Simple Gifts.

Some shots from this week.

2011-11-18T11:03:00.000-08:00

Leftover roll of crepe paper = high fashion.

Marbleized prints. And goopey goop. ;oP

The sick baby hospital in my living room. {Perry's getting an IV)

Skin to skin contact. {giggle}

(Nomi isn't in a lot of these because she doesn't believe in clothing. But she'd like you to know she was there, anyway. ;oD)

Little Update...

2011-10-17T07:53:00.000-07:00

I'm so busy enjoying fall, I've not been writing here as much. ;OP I'll post a little here, though, for posterity.

The older two are digging the co-op they started this year, where they're learning: art, science, fables, science experiments and geography/culture; collectively. Honestly, I think they're enjoying some independence and hanging out with friends more than anything, which was my main goal. Everything else, at this point, is just gravy on the potatoes. Eva's mostly just hanging out with me, which is pretty much par for the course for a 2.5 year. (And, oh, HOW she's every bit of two and one half. ;oP)

(Above, they can be seen wearing their "Mom, we're humoring your idiosyncratic need to document things here. Take the fracking picture already" smiles. First day of co-op.)

We started "school" (mixture of unschool and classical education) in earnest this year. Our schedule is pretty flexible, with an emphasis on learning in context and completion of tasks and rhythms, so I'm enjoying it immensely. I think the girls are, too.

Today for school, the girls and I covered the following:

-beginning animal classification

-the letter "D" (for Nomi ;D)

-capitalization of proper nouns

-poem memorization (The Wind by Emily Dickinson..sorry to my brother, who finds her trite ;oP I'm using the Well Trained Mind curriculum for beginning grammar, and don't really care for their suggested poem selection, so I'm substituting my own. I need to scour sources for child-friendly, well-written short poems.)

-lizards, all sorts. Esther found the Komodo Dragon particularly repulsive, lol.

-follow-through and task completion

We made it through birthday season with relative ease...a big chocolate cake near a creek cabin for Nomi. In Oct, lunch out to eat and then movie night with butterbeer for Esther, per her request. (Now, we have 7yo, 5yo and 2.5yo residents in our little hobbit hole. Good times. )

The butterbeer was ridiculously decadent. Definitely one of those treats (like eggnog or rum cake) that you enjoy once a year, and then forget about for a while until the annual craving hits. :grin:

Here's the recipe we ended up using (it's the #1 recipe out of the five): http://wizardingworldpark.com/top-5-butterbeer-recipes/2010/08/20/

My younger two had dental surgery that was postponed until next Tuesday. Hurrah for another week of mama worry. -.-

Pregnancy #4 is humming along properly at 22.5/24.5 weeks (depending on who you ask), and my belly is already enormous by "normal" standards. That's how I fly, dawg. Diastasis recti will do that to you. I've got my eye on a few abdominal binders for after this kid's birth..still trying to make my decision.

I've been restocking my etsy store, MonkeyGrassStains, for the holidays. :O) I've got quite a bit more to add-oddly, I find the picture taking and posting the most time-consuming/daunting part of the process. :P

What else? My brain power is pretty much shot for the day. This entry is practically devoid of anything truly personal or meaningful, but that can be remedied eventually. More later. :O)

Just a little snippet of life, for my own posterity.

2011-09-19T08:33:00.001-07:00

This weekend, Nate took the older girls camping, but, as I just went camping last weekend, and didn't relish the thought of trekking it up to the bathroom four times during the night in the cold again, he flew solo. So Eva and I stayed at home, did some catch up in mundane things, and watched a lot of Torchwood. (I'm loving the episodes with James Martsers, being a Buffy fan.) Being alone in one's socks in the house all alone with nothing but your thoughts and British sci-fi can be exactly one needs to keep from getting all crazy-eyed and unhinged.

After I finally get a flapping, flopping fish-like Eva to go to sleep, I made some fantastic gluten free chewy granola bars, with peanut butter, maple syrup/honey, crispy pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, walnut bits, puffed amaranth, butter, vanilla and whatever else we had that was trail-mixish in the pantry. They were lovely. Until I bit into what felt like a small rock, and realized that one of my dulcet darling daughters had dumped handfuls of popcorn kernels into my "odds and ends" trail mix bag I keep. They did not pop, unfortunately. YOWCH. -.- I'll try making them again soon, as they were really not labor intensive, sans the tooth-assassinating bits.

I made it to the used bookstore this weekend, which was quite predictably unmitigated bliss. I love even the smell of books. I came away with some fantastic children's books (is it wrong that I probably find them more charming than my kids?), and Esther's 7th birthday present, The Daring Book For Girls, which I'm in love with. (Nate should probably feel threatened, so great is my enthusiasm.)

It's pretty darn thick, with well-drawn, intelligent illustrations that aren't too teeny or edgy, and also not too cutesy or babyish (which I appreciate). It's just a smattering of fun how-to instructions for girls who like to know how to do stuff. A sampling includes: how to pitch a tent, make ivy crowns, identify and pronounce popular Mexican dishes at restaurants, care for your softball glove, to a sun salutation pose, climb a tree, stock your own toolbox, say basic things in French, whistle with two fingers, perform the Heimlich maneuver, plant a sunflower hut, run a meeting and tie bandannas in different ways. It also has the rundown on the periodic table of elements, famous female historical figures, slumber party games, math shortcuts, bowling and card games. Love, love, love. While the book is likely old news for most people, this is the first year it's been relevant for us, and I'm all smitten.

Last night, Nate and I stayed up late to check out Jupiter and it's moons. It was really amazing. I love being reminded how incredibly small and brief I am, and feeling caught up in awe of something ancient and more powerful than myself. Watching something that unearthly brings life into perspective, for me at least, and reminds me to leave some room for wildness and mystery in my life. It also gave us a bad case of "better than ours telescope"-lust. We're plotting Christmas presents. For the kids. Yeah...the kids. ;oP

This morning, we started classical learning in earnest. Esther's learning noun definitions and identifying them in a way that's so easy for me, it makes me feel like I'm cheating. (Her attention might be all over the place most of the time, but I think it's truly because her personality assimilates new concepts easily.) Nomi's learning her letters, and I'm marveling at how uniquely she learns...if I ask her to pay attention to the *sensation* of a letter sound in her mouth, it makes all the difference in the world, for her. I love it. People's minds are fascinating.

What else? I'm starting to think a little about birth #4 (homebirth #3), but am reminded the emotional perils of getting ahead of myself. Birth is one of things like skydiving. You can worry all you like, and making preparations is necessary, but really, when it comes down to it, you find the strength you need when it's time to jump. So I make practical preparations, feel a little giddy, and don't really sweat it much, at this point.

Today, Thor the cat brought in some small dead thing, and after trying to identify it for a while, Nomi decided that it must be a bandicoot. Yes. I'm sure she's right. :P Now I can say that I've cleaned bandicoot blood off the floor, which isn't something every person can brag.

In other news, we finally decided on a girl name for this baby, after much bickering/angst (mine, of course)/list-revising/teasing/beer/hot cocoa. We're not yet certain of the gender yet, mind you; that'll be a surprise in February. The celebration point, for this early mental nesting woman is that we do have a girl name! It hit us at the same time, a lot like the other three girls' names. But we're not telling. :grin:

(I'm not proofreading today. Love me anyway.)

All Parents are people. All People matter. Therefore...

2011-09-14T07:48:00.000-07:00

So, I'll confess...there are some sacred cows of motherhood that I've shed this year without the slightest bit of guilt or shame, and each shedding has solidified this realization in my head: motherhood is only a part of who I am. It's an outgrowth of the larger whole of "me"-something that flows from the core essence I was created with that makes me unique, along with my creativity, friendship, thoughts, abilities, passions and spirituality. What's more, motherhood doesn't mean becoming a person without needs, or less precious or in need of care; if anything, it makes self-care even more important for me during this period of my life. Therefore, I've resolved the following. ;oP

-I won't neglect things like bathing, basic hair care, quiet time, personal interests, education, fellowship, clothes that fit/flatter and sleep in the name of being a "good mom". I also won't stress the hell out of myself trying to meet a standard of perfection to the point that I forget to eat or stuff my mouth full of the closest crap available because I "don't have time" to care for my body.

-I won't obsess over my children's happiness. I will pay attention when they meet a problem/upset they haven't the skill to work through, and I will certainly enjoy moments of joyful life with them. However, I won't rush in to hover and fix every time one of them comes across a set of feelings that's uncomfortable. Disappointment is a part of life, and, as long as they're sorting through it or expressing it freely, I'm not obligated to make everything all better. Their happiness (or lack of it) doesn't need to dictate my emotional state.

-I reject the idea that motherhood is the defining feature of my life. My girls are deeply, deeply important to me. Since they are, I devote a lot of time, energy and thought into raising them thoughtfully and with unconditional love. However, I won't buy into the childhood cult that our culture and often religion has become obsessed with; childhood IS important, and so is being a human at all ages. My children are people, first and foremost, and my relationship with them is based on that humanity, and not on the idea that childhood and parenting is the most important thing in life. I recognize that teaching and love in childhood are crucial and imperative, but doing these things does not define me (nor my daughters in their futures!) We're complex, and our complexity is worthy of celebration.

-I don't feel obligated to buy superfluous gear for my kids just because everyone has it.

-I won't "play" with my children in a way that doesn't bring enjoyment to me. I won't stack blocks, I won't pretend to be a fairy-cat, I won't jump rope, I won't mindlessly push a swing, I won't watch a repeated "watch this!!" more than is actually interesting, etc, etc. Children are capable of amusing themselves by themselves and with friends when they're doing things I have no interest in. :P I *will* do those things when they're mutually enjoyable for both of us, and I will pursue playful and relaxing activities that we all enjoy together, and yowl at the moon occasionally, and enjoy my own wild, untamed side with them. I won't, however, be a play slave. I'm looking for real relationships with my kids, and relationships are built on honesty. Life's too short to spend one's "play" time being miserable.

-I won't make promises to my children in moments of guilt that it will later cost me sleep/rest/quiet time/sanity to keep. Usually, once I hit desperate promise-making mode, it's because I seriously need to step back and re-evaluate my priorities and whether how thin I'm spreading myself is realistic. My kids aren't in need of treats or special days to feel secure; they need a healthier parent.

-I'll feel no guilt for doing things that I know will preserve my own health. I tend a lot more strongly toward losing myself in others than taking too much for myself, honestly. (It's not as pretty as it sounds, practically.) Still, I'm taking steps toward furthering my education, pursuing non-family-based interests, taking naps, having the personal things I need to help my life run smoothly, giving myself room to be happy or upset, and embracing time with friends and adult conversation that doesn't revolve around my kids. I can do these things without feeling the urge to justify them, make it up to anyone else, or trade for them. It's OK to need and enjoy things without apology.

-I won't support the idea that parents are more important than "childless" or unmarried people. It takes more than just parents to influence a person into adulthood, and being a parent in no way makes me superior in any way to those who aren't technically raising children. I feel gratitude to every lovely person in my life, parents or not, who brings meaning and friendship to my time on this earth. Therefore, I won't constantly hint that parenthood should be a goal in their life, if they've not expressed this desire to me personally and asked for support. Being human is meaningful, parent/guardian or not.

-I won't consider the measure of my "success" as a parent directly tied to whether my children end up having the same spiritual beliefs as I do.

-I won't take on some other person/religion/ideal/sect's ideals of what a mother should look like or do, if it doesn't work for my family. Some things are no-brainers, obviously. I won't beat the crap out of my children just because it gets behavioral results, or feed them nothing but Sugar Booger Cocoa Bean Puffs for months at a time just to get them to shut up and leave me alone. However, there's a great lot of wiggle room of grace within motherhood for individuality. For instance, I enjoy cooking from scratch, natural health and reading to my kids a lot because it's something that's an outgrowth of my own personality, and these things are among my assets as a mother.

I don't, however, currently: go to church regularly, have my kids in sports, bathe them every day, teach them gender roles, "submit" to my husband as head of the home, dress them in matchy boutique outfits, dress them all in Gymboree, dress them in exclusively homemade clothes, do a craft with them every day, get family portraits done regularly; don't do their hair in fancy shmancy braids whenever we go out, keep a magazine-worthy house, bento-box all their lunches, have them memorize scripture, take them to many kid factories to play often, co-sleep with kids over 3; don't insist that they address people as sir/ma'am, grow all our own food, have all wool/wood/cotton toys, have the latest awesome plastic toys, have many toys at all, grind their baby food with a hand mill, practice Natural Family Planning; don't get ultrasounds, make my own soap, throw fantastic personalized homemade birthday parties, spend every moment trying to rejoice in everything, stop myself from swearing occasionally, listen to Nancy Lee DeMoss for inspiration, spank my kids, practice child-led weaning during pregnancy, spend all my extra money on the kids, always speak with saccharine sweetness to my kids, give them equal authority in the house, never leave my babies at home with daddy; don't feel badly for not owning a Sophie the Giraffe, teach my kids that homosexuality is wrong, force cheerfulness or keep all processed sugar out of my kids' lives (all things I've felt some level of self-imposed guilt/shame/worry about at some point or another in the past 7 years).

Not all of these things are bad or uninteresting or invalid; they're just not sustainable in our family. If I did all these things, personally, without any regard for what my natural bents and resources and needs are, I'd lose myself completely in the role of motherhood. Ash would no longer exist. The ideals of others would gobble me up and leave me a hollow shell of who I was originally intended to be.

Some of these things don't resound with my own beliefs/convictions, and some of them, honestly, I just suck at. And that's OK. :)

Obviously, there are times when I observe that my kids need something that I wouldn't normally chose to do in order to get through a tough phase, or to reach a certain level of developmental need, and I suck it up and deal with it, because I'm an adult, and I have the skills to. I'm learning, though, more and more, that when I experience stress as a parent, sometimes, I can find relief and grace and care for myself in the places I've not examined before- places that have nothing to do with my children's well-being, and everything to do with illogical self-imposed pressure I assign to the title of "Good Parent". A lot of it, it turns out, for us, has been poppycock.

I've found freedom in realizing this. Mothers (and fathers!), as people, are worth nurturing and caring for, along with their children. How can we expect to teach our children that they are worth kindness, respect, freedom and dignity, when we fail to model valuing these things for ourselves? Why should they treasure them, if we don't? And what sort of compass will they have for that kind of health will they have, if they have no clue what that looks like as an adult? I've been delighted and surprised to find that my girls are honestly happier when I'm healthier (not that I need that as an excuse to be healthy).

I think there must be a balance between selfish carelessness and miserable martyrdom that it's possible to strike, and it's that middle ground I find myself in pursuit of with increasing joy and liberty...if I can keep my place in this journey, and get into the habit of feeling no guilt for allowing myself to simply be, not because I've done something to be worthy, but because I'm a complex and compassionate human being.

Perfectly Happy, Dreary Day.

2011-09-07T12:45:00.000-07:00

Today has been a lovely day for less structured learning here, and I'm digging every minute of it.

I think it's mostly due to autumnal equinox approaching; every year I feel my soul unfurling and flying around with joy as summer's heavy hand loses it's grip and the oppressive heat wanes. I'm a child of autumn and winter, for sure, and the air becomes electric and bright and alive for me in the month of September. :) Some of my most joy-infused

memories are of lingering outside or traveling to a small social gathering or concert right at dusk, when the sky turns sleepy and purple against the outline of leafless black trees. Homes and hearths light afire with stories and laughter and good smelling smells. Books and food and trees and music and life become magical and mysterious for me again, and the world is pregnant with possibility.

So, today, to my great delight, it was cool enough to throw open doors and windows and send my

kids out to play under the overcast sky with hoodies and flip flops (ah yes, we are southerners) where they climbed trees and gathered pine needles for tea and balanced on logs and played in the dirt and tested fate while launching themselves from swings in motion.

They came in, made tea, ate some English muffins with honey and butter, listened to a chapter of a book, and then went right back out into the damp gray yard and played for another hour or two while I ordered books for this fall. Now, they're lego-fortress building while 2.5 year old city-smashing Evazilla is conked out on the couch, soggy skirt/dirty feet and all (smart kids).

(As an aside, book shopping makes the child-nerd in me ridiculously happy. I like the library, too, especially for fiction, but for fact books, it's so nice to have them on the shelf for a rainy day. That's how my bookshelf rolls. :P Childbirth, herbal books, psychology, history, childhood development, science of cooking, aromatherapy, massage, encyclopedias, divided by subject. It makes me feel deliriously satisfied. Nate has volume upon volume of weather pattern books, airplane mechanics books and books on general flight. We keep weeding out the ones we don't use in hopes of simplification, but, of course, sneaky little buggers that they are, books keep slipping their way into the house and making us grin. We realize we're nerds. We're self-aware. We fly our freak flag high.

I'm nice enough to let the kids use a shelf or two in the dining area, and their shelves there tend to be fact/reference, too. I remember pouring the pages of the same books, over and over, as a child...my favorite was a book about unsolved modern dinosaur reports. :P So, it makes me stupid-happy to find good books and order them discount for the kids, as a mom. (Julie the Rockhound, Jurassic Poop, Boy Were We Wrong About Dinosaurs, Maps and Globes and Glow-in-the-Dark Constellations won out for this round of half.com shopping...god, I love that store). Nomi's into animal books right now, and Esther likes themed cookbooks and astronomy. )

Today was SO much better than being cooped up indoors. Of course, we had all the usual mishaps that come with having small people in the house. Poo where it shouldn't be, spilled water, chalk art on the kitchen cabinet. But it was hardly noticable compared to the unexpected bliss of endorphins stampeding through ours veins. The absence of stifling hot humidity will do that to a soul. Cool humidity is a welcome change. Just having fresh air cycling through the house improved my mood in a huge way (I remember feeling similarly when it was nice enough to open the class windows at college, and now whenever I can roll the car windows down comfortably..instant clarity of thought and ability to recognize what is actually important, and what is not).

It sparked some good thoughts on why children whine less and play together more cooperatively outdoors, which I'll blog about next, for posterity's sake, for Nate and I to have for reference.

A girl who turned five today....

2011-09-01T13:46:00.000-07:00

Her very first lego creation, with her birthday legos.

According to Nomi, the "bestest birthday ever!!" consists of:

-french toast and bacon for breakfast (she made half the french toast herself! A first for her!)

-blowing up a bazillion birthday balloons with daddy & tossing them all over (my teeth grit, lol)

-getting muddy in the creek with a couple of buddies

-buying flowers at the farmer's market

-getting to drink a much-coveted can of soda and eat a much-longed for Cliff Bar ;P

-playing nude in the rain in the back yard (it rained!!!)

-sucking the marrow out of some leftover soup bones

-taco salad with ranch dressing for dinner

-eating gobs and gobs of grapes

-nice salt baths ("till sissy POOPED in there. That part wasn't very nice." )

-having an air conditioned car (she's not fond of being overheated, and also had her moments of intense drama today, thank you ;OP)

-a free peach from a nice farmer

-sword fighting right before bed

-throwing water bombs with her sisters

-being able to whistle

-practing her signature "burping pattern", which she can produce on command.

