealing to us). “Sure, let’s check it out,” we thought, and started perusing the internet and musing about it as well. C texted a couple of houses we liked on Redfin to his high school girlfriend S, (a dear friend of his still), who lives in Port Ludlow.

She immediately got back to him, saying “Come be my neighbor!” her next door neighbors had moved to California to be near their parents and were selling their house.

“Sure,” we said, “we’ll try to take a look at it when we get a chance.” She urged us to think quickly because the owners were actually already gone, and the husband had stayed back to fix things up as fast as he could, to get the house ready for sale.

The Dream House, (part 1)

I am going to post this story in several installments, because when I put it into words, it was a whole lot longer than I expected. With no further ado, I give you; 

The Dream House

This story really began when our babies pushed me out of my sewing/art space, and turned our basement into a wasteland of tubs of hand me down clothes, toys, birthday party supplies, holiday decorations and pillows. Why so many pillows? We, (well, mostly I) realized that we would really like to have a bit more living space than our adorable house in North Seattle had to offer.  

The location of our home is near Tiny Trees, which is the most amazing outdoor preschool in Carkeek Park, our favorite among the many beautiful Seattle parks. We love our community, that includes my husband, C’s entire immediate family, and many dear friends and colleagues. Moving hasn’t been our desire, but figuring out how to make our family fit, or grow this little house so that our family (plus my career as an artist and C’s first career as a musician), fits in it, has been high on my life-puzzle-mastering list. 

Things like a dishwasher would be nice (too wide for our countertops), and a bathroom that you don’t have to go through our bedroom to get to would make hosting a bit less awkward. It would also make all of us more comfortable if our kids had an actual bedroom, rather than the 90 sq. ft. step down addition,(my ex-art studio), that had a curtain for a door and floor to ceiling windows that did not open. (To make the windows “safer for the kids”, we covered them with styrofoam insulation and black out curtains.) But when we imagined and sketched up every different idea of remodel and addition that we could think of, we always ran into the same conundrum, which was that our house was built in 1929 and is really quite tiny. Who will buy our house and property someday, who won’t immediately tear this tiny cottage down and just start fresh. We never felt we could justify spending a large amount of money to add on to our small, old, awkwardly laid out house. 

So we waited… and hatched this plan instead: 

The Nicklaus DADU (Detached Accessory Dwelling Unit).

We would build another house on our large lot! Seattle property laws allowed for an up to 1000 sq. ft. detached house WITH a garage. Yes, it would cost a pretty penny to build, but by our calculations and the rental market at the time, we could get a loan to build the house, then remodel our current house and rent it for an amount that would more than cover our current mortgage, and if we did an Airbnb, it would even provide a business opportunity for me, that sounded quite appealing and interesting. We could then move into our new DADU, and be happy landlords, with an even better investment, and a new 1000 sq. ft. house WITH a garage for the kids to make a huge mess of. So we got set! We found a contractor who could also design and draw up the plans for the house, (he had already done several similar projects in our neighborhood, including one on our block). We applied for  a loan, and we had some savings from an inheritance that C had received from his grandparents. The trigger had all but been pulled….

then…. March 2020…. Covid-19….

Published Online!!

 And just like that, a piece of my artwork is published online!! 

October Banner Art, SCBWI

The Society of Children's book Writers and Illustrators or SCBWI is an organization of professionals in the industry that provides countless opportunities and awards for writers and illustrators. They have a platform where people can connect and promote their books and their work. I have attended two regional SCBWI Western Washington conferences and a number of other educational opportunities and I've been in a critique group through SCBWI. 

I participated in the mentorship program last year, which was a huge help toward the development of my work. My mentor, Jo Gershman, was extremely generous with her vast knowledge and experience. Her work is also published as a part of the SCBWI WWA October Banner Art!! 

Thanks so much SCBWI WWA! What an honor! I am so excited that I restarted my blog just in time to see this happen. Hopefully it is the first of many times I will see my work "in print".  (And hopefully I will actually see my work in print one day). 

Inktober 2020

 

I took the Inktober challenge in 2018, and ended up with a few drawings that I really liked. I'm going to do it again this year, and of course, anyone I know is welcome to join me, whether you consider yourself an artist or not. I'll be posting my drawings on Instagram, as well as on this blog probably. People interpret these prompts in many different ways, and I believe they use a variety of materials as well. The point is to get you in a habit of drawing or creating every day. At the end of just one month of being in this practice, you may find yourself inspired in many ways. This year, I am hoping to make a drawing every day, somehow inspired by the Inktober prompt words, and when the month is over, I will put my original drawings for sale on my Etsy Store. Here is a drawing from my 2018 Inktober: the prompt was "whale".

