Nicole Baart's Blog

A while back I read an article written by a mother who chafed at the (albeit well-intentioned) platitude carpe diem in regard to parenting. She catalogued disastrous grocery store trips and bad behaviors, and lamented the fact that sometimes it’s difficult to enjoy every single moment in the midst of day-to-day chaos. And oh, I get it. I really, really get it.

I got it this morning when my one-year-old discovered my favorite tube of Clinique lipstick in the open pocket of my purse and proceeded to smear it all over himself. I got it last night when my eight-year-old pitched a fit of epic proportions over a little ketchup on his hamburger. And I’m sure I’ll nod my head in solidarity with her sentiments a dozen times over before the week is up.

It is hard to carpe diem when you are the parent of small children (or large children, I imagine!). But although the author of this particular article is beautiful and brilliant and fabulous in every single way, and although there is real truth in her words, after weeks of stewing on that article I’ve come to the conclusion that something about it doesn’t sit quite right with me. She encourages her readers to find grace in small moments — seconds at a time where we can step outside of the hustle and bustle of life and brush up against something divine. Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?

And yet, I want more.

I know. I’m greedy.

Moments aren’t enough for me. Even long minutes, the odd hour or two of fully grasping how incredible it is that I get to do what I’m doing in the place where I’m doing it with the people that have been strewn across my life like blessings, isn’t enough. I want to live in the very heart of understanding, of deep-seated gratitude for what I have been given. Even when it’s hard. Even when I feel like crying instead of laughing. Even when it doesn’t make sense. I want to walk into the kitchen to find my beautiful black-skinned son turned white from the half inch of flour that coats everything from cupboard top to brown baby toes, and instead of throwing up my hands in frustration, laugh. I want to look at the fierce light in my big boy’s eyes and realize (although he’s making my blood boil) that even as he rants and rails at me, he is growing into a strong young man full of integrity and passion and soul. I want to change dirty diapers, and know that even this stinky, messy, lowly job is a grace so sweet I could never do enough to deserve it.

I’m weird that way.

Maybe it’s because my motherhood was hard won. Peppered with four miscarriages, countless doctors, nine months of daily injections, appointments, sleepless nights, and an epic journey across the world, my childbearing years have been anything but peaceful.

Maybe it’s because my children are spread out — I’ve never had two in diapers like many of my friends. I didn’t plan it that way, in fact, I wanted four kids bam-bam-bam-bam. But life didn’t turn out quite how I planned, and I enjoyed three and a half years between my first two and then four years between my middle angel and his baby brother. Who knew that was exactly what I needed? Precious alone time with each of my boys.

Maybe I’m greedy for a life outstanding, a motherhood outstanding, because I can’t help being optimistic… I believe that life is about so much more than simply survival. I don’t want to endure my days or struggle to get through one hard season only to enter another season laced with just as many trials and hardships as the one I journeyed through before.

In her book One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp writes: “Do not disdain the small.” And what are our days if not a collection of the small? A strand of extraordinary moments strung together like pearls on a necklace? I want to count each little gem as it passes through my fingers — or, at least, number as many as I can catch while the days spin by so fast they leave me dizzy and breathless. I want to find grace in all that appears to be graceless, hope in the hopeless, joy in the midst of the exhaustion and frustration and fear. And when someone tells me, “Seize these days for they pass so quickly,” I want to be able to tell them, “I am. Heart and soul. With blood and bone and every fiber of my being. I am drinking in these days.”

How could I do anything less?

I’m taking some time for myself.

And I can’t help it — I feel selfish doing so. There are so many things that need to be done, and in the chaos of all the wanting and needing and striving and trying, how can I presume to steal away a couple of hours alone? But I do. I pack up my notebook, my pens, a book that I both can’t put down and fear to pick up, and drive to an abandoned park where I can wander at will. Find a place where I can be wholly and completely alone.

There’s a faded lawn blanket in the back of the van and I fold the thick fabric into quarters so that the dewy prairie grass won’t soak my jeans. I press the books, the pens, the oversized blanket to my chest and part the morning with the directionless shuffle of my feet. There are little knots of trees stretching between the knee-high grass, and I pick a spot bathed in light. I could lay down here and be lost — and that is precisely why I love it.