It's an awesome day to be five, apparently. We're all worn slap out. She makes me want to go suck marrow and dance naked in the rain, too! Happy fifth birthday, little crazy fairy of mine! May you always stay wild and wonder-filled.

Letting them do stuff.

2011-08-31T06:59:00.000-07:00

I've found that, nine times out of ten, I really underestimate my kids' ability to perform a "grown up" task. They ask on a regular basis, believe it or not, to do things like make breakfast, wash the dishes, process laundry, chop the veggies, etc. My recent bout of morning sickness made me realize that they were capable of successfully doing much more than I'd initially guessed. While I was sick on the couch, my kids started offering to do things, and I thought, "What can it hurt? Sure. Go for it. I'll clean the mess later."

What I was sheepish and happily surprised to find, though, was that they not only did the things they offered, they did a pretty fracking good job, too! Even more importantly, I saw them taking a healthy amount of personal pride and confidence away from being able to do a job totally, from volunteering (something I don't push) to finish. As well they should. Rock on, little people!

Albeit, there was sometimes a learning curve, but they caught on to new skills quickly, and now are generally happier when doing a reasonable amount of help. (Is this really surprising? In other cultures, kids prepare meals, build fires, scale fish, weave baskets and sheer sheep at a really young age, with plenty of playtime left in the day. ) People like to feel capable.

I've started to understand that trusting them with a "big" task (with the understanding that they'll need pointers from time to time) says, "I see you as capable. You're smart, and you can do things, and I'm happy to trust you with them! Come be part of my world!"

This year, I've discovered that my kids (6.5, 5 and 2.5) can: process/fold/put away their own laundry, cook simple meals like homemade waffles or pan-fried potatoes, prep veggies for me, run the vacuum, make phone calls, order their own food at restaurants, put away all the silverware, wash pots and pans, build campfires, sweep the porch, load the grocery cart, get themselves into the car without help, run into our local HFS for one item solo and pick and pay for their own produce (money provided by mom and dad, of course) at the farmer's market for cooking projects. Naomi made french toast with minimal supervision this morning. I was seriously amazed, and their confidence level and calm has increased in a huge way. Kids are people. They're made to do things, just like adults. We all feel good when we feel competent and capable. It seems like such a no-brainer, but in such a structured toy/play culture, it's easy for me to forget.

Initially, sure, it makes a bit of a mess. However, the gargantuan mess making phase doesn't last forever. After the first attempts, they have figured out how to streamline their own process, and they actually end up being able to *do* more for themselves.

I'm starting to realize that I've been making this parenting gig way harder than it really needs to be by keeping my kids dependent on me. When I step back and allow them to try things, eventually, the payoff is that I don't have to kill myself with stress. Literally. On a similar note, I refuse to have toys, games or activities in the house that require me to suffer through doing the majority of the work share of the "play" for them (but that's a different rabbit trail).

I have to be honest: I'm sighing blissfully in relief. Of course, the house is going to be a little messier, and not everything will be photo-worthy, but I'm also not breaking my head to do things one person was never created to do. Not only does stunting their independence do them no favors, it's literally been killing ME. Everyone's happier. And there's less whining. And less yelling (from me, mostly). I have time to sit down and read or rest, and really...adults, like children, should. All humans benefit from both work and rest. Unbalance results in frustration for everyone.

There's always a little risk involved. My 7yo has experienced a couple of minor burns (most adults are familiar with them, because we get them from time to time) from cooking in a skillet, despite her effort to be careful. It's how humans learn. So, she's also learned how to run her finger under cold water and break off some aloe and rub it on. She's old enough to learn from it quickly, take precautions, and wants to go back to whatever she was doing, after a little care from a parent.

Today,against my desire to protect her from any and all sadness and death, she's trying to rescue a wounded bird she found in the yard. :P I'm sitting here cringing, hoping it won't die, and knowing it probably will. But, she's got it in a grass-lined box, pulled out the bird book and discovered it's a House Wren, and looked through her bird info cards and figured out it likes spiders and moths. So, she's collecting spiders outside and live moths, and tossing them in the box, "just in case it lives and gets hungry". I'm watching my kid grow up, just a little bit, right in front of my eyes. And it's fantastic. Yes, the bird probably has mites. Yes, she's handling spiders. Yes, she might see something die. That's a real part of life.

She's doing something big, and, despite my control-freak tendencies, I'm going to let her. That's where she'll find the confidence in adulthood to know she's capable, and to have a life and experience of her own, apart from mine. That spells love in a big way to *her* , even if it doesn't feel all warm and fuzzy to me. Letting go requires no more than a deep breath, a smile at the future, and, nothing.

little update: the wren recovered, and flew away into a tree! hurrah! :D I'm a sucker for happy endings.

Easy ways to love on your kids.

2011-08-30T08:24:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, everything about parenting seems tricky to me, probably because it is. People are complex, and if we don't approach them thoughtfully as individuals, it tends to cause issues, either short or long-term. While the effort is well-worth it, it can seem overwhelming when nothing seems "easy" to me. Which is why I love it when someone reminds me of universal things that everyone seems to appreciate and feel loved from. Usually, these things are ridiculously simple, which is probably why I forget to do them for my kids enough periodically. I'm posting them here again to remind myself. :O)

1. Regular Physical touch. While their preferences of *how* to receive physical affection are different, everyone in my family, including myself, likes to be touched regularly. It reinforces the immune system, helps order the nervous system, decreases stress hormones and releases endorphins...good for positive human energy, all-around. My 5yo digs random tickling/wrestling sessions. My almost 7-yo loves giant bear hugs. My 2.5 yo likes to just sit with her arm around someone. All of us love a good foot rub or back scratch.

My favorite thing about positive touch is that it's not mentally taxing; it involves very little thought. You can relax and let your "monkey" take over a little, AND, it generally leaves me feeling better, too. The trick is deciding to do it purposefully, instead of waiting until everyone (including me) resembles black holes of neediness. By purposefully giving life-affirming touch regularly to kids over 2, it cuts down on the life-draining tugging/clinging/climbing/pawing that leaves me feeling violated and resentful. Instead, I feel buoyed and more positive myself. Win/win.

2. Being Silly in a Tense Moment. I have a tenancy to be serious about moral issues. To the point of sometimes forgetting that my audience is equally taught or swayed by a well-timed fart joke or zombie impersonation. It never ceases to amaze me how well kids respond to (respectful, non-mocking) humor, getting me much farther than furrowing my brow for a serious talk and getting a migraine for myself and scowls from the backseat as result. Sincere apologies, real problem solving, laughter, camaraderie between sibs and relaxed muscles for me have all sprung out of the split second decision to let my silly bone take over.

It makes me smile, because it's so EASY! Even if your inner 4yo is buried, it doesn't take much practice to find him/her again. Laughter defuses the situation and defuses tension in a way that sermonizing or over-moralizing could never attempt. The grace of humor extended to a weary spirit is so relieving, and your kids will appreciate it.

3. Going Outside. In nasty weather, this is kind of non-negotiable. But when it's pleasant, it does a ton to cut down on sibling melodrama, bad moods and rascally antics. Good weather is like a fantastic opiate here. In five minutes, everyone is calmer, blissed out and generally engrossed in some kind of play that doesn't involve breaking anything or teasing anyone out of boredom.

4. Tossing out the children's books I hate to read. I have a rule that probably seems unfair to some: if a children's book is really boring/asinine/poorly written/insufferable, I don't keep it in the house. Reading is the magic kid bullet here when people are out of sorts, so when I spend an hour reading, it's going to need to be something that doesn't leave me in a horrible mood (grace is for moms, too!). There are so many thoughtful, entertaining, well-written books for children in the world, it's silly for me to grit my teeth through the ubiquitous story-turned-mediocre movie-turned-lousy-book-again "books" that stores seem hell-bent on marketing. No thanky. I like my sanity. :P My children can sense my tensed body and irritation, and no good ever comes of getting dark attention. Of course, once a kid is old enough to read to themselves, I'm more willing to be flexible. :)

5. Dancing. I can forget to do it often enough. Nothing shakes the stress out for a group of people like taking a break from whatever current boredom or frustration they're feeling like cranking up the music and shaking your money-makers. You can feel your muscles unwinding, the air clearing of broodiness and your body thanking you. Inviting your kids to do it with you is simple, and can do wonders for helping them get "unstuck" along with you.

6. Baths/water play. We're a fan of baths here. Water play/relaxation tends to take a incurable grump day to a totally different place. There have been days when our whole family is stressed out from the week, everyone's sniping at each other, and no one's really fit for anything that we just go hop in a stream or river and walk away feeling like someone punched our "reset" buttons. It works. I'm not sure how, but it really does. And it's as easy as you make it- we just strip down to the minimum acceptable level of clothing for the scenario, and stay until our fingers are wrinkled.

7. Eat something. Nine times out of ten, if things are going very poorly, it's because someone's blood sugar is dropping to the basement. Eating food helps. This is easier to forget about than most people realize. The next time you're yelling or crying or feeling generally cantankerous, ask yourself when the last time you ate was, and, more importantly, what it was you ate. If it's high in sugar or fried, you probably feel like crap. Eat real food. Kids are the same way.

8. Stop whatever isn't working. I get tunnel-vision sometimes. I think most people do, at least occasionally. I'll decide we need to do an art project or visit a relative or go on an outing...and it becomes desperately apparent to everyone in the family and all surrounding (except for me, of course) that it really just isn't working. It's not a good time. One or all of us lack the ability to do whatever it is we're attempting successfully. And while I love to teach follow-through of goals because I feel it's important for growth, I think it's equally important to learn the ability to step back and realize 'when to fold 'em'.

If anyone is crying hysterically, that's a neon sign. I'm the one who gets to decide, and it's OK to decide to stop, even if it's slightly disappointing. If it's not working, everyone, including yourself, will likely thank you for simply letting the goal go. Sometimes, it's best to cut your losses and just take a nap or run through the sprinkler.

9. Judiciously relax your standards. Not everyone suffers from intense idealism; some people struggle with follow-through on what they know is best. We all have our flaws. Mine is generally practicing the fine art of letting go. It's not actually hard, once I invite grace and wisdom to lead, instead of my own nitpicky brain. All I have to do is: nothing.

On the bright side, my family benefits from my follow-through of ideals on a regular basis; you can't reap the benefits of seeds you don't actually bother to sow. Along with this comes with the need to remind myself that it's also OK to not hold tenaciously to an ideal in a tense moment. For kids that are less principle-driven, this can be an enormous boon on a tough or important day. Examples might be not jumping in and focusing on the one swear word your child used while communicating a rotten day, allowing a later bedtime for an important visit, or allowing more sugar on a special occasion than I normally do. Sometimes, flexibility says "I love you" more than anything else.

Affirmations for the The Bad Month.

2011-08-22T11:04:00.000-07:00

Listening to my brothers and sisters talk, I'm wise enough to understand that "Jonah Days" (or months or years) come to all of us at times, and not just to me. Jonah periods always suck. They always have a way of knocking us out of our sense of safety and love into the realm of utter solitude, even when we're surrounded by people. Our responses differ with personality, but the sensation of everything falling through the cracks isn't a pleasant one for any of us. The arms of our souls flail about in the cold air like startled newborns exhibiting the moro reflex. Bad Times are unsettling.

Apparently, I was due for some this month.

After gaining my sea legs following two months of morning sickness and headaches (which I was anticipating), there's been a less than expected flurry of "yuck" that sucker-punched me and took my breath away. Nothing huge-I'll freely own my weenie qualities. Some weird guy was taking pictures from the woods of my kids while they were playing at the park-a police report was filed. More significantly, I experienced two separate upheavals in key relationships that yanked the emotional rug out from under me, before I even realized what was happening. (I'm still processing and reeling. It still hurts.) My kids got sick, one at a time, and therefore, mama became run-down. A week later, I got Bornholm disease, which makes breathing really painful, and, today, a sore throat. Having loosened everything from pregnancy did little to protect my ribs and ribcage, so I'm pretty sore. (the kids had a recurring bout of fever from it this weekend, too, poor loves.) My daughter is 6.5. Our 2.5 year old is teething molars as my milk dries up (predictably for my body at 17 weeks gestation). It's been a challenging month.

While I'm a tough cookie physically, intense chronic pain while care-giving completely demoralizes me. People who feel badly act badly (or, as my dad says, hurting people tend to hurt people), and I was no exception. And, since acting badly usually only increases my emotional upset, I'm kind of a hot mess.

As a mom, being that I tend to constantly have to carve out space for self care, it's really easy for me to feel very put upon by the world. When I'm sick or hurting, I start feeling *picked* upon by the universe. Mostly, I'd wager, from a perceived lack of nurture. I don't feel precious or loved while under fire, and that, for any human being, mother or not, is very difficult.

So, today, as a means of self-preservation, I'm smiling at the ways that my body is cared for and honored and appreciated, and at how the world, for all it's disconcerting qualities, is also overflowing with nurture and generosity and comfort. For these things and for these "lights" in the hard times, I am so grateful. The glow of the comfort and emotional warmth of them gently wrap around my heart and hammock my soul like a wounded bird taking shelter. That's not poetic exaggeration; it's truly how I feel.

I smile at skullcap plants, which has given up it's offerings to make the muscle spasms in my ribcage bearable so I can sleep. I smile at arnica flowers, which helped heal my daughter's hip when she fell off the banister. I'm thankful for epsom salt, and how it relieves my exhausted back. I appreciate having a tub big enough to soak it in. I'm so happy to have cocoa butter, mango butter and coconut oil to slather on my itching belly. I'm so very thankful for astragalus root, chamomile, elderberry, rose hips and I'm grateful for the wise, curious souls who discovered that herb knowledge in the first place.

My heart feels safer when I realize that autumn is coming, the hot sun won't sear us anymore here in the south, and that soon, we can go outside on a quilt and read. I'm excited about leaving the windows open, airing out the house, and the natural high I get from fresh, cool air. I'm happy about pumpkin cheesecake with gingersnap crust, and Halloween.

I sigh with relief over buckwheat and quinoa, and thank them for not containing gluten. I'm glad that garlic, lemons, carrots, ferments, water and carob exist. I'm glad for good people who grew healthy vegetables all spring and summer while I was sick (and my own garden died), and that they sell them to me at a price that doesn't break our bank. I'm grateful for friends who share my passion about things like winter squash and homemade pudding.

I'm grateful for the body pillow that my spouse got me, and for the pillowcase he sewed himself to cover it. I'm glad I had Buffy the Vampire Slayer the distract me from pain when I couldn't safely take more Advil. I'm really thankful for the lovely postpartum necessities that the good lady from Homestead Emporium is sending me. I'm so glad everyone in the family has all their clothing for the winter, and appreciate the women who organized the consignment sale I scoured.

I'm glad for the ability to call friends who don't mind a bit if I curse or yell or sob incoherently. I'm thankful for fricative consonants. I'm glad I don't feel the need to be perpetually cheerful.

I'm thankful this baby is still kicking around in my belly. I'm soothed by the knowledge that my spouse will be able to take plenty of time off after this child is born. I'm grateful for a good midwife, because even her voice over the phone takes my blood pressure down about 10 notches. I'm grateful for all the friends who are rooting for me, crying with me, surrounding me, either with arms or with warm love from afar.

I really do believe that as long as there is compassion in the world, there is hope and comfort to be had. I appreciate the people who understand and validate both my rage and my need for peace. I appreciate the wide, rich nurture that's available to me, if I bother to care a bit in return. It's sufficient.

Chosing new rhythms and learning peace as a practice.

2011-08-15T17:47:00.000-07:00

Paradigm shifting is always a tricky thing for me. My head embraces a healthier path easily and with fervor, but my feet tend to stumble along behind it trying keep up, like a person running after a rainbow down a path strewn with giant tree roots and buried boulders. I'm part brilliant rapture and part hapless wreck.

Keeping the vision of what my goal looks like in "real life" (what others call actually interacting with the physical) reminds me of looking at one of those 3D hidden pictures that were so popular in the 90s when I was a teen. If you squinch your eyes just so and relax just enough, suddenly, a whole new vision pops out at you where you never saw it before. Often, it shifts in and out of focus, teasing me. Sometimes, I look for it and comes to me instantly-how could I have never seen it there before, when it's so obvious? Other times, though, especially when I'm tired, I can't see it for the life of me. And so it is with living out a new ideal.

Today's new paradigm (one of them, anyway) is learning to not stress my own soul out by resenting work as a bad thing. There's always a moment near the end of a project that I start to feel tired, but need to do a bit more to finish up, where I tend to turn pessimistic all of a sudden. All if a sudden, I forget what a pleasant time I've been having. Resentment or frustration or fatigue starts to rumble out of my chest and belly, and I'm tempted to indulge in a myopic, petulant "why is it always me?" session. I look around at the clean up and start getting angry at nobody in particular. I get worked up and irritated, and then adrenalin kicks in. Any dream of zen is a fuzzy memory.

Thankfully, today, I managed to have a moment of clarity while I was doing a couple of self-imposed food projects. (blanching and prepping peaches for spiced peach butter and roasting various squashes for freezer storage..a noble, but busy goal. ) I get giddy over fresh, local produce, and it brings me a lot of pleasure to put it up for goodies in cold weather. It makes the food lover in me smile. I was really enjoying myself with the kids, laughing and talking and scooping out seeds for roasting and smelling the amazing smells flying around the kitchen.

All that to say: then, it came to the part of the story where I had to clean everything up again. For whatever reason, rather than becoming harsh and snippy with everyone, it occurred to me that I had a choice in the matter of my mood in this particular moment. (I understand and respect that sometimes, I won't have a choice. I'm not a fan of Pollyanna crap. But, today, I found myself at a crossroads, rather than at the bottom of a well.)

I reminded myself that worked-up adrenalin does terrible things to my body, and mentally recapped the fact that I'd been having a nice time, up until this point. It was a good start for me, and was delighted to not find myself careening helplessly into dark peevishness. Even though it made me blush a little inwardly, I fed myself the script I give to my almost 5yo every day: cleaning up is just part of whatever you're doing, it's not a punishment. As I did it, I breathed out the tension I was holding and rolled my shoulders, and, remarkably, the peace I'd felt during the "creation" part of the process started to come back to me. I might have hummed a little.

I realize that, as a child of one of the recent convenience-driven generations, I'm more than likely spoiled by lack of work, and therefore have a tenuous grasp on what it means to embrace it as a natural (and even enjoyable) part of my daily rhythm. Sure, I get it done, but I don't usually have a very nice time, dammit. I've felt almost entitled to my curmudgeonly attitude in the past.

But then, I see someone who truly does carry a lightness and sense of fun throughout their entire day, rest and work, and it makes me crave the peaceful easiness that they carry their body with. I'd love to think that it's less of an individual talent, and more something a body can learn to do for themselves. They move at a leisurely pace throughout their work, not rushing through, not angry, not exasperated...their spirit looks like water meandering with purpose through the bottom of a gully. There's a calm, haste-less energy about them, and it's contagious. It's usually an aging soul, who carries the layers of wisdom that comes from learning to live slowly.

