Tag Archives: pink kitty

More Pink Kitty

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More Pink Kitty

My daughter wasn’t in the napping mood today.  She wanted to dance around and play dress up and sing and do all the things four year olds do. Ah well, might as well enjoy it, I thought to myself, she won’t be young forever.

I had had so much fun last night collaborating with the girl, playing around with a coloring app for kids, so I decided to relaunch the app; I asked her if she wanted to color with me again, and she enthusiastically agreed.

What strikes me as we go about coloring these pictures together is how different her ideas are from mine.  I end up with my set way of seeing the world–the grass needs to be green, the sky blue, and a cat should be brown, white, black, grey, or orange…My daughter sees the world with fresh eyes and has strong opinions about the color everything should be.

No, the kitty is PINK!” she announced.

“Okay,” I said, and I colored the cat’s face, hands, and feet pink.

No,” she said, “The dress too!”  It was a polka dotted dress, so I colored the background pink and was going to leave the dots white.

“NO, no no!” she persisted, “The polka dots too!”  And there went my ideas of interesting color contrast and careful distribution of color to achieve balance in the over all look.  The cat had to be all pink.

I ended up really loving the drawing.   Her ideas continually freshen the art experience for me by getting me out of my ingrained perceptions and showing me a new way of seeing.  I play outside of my strict rules for conduct, I get to be free for a moment.  It reminds me of how when I sit down to meditate I need to quiet the mental chatter enough to allow for something different–a clearer, more quiet mental space, so that I can have this experience of myself outside of all of the habitual thoughts.

If I do this coloring with my daughter with enough frequency, letting go of my mental constructs and embracing the moment with an open heart, I might just attain enlightenment.

So here it is, in all of its glory, yet another pink kitty. (Dig the balloon that had to be brown.)  May all beings–especially those who long to create–experience freedom and lightness.  Everyone needs a little pink kitty in their lives.

My daughter insisted that the cat had to be all pink.

My daughter insisted that the cat had to be all pink.

Pink Kitty

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Pink Kitty

It’s the end of a long, long day.  My kids and I met my mother at the mall for lunch at P. F. Chang’s and a shopping marathon which involved visits to Nordstrom, Build-A-Bear, Claire’s Boutique, the mall’s play area, Starbucks, Fire & Ice, and Baby Gap.  Lunch was basically me trying to placate my two year old son with carbs so that he would let the nice people two tables away enjoy their business lunch.  We survived, just barely, because the nice waiters kept bringing us fortune cookies.  We took our leftover shrimp lo mein and left with that sated feeling that only a whole lot of sugar can give you.

I convinced my mom to buy a cashmere sweater at Nordstrom because it was coral and half off.  And then, on to Build-A-Bear.   My little dude couldn’t really give a crap by the time we got there, it was past his nap time and he was on his way to Crazy Town.  My three year old daughter doesn’t quite get the concept of money and the power to purchase and began grabbing everything she saw.  She has a Build-A-Bear bunny from a while back and apparently felt the need to increase the bunny’s wardrobe by 200%. My mother kept repeating, “Let’s choose one outfit for your bunny.”  The boy couldn’t have cared less about any of the stuffed animals unless he was allowed to pull them out of the bins and throw them on the floor, but I saw a soft, brown bunny and wanted it for him–and my mom wanted to get one for him–so we left the store with a soft, brown bunny and couple of outfits for both kids’ bunnies.

At Claire’s we found a headband with bunny ears for my daughter, who decided she needed such a headband when she saw a tiny one for the bears at the Build-A-Bear checkout.  Then we took the kids to the play area in the mall, which is poorly ventilated and smells like the feet of a thousand filthy munchkins.  My kids were happy to be with other kids, happy to run around and be allowed to climb on things, so I sucked it up and tried to trick myself into not being as disgusted as I felt.  While my nostrils were continuously assaulted by the foul odors of dirty little piggies, I put on a happy face and chatted with my mom and other parents in the room.  They either didn’t notice the awful smell or were very good at concealing their disgust. Needless to say, I was extraordinarily happy to get out of there.

Shoes and socks back on and hands thoroughly washed, we headed to Starbucks for some iced chamomile tea and a soft pretzel.  My mom and I looked at some Roman glass at Fire & Ice but decided that we weren’t prepared to throw down hundreds of dollars on ourselves, not with my mom only one month into retirement and me being the mom of two young kids with expenses out the wazoo…but it was fun to look at the beautiful blue-green glass and the colorful patina, fun to think about where the glass might have been two thousand years ago with the Romans painted it.

Baby Gap.  My mother generously offered to pay for some Easter outfits for the kids.  I gratefully accepted.  The kids were good sports as we tried various outfits on them.  We found a couple things that fit with some room to grow, and we headed out.  We had been at the mall for five hours and we were all tired as hell.

Back home I knew napping wasn’t an option, so I plunked the children in front of a movie and folded laundry, took care of the dishes, and heated up leftovers for dinner.  My son was so crazed from fatigue by this time that he barely ate anything; he only fussed and slapped his head.  I promptly brushed his teeth and shipped him off to bed.

The hubby got back from work, ate a quick bite, fed our two cats,  gave my daughter a bath, and brushed her teeth while I relaxed for ten minutes.  My daughter came out from her bath and announced that she wanted to relax with me.  She wanted to draw on my phone, so I downloaded a kids coloring app, and this happened:

This is what happens when I collaborate with my three year old.

This is what happens when I collaborate with my three year old.

Today I was a part of the American consumer culture.  Today I wondered if I wasn’t selling my soul by spending money in a temple of consumerism.   Ahh, what the hell…I spent time with my mom and my kids and we had fun together.  A few times, when we were dashing around here and there, I found myself getting tense, and then I remembered to breathe.  If spiritual progress can be measured by one’s awareness of one’s breath, I could say I made spiritual progress today.

And I’m glad I could finish my day with a pink kitty on a swing.  Icing on the cake.