I have to tamp down a patch of grass, and even after my graceless stomping the blanket hovers like a magic carpet a foot or so off the ground. I have to lower myself into this makeshift bower, and though it’s downright comical — the blanket, the thrashing efforts to tame the wild, my own feeble attempt at retreat — before I’m settled with my back against the base of a knobby tree, I’ve begun to cry.

I don’t know why.

I’m not sad. I’m not hurt. I’m not angry.

Instead, I feel like I’m seeing the clouds for the very first time. And the newborn leaves above me. There is a perfect curl of grass before me, a wheat-colored sprig that looks as if God wrapped his finger around the stem and created the spiral for fun.

I’ve seen all this before. A hundred times. A thousand. And I’ve appreciated it. Loved it. Wept over it, even, as I am now. But I can’t help wondering if this awakening is something that needs to happen inside of me again and again. If my heart slowly hardens over time and I need to revisit this place of brokenness so that new things can grow in me from the insecurity and selfishness and indifference that is turned over like earth that has gone fallow.

The sun dries my tears, crowns my head, warms my cheeks. It’s hot on my arm, drenching the navy cardigan I’ve thrown over my t-shirt with the promise of summertime. I shrug off the sweater, and a warning spring breeze nips bare skin so quickly I pull it back on in seconds.

And because I am contemplative, and because the sky is just so blue, I can’t help but wonder if this one small moment is metaphor. If this is exactly how I live: full of longing that tilts sideways in the very moment it is quenched. Always wanting something different. Something other. Something more.

Do I ever tip my head back and exist in the now, drink in the sun as warm and sweet and complicated as wine on my tongue?

Not often.

But I want to.

I lean my head against the trunk of the tree, look up through the leaves to the wind puffed clouds and beyond, and sip. It’s not much, but it’s a beginning. A dot on a map that reminds me I am here. And that is exactly where I want to be — eyes wide open.

Happy Monday, everyone!

Wow. That was an extended leave of absence. Unintended, I assure you. But sometimes life just gets in the way of blogging — at least, it does for me. I’m sorry I’ve left you hanging for so long, especially since I hosted a giveaway nearly a month ago! Nothing like delayed gratification, eh? Anyway, I’m popping in to announce the winners, and to catch you up on where I’ve been and where I’m heading… I hope you’ll join me for the ride.

First, the winners. My random number generator picked #3 and #25, so that means Beryl Singleton Bissel and Elizabeth MacKinney are the proud new owners of Far From Here! Since it’s taken me forever and a day to announce winners, I’ve decided to choose two from my blog and one from my Facebook page. Didn’t win here? Check out my Facebook page to see if you won over there. As for Beryl and Elizabeth, please shoot me an email with your snail mail addy and I’ll dropped a signed copy of Far From Here in the mail for you.

Now, I feel like I owe you an explanation for why I’ve been gone for so long. Well, it’s complicated and personal, and I kind of don’t know where to begin. And yet I’d love to share at least some of my journey with you, so forgive me while I fumblingly try…

A couple months ago, I woke up one morning, looked at myself in the mirror, and was convinced that I was staring at a stranger. I won’t lie to you: it was beyond unnerving. I’m a rather outgoing, confident person, or at least I try to portray that persona. But the truth is, I’m going through a season of self-doubt the likes of which I have never before experienced.

I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be. And in the midst of it all I feel tugged in a dozen different directions. I’m a wife, mother, author, friend, blogger, gardener, athlete in training, activist, mentor, and CEO of the Baart Household. The hats that I wear are so diverse and often so demanding that I sometimes feel like each role is grabbing a tiny piece of me and pulling toward the four corners of the earth. In the scant “free” hours I have in a day (Ha! Every mother knows “free time” is a myth perpetuated by people who haven’t got a clue what it really takes to parent children and keep a house running.) I’m constantly making tough choices. Should I run for an hour? (I’ve got a triathalon coming up, I’d better get my butt in gear!) Edit? (My deadline is next week and I’m still not happy with the verbage in paragraph 3 on page 237!) Play with my kids? (They begged me to play hockey with them yesterday and I said “not now.” I can’t say that again!) Make a fabulous supper? (We had frozen pizza twice already this week. I’m a terrible mom!) Blog? (It’s been weeks… Does anybody even bother to read it anymore?) Call a friend who could really use a shoulder to cry on? (I’ve been such a negligent friend lately!)