If I could be so bold as to recognize it in myself, today, just today, for whatever reason, I was nearly that person. Of course, the clarity will be fleeting. I'm already not looking forward to some of tomorrow's necessary doings. But, hopefully, sometime soon, my spirit-muscles will grab onto the memory and embracing a peaceful body will come a little more readily the next time the window opens. Someday, when I have deep-canyon lines etching my face, maybe I'll be that happy old lady who hums while she eats chocolate cake and while she feeds the cat. That idea makes me smile.

News.

2011-08-15T06:26:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've written, but not without reason...

The very same week that our air went out (since I mentioned it in a post, it'll give you a time frame), we were absolutely surprised to learn that our family will be expecting a new member (Otterkid #4) in the first weeks of February 2012! It took me two weeks to get over the shock, and then 11 weeks to move through the inevitable day-and-night nausea period that comes with my pregnancies.

I'm 16 weeks pregnant now, and starting to enjoy the semi-normal energy/comfort of the second trimester. :O) (It's good to feel like writing a bit again.)

That's all the big news for now. Peace and light!

On empathy, personal responsibility, and health

2011-06-28T09:55:00.000-07:00

Often, during more connecting periods of my life, I find myself overwhelmed, out of sorts and feeling, as Bilbo Baggins put it in The Fellowship Of the Ring, "Sort of stretched, like....butter scraped over too much bread". One of the late warning flags for me is a feeling of anger or contempt toward those who ask for my time or emotional energy, and it's especially sobering to me when the bitterness turns toward my children.

Trying to find affection to give feels like pushing a swivel chair across a gravel parking lot. During those moments, my children's needs seem to attack me, like poison darts rather than little hands extended, and I find myself muttering tearfully, "How did I get here?" Every fiber of my soul screams at me that something is out of balance.

More often than not, I find myself emotionally dry because I've been sucked into carrying the daily load of someone else, when it's not rightfully mine, leaving me with barely enough energy to heft my own reasonably sized daily routine. I do this almost entirely without pondering whether I should, since, without wisdom or logic, empathy knows no bounds or boundaries. As wisdom and logic are something I must consciously chose to employ, at least at this juncture, exercising them consistently is a matter of "practice makes perfect".

At any rate, my own normal "load" becomes much, much heavier when it carrying it receives the sloppy seconds of my energy resources.

One of the biggest obstacles, for myself at least, in grappling with boundaries and empathy simultaneously, is the idea that "nice" people listen patiently and give of themselves to others when they're emotionally distraught. Isn't that what we're taught to do as little girls and boys? That it's unkind to not share unreservedly of our resources, if someone asks us to hand them over? Unconditional "sharing", though, becomes a strange and dangerous monster for the person who intuits and anticipates the needs of others, because there's no limit to human pain and it's need to be alleviated.

In a technological age, the ever-presence of the discomfort of others is even more pronounced, because it's not merely daily life encounters that make the hurt of others obvious to us, but we're also cursed with a sort of artificial emotional omnipotence made possible by television, the internet, facebook, blogs, message boards and the like. The sheer volume of emotional information we receive can potentially drain our reserves by midday, and is compounded by the fact that people tend to be drawn to those who make them feel "better", even if only temporarily.

We have an open window into the thoughts of close friends and vague acquaintances alike- irritation about the tasks of daily life, burdens or causes that have sprouted in their hearts, worries about the future, anger and frustration (some warranted, some not) over some event or interaction, explosions over minor problems, giant actual problems...etc. All sorts of doors into the lives of others are opened in a wild orgy of collective knowledge, and I, for one, find myself scrambling to sort through what I should open my heart to and what I should shield myself from (and I mean shield in the most pragmatic sense, as an actual strategic move to protect my own energy). I worry while reading through them that I run the risk of becoming drained dry or completely jaded.

Some people have gaping holes in their hearts and souls that have been long standing, that they're unable/unwilling to pay attention to and fix, which cause them to be ravenous predators of the attention and sympathy of others (some through aggression, and some through passive whining). Pouring energy into their symptoms is as pointless as pouring oil into a bottomless cruet. Nothing will come of it, other than the complete taxation of my resources-resources that rightfully belong to myself and my family.

Other people lack the support system they need to hack through their own difficult (or just average) journey. And, of course, there are always those who experience tragedy on such a profound scale that they *must* reach out for support from those around them, least they be reduced to emotional and physical ash. Even so, I can chose to offer practical help within my ability, without allowing myself to become completely consumed by collective chatter and speculation about the details of their struggle.

On a grander scale, worthy random "causes" rip my sanity and actual usefulness to shreds. (I once counted 15 different links and invitations to support different causes in one day's facebook news feed alone! Serial cause-supporters tend to get hidden from my feed altogether. :P) I believe that people who find their burden and calling in dedicating their time to causes is a beautiful thing, and, I recognize that it's unrealistic for me to donate little snippets of my time and worry to 40 of them at a time. Not only is it unhelpful to me, it's also not particularly useful for the cause itself, on such a diffuse and halfhearted level.

When all these needs swarm around my chest like a living being demanding entrance, wrapping through real interactions or the computer screen with hungry, indiscriminate tendrils...I find it helpful to make myself a cup of tea. I like to remind myself that I'm only a small part of the universe, completely incapable of meeting every need I notice (especially the ones that spring from unhealth). I'm just one person, out of billions who have walked before me, and billions who walk alongside me, and the billions to come. My footprints are not solitary. Just because I see a need doesn't mean that I should meet it. Knowledge does NOT equal responsibility on an individual level.

It's not my job to know about all the minor daily discomforts of three or four hundred people, much less step aside to offer positive emotional energy to each (or even some!) of them. It's not my job to go along on an emotional roller coaster ride with someone who refuses to seek health for themselves. It's not my responsibility to feel the depths of the pain of every hurting group of people brought to my attention, though I can breathe a prayer for them.

That's not to say that sometimes there won't be a moment when the spirit of wisdom shows me where it's appropriate to extend a need word of encouragement or grace to someone. That's also not to say that I shouldn't be aware of how my own personal life-sustaining choices effect others on a community or global level-(but then, that's part of *my* burden, isn't it?)

Humility demands not only that I keep an open, pulsating heart available to it's leading, but also that I recognize that I am limited and finite. Walking one true path that is my own and lending an ear to those who cross it or walk alongside me is far more sane and useful than trying to frantically dash down EVERY path to experience everything that everyone has ever experienced.

Humility also requires that I be the shepherdess of my own thought trails, (being an intuitive thinker, especially), and take responsibility for what rabbit trails I expose myself to. Too many rabbit trails completely stamp across the clear water of the life course my heart has been called to, muddying my focus and rendering my energy diffuse and ineffective. Knowing that I have a tenancy to relate easily and that my mind *needs* to make sense of and explore each mental path I see...dictates that I be mindful of how many voices I allow to call out to me at once.

Calm feet planted on my own road, with my own pack strapped on my own back results sometimes in being "tired", but, more often than not, it's the good kind of tired you feel after an honest day's walk and a nourishing dinner-my bones were made for this. My heart is free in this.

I can do this without anger, fatigue or fear, with light in my body and heart.

Thoughts on Contentedness.

2011-06-17T09:57:00.000-07:00

Today, I'm doing a lot of thinking about finding peace within a given moment.

This morning, when I woke up, there were so many things my critical eye fell on that could inspire hopelessness...annoyance...wallowing. A few of them were certainly groan-worthy and hardly trivial.

However, the older I get and the more small people I have looking at me hopefully every morning, needing me to show them how to live, the more I'm unwinding my emotional pace and realizing that beauty is always where you look for it. Joy is what you make of it. Adjusting my expectations and realizing that the world is bigger than I am allows me to see those, and partake in life, rather than believing that the state of my checklist must dictate the state of the entire world.

It's a poignant realization in a world where the instantaneous and glamour rule. Even in discomfort and pain, we can lessen our pace, allow for our own weakness, and chose to put our hands to what it is that we *can* do, and find the magic and grace in the little corners that get passed over during more productive seasons. Creativity and real growth flows in these times, I believe.

Life is hard, sometimes. It is also precious and sweet.

I'm still alive...

2011-06-07T12:44:00.000-07:00

but our A/C is out, thus killing any creative writing that might happen for the duration of our indoor heat wave. ;oP

It's supposed to be fixed this evening.

Then, I'll look about for my muse and sanity, and write something. :D

Why my judgement-oriented self sometimes needs a chill pill.

2011-06-02T06:37:00.000-07:00

For those of you familiar with the Myers-briggs personality theory, I'm an INFJ (we make up a fairly small portion of the population). I have a deep and lively inner world, a decent sense of what's going on around me emotionally, and a tenancy to be intensely idealistic. I don't take things a step at a time and see where they go; rather, I have an a really colorful end-vision of how something should preferably turn out, and drive toward it.

Generally, this serves me really well! I loathe cruelty and violence, so, generally, kindness trumps severity of response and I'm able to appear flexible (at least on the surface! ;oP) Boundaries keep me from flying off the handle too often when someone else has done something truly horrific, and, generally speaking, I can understand why they're behaving the way they are. It helps that I don't usually expect myself to spend massive amounts of time with anyone, and, therefore, I never get especially (visibly) agitated with most people.

The bump in the road comes when an inflexible value conflicts with the sanctity of my private, daily life. Generally, these two things only ever intersect within my own home and family.

My family should absolutely get the best part of my behavior, rather than the worst, since what I say and do really does effect them permanently and profoundly. (One of my few absolutely inflexible values is that children should be treated with patience and kindness. Even if everything else in my life has to meet the chopping block in order to do so, children must be treated with love and dignity and consideration.)

However, I often find myself irrationally, ridiculously angry my children for doing things that really are just appropriately childish.

For instance: My oldest daughter uses a harsh tone instead of a kind one. My 4yo dawdles on the way to the car when I know we're on a schedule. My 2yo wriggles and lunges and screams her way through a grocery shopping trip. And, the anger mounts.

I find myself growling loudly in the car, "Mama is about to be not-nice-mama,

AND,

I'm going to absolutely YELL unkind things at you all soon;

Idon'twannahearanotherWORDoutOfAnybodyatLEASTforTheNextHOUR!!"

In my head, I'm calling them all sorts of colorful names. My entire body is vibrating from massive amounts of adrenalin and tension and fight or flight. My heart is literally thudding through my chest.

WHY do I get to this point? Logically, I know that they're behaving out of innocent immaturity. Ideally, I understand that I need to be the adult in the situation. Realistically, I'm able to give myself grace and know that I'm also human, but my level of anger reaction gives me pause and makes me consider what's triggering such a physical reaction for myself.

Thinking back over the day, it's obvious that I've had a lot of unarticulated expectations, some consciously self-imposed and some culturally ingrained. I hate being talked to with harsh tone; no one SHOULD ever speak to me that way. I worry that the neighbors will see my very capable 6yo in the front yard without me and make a stink about, so I fuss at my 4yo for keeping me from making it obvious that my 6yo is attended (even though she doesn't need it). I notice the annoyed/judgmental glances of fellow shoppers at the grocery store that doesn't generally have many children in it as my 2yo yowls obliviously because she's getting hungry. I feel embarrassed and insulted.

These are all my own feelings, my own expectations of the life I'd ideally like to live, or at least the way I'd likely live it that day if I didn't have children. The glaring truth is: I *do* have children. And children, by their very definition, are little tender, fledgling people without the experience or mental development to follow ALL my self-imposed rules for living (some of the rules good, some of them unfortunate coping mechanisms).

Keeping frustration at a productive level is important even for those who don't have children, because constant tension in the body can be physically damaging! The ability to disconnect from the moment a bit, and judiciously chose which issues are worth that intense emotional attention, can be literally life-saving.

For parents, it's all the more important to not live in the turmoil of anger triggered by violated "values". Children tend to react to the emotional state of their parents, and often feel the effects of those emotions in their own bodies. Keeping the entire home in uproar because we lack the discipline to stop and employ a realistic filter is, quite literally, tearing down our own family with our bare hands (preaching to myself). I can keep my kids from coughing and choking emotionally on my secondhand rage. ;oP

It becomes obvious that I have to learn to adjust my personal expectations, so that my that one of my values is "wronged" by one of my children doesn't produce an anger reaction inside my own body. I can't reject my own idealism any more than I can reject my own nose from my face; it's a valuable part of who I am. What I can do, though, it bring my unspoken expectations up to the surface level, run them through the filter of what's actually important and healthy, and what's not.

Making these "values" conscious allows me to think about them rather than merely intuit them. Exhausting sometimes, yes. But, in the long run, it allows for more relaxation, peace and freedom, because I've pre-decided what I'm going to allow myself to get worked up over and what I'm going to let slide. My strong logical tertiary can hop in and say, "The emotional effect your reaction has on your children is far more important than anyone else's mores, including your own. Let's make a plan to anticipate your reaction ahead of time, and troubleshoot." (I kind of make my judging function my bitch, a little. ;oP )

I can let my low-level irritation (anger in it's productive stage!) let me know that there's a need I should be paying attention to.

Really, in my own life, bringing the reasons for my anger to my awareness is key. A lot of the reasons I feel the urge to blow up are due to my own expectations, which are built on my own issues. My expectations are what I need to take responsibility for course-correcting, and when I set aside purposeful time to talk about it or self-reflect, usual become apparent really quickly.

Once those unrealistic expectations bubble to the surface, I ask myself: Why is having this met SO important to me? What need is it meeting? If I can identify the need, I can often get it met in a healthier way, outside of that intense moment, so that when the trigger for a huge, angry justice reaction to my children arises, it's much more easily manageable.

A few of my own needs include:

the need for sanctity/alone time of uninterrupted thought to process the week's events
regular food/blood sugar stability
quiet (oh, mylanta, that's a big one that is tough to meet)
Sleep
physical space (another toughie with small children)
limited social interaction so I can concentrate on what I'm doing (why having attention brought to us in the grocery is so hard!)
creativity/self expression
meaningful adult conversation
order (especially in my visual field)
Advance notice for changed plans (the explosive poo diaper or the preschooler who decides on an impromptu "art" session with the toothpaste might be triggers for this one! Another big one is a child who suddenly makes a "jump" from one phase to another, leaving me scrambling for a new plan for how to best teach them.)

Obviously every person's needs will be unique, and children sometimes require me to "give up" or delay having one of those needs met, but it helps if I make that call a judicious, purposeful choice. :O) That way, I'm still mindful of the need, and can make a plan for it getting met at a later time! This lowers my desperation level, and keeps my anger at a more productive level. :O)

More later...off to make egg drop soup! :grin:

{amazing mama art at top of page by the talented Erika Hastings of Mud Spice. Thanks, Erika! }

Grain-free blog, and the torrid summer heat.

2011-06-01T15:33:00.000-07:00

The Spunky Coconut just may be my favorite heroine of the week. ::heart:: Anyone who supplies low sugar, grain free cookies like she does deserves, well, a cookie. :D (her picture, not mine) I'm convinced she's a magical fairy sent from heaven to keep me from going on a wild wheat and refined sugar binge every time I'm feeling slightly deprived. Her blog is well-written, as well, and a wealth of awesome recipes-which come pre-approved by several of my food-loving friends.

It's official that grains are no good for my gut; I just don't digest them properly. I don't really mourn the loss; I've been grain free before, so it's no biggie. Last week, in a bout of PMS-induced stress, I had a fair amount of wheat (which I'd been "off" of for quite a while), and YUCK. I don't want a repeat of that ever again. {blergh}

Today is HOT. So very hot, that my creativity is just shot, and I have very little fun thoughts or ponderings or things I've been fiddling with to offer. Heat is a creativity killer, maybe even more than the morning sickness of yester-year! ;OP And that's saying something. Instead of fantasizing about making another throw pillow for my already ever-so-comfy bed {my cheap, go-to boredom buster}, I'm fantasizing about filling giant kiddie pools with ice water indoors after the kids go to bed, so that Nafe and I can watch Dr. Who comfortably.

We've been trying to plan our summer fun study units for the girls, and have thus far decided upon-cooking through one of Esther's cookbooks, strange and unusual plants, and ancient history. I'm all pumped. ;D It'll be easier to actually put feet to our plans once the AC is fixed. I'll admit freely, I'm a delicate southern flower when it comes to summer humidity, even after spending my entire life here.

In other family news, our favorite songs these days to sing at the top of our lungs in the car are:

(this one's kind of an ongoing obsession..and I tolerate it, because it's Over the Rhine)

And, as continues to hold true for every summer, the song that I heart the very most is "Summertime Clothes", by Animal Collective. The lyrics describe how I feel about summer, especially experiencing the season with my husband {with whom I recently celebrated our 8th wedding anniversary! } over the years, so very perfectly.

The Day After a Long Weekend...

2011-05-31T12:45:00.000-07:00

Is always a bugaboo for me, and for good reason. Everyone's all keyed up with nowhere to go, and no energy or patience to go there safely anyway, and that makes for a snippy, rambunctious lot of us.

Right now, after cleaning up from the weekend laze/festivities, I'm willing my ceiling fan to churn faster, and the southern heat and humidity are already getting to me. My children finally stopped hovering about the kitchen, looking for the mystical, magical "something that sounds good", and, for the time being, are happily swinging in their hammocks upstairs with minimal shrieking or arguing. ;oP

And I'm absolutely exhausted. Wiped OUT. Holidays are rarely actually restful for mothers of young children, even if pleasant, because, well, parents don't really get any "off" days off, unless they hock their kidneys to pay for all-day baby sitting. ;oP I don't ever want to cook again (I know, it boggles the mind), and I especially don't want to clean the kitchen at the end of an oppressively hot summer day.

It's a good day to go swimming. Minus the children. And the bags of snacks, water bottles, towels, floaties, dry clothes, sun screen, hats, frantic chasing and watching to prevent drowning, kid-wrangling into car seats and changing rooms and....

....scratch that. Today is an AWESOME day to sit on the couch and dream about swimming naked in the ocean, ALONE. ;oP

The birth of a daughter (or, losing my firstborn "baby")

2011-05-24T07:39:00.000-07:00

Story time!

When my first daughter was born nearly 7 years ago, I was dizzy, overwhelmed, smitten, heart-over-heels in love with her. She was my baby. She was THE baby. She was the only baby in the entire

world!

Her first poop was a life-affirming artistic expression. Her first smile was the best smile I'd ever

seen. When she started talking, everything she said was brilliant.

She and I developed a strong, fantastic bond, and she was the absolute light of our lives. (She still is, actually! ;o) ) She and I were in blissful sync with one another (which is actually very healthy for a mother and baby), and she was the only baby in the world. She was funny, busy, intense and she was mine.

