These are the Days!

Last year I wore more than my fair share of hats.  Chemo caps, a BYU Gilligan hat, baseball caps, straw hats, beanies, bandanas, my Princess Leia hat, and my white Russian fur cap for Sundays.  I've tried to decide if I now have a bit of an aversion to hats or if I just like feeling the wind in my hair, but this year I've only worn a baseball cap a couple of times--usually when one of the kids playfully squashes one on to my head as we sit through another baseball game--or just to keep the sun off while pulling dandelions.

I notice people in hats.  A couple days ago an older lady at the baseball game was wearing a rather unattractive cap, pulled down tightly, and appeared to have fairly short hair.  I wondered if she was part of the "C" club, but I was too chicken to ask her because, well, maybe she just had an ugly hat.  I hope the latter was true!

Mark and I at the One Year Celebration

June 1 was my one-year-cancer-free anniversary.  Mark took me out to the most opulent place we could think of--the Melting Pot--where we haven't been since my 30th birthday a decade back.  Life is good as we ease into our summer routine.   (Although ease may be the wrong word.)  Leslie is working full time as a CNA most evenings and doesn't get home until fairly late--meaning we are up fairly late.  The boys have been busy with baseball with Mark as Boston's coach, and Macy has an "acrodance class".  Rosie is busy growing, talking, and fighting her naps and bedtimes.  Friends of all ages are in and out of the house, and my kids are finally figuring out their morning chore routines and eating all the time. 

Trying to maintain my sanity while adjusting to the summer chaos, I decided to attend a lovely writer's retreat for ladies last evening hosted by my neighbor authoress and professor, Janene Baadsgard, who also happpens to be the mother of ten children.  (Hey, any time a mother of ten children is willing to give me any advice on ANY subject, I want to be front row.)  I've never been to anything like that before, and I came away with a lot to think about.

Waking up this morning I had a bit of an epiphany based on a principle Janene taught, and surprise, surprise, it didn't have anything to do with writing and a lot to do with mothering and life.

It had to do with hats.

Janene illustrated the writing process by having three women stand and wear assorted hats.  She made it very clear that the three hats could NOT be worn at the same time--they don't even use the same parts of the brain.  The hats were Creator, Writer, and Editor.  The Creator is observing, listening, pondering, dreaming, deliberating, noticing, and very present in whatever moment she is in.  Some might call this the popular concept, "Mindfulness".  The Writer is taking action, communicating, sharing, actually doing, albeit on paper the things the Creator conceived.  Then after awhile, the Editor hat can be worn.

Ahh, the Editor.  The Editor notices problems that need to be fixed, parts that need to be shaved off completely, clutter to be cleared, bad habits that popped up, lackluster areas, or completely wrong directions that were taken.  The Editor worries about presentation, marketability, what the readers will or won't like, and deadlines. Hopefully she sees possibilities and evaluates solutions, and feels satisfaction of a job well done.  The Editor hat is very necessary to wear if you want an excellent product, absolutely. 

But nobody likes that red ink.

So...if this could be about life, and not just the writing process, what hat am I wearing MOST Of The Time?  As a mom giving out multiple directives to multiple children in the same breath, refereeing arguments, seething at the folded clean laundry squashed down at the bottom of the boys' hamper, and constantly bending over without even thinking to pick up something that someone else left on the floor on my way to whatever room the loudest cries are coming from, I think it's fairly obvious. 

Am I even remembering to switch hats once in awhile?  I mean, you can edit a book forever, and never finish it.  Do I really want to spend the bulk of my life (and my children's lives) red pen in hand and a crease between my brows?

Take off that hat, mama, and feel the breeze in your hair.

From a family hike we went on last week at sunset on the Spanish Fork River trail.  Goooorgeous.