Happy Fall to All

As we start the second full week of virtual public school, I am feeling for all of the parents out there, whatever your situation might be. I am especially sympathetic to parents of new Kindergarteners. This must be such a strange challenge for you as your student starts their school journey in a way that few of us imagined.

As I look back to our first experience with a child entering public school, one year ago, I guess that I can say that even though some things were as we expected... it was also fraught with its own ups and downs.

I call this story, The Nicklaus Family’s First Week…. Of Kindergarten

Throughout the summer of 2019, before sending our first child to public school Kindergarten in the busy and quickly growing city of Seattle, I became aware that I have General Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder. Just two days before that first day, (of Kindergarten), I went through 48 hours of continuous panic attacks, not due to the upcoming start of Kindergarten, (well not entirely), probably more a result of decades of habitual worry and anxiety and years of interrupted sleep from having two young kids, including a three year old who was still yet to be sleeping-through-the-night at that time, and many other things, perhaps a genetic predisposition certainly, but anyway, that’s a different story. Either way, it probably wasn’t the most convenient time for an onset of mental illness, but it did make our milestone just that much more interesting.

The morning of that first day of the big K, I was feeling ok, even with my nerves in their fragile state. My husband’s parents and my parents had swooped in to our rescue. Our three year old, F, went to spend the night at my in-law's house. All was good. 

My husband, C, and I both went to drop our new Kindergartener, O, off. We were very proud and may have shed a tear or two just to see our first baby already going to school. We couldn’t wait to pick him up at the end of his day. 

“He’s going to be so excited to see us!”, I told C, remembering the adorable pick ups from preschool the year before.

We arrived in the busy courtyard at 2:25, and then learned that the Kindergarten classes are released at 2:20. Kids and parents and chaos was everywhere and we were scanning the crowd for our son or his teacher. “How did we miss that info? Where is O?” 

Finally, “He’s over here!” a friend helped us. 

“Oh phew! There is our boy!” We dashed over to him with great anticipation. Before we could ask him how his first day went, he was looking at both of us with the expression of an angry and spooked cat. He ran away from us and down a hallway. When we took a step near him, he ran further away. 

“Oh no! Something bad must have happened,” I said to C. 

“We should never have left him here,” C said, “We blew it.” C went all the way around the courtyard and to the other end of the hallway so that we could sort of trap O between us. Slowly, we took small steps toward him. He continued to act like a frightened animal. 

Finally I got close enough and wrapped my arms around him. “O, honey, I’m so sorry. Are you OK? What happened? I love you so much!”, I was almost in tears. I heard him grumble something. 

“What did you say?” he said it again,

“I just want to play more.”

Oh my God, he’s OK! C and I were so relieved. He did have a good day. He liked Mr. W’s class. He just wasn’t quite ready for his first day of Kindergarten to end.

Whew.

Day two, we got up in time, despite the pouring rain, to get our little guy to the bus stop, which had been the plan for day one, but we didn’t quite make it in time. He climbed the steps up into that big yellow bus wearing his little yellow raincoat, and off he went.

I was there waiting for him in plenty of time before 2:20 that day, and when I saw him at last, his first words to me were, “Mom, that was the first day I took the bus…and it was also the last day.” 

Oh no!! I realized my blunder. I just sent a five year old who has mostly only ridden in cars in a carseat with a five point harness buckle to ride a bus alone with no seat belts, much less car seats. My poor kid is balance and heights sensitive. As they went up and over the hill, it must have felt like a rollercoaster out of control and I had not thought to give him one word of preparation. 

The third day, I drove him to school, no problem. Then I was there again, dutifully early for pick-up. Chaos in the courtyard. Kids everywhere. Finally I spotted Mr. W and O’s class. I looked for O. “Where’s Orson?” I asked Mr. W. 

“He was just here.” he responded unhelpfully. 

ERRRR where is my son! I thought and with some panic and scanned the throng. “Go around the loop” Mr. W said which I did, I ran around the loop. Still, I didn’t see him. I went to the office, which was a crowded mess. I ran out and kept fearfully looking for my child. The gym teacher offered to help, and I heard “O Nicklaus” announced over the PA. Finally I spotted his ponytail bobbing behind a door and a garbage can. 

Whew. Again. 

Thursday, the fourth day, was also F’s first day of preschool. C and I dropped them both off. I had my first day with both kids in school. It went well. I jogged, I meditated. I picked F up at 12:30. We had lunch and I settled in to read him stories and got him ready to take a nap.