Then, we were expecting baby #2 when she was fourteen months old. Like every mom with a new baby on the way, I tried to prepare us for the We read "We have a Baby" together in endless loop. We talked to my belly, and talked about tiny babies, and talked about all the things we could do for the baby together. We talked about how she'd be my "Big Girl Baby", and I

couldn't imagine her ever being anything or anyone but my charming almost two year old (what grid did I have for that? )

Bessie Bee, 23 mo, the week before Nomi was born :O)

I suppose my point is, I saw her as "The Baby"-the only normal standard I had in my life, as far as intimate interaction with a child was concerned, and the place she held in my heart and life was my ONLY experience with a baby or toddler. Who she was, and the age she was were mysteriously linked and mixed and inseparable. In my heart, beyond the reaches of my rational mind, she'd always be this age, because I had no experience with seeing her any differently. She was Baby.

And then, Naomi was born, fast and furious, late one afternoon in warm
southern September.

She was minute in every detail. So very, very TINY, even at 8.5 lbs. And she was utterly, completely, in every way, inside and out, different from her sister.

I was dumbstruck. I felt my heart's tendrils tentatively kissing every part of her spirit in welcome, and dropping my jaw at how very, very unique she was in every way. She would not receive love identically. She would not seek reassurance in the same way. Holding either one of their hearts in mine for the first time was a singular experience that I would never duplicate

again. This was NOT mini-Esther. More importantly, Esther was not merely "the baby". They were people, different from me, different from one another, and little distinct entities. The change that this realization brought was a force to be reckoned with.

The bright, chattering, brilliant, mischievous puppy-child that galloped into the bedroom, pounced onto the quilted bedspread and then seriously inspected her sister's toes was a GIANT. :D What's more, she was a gem, and fantastically and uniquely her OWN self, just like the tiny hiccuping little nymph in my arms. Two brilliant fires, uniquely colored flames. Both deeply precious and needing of love.

I cried until my eyes were swollen as my almost 2yo sat beside me singing along with her favorite Pooh dvd little chubby cheeks wiggling, "I want to be like this- forever, if only I could promise-forever....Forever, and ever is a very long time, Pooh! Forever isn't long at all when I'm with you!" (Damn that movie and it's sentimental songs! ;OP) In my postpartum, hormonal haze, as tears fell onto my buttered toast, the realization of the weight and fleetingness of my time with my daughters hit me like a ton of bricks. She was going to grow up.

I seriously felt like the world had come to an end. It was like the first time I'd broken a sand dollar as a child; something was painfully wrong, and I'd not be able to fix it. I couldn't put it back the way it was. Life stunk, in that moment. Every little old lady in the market who had ever sighed sadly and advised me to enjoy my children, because one day they'd be GONE suddenly made sense. They were right. This was the only part of my life when I'd "have" them, and then, I'd be a sad, lonely lady trying to drown my sorrow in pantyhose, fancy hairdos and Little Debbie Cream Pies. My baby would disappear.

However, as I'm not writing to you from a black painted room full of pewter skulls and brown roses (my initial plan, which, fortunately only lasted until the next breastfeeding session ;oP), I'm happy to report that I didn't stay in that frame of mind forever.

Because I started to realize that Esther never was mine, at least not in the owning sense. Since she was born, she was always the Esther she was intended to be since the dawn of time. As an infant, as an old woman, as an adult, as a silly 6.5, she will always have the wild, intelligent, thoughtful spirit of Essie. Our bodies and development are bound to time, but our spirits are not, really, quite so tethered.

I'm the woman lucky enough to be her mama while she's small, but, even more than that, I have the privilege of being a part of her life in this lifetime. That's huge. The only thing that changed the day I saw her so differently was MY perspective; she'd always been herself-always on the trajectory of Estherhood. :O)

In a way, on the day that Naomi breezed into my life like a mysterious azure butterfly, I was given two daughters-each unique, each to be honored as an eternal and distinct soul, each full on eccentricities and complexity and eternity. Neither that I owned at any age, but two that I could have the honor of nurturing, teaching, cherishing and honoring as the souls that they were and are.

Having my preconceived notions about my children removed, and seeing them as who they are as a whole, the boundaries of time removed, is always a rich and humbling blessing.

(Funny thing? It totally happened all over again, or was at least re-clarified, 2.5 years later when Eva was born. ;oP Some of the little gems you pick up along the way have to be dusted off every now and again.)

And then, there are days during which...

2011-05-18T17:32:00.001-07:00

Any honest parent will tell you that there are days that, despite your best efforts, every little person seems to have mainlined crack stashed somewhere in the toy bin, and every little loose end unravels at such an alarming pace, you're convinced that your entire life is swirling down the proverbial crapper. Non-primary caregivers, child-free friends and parents too old to remember this sensation may raise an eyebrow, but, I assure you, Jonah days come to all of us.

Take today, for example. Today, we weeded the garden, cleaned out the car, ate three nutritionally fantastic meals (yes, cooked from scratch meals), talked to some friends, read books to the littles, did two loads of laundry, cleaned the kitchen and got this season's herbal vinegars going. On paper (or screen), that looks lovely enough.

However, in reality, what *actually* happened was thus-grab yourself a bag of chips or something:

I took the toddler outside near the garden boxes with me (so she wouldn't eat any more mud

from the water table on the porch), when I heard blood-curdling screams-the kind that should

be reserved only for death by axe murder or having your hair lit afire-coming from inside

the house. I snatched up the baby and charged down the hill like an angry mother elephant to find that my 6.5yo had told the 4.5 yo that she (the 4yo) wasn't *actually* a baby buffalo; she was only pretending to be one. This had disappointed my 4yo deeply. Ah.

Remembering that my cell phone was in the car, and, upon it's retrieval, being visually reminded that our car was a disaster zone on wheels, I took the younger two mostly-clothed children to the driveway with me, and began to de-junk the car. One bag for trash, a laundry basket for all the socks that my very sensitive children's feet had kicked off in the car during the past few weeks. (And jackets and books and dollies...you get the picture. ) Eva honked the horn at our neighbors a few times, and Naomi picked dandelions happily. Until...

"NOOOOO, Lexi!! NO!!!!! MOOOOOOOOM! Lexi's got a chipmunk, and it's still ALIVE!"

Long story short, I ended up whacking our cat on the head with a broom after it released the very live

chipmunk in my bedroom, to prevent my animal-loving 4.5 from crying for 2 months over a National Geographic mini-enactment under mommy's nightstand...and the terrified chipmunk raced into my bathroom for cover. Amidst shrieks of "GO, mommy, GO! Catch the chipmunk in a box!!", my dingy, sloppy ponytail bobbing, I attempted herd the poor rodent into a Rose Mountain Herbs box with a stinky mop that I've been meaning to wash.

It didn't work. Instead, chirping away, it skittered down the hall and into the girls' room, where it tried to climb the curtains. Eventually, I cornered it in the entryway, where it ran into another open box by it's own volition, and promptly pooped. We took it outside.

Heart pounding, I decided it was time to shift gears. I did a few moments of meditation and deep cleansing breaths.

Then, my children watched far too much Avatar: the last Airbender while I cleaned the kitchen and folded laundry, until I decided their brains were likely being turned to mush. I suggested that they draw comics about the chipmunk escapade.

Then, I started dinner. After breaking up a WCW-esque fight over who got to use which colored pencil to make "I love you" cards for me, my 2yo gave up and decided to hide in the corner and poop instead. Smelling something that I hoped my cooking wasn't producing, I rounded the wall to hear her saying, "Look, I do poop in my pants! I take diaper OFF. It stinky. Poopoo on my hands." She informed me of all this gravely and calmly until I

tried to thwart her decision to go to the bathroom and scoot across the counter to wash her own self off, after which she screamed like a tiny, exhausted banshee.

At that point, it occurred to me that, during the melee betwixt myself, the cat and the chipmunk, I'd left the laundry basket of socks/etc out in the middle of the front yard. Upon retrieval of said basket, I smelled another odd smell and this time realized that it WAS dinner. ::sigh::

I swear I'm more sane and put-together than this, left to my own devices.

And I wonder why I'm often compelled to eat too much chocolate. :OP To my credit, I consumed a mug of nettle tea and not a tray of brownies. Now, it's a 80% cacao chocolate and Mitch Hedberg kind of night. God, I love that man.

Empathetic children.

2011-05-11T06:10:00.000-07:00

While most people are relatively aware of the general surface-level emotional state of others, and can take it into account, some people are sensitive to the subtle moods and feelings of others to the point of taking on that emotion themselves, even from childhood...

So I thought I'd share my experiences as an emotionally sensitive child here, in case it resounds with anyone, or helps anyone who has a child who seems more sensitive than most! :O)

Most children have the ability to identify basic displays of emotion from others (if they can slow down their busy play long enough to notice! :D), and to respond with a kind and socially

appropriate response (often with a little coaching and training for more logic-oriented kids).

Being a really empathetic child is a totally different life experience, from my own life observation. An empathetic child runs into a room with her friends at a playdate, and all the other kids are honed in on getting their needs met, saying hi to mom, or continuing the sword fight...but the empathetic child has been plunged into another emotional world entirely.

All at once, s/he is aware that the grandmother in the corner is lonely and feeling irrelevant, mom's friend is acting tough to hide her insecurities, mom is overwhelmed with pride for her new baby, father is anxious at having his space invaded by so many people, auntie needs to feel important...however, being very young, the child, of course lacks the vocabulary to express the specific ideas. But, the emotions, being emotions, are felt and understood, even though immaturity limits the ability to understand why or process it appropriately.

Obviously, personality, culture and age probably dictate how the child responds to the information overload. As a child/teen/college student, I was often accused by my friends of being aloof, "ditsy", quiet, meek (I still guffaw inwardly at that one), head-in-the-clouds, quirky, mysterious, weird, snobby or distant. :P (Somehow, though, I managed to have no shortage of friends, probably because I was really good at anticipating their emotional needs!)

The thing that I did most often (and probably still do) appearedto be dawdling/procrastinating/daydreaming on the surface. Indeed, getting me to make it on time to ANYWHERE was almost impossible.

The reason for this was usually that I needed massive amount of time to process (often through play, talking to the mirror, sleep, rehearsing conversations in my head) all the emotional information I was receiving. Trying to explain that to anyone else was like trying to nail butterscotch pudding to the wall; all the action and logic and intelligence was not only happening on the inside, but I also was processing things that others didn't observe easily. I may as well have been trying describe a platypus to a martian in Russian. :OP

Empathetic children can appear inflexible or inexplicably moody, because what's effecting them emotionally doesn't always originate from them or observable interaction. They wear out quickly in large crowds or in intense emotional situations, and can burst into tears or grumpiness seemingly out of the blue.

I lived with the constant nagging terror that others were as aware of me and my emotions as I was of theirs, which led to all sorts of funny self-talks and rituals and self-protective efforts.

Trying to pay attention to verbal instruction was near impossible as well; the speaker would be instructing away about a specific set of concrete directions, and the information I was receiving was their emotional state at the moment. I was getting information LOUD and clear, but, unfortunately, what my brain naturally honed in on wasn't the information they were trying to communicate. At the end, they'd say, "Do you understand?", I felt, "Please, please understand so I don't have to say all that again", and so, I'd agreeably nod yes to their feeling, not their words. If I could sense that they honestly didn't mind repeating it, or if they actually enjoyed hearing themselves talk, I'd ask for them to repeat it, go through the whole scenario again, reach the end again, and think, "DAMMIT! I missed it AGAIN!!" Frustration. :P

Books were my friends. :D

I've noticed that my own daughter often responds by ignoring me, if I'm emotionally keyed up myself. We've talked about it, and here's her reason: she feels like I'm invading her emotional space when I'm upset or angry, because she senses it in her own body so strongly. It's a self-protective measure..not because there's anything wrong with her knowing that I have feelings, but because she feels them so acutely, she doesn't yet know how to process them and set appropriate emotional boundaries. (Fwiw, with this particular child especially, I make an effort to not be demonstrative with my anger or raise my voice...she's honestly just that sensitive.)

In short, people were both the bane of my existence and the beauty that my world revolved around. Even when I appeared to not be listening or at all connected, I was possibly more connected than most...though it probably took some time to come to fruition. I smile and cringe when I see similar traits in my own daughter, and am thankful that I at least have something useful to pass on to her-the empathy of what it feels like to be empathetic. ;P

A silly morning song...

2011-05-09T06:20:00.000-07:00

I could have stopped it, I could have dropped it all like a hot potato

I could have let you go , I could have jumped the gun, and flown solo

But the green, green grass told me a story

Of picnics full of peanut butter glory

And so I turned around, and I caught the dream in my heart

Like a barefoot boy with a Mason Jar.

Fireflies blink out a secret tonight that they learned from the stars.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I always want to be never without you

Oh, oh, child, my heart runs wild when I know I'm gonna smile, like I'm about to

Your fingers, know how to magically find every knot in my hair,

When you sigh you make my heart skip and cry in a way that's not fair

But your blue eyes paint me a picture

Of all the world was meant to be

And I am spin-around-dizzy-love-drunk-off-my-heart

Every time we're together after we've been apart

The finest wine seems to lose all it's shine compared to you, my lovely

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I always want to be never without you

Oh, oh, child, my heart runs wild when I know I'm gonna smile, like I'm about to

Fifty toes in my bed, fuzzy hair-halo heads, a quilted patchwork spread...it's so amazing

My head start to spin as I am taken in by your calendula skin,

You're my baby.

Anise flavored homemade lick-stickers!

2011-05-08T16:10:00.000-07:00

0r...How Totally Awesome People make Stickers.

Before you began this tutorial (which I stole from SkiptoMyLou), first, check and make certain that you are truly awesome. A quick whiff of the armpits should do the trick. Once awesomeness has been confirmed, proceed to Step 1.

Step 1. Decide to make one of these on Valentine's Day, but get so busy that you forget to do it. It helps if you order an Anthropologie magazine for the occasion, and it doesn't show up until a month too late. Now, you're on the right track.

Step 2. Regroup and decide to make stickers. Have an hour-long paper cutting party. Use scissors or a decorative punch, and the most colorful magazines or wrapping paper you can find. (We liked Anthropologie & old National Geographic mags) It helps to make silly faces while you do it, and make sure to make an enormous mess! This is imperative to the process.

Step 3. Decide that's enough for one day. Go clean the house or eat an entire bar of chocolate or something. ;OP

Step 4. Gather a packet of plain gelatin, 2 TB boiling water, and 1 TB corn syrup + a dash of

your favorite flavor extract (we used anise..mmm!). Stir boiling water into gelatin until dissolved, then mix in corn syrup and anise.

Now, your toddler should wake from her nap and fly into an inexplicable fit of hysterics,

and you should nurse her until she regains her sense of safety and

calm. Walk to the table,

and discover that your "glue" has turned into fantastic anise-

scented see-through gel! :D

Step 5. Reheat the anise-gel until it liquifies again. Go out on the porch (tis messy!), discover that all the paint brushes are missing, and decide "What the hulabaloo...let's use TOOTHBRUSHES!" Chuckle at the irony of brushing corn syrup glue onto stickers with dental hygiene tools. Remind yourself that they'll wash (you hope).

Step 6. Brush a thin coating of glue on the wrong side of your pre-cut stickers, and rest them sticky-side up on sheets of wax paper. If you're shorter than 4ft tall, you should apply at least some of it to your hair or your sister. If you have no sister, you may apply it to the cat. If you have no cat, feel sorry for yourself, and apply it to a sock puppet.

Wait for a gust of wind, and realize that you should weigh down the wax paper sheets at the corners. Chase the toddler and cat away from walking across the sheets of drying stickers. Fret when they curl up, and discover later that curling is just fine and doesn't effect function. ;o)

Monkey around for a while, while the stickers dry.

Lick, stick, and make beautiful creations! Enjoy your totally awesome stickers.

Recovering from upheaval-13 things that help our family!

2011-05-06T08:52:00.000-07:00

I thought this topic might be timely for some, considering all the global and local unrest and emotional yuck that's floating around right now. :) Big moves, family changes, births, tragedies, loss of a pet, and larger scale disaster can necessitate a little extra lovin'. Here are some ideas that have worked swimmingly for us that I've collected over the years (most through trial and error), to bring comfort and emotional healing/equilibrium!

1. The power of smell! If you love essential oils, or just nice scents, this may be helpful for your family! (Obviously, only use them in dilution, and be sensitive to any allergies you may have). Our favorites for supporting calm are lavender, rose and chamomile; our favorites for mood boosting are grapefruit, sweet orange, bergamot and mint. Our favorite delivery method is water: either a few drops in a small spray bottle or a few drops in a nice warm bath. If essential oils aren't your thing, you could always make your favorite fragrant meal, let your child sleep with a tshirt on that smells like you, or bake a family favorite treat. Smells are powerful emotional triggers, and potentially very comforting.

Another natural approach you might try is Rescue Remedy and, for major upheaval, Star of Bethlehem flower essence...a friend recommended it to us a while back, and it seems to have a positive effect.

2. Make a Plan. One of the favorites mottoes I ever stole was one from Jeff VanVonderen in his book Families Where Grace is in Place: "Our family is a problem solving family." Identify what IS within your power and control, make a plan with your family, and follow through. For example, our girls have felt very uneasy with our daily travel roads being in upheaval from tornado activity, and they feel worried for the people whose homes have been demolished. So, we made a plan: see what we can do to volunteer, decide what our resources are, chart out our week ahead of time so there are no surprises (or at least discuss each day what we'll be doing).

3. Relax your expectations. Expect and anticipate a little bit of out of bounds behavior from everyone in the family, and do your best to meet it with patience and reassurance. While actually doing away with normal rules and boundaries is unhelpful, reinforcing those boundaries with patience and not exasperation goes a long way. That goes for you, too; grown ups need as much grace as small people. Love and understanding begets love and understanding, so try your best to use loving language and touch with those closest to you. (This is what I struggle the most with, and, as fate would have it, the most effective!)

4. Plan a little something frivolous. It doesn't need to be expensive or fancy, and the lower key, the better. Take off all expectations and pressure. (Sometimes, the best moments like this are the ones that just happen, unplanned, so be open to them when they present themselves!) Just make it enjoyable and interesting for everyone; it could just be checking out for a while and taking a nice, long walk together. Be a little silly; don't worry about capturing anything on camera or perfectionism-let your inner monkey run a little wild and forget your worries for half an hour or more. Pillow fights work fantastically, and make for lots of laughter. :O)

5. Try to eat well. Again, nothing gourmet, but people who feel well act better...so ditch the sugar, stay hydrated, and eat some veg, complex carbs and protein. Try to stay close to the food source (aka, not processed)Your body and moods will thank you.

6. Go to bed on time. Kids benefit from this- calms forte, a small low-sugar snack, a warm quiet bath or chammomile tea can help make reality. Adults can pull out the bigger guns and try a hot bath, herbal sleep support, melatonin or a nice glass of wine! Sleep helps us process traumas, heal our bodies, replenish exhausted adrenal glands and (my husband will tell you readily) improves the mood. Even if you have little ones that make sleep tricky, you can still resist the urge to stay up and watch t.v. after they've dozed. Sleep is your friend and ally.