Am I speaking anyone’s language? Does any of this resonate with you? I don’t know about you, but I go through seasons like this every once in a while. Seasons where I wonder why in the world I’m doing the things that I’m doing. Seasons where I question if all this hustle and bustle is really worth it. I’m contemplative. I’m searching. And I’m trying to spend a lot of time focusing on the things that really matter to me.

Ann Voskamp says in her book One Thousand Gifts: You’ve got to figure out a way to stay awake to your one wild and beautiful life. (Emphasis mine.)

I think that’s what I’ve been trying to do: figure out how to stay awake. How to open my eyes to the world all around me and to the gifts that have been lavished upon me. The gifts I often don’t have the eyes to see.

So there you have it: a reason for my absence. Kind of. I could tell you that I’ve been traveling, editing, planting seeds, and training. And I have been doing all of those things. But mostly I’ve been trying to live my life with my eyes wide open. For some reason I was so busy looking and living and trying to figure out who I am and who I want to be that I just didn’t have time to blog. I was too busy picking dandelions with my one-year-old. I’m okay with that.

But I think it’s about time to begin again. I have lots of questions and some amazing experiences that I’d love to share with you. I like to process things in a community, and I’ve found this community to be a good place to share. I hope you’ll stick around. And I hope you’ll take a moment to tell me what you’ve been up to this spring…

Grace and peace,

Nicole

Incommunicado. AWOL. Maybe even incognito? I’ve been missing. Pardon me? I have a blog? Oh yeah…

Sorry about that, people. It’s been a lovely, busy spring filled with wonderful little boys, lots of time outside, and oh yes, editing. Anyway, I’m far-faraway, but must pop in to tell you about some giveaways and a fabulous lady who is featuring FAR FROM HERE on her blog today. I must be dedicated… I’m writing this blog poolside on my i-Phone because I can’t get Internet reception on my computer!

Want to win some free books? Here’s what you have to do. Leave a comment below. Pretty easy, wouldn’t you say? You can also pop on over to my Facebook page (the link is to the right) like it, and leave a comment there. I’ll be doing two drawings for a set of two books, FAR FROM HERE and AFTER THE LEAVES FALL the book that started it all.

And don’t forget to stop by Rachelle Gardener’s blog and say hi!

I’ll leave you with a photo of me and the handsome man I married at the airport on our way somewhere warm and romantic. I’m downright giddy! And before any lurking crazies get any ideas about our house and home, let me assure you that the people who are caring for/rabidly guarding our home and children are Jedi Knights or Kung-Fu masters or something equally terrifying and won’t hesitate to hang you by your toenails until mama and papa bear (that’s us!) come home to lay the hurt. Capiche?

To all you non-crazies, love and hugs. Leave a comment!

K, can’t figure out how to upload a pic. You’ll have to check out my Facebook page for that. I DO know how to upload to Facebook!

Where do YOU write/work/read? I wish I had an office that looked like this:

But alas, with children underfoot and a million and one things on my to-do list, my office space looks more like storage space than a peaceful retreat where I can find inspiration. So, where do I write? You'll have to hop on over to SheReads to find out. You might be surprised to discover where I pen my novels!

Happy reading!

My month at the She Reads book club is almost up, and I'd be a liar if I didn't say that I'm a bit sad about that. It's been a fun several weeks, and I've loved reading the comments on the blog posts, the forum discussions, and even the Facebook updates. Have I mentioned that one of my favorite parts about writing is the discussion that often arises? Oh, I have? Imagine that.