I was quite sleep deprived because, at that point, I was waking up nightly, every hour or so with panic attacks. The medication I had just started had not begun to improve my sleep yet. I looked at my clock and read F his last story and sang him a song. The next thing I knew, my eyes were opening and my clock read 2:38!

Oh no!! I fell asleep! I sprang up, (in a panic, of course). 

“C, C!!! I fell asleep!!” 

He came tearing upstairs. “Shit! Shit! Call the school!!” He dove into our car and tore out of our driveway like a bat out of hell. I called our school, and they told me that yes, O was in the office. C said that when he arrived, O was nonplussed, playing with toys and the other forgotten kids in the office. We set alarms on both of our phones to prevent this mishap in the future and C is still texting me everyday at alarm time to make sure I’m on my way.

Friday, the last day of our first week. We had almost made it. Just one more day. Drop off was fine again, taking into account the struggle to get up, eat breakfast, make lunch and get out the door without forgetting anything. Pick up, I was for sure there long before 2:20. Mr. W and his class came around the corner, and once again, I didn’t see O.

“He’s in the office,” said Mr. W. “He, um, well, he pooped his pants, that’s what happened.” 

“Oh.” I said, and made my way to the office. The nurse was going in and out of a small room and I let the administrator know who I was looking for. After a few minutes, the nurse and O came out. 

“It was everywhere,” she said quietly to me, “he’s going to need a bath.” I took the paper bag of my son’s soiled clothes and O’s hand. 

“Thank you.” I said to the nurse. “Thank you very much.”

Soooo, Kindergarten wasn't exactly easy, at least for us, in the typical setting. O ended up having an ok year, with a very nice teacher, and he did well a lot of the time, but as we start virtual first grade, I am counting it as a blessing at least in part. (he has cried of boredom in ZOOM meetings at least half of the days, but recess in his bunk bed and hikes whenever we get a chance this year will probably be very nice.)

Ruth Bader Ginsberg

Yesterday I went on my first mask free run in many months. The smoke had finally cleared and I went at a time that there would only be a few people on the trail, so I wouldn't have to worry about my breath or their breath getting too close. The moist, fresh, clean air in my lungs felt so wonderful. 

The death and legacy of Ruth Bader Ginsburg were on my mind and heart. I wish I could be a giant like her. These are her words on how she would like to be remembered:

"Someone who used whatever talent she had to do her work to the very best of her ability. And to help repair tears in her society, to make things a little better through the use of whatever ability she has. To do something, as my colleague David Souter would say, outside myself. ‘Cause I’ve gotten much more satisfaction for the things that I’ve done for which I was not paid."

and this:

"Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you."

and:

"Real change, enduring change, happens one step at a time."

so Justice Ginsburg, with whom I am honored to share a first name, thank you deeply for your life and all of the hard work you did to make this world and this country a better place for all of us. I dream and desire to take those steps to make change happen as you did, one step at a time. 

We've got this.

Life is crazy in September of 2020, why not restart my blog?

Hello fellow citizens of the Earth and of the virtual world. This week was the first full week of virtual school for my first grader at Seattle Public Schools. My preschooler is pretty much just doing his online learning on PBS kids, because it's not fair to the 4 year old that the 6 year old gets unlimited screen time now. Actually, though, I would really rather my little one, well both of them, were not on screens at all right now, but I'm grateful that the younger one is not needing my attention, because the older one needs constant monitoring to help him 'not obsessively flip through ZOOM settings' during his class. 

So, as I sit next to my new virtual first grader, I am feeling a bit bored with my role. Not being able to leave and do something else, but almost all of my creative energy sucked by the constant interruptions. Not to mention the worry that the gray smokey skies and vague feelings that we might all be nearing the end of our time here on Earth due to climate change. 

I have five minutes here or there to do something, but trying to draw has been difficult, because of everything stated above. I would love to illustrate children's books, or wine labels, or greeting cards, or anything, but if it was difficult to find time and creative brain space with being the primary caregiver of two young and active children, now that we are in Covid times, it is even more of a challenge. Actually, it's been impossible. I have not responded to my mentor or my critique group partner in quite a while. 

My energy for drawing and creating is just flat. But I just unearthed my blog. Maybe if I try to post here, even if it's just once a week, it will keep some of that sparkle and dream alive. I don't want to let it go. It's a dream that I have already put considerable effort in to. 

I will now try to write. I'll post a drawing also, with each blog entry, even if it's an old one. I think that might help too.