7. Massage/Cosleeping/snuggling. You don't even have to be any good at it; just bust out the bottle of lotion or oil and bless yourself and your family with a good, healthy touch session. (Obviously, don't force anyone who's especially sensitive to over-stimulation. ) Avoid putting pressure on bony areas, use smooth connected strokes, warm towels can help, and enjoy! It will raise the energy of everyone involved, and bring a sense of connection and calm. Sleeping together also helps re-enforce family connections. You share reaffirming touch with a close friend (meal-sharing or shared walks work, too) or with a pet, as well. Everyone benefits. Win-win!

8. Prayer and meditation. Give yourself space to cry out for help and process what you're feeling. Give your mind time to just BE.

9. Music.

10. Go outside! The calming, centering benefits of being among

birds and fresh air and trees are both documented and common sense. No crowded playgrounds or busy sidewalks; the less intensity and man-made structures, the better. The more extroverted among us can benefit from taking a friend along!

11. Unplug the News. Children need lots of time and play to process, and hearing endless loops of heartwrenching stories is beyond their capacity to handle, emotionally. (It's not so helpful for adults, either!) Model being a friend to those in need, listen to real people's stories, but don't invite a constant replay into your home and car.

12. Processing is a process. Children may want to talk about the details of what is effecting them over and over and over. Listen to them as they talk about it on their own time frame. Don't make value judgements about what they chose to share. More importantly, listen to and even participate in their pretend play at this time; it will give you insight into their emotional state. Find someone who can listen to you, too, or journal to release some of the sharpness of the emotional memory and to ground your mind.

13. Twofold, depending on personality:

Ditch perfectionism. You've just been through something taxing. Be kind to yourself and your family, and let go of some of your unreasonable expectations. Some television won't kill anyone. You can let a few unnecessary goals and tasks slide until you gather your wits a bit. It's OK to recognize that you need to rest. Resist the urge to moralize your difficulty to your family or preach at them. It's OK to lose some rigidity in order to not snap.

and on the flip side:

Be in tune with need for rhythm. Notice when your loved ones may benefit from a little more predictability and structure, and rise to the occasion. If your normal M.O. is complete bohemian lifestyle, unfettered by schedule, do recognize your family's natural need for rhythm. Predictability enforces feelings of safety and security for little ones, even if it feels counterintuitive...your family and your sanity will thank you for going through the motions. Bedtime routines, regular eating, notice ahead of time before being whisked from one activity to another are all helpful.

Our story from last Wednesday night...

2011-05-05T12:17:00.000-07:00

Last Wednesday night, I'd made a nice ginger stir fry for our family, and had a great pot of chicken stock on simmer. We were feeling lazy after a long day. The sky went green, and a few friends called to ask whether we knew we were under a tornado warning (we live in SE TN, right smack dab in the middle of Cleveland/Ooltewah/Ringgold/Collegedale; the areas hit most hard by the storms)...and we made our way to our meager little laundry room in the middle of the house, all padded out by pillows.

The girls hung out in there while Nate and I stared at the clouds on the front porch, swirling and brooding, with the trees lashing and dancing back and forth all around our property. We started hearing a dull roar, and went inside. Soon, after, our windows, doors and what felt like even the walls started rattling. We heard what sounded like pounding hail, and we ducked inside the laundry room with the girls, and then the lights went out. (Our power stayed off for the next few days)

Eventually, we made out way out, grabbed a camping latern, and lit a few candles, and I followed Nate outside, Eva on hip. Trees were down everywhere. We took a flashlight outside, and realized that our backyard was littered with several different hunks of people's roofs.

The next morning, we wandered out to find several different colors of insulation scattered ALL over the yard, books, socks, paycheck receipts, splintered furniture wood, foam insulation, wrapping paper, papers, garbage can lids, tin roofs, siding, trash, a hunk of a RC cola vending machine cover, and all sorts of lumber splinters. It was hearbreaking; we felt as if we had inherited tragedy and heartbreak in splinters-remnants of the lives of others from God knows where-all over our yard.

An F4 tornado ripped by our home, devastating our city and those around us, and our area was declared an official disaster zone, and rightly so. I've never seen anything quite like it.

Blue springs road, this is QUITE close to our home. (I could post a map, but for privacy reasons, I'll refrain.)

A drive to work and the grocery told us that homes all around us had been completely obliterated. Driving our usual back way home that afternoon told the tale of a very close call for us (literally just hundreds of feet away from having our home in splinters) and complete tragedy for our next-street neighbors. Not only were there homes with portions sheered off, but there were foundations with debris scattered across open fields (the only remnants of what once were large houses).

A week later, as people are putting together stories and lives, I learned that a couple who uses our midwife and lives literally minutes from our home lost their sister, home and new little baby. Eight people died next to the park that we love, and the entire area looks like a war zone. Children's clothes are scattered in tree tops, animals are roaming free without homes and owners and grief is literally hanging in the air, waiting to punch you in the gut whenever you pass by.

The thing that's struck me as heartbreakingly beautiful is the outpouring of love from neighbors, and the resilience of LIFE. On the way out to pick up some laundry to do for a family who lost their home, where homes and trees and power lines are lying helter-skelter across beautiful pastures, a mama Candian goose crossed the road with her fuzzy little goslings in tow-right by a hunk of roof and tangled power lines. She looked at me as if to say, "Carry on! There are babies to care for and things to do!"

One of my clients gave birth to a perfect, healthy, pink little baby last night (not too long after power was restored!). Clothes that were once covered in splinters and dry wall dust are now in order again, ready to be worn! Retired old farmers in overalls, smelling of Old Spice and tobacco, are chainsawing fallen trees, giving smiles and salvaging possessions, and soccer moms with bright pink lipstick are handing out food and hugs. College students are donating peanut butter and hauling boxes for victims in their tiny little Toyotas. Love pulls us together. Life is a powerful force, and love is a powerful thing to be reckoned with. Love prevails.

This is my heartland. This is my home. If you think of us, send us your love and prayers...never underestimate the power of positive support and concern.

Twisters in our neck of the woods...

2011-04-29T12:10:00.001-07:00

I've been MIA this past week, due to a night of doula work and the twisters that ripped through SE TN! (the doula work being obviously more fun than the tornadoes! It roared over our house on Wednesday night and shook our windows and doors, littering our lawn with pieces of other people's homes and possessions. :( The neighborhood behind us was pretty much obliterated, and we've lost power/water for the time being, so the girls and I are staying at my parent's home.

Just wanted to say that we're OK, and to encourage everyone to pray and send aid to the families that were effected by the twisters. :O)

Easter/Earth Day Camping Trip Photos!

2011-04-24T09:48:00.000-07:00

Life Lesson #2

2011-04-19T07:49:00.001-07:00

#2 -If something is literally toxic to you, then the "all things in moderation" rule doesn't apply. You can't enjoy poison in moderation.
In other words, me and simple sugar will never play nicely together. :le sigh:

That is all. :OP

I said a-Boom Chicken Boom.

2011-04-18T12:51:00.000-07:00

Today, we met our meat (and egg layers!) I called the good farmer at Parksville Pastured Poultry (Hoe Hop Valley Farm), who invited me and the girls to come by and check out their chickens before I decide to buy them to stock our freezer for this season. I'd explained to him that we wanted to make sure that the animals were living the way good and upstanding chickens should be...pecking and running and sunning and eating grasshoppers...and he told me to come by and walk around a bit. "Drive past the big ugly yellow mailbox", he instructed in a good-natured drawl, "and then just get out and walk right up to the fence! They'll all come running, and your kids will like that!"

And like that they did. The farm was LOVELY! The girls got a chance to practice their best

rooster crows with the real Mccoy, and I reveled in the spring breeze, the warm sun and the dreaminess of it all. Hens were scratching and cooing, and clean and strong and happy as hens should be. None of that being crammed into a smelly, diseased barn on top of one another nonsense. If I were a chicken, this is were I'd want to live.

After that, since we were in the neighborhood anyway, we went to the Delano Mennonite Farmer's market, where the gentleman sporting a long red beard and a contagious and quirky laugh talked to me about medicinal herbs. Apparently, they don't have a big demand for stinging nettles (I had inquired after some, and alas, none) , but that they used them themselves for tea. Ah, well.

They had some nice organic yarrow, marshmallow and mugwort for $1.50 a plant, to which I exclaimed "Yes, please!". They had, also, the ubiquitous tomato plants that are determined to populate every fresh stand we've visited this year, but we decided that one little plant in a bucket was enough for us this year.

(I love the mennonite market. It smells like nothing there. Just outdoor air. The sign "Please be dressed properly" always makes me feel a little risqué in my jeans, modest little nose hoop and long sleeved plaid shirt (buttoned to the top it may be) . I'm a wild, wild woman out there buying pepper jelly and natural shampoo, baby. )

Esther insisted on carrying ALL the leafy produce (which ended up being a Chinese cabbage, a nice dark green wad of kale, quite a few green onions, a emerald bunch of salad lettuce, two bushels of spinach and some poke salad) in her arms, and we all enjoyed having our hair whipped about violently all the way home from the wind rushing through the open car windows. Naomi started a new pebble collection from their pea gravel, and we decided it was time to journey on.

Then, onto our local natural grocery, and home again. I've planted the herbs, and now...

...CRASH. A lovely day, all in all.

(Naomi practices her crowing..)

( Ess is totally jazzed about all the happy looking chooks)

Busy, busy, busy bees.

2011-04-16T18:03:00.000-07:00

This past week has been completely a-humming with food and conversation and visitors and enough glowing coals of encouragement to keep the hearth of my soul radiating comfortable warmth for the next little while. Also, being that this sort of people-centric activity always comes with the trade off of bone-level exhaustion for me, I've crashed here on the couch to tell you a little of what we've been up to.

Last weekend, I celebrated my birthday with dear friends and my parents, and we planted seeds and ate and chatted and enjoyed a good bit of much anticipated warm weather.

Then, on Monday, a dear friend came from out of town with her family to visit with us for the week, which meant that ten people shared our home and table together for a wonderful, crazy, rip-roaring five days or so. My friend B has children close to the same ages as ours, and also parents gently, so it was a big encouragement to talk and share experiences/observations, and to watch our children interact with one another! This heart was greatly warmed to see commitment to teaching boundaries and kindness pay off in a few awesome age-appropriate ways, and to enjoy watching the antics of all our (gorgeous, rock-awesome- *cough* biased *cough*) kiddos as they interacted with each other and with us. God's babies are precious, and life is sweet.

And, obviously...I'm always blessed to be able to commiserate and share (in a lively, animated, gesticulation-riddled fashion!! :D) with other like-minded parents. Anyone who's yakked with me for any length of time knows that chatting about permaculture and food and children and the like makes for a happy, happy mama. Good friends are a blessing. Good people are a blessing. :)

We also got to visit with another precious gentle mama friend (by that, I mean, committed to non-punitive parenting, sorry for any confusion!) at our favorite state park EVER, and the kids had a blast splashing around in the water and collecting all sorts of outside treasures and showing them to us. Why don't these people all live closer? I love people, especially precious, feisty, generous people.

Tonight, we had a standing date with another dear friend, and I'm once again bowled over by the goodness and generosity that can emerge from humankind. It gives my heart hope. Believe it or not, I do

Now, I'm all out of words, so I'll share some pics instead.

Planting tree seeds with my dad

Smooshie squudge love love.

My mom on my birthday :O)

Essie reading with her buds, and Nomi not wanting me to interrupt ;oP

my friend B snapped this one at the park

and this one, too!

A short little hike

A spring Haiku. Because I have Spring Fever. :P

2011-04-07T19:35:00.000-07:00

The year's first sunburn

Dirt beneath my fingernails

Garden clogs are here

No time for anything more than that today! I'm all twitterpated. ::grin::

Imagine my surprise...

2011-04-06T18:06:00.000-07:00

When Nate and I went to make dinner, and found this! ;oP It seems we have a trickster in our midst. Ah, well. A little strawberry never hurt anyone...though I'd be intrigued to see the chicken who laid them!! The ever elusive Strawberraucana? Plymouth Barred Berry, perhaps? We never did find the eggs.

In other news, we were planting fools today, and got peas, kale, chard, mint and lavendar planted today, along with various flowers. I saw a honey bee. It was so springy, I practically floated around the yard with joy. More tomorrow, and I hope the weather there is making you just as happy as I'm feeling now!

How to survive as an introverted parent.

2011-04-05T20:13:00.000-07:00

Since a couple of people asked to talk about how to survive as an introverted parent, I thought I'd share my (admittedly limited) experience from the past 6.5 years. I'll be even more inclined to call it "advice" if I survive the next 6.5 years! Until then, we'll just call it musing. ;oP

Here are things I've learned the hard way:

-marry an extrovert. ;P They have more relational energy at the end of the day. (I say this only half jokingly; Nate and I are both introverted, and while we understand with a good deal of sympathy each other's need for space and quiet, it makes it harder when we're spread thinner. :P)

-be frank with your children about what it means to be introverted, tell them that you like them a lot, and make sure they understand that "needing quiet" is just your way of recharging. My oldest daughter needs a lot of alone time, too, and is actually really understanding when I tell her that I need a little space to gather my thoughts.

-leave the kids at home with daddy. One of my friends put it to me this way (and I happen to wholeheartedly agree): Dads don't babysit. They parent. It's not an imposition to ask a parent to spend one on one time with their own child. Take advantage of your spouse's ability to supervise your kids, if you have a spouse. If not, grab the nearest and dearest person you can, promise to bake them a nice pie or something in exchange for cooperation, and leave your kids for a few hours. It doesn't even have to be daily; one afternoon or night a week seems to be enough to do the trick.

-Quiet Hour. It's hallowed and sacred in our home, because mommy is not a very nice mommy when it's not honored. People who can't say their ABCs are exempted and instead placed in a tub full of some sort of sensory gook that entertains them for a while. People who cannot talk at all nap during this time. :P

-Outdoor play. Most neuro-typical kids become quieter, less clingy and totally engrossed in their own world when taken outside. We spend a LOT of time outside when the weather is nice, thus lowering the overall noise level.

-Buy your reading children as many books as they care to devour. If they're not into fiction, give them encyclopedias and how to manuals. Sell your hair if you have to. Give the talkative child unlimited access to decent literature.

-When you feel like tossing your clingy child across the room, hug them closer. Consider this an investment. I've caused both myself and my touchy feel-y child needless hours of agony by avoiding her rather than gritting my teeth and spending that agonizing 15 minutes she needs. Not worth it. Suck it up and do the interaction, even if you're brain dead, and your child will be able to move on more quickly. It's OK to fake it...even forcing yourself to fake it comes from a place of love. ;)

-Don't over-commit. Especially if you're a relational introvert, don't commit yourself to more interaction outside your family than you can handle. A couple of outings a week seems to be my limit as a mom of smalls, unless, of course, I'm just hiding in a corner of a coffee shop with a book by myself. I have a few close friends that aren't counted as "outings", because they're more like family. Which brings me to....

-DO cultivate friendships with people who you connect with, who you trust with your children, and who do not wear you out. If you're an introvert blessed with an extroverted child (God help you), having trusted friends who are willing to chat and read and play with your little ball of relationship will become invaluable to you (and your child). I may be exhausted the end of the week, but grandma or my best girlfriend who doesn't yet have children might be delighted to read a bedtime story to my chatterbox. And I'm delighted to LET them. It really does take a village.

-Feel free to decline random interaction. If I'm running on "low", energy-wise, and I know I still need to give a little for my kids, I don't make it a point to carry on a detailed conversation with Betty Sue Shopper at the grocery store. Even though I cringe as I say it, I'm learning to say, "You know, I don't really have time to chat right now. Have a great day!" I don't always have to answer the phone or go to the door or respond to the email right away, if it's not pressing.

-Be reasonable with myself about how much alone time is actually attainable at this point. Right after my firstborn entered our lives, I was absolutely gob-smacked by the loss of my "alone" world I'd had my whole life. I seriously grieved it. I spent quite a lot of time intensely angry over the fact that I was never. ever. alone. Gradually, though, my kids become part of my new "normal", and I find myself less uptight over the fact that they're constantly present. They've kind of entered my inner sanctity bubble, in some ways (out of necessity) more than even my spouse, especially when they're nurslings. It helps me to remember that this chapter of life is fleeting, and they won't be so close to me in physical and emotional proximity forever. I have hugely conflicting feelings about this, of course. ;oP Nothing's easy come or easy go for me, and I'm already bracing for the grief that their absence will bring, once they're ready to try their proverbial wings.

That's pretty much what I've got tonight. Others feel free to post ideas in the comment section! :O)

My early introversion.

2011-04-01T12:17:00.000-07:00

When I was in college, I used to set personal goals for myself...not about grades or exercise or performance, as those things tended to fall into place naturally for me. Studying into the wee hours wasn't an enormous intrusion for me. No, my goals were more lofty than that. They revolved around...wait for it...spending time with other humans. ;oP

Don't laugh. It's not at all funny. (OK, maybe it's a little bit funny..) I literally had a quota that I forced myself to fill, a quota of time spent having "fun" with other people, usually in the form of eating or movie watching or get togethers or hikes or what have you. (Parties, the extrovert's code for being crammed into a room full of people who yell at one another over music, were simply beyond my realm of understanding, and totally out of the question.)

Being *social* and a relational being at my core, I had enough of a spark of wisdom to recognize that in order to maintain a certain degree of emotional health away from family, I had to make connections and talk and BE with people. Generally speaking, I enjoyed the interaction once I was there, especially after meaningful, warm relationships were formed. But that first year of test driving friends and forced interaction on principle? Pure HELL for this introvert. I'd often find myself in a house or room or outing looking at the people I had absolutely no common threads with, and think to myself, "How in the name of all that's good and sensible did I land here listening to this girl jabber on and on about how much she loves Breakfast Club at 1am?"

To be sure, out of these forced outings (6 hours a week outside of classes and rehearsals and study groups) sprung many a fond friendship that I carry with me this day, once they started to sport the comfortable sheen of familiarity and the joy of being known well. Remarkably, during this time, within my own little circle, I could have even been called popular, or at least well-known, although certainly not the hostess or social coordinator extraordinaire like some of my more extroverted friends. I could be silly, amusing, gregarious, funny and social in turns, and, for the most part, my "quietness",a trait I value as an asset, wasn't the defining feature of my personality.

But, oh, how I flopped on my bed in sheer bliss once I felt I'd been sufficiently "socialized" for the week! How I'd grin and whoop and waltz around in my pajamas to jazz once my roommates all left simultaneously for a long weekend! The *only* other person I felt equally fantastic around in those happy moments was my then-boyfriend, Nathan, and he was only allowed to be around because he happened to be more introverted than I was. (In fact, we never actually socially dated as much as we sized one another up, informed each other that we made a smashing

pair, and became a "couple") All my best thoughts and feelings and dreams happened (and still happen) when I'm not being yanked to and fro by the intrusive conversations, emotions, opinions and interactions of a group of people. I'm brilliant, creative and at peace. The world slows to a reasonable pace and makes much more sense.