Anyway, hop on over to She Reads for an Interview I did with one of the founders, Marybeth Whalen. It'll be one of my last posts this month, and in it I reveal my favorite character in the book, and I answer the question: How can readers benefit from sharing the books they love? Let me count the ways…

Hope your week is off to a great start! I just had guacamole for lunch, so I'm sittin' pretty so far. And it's only Monday! I feel a fantastic week in the works…

Happy World Water Day, everyone!

Didn't know it was World Water Day? Me either, until I opened up my email and discovered a message from CRWRC informing me of this fabulous holiday. I've decided to celebrate by issuing a challenge, a One Week Water Challenge to be precise… Want more info? Hop on over to our One Body One Hope blog. Oh, and watch this amazing video. Todd Montsma has done it again. I tear up every time — and I've watched it A LOT.

 

Rice and Beans Video from Todd Montsma on Vimeo.

I struggled with how to write the title for this blog post. Lisa is actually featuring an interview with me, but since she asked the questions, I also did an interview with Lisa, right? Sorry, I have a headache and my brain is mush. Plus I have to gear up for my first ever brick in preparation for my first ever triathalon. Granted, it's a tri-sprint which is really a mini-triathalon, but a 1/4 mile swim followed by a 15 mile bike and then a 5k run still sounds pretty intimidating to me. What have I gotten myself into?!? And just where is this random paragraph going?!?

Time to start fresh. I'm not really blogging here today, just popping in to say that my dear friend and all-around classy, fabulous, talented, gorgeous woman Lisa McKay is graciously hosting me on her site today. Check out her Interview with Author Nicole Baart in which I reveal my deepest, darkest secrets and admit to a near obsessive addiction to… Just kidding. I'm not obsessively addicted to anything except for smooching my baby. His cheeks are raw. Oh, and maybe dark chocolate with sea salt. And chips n' salsa. There might be a few more. Grrr.

Anyway, pop over and check it out! Don't forget to say "hi" to Lisa for me while you're there!

I'm blogging today at SheReads, talking all about my literary first love. Who do you think grabbed my attention and tuned my heart to the written word? Austen? Dickens? Maybe even the bard himself? I think you'll be surprised…

Although I've had dozens of literary first loves, and could wax poetic about classics like the Little House on the Prairie series, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Over Sea, Under Stone, and every single one of the Ramona Quimby books, I have to admit that the first book I truly, deeply loved was one about Tweety Bird.

When I was three years old I was diagnosed with a potentially serious kidney condition that required regular monitoring. From the age of three until I turned thirteen, I was forced to undergo a same-day surgical procedure at least twice a year. To say that I hated it would be an understatement…

Want to know the rest of the story? Keep reading at the SheReads blog. And don't forget to leave a comment on the March Book Club Selection post if you haven't already. You can still win a Sephora gift certificate and a signed copy of FAR FROM HERE!

I'm a single mom for the next week+, and I'm in the market for some good books! I just finished Juliet by Anne Fortier and absolutely loved it. It took me a while to get good and into it (I usually read multiple books at a time to keep myself engaged), but once the story picked up (right about the time an unexpected character was introduced) I couldn't put it down.

I won't lie. I think a lot of my passion for this modern retelling of Shakespeare's famous story stemmed from my teaching days. You can't be a high school English teacher and not have a love affair (from torrid to tame) with the bard. Although A Midsummer Night's Dream is my favorite of his plays, Romeo and Juliet was my favorite to teach. I loved how the tragedy evoked strong emotions in my students (horror, anger, frustration, sadness) and how epic debates would ensue about everything from the possibility of love at first sight to the cruelty of fate.

And it was fun to watch the movies. The 1968 Franco Zephirelli version was a great period piece that gave students a feel for what fair Verona might have been like. (And though Romeo is a big of a geek, Juliet is a total babe.)

But I'm a sucker for the Baz Luhrmann film. I've seen it more times than I care to admit, and it still makes me catch my breath at certain parts. So raw and violent and jarringly beautiful. And, of course, there's Leonardo DiCaprio. Can't go wrong there. He's uh, very talented.

Hmmm. I may have lost the original vein of this post. Sorry about that. What was my point…? Oh yeah, weekend reading. I recommend Juliet. Now it's your turn: Have you read a good book lately? I'd love to add it to my TBR pile!