Forcing interaction is no longer a problem for me. Because people are my passion, my own nature tends to demand exchange of thought and energy. I exhaust myself at the alter of human relationship. :P It tends to seek me out with a relentless insistence, and, for the most part, I welcome the interactions of a more thoughtfully constructed social life of my adulthood. Turns out, there are other people out there who share my sensibilities, who wear me out a tidge less than the general populous! My "family" base is bigger, and I have to expend less energy putting myself out there in order to maintain connection. (I have the deepest empathy for displaced introverts searching out new friendships and family, I assure you!)

Even so, I'm a little more prone to indulge my inner flights of fancy and appreciate my need for "alone" processing time much more than I did in my earliest adulthood. After all, it is where all my best thoughts occur. Thus far, investing in alone time (or as alone as a mother of 3 snuggly children can ever be) is never a decision I regret, and increasingly, one I don't feel the need to

apologize for. My deepest sense of whimsy, my inner philosopher and poet, my happy flower-picking inner child, is much, MUCH more at peace after several days to myself.

I am, and ever shall be, an incurable and unapologetic introvert. It's a lovely way to be, isn't it?

Mischief Managed.

2011-03-31T06:11:00.000-07:00

Dear Essie, Nomi and Eva,

When your mama was little, I had a lively mind, and a stubborn streak a mile wide (not a bad thing, if you ask me). When your daddy was a small fry, he was lively with a propensity for getting into honest mischief when he was bored. So, chances are, if you have as many babies as you say you want to have, you might have at least one offspring who has a wildly active mind or body.

These are the two year olds who empty not one,

but ALL of the flour

and dried bean cannisters from the pantry while their mommy lays their baby sister down for a nap. These little sprites attempt to get their own cereal and milk at 2.5, climb to the top of the bookshelf at 3, leave the house through the window screen to pick mommy some flowers at 3.5, give all their stuffed animals a

shampoo early in the morning very quietly "so they don't bother your sleep" at 4, and try their hand at making waffles from scratch and doctoring the "diseased" cat with medical tape at 4.5. (And the same children who chase down that very cat and wrestle it to the ground to save an unfortunate mole from certain death!)

Least you think my opinion of lively children is low, let me set the record straight right now,

loves: I'm rather fond of them. In fact, I think they're brilliant in every way. I admire their creativity and drive to accomplish new things, appreciate the fact that they aren't dampened by the arbitrary rules that society deems necessary to set. The soft spot in my heart for lively people is permanent and dear to me.

Teaching respect of others can be a challenge, so, I'll let you in on a secret I've discovered: lively children tend to recognize and honor the boundaries of others more when their own needs are

met. That sounds like a great deal of gobbledygook , doesn't it? What it means, boiled down, is- you may threaten and take and woun

d and restrict as much as you like, but this will likely only serve to frustrate your lively

child. Mommy knows, unfortunately, because I've tried all those things. It was actually Essie, one day, that looked at me and said, "Doing that will only make me madder. I can't help it. I need something to DO!!"

And that's the key, darlings. An active mind literally and simply cannot stop being as active as it is. So, my job as a mommy became not keeping you out of mischief, but giving you plenty of safe exploring and adventure to sink your little teeth into. It dawned on me slowly that I didn't want to slowly box you into something more manageable. I wanted to show you how to be the best and safest spectacular you that you could possibly be without blowing yourself and others up.

Ever notice how all the interesting book characters (the ones who have the best adventures) tend to be a bit different or "mischievous"? Most of them are also the people who have the quick wits and bravery to rise to the occasion when something truly terrifying or challenging presents itself. Never let another person shame you out of playing the role that was written for you; if you're full of spirit, it's for a reason!

It's been hard work keeping you busy. But then, so would have been following you around and bullying and coaxing and begging and insisting that you be still and docile, something completely against your (God-given) nature. So, we dance. We jump, we climb, we take things apart, we cook, we put things back together, we jest, we roll, we sing at the top of our lungs, we read about squirrel anatomy after we find a dead one in the yard, we make approved messes.

I sit cringing sometimes on the sidelines while you crack eggs and get some on the counter, while you hammer away at nails in a board, you dexterously walk narrow rails, while you bury yourself in the dirt in the garden, you teach me phrases of your own invented language and while you construct your very own dutch-hair-fro through copious amount of back-combing (and then proudly wait by the door to go grocery shopping in your new 'do).

And, frankly, loves? Despite the fact that I fall into bed completely and utterly exhausted every night, I wouldn't want to change a thing. I used to hope you got a "more" child in your adult years, as a means of personal retribution. Now, I pray you get the privilege someday, because it's an intensely beautiful and humbling experience to see a being that intense burn so brightly every morning.

I love you.

Almost April Showers..

2011-03-28T06:32:00.000-07:00

Today marks the 5th day in a row of rain, and starts yet another five. Have I mentioned before how poorly I do in overcast weather? I do poorly in overcast weather.

Since my motivation is all but gone, here I sit with my feet shoved under an afghan while I snuggle with two bed-headed small people, blogging away and getting ready to tell you all

about my weekend. I'm going to ignore the stray pieces of breakfast cereal in the floor for a bit longer and indulge myself.

Saturday, we put on our rubber shoes and sweaters and trudged out into the drizzle with our (regrettably garish and ugly) umbrella, headed for the Mennonite farmer's market. The produce was absolutely beautiful, as was the drive there. We bagged three giant bunches of green onions, an ample basket of spinach, three bunches of kale, rhubarb, a bag of carrots and a jar of pepper jelly (which we promptly took home and spread on buttered toast...mmmm). Esther redeemed her food coupons for this month, and purchased a Cherokee purple tomato plant, two fennel plants, a dill plant, a bell pepper plant and a cinnamon basil for her little container garden.

We drove home with our car smelling of cinnamon basil and dill and

damp earth, and lofty visions of a bumper crop of Cherokee purple tomatoes.

Yesterday, I was out of sorts (my family would likely say uncontrollably grouchy and nefarious), so I did everyone a favor and went for a drive all by myself after tucking Eva into some quilts for a nap. Driving in the rain is generally hardly cheer-worthy, but yesterday, as I drove around looking for some hapless squirrel to run over, I got not 3 miles from my house, when I saw a bold lettered sign: "Estate Sale, 50% off all day Sunday". To which I grinned wickedly and muttered, "Yes, please."

I spent an hour or so rumbling through the life of some elderly community member, getting a somewhat guilty pleasure at being allowed to paw through an entire house, and hearing the story

it had to tell. I found a lovely old lamp with a marble base, an embroidered table runner, a few doilies, 2 yards of vintage brown and bright blue gingham, an antique pair of scissors, an antique yardstick, a bag of fun crazy quilt fabric, an enamel colander and a beautifully embroidered throw pillow. It was balm for the soul, t'was.

Here are a few things that made me happy last weekend...may it cheer your heart and mine as the constant rain depresses me and waters my lettuce. -/-

(this photo is in the collage, but I had to show the big version as well...what I found on my pillow when I went to sweep my bedroom this afternoon, from Esther: her handwrapped copy of The Chamber of Secrets for me to borrow. ::swoon::)

To some mama or daddy.

2011-03-26T08:00:00.001-07:00

I have a little girl who loves pancakes and cats and wearing rainboots with her dresses. She likes animals and songs and watching things grow, and especially snuggling in the winter. She collects rocks. I happen to think she's the cat's meow.

She's ferociously protective of little things, helpless things, and the people she loves, and she's endlessly patient with her baby sister even when she "is completely owie-ing her face!" She likes polka dot cardigans, little tiny figurines and using great big words and poetic phrases. She likes to climb things, and to be impressive.

Today, without prompting, she told me of the sort of man she'd like to marry. He must like to wear polka dotted bow ties when he's feeling dressy. He must like toast with marmalade on it, and he must enjoy making waffles on the weekend. He should like to garden and grow things, and have lots of animals. He must be gentle and very brave and snuggly. He should be strong. He mustn't like to step on lady bugs. The bow tie is important. He must be "the best person she's ever met".

Since this is important to my funny little woodland elf, it's also important to me, naturally. I

think her heart is quite smart.

If this is the sort of boy you have at your house, please hug him for me, lots of times; at least 12 times a day. Be so patient with him when he brings frogs into the house, and applaud his love for living things. When you feel so frustrated that you feel like hurting him, rock him instead. Don't stop him when he tries to climb that next highest branch in the tree. Be proud of his wildness, and be proud of his gentleness. When he cries, don't tell him not to-just show him how to use a tissue. Teach him how to solve problems, not ignore them. If he wants to learn to sew, don't be squeamish. Teach the boy to sew. Be terrified of his best dinosaur roar.

In other words...love him for who he is. I know my sweet little monkey girl will.

Life Lesson #1

2011-03-24T09:44:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd start a series of sometimes silly, but ever crucial-for-survival-in-my-own-little-world lessons I've learned about self management as a person, a mother, an INFJ and someone who is ever on a quest to manage the misty and tricksy workings of my own emotional life (as it collides with the concrete world).

Today is a beautiful day to start.

Ashley's Life lesson #1:

If your dishes make you smile, you're less likely to resent washing them. :O) (over, and over, and over...)

In other news, we had a wonderful visit with my Brother and Sister in law this weekend...they traveled all the way from Canada to visit with us! There were many rounds of hide and seek, a nice hike to a waterfall, books, conversation, roasted marshmallows and walks to the pond to enjoy together, and our girls were on cloud nine the entire time. After they left, Esther was found sniffling the blanket they used, trying to "remember them by their scent". I need to work on my teleporting device. I hate missing such fantastic people.

Also, Eva turned two last week! That shall make up the bulk of tomorrow's post.

My girl.

2011-03-14T07:33:00.001-07:00

Hippogriffs, Thesauri and Henbit

2011-03-11T19:40:00.000-08:00

Our family likes to play silly

word games in the car...it started way back when my brother (who ended up an English major) and I used sit in the back of our family's station wagon and play the Alphabet game on road trips, which escalated to the "see how many similar words you can name under one word in the thesaurus" game.

One of Nate and my favorite pastimes while driving in the mountains or hiking is thinking up the biggest words we can that start with a certain letter. Another (the one the girls and I were playing today), is the game where you have to think of all the words you can that match a

syllabic scheme: for instance, four syllables, emphasis on syllable two. Ubiquitous, forsythia, Corinthian, tumultuous, cantankerous, inferior, apology, hilarious, regrettably, lascivious,

remarkable...you get it.

So, anyway, I was trying to explain the rules to Essie, while dubious that

she'd grasp the concept yet, but she piped right in with, "I see! Three syllables, emphasis on the first: HIPPOGRIFF!!" (She's reading Harry Potter.) Then, Nomi rasped out, "Chrysalis! And Icarus!" You could have knocked me down with a wax-laden feather. There's something about kids and rhythm...it's like peanut butter and jelly.

Next thing I heard was, "Two syllables, emphasisissss on the first: butthead!!" No one ever accused us of being highbrow.

This afternoon, I found an awesome, amazing find at the antique store, but I shan't say what it is until I actually get in in my house, least I somehow jinx the process. I'm on cloud nine.

This evening, Esther was out of sorts, and was sent to bed early, and Eva fell asleep in the car ride home from picking Nate up from work...so it was just me and the Nominator (who is delightfully 4.5 these days). We decided to make a sign on the door of our laundry room that tells whether the washer is empty or full. (Someone, perhaps me, has a naughty habit of leaving the clothes in there until they start smelling of sauerkraut, probably because I have a very visually prompted memory..the family, however, objects to their underthings smelling like feet. Pickies.)

We made the laundry door sign out of some old aprons of my grandmothers that had been stained, and some happy vintage lace and buttons. It makes me grin.

our shoe vase is hard at work again, now that the yard is covered in purple sheets of henbit...spring is coming!!

The reason I'm MIA this week...

2011-03-10T11:14:00.000-08:00

Or the cutest reason, anyway! Potty training season has begun, completely at Eva's insistence...and that means lots of diapers shed and littering the house, lots of "Oh!! I go potty now!" and lots of boogieing on the toilet lid. How did that happen so QUICKLY?

So far, all our girls have taken after daddy in the bravery and balance skills department, and miss B'Eva is no exception. She can be found in this pose often, perched on the side of the potty dancing the "I just went potty" dance, shouting, "Look a' me!! Look a' me!!" She's a card.

Also, we've continued our spring decluttering, and are getting ready for the warm weather season...this year, for us, it means lots and lots of company! We're jazzed. :O)

Springy Sprucing!

2011-03-06T08:30:00.000-08:00

Nate and I are cleaning all the things and working on several unfinished projects this weekend. (The baby otters are helping a little bit, too.) The interlocking dollhouse that the girls made
is getting fresh paint, my bathroom is finally getting repainted, a perfect shoe rack for the entryway has been built and painted a lovely shade of perfect, all the laundry is getting washed/sorted/culled, my sewing stash has been pared down and reorganized, the toys are being sorted and culled.... Nate basically ROCKS. I love that tall man.

This week, I discovered the antique store of my dreams. I'll admit: I'd been a snob. It looked tiny and junky from the outside...you know, the kind that sells "antique" vhs tapes? But once I finally went inside, I found booth upon booth of vintage and antique linens, doilies, 70 year old kitchen appliances and ceramic cookware, vintage clothing, button, bifocals, cookie jars and all manners of funky goodness. As with all antique stores, there were a couple of booths of faux-antique crappity crap crap, but most of it was the real McCoy (although I saw no real

McCoy pottery). I could set up a cot there and have that be my home away from home, truly.

Nomi would like for me to write that this week was her very special half birthday week! In our house, the celebration has evolved to look like this: everyone puts on capes, paints our faces like our animal of choice, and we have chocolate chip waffles for dinner (with real whipped cream, naturally). We sing half of our family's birthday song, and light one candle in the waffle stack. It's always a fun affair, and we all look forward to it...especially the half birthday girl.

I slept in this morning. It was lovely. Now, off the slay the clutter dragon!

Upcycled footstool!

2011-03-03T20:00:00.000-08:00

Meet bertha the five dollar footstool. Ain't she a beyoot? ;OP I found her in thrift store this week, and, against my better judgement, took her home with me. She looked at me with puppy dog hinges. How could I refuse?

A little bit of tender loving elbow grease made it into a nice little box to keep books and treasures in, and for the kidlets to sit on! I may make a little tutorial later, but for now, here she is. :O)

Tada!! That's all for now. :)

Dandelions and Sheep Sorrel: keeping an open mind.

2011-02-28T08:46:00.000-08:00

Today, I had one of those little "ahas" that will literally alter the way I view the land around me.

Meet sheep sorrel (also known as Rumex acetosella, or sour dock).

It's been in all the lawns and land I've ever lived on, and I've spent more than half a dozen springs now grousing to myself as I toss it onto the weed pile while turning over my herb bed. Today, I learned that it's not only edible, but also incredibly good for you (high in antioxidants, vitamin C, beta-carotene and potassium) , and quite good in soups. What looked like an invasive annoyance yesterday looks like something to harvest and chop up and chew and dry and season things with today. It was like magic, or maybe more like Christmas: suddenly, I had something excellent that I hadn't had before.

Same goes for dandelions: besides bringing sheer joy and whimsy to my childhood days when I watched the freshly blown seeds floating weightlessly through the air, I'd come to view it as something of a pest, if not something outright evil (because my absurd definition of "good" meant a useless lawn with only grass on it). It wasn't until I was pregnant with Naomi that I realized that it's taproot was excellent for relieving water retention and it's leaves were packed with copious amounts of vitamin C. Suddenly, I didn't have a "crappy backyard"; I was rolling in a wealth of edibles.

Obviously, the plants didn't change. My limited understanding had been expanded, and fear, vanity and ignorance has been removed from my understanding of what was living and growing and thriving around me. There is much I don't know. There are many things I fail to understand. My limited understanding of good doesn't define where the line between "useful" and "waste" is actually drawn. The evolution of ourselves as individual humans depends largely on our capability to discern the difference between prudence and ignorance, and the ability to acknowledge our limited vantage point before casting an unfortunate judgement.

Such has been the lesson of sheep sorrel in my life today. {/sermonette}

Little Cross post.

2011-02-25T12:19:00.001-08:00

http://letterstodaughters.blogspot.com/2011/02/clothes-are-to-keep-you-warm.html

Everyone should be a little silly sometimes.

2011-02-22T16:52:00.000-08:00

"Mix a little foolishness in with your serious plans; it's lovely to be silly at the right moment." -Horace

Today: Silly face veggie bagels (idea taken from Pretend Soup, a terrific children's beginning cookbook) and homemade soda, a la Van Ottertots. Enjoy! :O) (We did!! I was honestly shocked when every last veggie nose and eyeball got eaten.)

Homemade soda:

1 part club soda, 1 part your favorite fruit juice

1 teaspoon of stevia or sugar

The end! ;oP It's delicious, and ends up having less sugar in it than just an ounce for ounce glass of juice, when all's said and drunk. My favorite's blueberry, while the girls prefer orange or pineapple. It really is more amazing when drunk in glass canning jars. Just sayin'.

Journey of Harmony (and more specifically, balance)

2011-02-19T15:46:00.000-08:00

I really envy those who have the ability to live in the moment.

I'm an introverted intuitive, which basically means that I spend my entire life inside my head, trying to synthesize enormous amounts of emotional information into some kind of meaningful understanding of the universe. More or less. In a nutshell. Most of what I blog about here is complete and utter escapism for me...it's me learning how to enjoy the simple things and be a little frivolous. It's me taking a break from my latest existential crisis and recapturing the wonder of finger painting with my kids (sans psychological art analysis and deep symbolism).

I desperately wish I could escape my own head sometimes. I wish I could halt all forward-thinking and connective reasoning and search for meaning until further notice, and just breathe the air sometimes. I'd get "gone fishing" tattooed on my forehead, if I thought it would help. ;oP

Fortunately for me, I'm married to a very NOT INFJ, and have children who not only live in the

moment, but do it with zest and gusto. They teach me so very much, it humbles my heart until I literally want to drop, knees to the ground with gratitude. If not for them, I'd probably spend every car ride in the country with my nose deep in a depressing book, or miss the gorgeous blue butterfly on the window screen, or continue wolfing my food down without savoring the goodness of it.

There is beauty to be had in the present. Perhaps the greatest wisdom is already possessed by the people who don't break their heads trying to figure out all the deep, unfathomable things, and who marvel at the echoes of truth in the grass under their toes and the breeze on their

eyelashes. My soul aches for that ability, even if it's not my primary calling or purpose. I think my life's journey, somewhere near the end (hopefully, while I'm dandling round cheeked grandchildren on my knees), will unfold the ability to not race ahead so much, trying to fix things and understand their complexities completely. Perhaps that will be late life's gift to me.

For now, I start with sitting in bed with my children, and laughing with them. With sitting down

and eating my food, thinking about how it tastes without trying to cram in another "time-saving" activity. By letting myself enjoy a rousing game of thumb war. By sometimes enjoying a non-meaningful conversation with a friend. By petting my cat. You know. The good stuff.

Trip to Goodwill, and a "Me and my tools" dress!

2011-02-18T09:42:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, the weather was glorious. That is no exaggeration. The kids and I slapped on our shoes, took Nate to work (sorry honey!), and headed to the park. The girls climbed up the giant slide, learned about friction, discussed Newton's first law of motion, walked the balance beam and generally had a great time.

Then, after a hearty unanimous vote, Eva was taken home for a much-needed nap (the older girls built a lean-to in the backyard) before we went grocery shopping. So, long day.

Because I'm sometimes lacking in sense, we stopped at the thrift store on the way to pick Nathan up. (It was 75% off clothing day.) Everyone was fine all the way through until just before checkout. Eva threw the queen

mother of ALL 2 year old hysterical fits, and was flapping and flailing, and I was trying to calm her while corraling every toward the door. Some kind looking man sporting the "Oh, I'll be nice and talk to your kids while you check out" look struck up a conversation with my 4yo. Poor fool.

"I have CATS!" said my 4yo. "Oh, really! That's nice. I do, too, and a parrot. I hope your kitties are fixed. That's the responsible thing to do. " said the unsuspecting man. "YES! We took our cat to the vet yesterday, and they cut off his TESTICLES! He's all chopped up!" said Naomi, grinning broadly. "Oh. my. OH!" said the unsuspecting man. He muttered something polite looking and inaudible, and puttered back over to the cargo pant rack.

At that moment, my 6yo dropped my purse's contents all over the floor of Goodwill, quickly said "Oops, I'll clean it", and proceeded to comment rather loudly about all the contents as she replaced them one by one." What's THIS?!" Some items were more interesting than others. (And here I'd thought extreme preparedness was a *good* idea.) Meanwhile, Eva continued to do her best drunken shrieking monkey impression while I grabbed my deodorant, keys and lip balm off from the ugly carpet and shoved them into my handbag. The cashier had a look on her face that told me she was making a mental note to utilize one of the items in my handbag more often.

That'll teach me to thrift with children past 3pm. However, I snagged a few

fun little pieces for .50 a piece, and they resulted in a new little playdress for Eves. :o)

It's an "I love my tools" dress, because, well, she does. Take THAT, manufacturers that only put "I Heart Shopping" logos on little girl's clothing. Clearly, as evidenced by yesterday's fiasco, not all girls heart shopping. ;OP

All I did was: took a children's pajama top and cut off the sleeves to the length I wanted (leaving seam allowance), and then double hemmed the raw edges under. (If I'd used a walking foot, it would have looked even better...live and learn.)

Then, I cut the shirt several inches below where I wanted the waistline-again, leaving an inch or two for seam allowance. Then, I took a girl's size 12 tiered swing top, trimmed off the top, and sewed around the circumference of the cut line with the widest possible stitch. Then, I pulled on the threads (the fabric bunches along the sewed thread as you pull!) until the circumference matched that of the shirt. Now, you have a bunched skirt line! :O)

I sewed the wrong sides of the shirt top and bunched bottom together (since they're both knitted materials and won't fray much, I didn't bother to encase the inner seam this time), and, viola! A dress. :D I added a pocket, as well, which Eva promptly and gleefully stuffed with pretzels.

Thoughts on Creativity

2011-02-16T06:32:00.000-08:00

Every once in a while, I get the urge to dust off a soapbox, climb up on it, and see if it wobbles. Today is one of those "once in a while"s.

Today's dusty box:

commercialism vs. creativity!!

Obviously, the biggest reason any family enjoys creating things with each other is the sheer joy of using brains and hands and imaginations to make something practical, silly, beautiful and/or functional. Every human has some sort of creative energy,

though it looks different for each person, and there's a very tangible "buzz" that comes from seeing a need and finding your own way to meet it! The first time a baby figures out how to get from point A to B, creative thinking is involved. It's all about experimentation and problem solving, really, and then pouring yourself into the process, be it abstract or concrete.

In my (increasingly humble) opinion, one of the saddest artificially-manufactured deaths our

creative brains can meet

is early life programming (literally, consumerist ideals directed at toddlers and children) through television commercials and product imprinting. I'll save the gender-specific marketing rant for another day. ;)

Rather than exuberantly hollering "let's MAKE such-and-such for lunch!", children have literally been programmed by commercials and ads to say, "I want to go to McDonalds!" Why? Because marketers take advantage of childrens' natural instinct to learn things through socialization. When the social "norm" (aka, the excitable kids and adults on television) becomes begging for certain things and enjoying them, kids perceive this as normal human existence and try to emulate it. We're seriously screwing our children up by letting greedy people exploit normal biological process. (Normally, I'd never say that out loud, for fear of others feeling badly, but, today, I'm mostly speaking loudly to myself.)

However, if kids perceive the social norm as children and adults enjoying outdoors, actually

preparing food, finding creative solutions to their problems (rather than simply buying a solution every time), they readily accept that they'll be able to do it, too. Their personalities start to breathe, and that's a lovely thing to behold. (At this point, I want to express a heartfelt thanks to the friends and family in my life who are willing to spend time in our garden and kitchen and sewing table and hiking trail with our kids: you're investing in the future when you do this, and it doesn't go unnoticed or unappreciated! It takes a village...)

Obviously, we're not all interested or cut out for everything "crafty". (For example, I'm an

abysmal failure at knitting, no matter how frenzied the craze becomes.) Fortunately, "crafty" is only a very small niche in the universe of creativity. There are so many different levels of enjoyment and angles of attack for creative expression, it boggles the mind.

The most obvious diversity to me would be the people in my own life: My spouse enjoys woodworking. A few good friends charm mouth-watering creations out of the kitchen at a rate that's required me to purchase new jeans. ;P My mom enjoys making up her own sewing

patterns. Nate and I have brothers out of whom creativity practically leaps at every turn, no matter what the material of choice. My dad enjoys figuring out new ways to make his greenhouse more efficient. Another friend is a genius at interpersonal problem solving, and is constantly finding new ways to communicate effectively. My 2yo enjoys smearing chocolate pudding in her hair and drawing designs into the goo. We all have the ability!

People don't even have to be remarkably inventive or artistic to awaken the "create!!" functions of the brain. There's no need to be impressive: thinking out of the box is simply part and parcel of the experience of being a living, breathing human. We needn't be snobby or lauded or pretentious about our endeavors in order to stoke the fire of the human soul, and free ourselves from the need to identify ourselves with the mass-produced "creations" of others. Anything we can do to crawl out of the carefully constructed commercial boxes modern life has fallen into, in order to reclaim a little bit of human experience, is a truly good thing.

Octopus love, and a little rambling...

2011-02-14T10:47:00.001-08:00

Today's fun: Garden Octopus from familyfungo.com. (Our octopus is a bit short, but don't tease him about it. He has short octopus complex...) The girls ate him right up (along with some carrot sticks). We come from a history of funny food eaters...ants on a log, toads in a hole and funny face apples were childhood favorites of mine, and Nate is an expert at secret message pancakes. A big thanks to my mom, for sending me the link and veggies for this little (whoops!) guy! :D

Tonight, we do chocolate covered strawberries. I allowed myself a little bit of a non-seasonal
splurge on that one. ;oP

1.5 C 80% cocoa natural chocolate chips + 1TB coconut oil,
melted in makeshift double boiler

Dip in strawberries and grapes (washed), and sprinkle with coarse sugar for a little sparkle, lay on freezer or wax paper. Chocolate mixture hardens as it cools.

We celebrated Valentine's a little early yesterday (while Daddy was home!) with gluten free chocolate chip waffles and blackberry jam-a family celebratory favorite we eat mostly on half-birthdays and after a baby's birth- and my parents took us out to one of our favorite locally owned restaurants: The Ocoee Damn Deli. (Local people who love rock hopping, hiking or rafting at the river, if you've never tried the Gorman's rustic sit-down diner-style place, you *must* enjoy their sweet potato fries and a roast beef sandwich on your way back from playing hard! Or else, your SE TN experience is going to be less complete. For realio. The owners are good people, and their hospitality is a treat. )

It was actually a little warm while we walked beside the river, as long as we climbed and milled about in the little pools of sunshine! In the shade, not so much. Give us a few short months, and we'll be grateful for the southern shade. ;o)

Sewing guys and gals: if you're into seasonal fabric, check out your local fabric stores today and tomorrow for Valentine's-themed fabric on deep discount! I found a really adorable "X's and O's" fabric today for $2 a YARD. :O)

Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't bare.

2011-02-09T08:32:00.000-08:00

Today is "use up an old sweater" day!

I scored an adorable $2 felted adult sweater at Goodwill for Essie a couple of weeks ago, but, unfortunately, it fit her everywhere except the neckhole. Our official statement about our family's signature gargantuan noggins is that they're necessary for us to hold our obviously superior brains in. Uh-huh. That's our story...;oP

So, we have a whole lovely felted sweater to play with. :D I decided to try out this recycled boot tutorial from Happy Together, and ended up with a really happy pair of sweater boots for Noni! Easy peasy. We decided to go for sweater rosettes instead of the leaves, mostly because we didn't have green felt on hand.

Since no one in our house is small enough for recycled sweater sleeve longies anymore, I selfishly turned them into a pair of colorful wrist warmers for myself...I slaved over those, I tell you. (Since the sweater was really well felted already, making any cut I made "finished" already without a hem, I simply cut the sleeves off, and, tada!!)

Also made today: a cowl for Eva, a hat for Naomi, a pair of wool longies and a flowered headband for my friend's new baby girl. :D

I should go...I'm hearing from the living room, "Eva, you are pushing my buttons, and now they're almost pushed ALL. the WAY. to the BOTTOM!!" Warm weather can't come soon enough. ;P

Recycled Pirate dress for Me Wee Beauty..

2011-02-08T10:47:00.000-08:00

Little Pirate Dress. :D This week is much, much, MUCH better than last week. No more flu, no more piles of tissues everywhere, no more not being able to leave the house. We're officially out of Davy's grip. ;P

Eva the Beeba the little Queen of Sheba has a new little pirate dress. I'm all smitten...firstly, because it's soft and snuggly (just like her), and secondly because I gave my favorite (non-fitting...le sigh) soft polo shirt new life. I got it second hand to begin with, so it's always been oh-so-buttery, and it made the perfect little bit of patchy goodness for the family's favorite little nearly 2yo potato head.

I sound giddy and perky. I think I'm unleashing a week's worth of pent up energy at anyone who will listen today. ;oP

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have life to catch up on. Laundry, The Chamber of Secrets with my 6yo, a flourless chocolate cake to bake with Naomi, and cats that need neuter and spay appointments. Life goes on. There is hope after the (frickin, frackin, nasty, ugly, stupid, horrible, no-good) flu. Now, we swab the poop deck.

If you or yours are suffering from it...fear not. It passes! Hugs and tissues to you.

Recycled Alligator Dress!

2011-02-05T16:27:00.000-08:00

I was culling old stained/stretched/holey t's from my and the girls storage bins yesterday, and decided to do a quick and easy project to lift us out of the "We've been stuck in the sick cave for a week" doldrums.

This is what we came up with! It took us 20 min. :D I'm especially proud of the little rosette. ;oP I encourage anyone with a sewing machine, old shirts and a spare half hour to give this a shot...You'll feel proud as peas of yourself. Or you can come kick my shins.

The Flu.

2011-02-03T11:33:00.000-08:00

So, my family is on day 3 of what's obviously the textbook flu. Wheee. (is that dripping snot or sarcasm I'm sensing? It's hard to tell today.)

It hit me and our almost 2yo first..I started feeling a little better after the chills left yesterday afternoon, and did too much housework, so the little sprite is running circles around her mama today. So it's a quilts and pajamas chicken soup and tea and movies on the couch sort of week.

I've been pumping us all with fluids and natural goodness (by FAR, the most enjoyable is the dip-able olive oil, lemon rooibos tea and chicken and leek soup).

Since I've got absolutely nothing better to do besides look at the tissues lodged around me and feel sorry for myself, I'm going to post the recipe for the chicken soup I made:

Feel Better Soon Chicken and Leek Soup

5 C homemade broth, or a good MSG-free veg/chicken broth
15 (yes, fifteen!)large cloves of garlic, crushed or finely minced (I go for crushed, since it's easier)
1TB dried oregano
1/2 TB thyme
2 chopped leeks (not the green part, that I re-use for broth)
5 large chopped carrots
2 stalks chopped celery
2 C chopped spinach
as much thawed chicken as you like. 1 or two breast seems to be good for us
2/3 C cooked rice, brown or white (we had some leftover on hand)
juice squeezed from one entire lemon (something else we tend to keep a lot of)
salt and pepper to taste

Really, any other veggies you have on hand chopped up and tossed in the pot will do! So, put it alllll in the pot with a lid on it on simmer, and let it do it's thing. That's it.
When you're stumbling around looking for tylenol or water or mucinex, just toss a cup or two of water in and stir a few times. When the chicken is tender and the carrots are soft, just break the meat apart with a spoon and ladle yourself some in a bowl. You could leave it on warm, or just stick it in the fridge, pot and all, for the next meal. I doubled the recipe, to save myself trouble of meal scrounging later.

Very easy, very low-fuss. You could toss in frozen veg if you wanted, even. I have a leek obsession, but you could sub onions of any kind for the leeks. But if I were you, I'd call a friend and BEG for them to drop off leeks on your doorstep. :P Provided that you still have your powers of smelling, it smells fantastic. It goes down very easily, too, and is pretty much packed with nourishing stuff. Mmmmmmmm.

Can you tell I'm stir-crazy? ;oP

Mama sick = picnic with blankets and lots of old movies.

2011-02-01T13:40:00.000-08:00

Magical, Lazy Monday.

2011-01-31T12:43:00.000-08:00

Today is a catch up from the weekend and cup of tea sort of day. It's overcast outside, but unseasonably warm, so we're spending the day out on the back porch, stringing colored pasta together into very happy looking necklaces. We've also been trying to coax our precocious house cat down out of a tree. (Actually, she was treed by a neighbor's tom cat, whose intentions seemed less than honorable. I didn't point that out to my children.)

Our oldest, E, suggested bringing out candles and incense, so we've been sitting out in the breeze with the smokey smell and the windchimes, and I feel like I've strayed into some Tolkien fantasy. It's lovely. These girls know how to have a good time. :D It's got me looking forward to true hammock weather.

This weekend, we went hiking to a local creek, and as always, I ended up juggling a crayfish claw, wads of moss, a snail shell, tree bark and a half dozen "really cool rocks!!". You know. Treasures. My ingenious husband whipped up these clever little carrying purses for the girls from ferns and vines, freeing us up to do things like scratch our noses and wiggle our fingers. They were so adorable and fanciful that I had to take a picture and post them...never would have thought of that myself. I heart pragmatists.

Urban Outiftters Hanging Fabric Lamp Hack

2011-01-30T08:05:00.000-08:00

So, in my de-cluttering last week, I was faced with the dilemma of what to do with a hanging lamp I received a couple of years ago..since I've adjusted the general theme of some of the rooms in our house, the fabric no longer jived with the general vibe. Since the hardware was still good, I was loathe the let it go without a fight! ;oP

So, I dug out some scraps from my fabric drawer, and went to town! My girls were watching on with fascination and horror as mommy started hacking into the cloth of the hanging lamp without flinching, so I started in on a sermon about how only *mommies* are allowed to cut apart perfectly functional lamps in hopes that the end product will be even cooler (and mentally kicking myself for being such a hypocrite, lol). So they started cheering, "Go, mama, go!! Go, mama, go!!" It was a shameless ego boost moment for yours truly.

I cut the rings on the top and bottom of the lamp free, and then used the (now rectangular) fabric as a pattern for the new cover, leaving seam allowance. I got creative with some leaves I already had cut out for a wall mural I ended up not loving, so now, the lig

ht colored burlap I chose for the new cover has multicolored ash leaves configurations around it.

I went for tabs around the top, as I have NO idea what kind of voodoo those factory workers used to sew around all the little metal prongs around the top. ;oP

The end product was this:

Tada! I was very pleased with the overall effect. (Notice how everyone always says this at the end of a project they blog about? What I really mean to say is: When I surveyed the end product of my hack, I was convinced for at least an hour that I'm totally freaking AWESOME.)

Weekend happiness!

2011-01-29T21:01:00.000-08:00

2 year old molars are hard, and an upcycled scarf hanger!

2011-01-28T12:05:00.000-08:00

The Necklace Queen has gotten a jump start on her 2 year molars, and we both spend a confused, sleepless night holding each other and singing and bordering hysteria before her (supposedly veteran) mama figured it out. I should have some things tattooed onto my leg or something, so I don't forget. I took off her beloved amber necklace at 3am, thinking her crazy pawing was her wanting it off...bad move! Poor little love cried like her heart was breaking until I put it back on, and we walked the floors together for a while, while she intermittently asked to go outside for a walk and stated "Mommy put neck'ace back ON."

Today, she's doing better with some judicious Motrin usage. (This natural-minded mama is not disinclined to use pain relievers for miserable, unavoidable life pain! Bring on the baby drugs, dude.) Some sunshine during an unseasonably warm afternoon seemed to help both of us to. You can still bet your buttons that I'll fall into bed tonight early and exhausted. ;OP

Clothes pin and Yardstick Hanger!

OK, so, while B'Eva snagged a much-needed nap today, the older girls and I worked on a project my friend Brandy described to me! We painted clothes pins with sponge brushes and Plaid brand paint, then painted the dried color over with sparkles, and then I sealed the sparkles in (this mama's no fool) with acrylic clear sealer.

Then, I staple gunned them to a yardstick (it was easiest to dismantle the clothes pins, and then put them back together for this part), and then nailed the yardstick to the wall. Viola!! The perfect scarf organizer for their artsy-themed bedroom. (It was originally an art hanger, and we'll likely make another for that purpose, too.) Thanks, B, for the awesome idea! I'm really pleased with the colorful, whimsical effect.

Early Spring Sprucing, and a beautiful rhythm.

2011-01-18T12:58:00.001-08:00

In my never-ending quest for all things transcendental, I vowlessly decided to become more organized and intentional about making our family's life pleasant and meaningful.

Practically speaking, I'm throwing out tons of junk, actually putting things into baskets and containers, and having a more "just do it" attitude about life in general. I'm really, really enjoying myself, actually, in the process. I tend to let too many problems and big feelings of others take over a good portion of my life ( being very duty-driven and empathetic, which is a terrible combination for maintaining good boundaries), and end up with not a lot of energy to beautify and enjoy my OWN family and life. No more. I'm sure I'll revisit this place of prioritizing again many times in my life, but every time, hopefully, balance will come a bit more easily than the last.

Literally a hundred little projects and ideas for organizing were laying around dismally, while I tried feverishly to solve other people's crap for them. ::doh:: The tiny change I made was to seek humility in regard to how much I can actually change in the universe, and to revel in the little things I do have some level of influence over...and just DO them.

The trick has been gauging what I need for self-care for the day, rest and nutrition wise, deciding what's reasonable for goals, and then, just setting about them at a practical and pleasant pace. No running around the house like a headless chicken, no grouching at the kids because my goals are impossibly huge, no beating myself up over what doesn't get done. I'm my own boss, and that in itself eradicates a thousand issues that springs from my proclivity toward avoidance. Just see something that needs to be done, think of a way to make it pleasant (tea and a phone chat, anyone?), and doing it. My, oh my, what a difference that's making. ::happy sigh::

The less pressure I apply to myself (and the less pressure I take on from others, real or imaginary), the more I accomplish. And it's as simple as that.

I survived the stomach bug.

2011-01-03T06:19:00.000-08:00

So, on Thursday morning, after spending two days lounging in bed with an adorable, puking toddler, watching endless loops of "The Gummy Bear Song" in german on YouTube (the only sure-fire way to keep the nauseated little sprite still, and thus ensuring at least half an hour of clean-ish bedding), I woke up to this:

I'll admit that I said a few choice words...maybe an hour's worth. There were a ton of things that needed to be done, but, yeah, the room was spinning. Wasn't going to happen, and I resigned myself to an afternoon of being withered on the bed like a salted slug. (and then kicking myself for even thinking of slugs at a time like this. Icebergs!! Think of clean, cool icebergs! Made of watered down ginger ale! Think of the color blue! Think of Palestrina and...not moving.) Fortunately, my older kids were hanging out at grandma's for the day, and Lovey had the day off, which meant a lovely afternoon of Battlestar Gallactica on the couch for me and monsieur plastic crap garbage can. (I started referring to him as MPSCGC in my head, for short.)

But while I lay there, watching Dr. Baltar go off his weepy-eyed nut for the 58th time, things became very clear to me: it's time to PURGE (the irony of the decision's timing isn't lost) and re-organize everything in our humble abode. Fortunately, it wasn't just one of those virus-induced delirious visions of glory-when I recovered, I still held onto the idea, which is a lot for someone who tends to struggle with a surplus of ideas and not enough time in the day or attention span to accomplish them.

I think the astragalus tincture I took several days in anticipation helped me bounce back very quickly (hurrah!), as my ick didn't last quite as long and wasn't as furious as toddler's or Lovey's (who was hit with it the next day).

Now, I draw up a game plan. And find a shiny, sparkly carrot to dangle to keep myself focused. ;OP

Things we made for Christmas!

2010-12-30T09:02:00.001-08:00

This year, I spent a week with a dear friend in Chicago the week before Christmas week, and had SUCH a relaxing and soul-warming time. I totally went into "happy cat mode"...lazing around and enjoying warmth and good food and sweet company. Such trips are soul-restorative for mothers, I tell you, even for the introverted ones. ::grin::

Christmas at home was more of the same, with my most precious and awesome family. It's ridiculous to love a small tribe of people so much, but here I am, with crazy love rolling out my ears. We're not really high-key people, so the holiday was spent doing all sorts of frivolous and wonderful laid-back things. We may have had our yearly holiday rumble, followed by our yearly holiday forgiveness and hot cocoa. (It's tradition! It's one we take very seriously.) It's good to have times like this to draw from, I say, especially around August or so, when I'm generally melting and crabby. ;OP

Today, I'm snuggled into the bed with two cats and a toddler with a stomach bug (who's looking adorable in her sister's giant Totoro shirt), singing endless rounds of twinkle star and Blue Skies...and I have time to blog. So here I am!

Things we made!

Enormous snowflakes...

A memory book for B'Eva...

snow angels...

fairy parades...

Wall hangings, with pockets for love notes...

finger puppets for little sisters...

ridiculously cute friends...

entirely too much blisstastic cocoa...

and a merry little christmas.

Snippets that fall from my head.

2010-07-07T19:41:00.000-07:00

So, I've recently joined the land of the birth workers again after a long hiatus for Eva's birth. Since she's now well over 1 year old, I'm taking on birth clients again, and having a marvelous time! I love being a doula.

I've decided to take Birth Arts International's Advanced Aromatherapy for Women course..I'm giddy over the prospect. ::grin::

What else? I've decided once again to try to be processed sugar free. We'll see how that goes. I always feel fantastic while I'm doing it, and usually some holiday ends up throwing a monkey wrench in the plan; I figure I have four months until Thanksgiving. ;P That should add at least a few weeks to my life, lol.

Eva is jabbering and climbing and having an opinion about everything, and I'm enjoying it immensely. She's a lovey. Esther and Naomi are bored in the intense heat, and as funny as ever.

Our chickens are all gone. It was a sad day when the last five left...if anything, it's cemented in our minds that we'd like some land someday, so we can be the tree hugging, whole foods loving, technology addicted oxymorons that we are at the core. :P I'm a little emotionally raw over the whole thing. Ah, well.

I should call it a night for now...busyness abounds for the last half of the week.

Also, a brilliant recipe for basic playdough, from OhDeeDoh. It was really as easier than making cookies, and didn't take long at all...a plus for me who has no time for anything more complex. We put aura cacia's Gray Matter Batter essential oil in ours, and it smelled amazing. I like to imagine that the smell has a calming effect on the kidlets. It surely works for me. Mmmmmmm.

Our Fourth of July

2010-07-07T07:01:00.000-07:00

I'm still alive.

2010-06-15T07:02:00.000-07:00

I've been busy with lots of different things...planning a cross-country driving vacation, starting to get my doula website up and running, wrangling shorties, making some recycled clothes, cooking waffles...

You know. Life. ;OP I'll be back in a day or two to update everything with pictures and thoughts and funnies. <3

Chicken Drama, Act 4: The Jerks Win.

2010-06-02T10:49:00.000-07:00

So, apparently, while there are quite a few loopholes around city ordinances and laws about chickens and animals and gardens and clothes lines and such, there are virtually NONE when it's part of a subdivision covenant.

While the law won't enforce a subdivision covenant proactively, they must legally, once a single neighbor decides to be a complete **muffled bad word here** and take the issue to court. Not even a 4-H exemption can save you, once this happens.

So, while said neighbors are allowed to guzzle gas in their tankmobiles, irresponsible oil companies are allowed to spew crude oil into the ocean for weeks on end, the food industry is allowed to have what equates to a monopoly on food and force-feed us toxic garbage and treat animals inhumanely...

...the law is obligated to protect it's good people from dangerous characters such as ourselves to keep a few laying hens and hang our sheets out to dry in the back yard.

The world is seriously screwed up, friends.

We're getting rid of most of our birds and keeping the precious pet few in hopes that we'll be able to appeal to their better nature, Anne-Shirley apology-style. Perhaps she'll accept a plate of plumb puffs as a peace offering. ::sigh::

Here's to you, Rachel Lynde. May you have a heart.

Chicken Drama, Act 3.

2010-06-01T05:06:00.000-07:00

I don't get angry enough to call someone else names very often, but yesterday was one such instance where someone provoked that amount of ire in me. Not that I said anything like that in their presence. Mostly, the baseboards heard a lot of unlady-like words as I scrubbed the living hell out of them.

Our next door neighbors (who own the house-less property, but whom we've never met) walked, nay, STORMED onto our property and immediately started calling us things like "Bub" and "Bucko" and yelling at us for having chickens on our property, and telling us it's against the law. When we said "howdy-do" and told them there was no such law in the county (and that we had indeed checked prior to getting chickens), he and his wife became belligerent and insulting, and took our doubting their word as a personal offense. How neat. If I had known that we'd be meeting them for the first time, I'd have baked them a coffee cake. ;)

When I asked politely that they give us a written copy of the current requirements that stated that we keep no chickens and leave it in our mailbox so we could review it, the very classy woman stated that she'd save us the trouble and serve us a court order. Precious.

Apparently, though all home owner's clubs have since been dissolved, there was some standing agreement against chickens at some point before we arrived (there goes the neighborhood, Jeb!) ;oP

So, we're meeting with a lawyer today, to make sure they actually have no legal recourse.

Our first egg just got a bit more expensive.

Performing the happy dispatch. (Rubber, Meat Road.)

2010-05-31T11:08:00.000-07:00

Vegetarian friends, look away now.

Our family eats 95% vegetarian, which translates to about one meat meal a week. However, neither my spouse nor my children are as anti-meat inclined as I am, so my compromise is this: we eat meat as a treat, and we either buy it from a humane source or we do the deed ourselves, so we're responsible in understanding and fully appreciating it's source.

Some of you may recall that we rescued 13 cornish-X meat birds (specially bred to grow fast, and honestly bigger than their adult frames can handle), and they're already larger at 5 weeks or so than our 15 week pullets. They eat like there's no tomorrow, and, even though ours have a pen to range around in the woods in and aren't overfed, they're a little uncoordinated from the sheer volume of their body mass in ratio to their bone structure.

Two of the roos met their end today. It was one of the saddest, weirdest things we've ever done together, but I will say that I was relieved by how instant and relatively painless the process was. A word of thanks, a quick machete strike, a dip in hot water and the feathers practically fell off. I cried.

This, of course, through me into a state of existential crisis, and I have the mascara streams and forehead wrinkles at the age of twenty-*cough*-something to prove it. :P

However, my ideals met reality today, and, hard as it was, I feel a good deal less like a hypocrite feeding my family a bird that led a happy life and a humane end than one that never saw the light of day and suffered. Our society and way we eat is fantastically steeped in cruelty and death, we just pretend it isn't because we are distanced from it. I'll take 90% respectful life and 10% face-to-face with death over that any day, I think.

Still...all things considered...I'd rather be a vegetarian. :P

How does your garden grow?

2010-05-28T07:04:00.002-07:00

With rabbit poo and chicken crap, too, and silly kids all in a row, of course. ;OP

(Our house is hot and sticky, because the southern heat decided to make it's debut with a blazing vengeance. Yesterday, at the first farmer's market of the season, the girls' and my cheeks were glowing a gorgeous red with the heat, and their hair was all curly and matted with sweat...we were oblivious. Grinning like fools with our arms weighted down with rainbow chard, red and sweet radishes, salad greens, new potatoes, cabbage, basil, local honey and strawberries. Hooray for fresh local food!!)

The heat has flipped the magical "grow!" switch in our garden, too, and all of a sudden, our zucchini plants have doubled in size, as have our royal bush beans, sunflowers, crookneck squash and delicata squash. My cucumbers have decided to survive their transplant shock and are putting on healthy new leaves, and our potato sack is ready for a new layer of dirt. The okra has actually finally started growing, to my great delight. The turnips are growing along nicely, the strawberries have decided to produce another round, and the Cherokee purple tomato vines have....TOMATOES ON THEM. :D I'm more than a little thrilled.

Here's a complete oddity: my strawberry box has decided to produce all sorts of random plants that have never grown in it. I found a tomato plant (which I accidentally pulled out; I replanted it, so we'll see what happens), some dill weed and a cilantro plant. NO idea what's going on there. We'll call it a blended, multi-species family.

I've spent the majority of my time in the garden boxes pulling out the weeds that have also decided to grow at breakneck speed. 3yo has learned which plants shouldn't be pulled, but 1yo enjoys ripping away at leaves with little discrimination, and then tries to feed the leaves to herself or me with equal abandon. I appreciate her enthusiam...her favorite part of garden work is when we harvest mint and lemon balm, as she likes for me to bruise the leaves so that she can sniff them adorably and noisily with her tiny button nose. ::swoon::

DD5yo is much more impressed with the shaded, manure-making end of gardening: her chickens and rabbits are her pride and joy. Super Spouse shares her feelings. The cornish-X "meaties" that we rescued are free-ranging in a fenced area in the wooded pen that houses the rabbit hutches on stilts, and our laying birds underneath. It's all bedded in pine straw and hay, with is making lovely compost material, especially under the rabbit hutches (the rabbit pellets make excellent fertilizer and also food for the chickens...win/win!)

We have about five hens (a barred rock and four Rhode Island Reds) that should be laying by end of summer, and a little flock of babies (cuckoo marans, araucana, buff orps, black sex link and wyandottes) that are feathering out really nicely. I won't lie about it...they're a ton of fun, and just as much pets as they are utilitarian.

Olive and our little black sex link are family favorites, being really sweet and liking to be stroked gently. I'm also fond of my little "mama's boy" RIR, who likes to follow me around everywhere.

5yo holding Olive.

Chicken/rabbit area!

Cornish-X's...a heckuva lot better than this, I think. Lucky chickens. :D

The kids' own radishes! They're beyond proud.

Communion (cross post from my food blog)

2010-05-26T07:06:00.000-07:00

Can I take a moment to tell you how lucky I am in food relationships?

My grandparents have been connected to much of their food source for as long as I remember, growing their meat, growing their vegetables, fishing. As soon as I could strap on my care bear shoes and toddle out to the river with my Snoopy and Woodstock rod and reel and orange life vest, my Papa has been sticking crickets onto hooks and showing me the best spots to drop in my line for fish. These were cooked that evening, along with cole slaw, green beans canned from some neighbor's garden, and hush puppies, the ultimate southern treat.

My parents had their own gardens through the years, and I've spent many a weeked morning watching my mom cut out perfect biscuits on the counter or show me how to estimate how much of what to throw in the pot as she "cooks on the fly". Thanks to my dad, I can flip a mean pancake and make a perfectly fluffy omelet. While I abhorred the thought of actually killing something for food myself, I remember enjoying quail and venison from his and his friends' hunting trips. In retrospect, I feel this did me a great favor, because I had an intimate understanding that the food came from somewhere, and it was a resource that could be depleted and should be respected. (I'd have otherwise gravitated towards believing that "meat" magically sprung up in styrofoam containers in the supermarket)

My brother is a veritable wizard in the kitchen, and lots of our best conversations have happened over chopped vegetables, kneading bread dough, stirring apple butter over a hot pan or rummaging through the cabinets for ingredients. To my great delight, my SIL is also a foodie, and we could all sit around and talk about food into the wee hours. Good times.

My spouse and I love cooking together...he's an excellent cook, and time spent in the kitchen is a welcome oasis in the sea of the mundane chores and jobs that parents of small children swim through every day. Our girls join in, too, measuring, dumping, stirring, licking beaters and bowls. It's a near bullet proof way to transform the energy of our house into something festive and nurturing and just plain fun.

Many, many times, when a child and I are at odds and can't find a common ground to connect, we go to the kitchen, don aprons, and set out to tackle a new recipe together. Voila! We're united by a common goal, and sympathetic love is found again.

And friends!! How we're gifted with friends who are talented and passionate about food, it's growth, it's preparation, enjoyment and sharing. Food collaboration is one of the best catalysts for important conversation, silly conversation, soul-searching and spontaneous sharing. I can't count the times I've sat pouring my heart at with my elbows on a kitchen table, while one of my friends makes crepes or mint tea or world class spaghetti. I even talk on the phone with friends and family while they cook, and somehow, the collective experience helps span the miles in an almost tangible way. After all, it's easy to imagine what a gorgeous piece of vegan chocolate cake or toast with goat cheese tastes like, and that sensory memory is a powerful connector.

And really, food really is all about relationships, isn't it? I submit that the communion and shared joy of sustaining life in a passionate way is the thing; nutrition, while important, is almost effortless once decent habits are in place.

A full belly is secondary...the fellowship is what keeps the fire of life going, for me.

The Big Question.

2010-05-24T13:26:00.000-07:00

Increasingly lately, when I'm met by acquaintances who don't know me particularly well, I'm met with the knowingly whispered question, "So, is she still nursing?"

This question always takes me a few moments to blink and compute:

They're talking about my 13 month old, not my 3yo.

I forget, sometimes, that, in our culture, we tend to feel rather accomplished and "done" once we've made it past the 6 month mark or so, and now, my youngest baby has now moved into "extended breastfeeding" territory.

This makes me cackle. She's still SO tiny to me, and since she's my third "extended" (by western standards) breastfeeding child, it just doesn't even cross my mind that others might consider her too old to breastfeed. It blows my mind, actually.

Why? My three year old still isn't weaned. ;OP She has her "Bye, Nursies" (OK, she calls them boobies, I won't lie) party all planned out: chocolate cake with rainbow sprinkles and an amber "milk and honey" necklace for her graduation. But she's not quite ready yet. And that's OK with me, although I'll rejoice along with her when she's ready to move on.

I've found that this knowledge produces a puzzlingly HUGE reaction from lots of people. I can't imagine why. The sexualization of the breastfeeding relationship is a modern invention, really, and though WHO's push to normalize nursing has caused breastfeeding to have a huge comeback, most women have been encouraged to make it to the one year mark because it's a fairly attainable goal and less overwhelming than 3-5 years. Hence, the idea that a year is a "normal" length of time to breastfeed a given child.

My guess? More women nurse their toddlers than they're willing to admit, because they're afraid of becoming social pariahs, or the stereotypical weirdo. The same can probably be said for co-sleeping and other cultural taboo practices.

The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that "Breastfeeding should be continued for at least the first year of life and beyond for as long as mutually desired by mother and child... Increased duration of breastfeeding confers significant health and developmental benefits for the child and the mother... There is no upper limit to the duration of breastfeeding and no evidence of psychologic or developmental harm from breastfeeding into the third year of life or longer." (AAP 2005)

My breastfeeding philosophy is that anything past a year that's fostering a healthy relationship between mother and small child should be encouraged, celebrated, and bid a joyful farewell as soon as either mother or child is ready to let it go. Period. No, I don't believe that breastfeeding toddlers and young preschoolers causes them to be more dependent or less confident (in healthy relationships, I've observed the opposite effect, actually).

I'm not militant about it, and it's not a practice I would ever desire to force upon anyone: every mother does the best she can for the child she has for the season she has them in. I also expect others to respect my mothering decisions for my (amazingly capable and precious! ;oP) daughters. If I can, I try my best to support other moms who are bravely doing what they feel their specific child needs, especially in the face of opposition.

http://breastfeedingonline.com/21pdf.pdf

http://www.kellymom.com/bf/bfextended/ebf-benefits.html#normality

http://www.llli.org/NB/NBextended.html

http://www.kathydettwyler.org/detwean.html

(Hathor comic courtesy of the fabulous Heather Cushman Dowdee)

Link me Up, Scotty.

2010-05-18T07:20:00.000-07:00

If there's one thing I've learned about eating local/organic, it's this (twofold, really):

-Eat what's available, and know what will likely be in season.

-Meal plan ahead of time so that you don't go nuts in-store and bring home $100 more than your budget dictates.

I know what will probably be available from gardens and greenhouses: kale, chard, tomatoes, cukes, peas, lettuces of all kinds, strawberries, rhubarb (still? I'm not sure), asparagus, and radishes.

However, I'm all out of ideas, and grocery day looms. Care to hit me with your best late spring recipe link?

Magnificent, Glorious Saturday.

2010-05-15T14:26:00.000-07:00

So, this morning, our family popped out of bed and headed outside, trying to beat the rainstorms that rolled in this afternoon.

After another attempted break-into our rabbit hutch pen by monsieur Neighbor's Dog caused us to take drastic measures! Nate dug holes for log posts to tightly mount the wire fencing to, and two lines of barbed wire above that, with heavy logs around the bottom base to discourage digging/squeezing under. (I'll post a picture soon!)

(Our pen situation is this: Our chicken tractor opens into the pen where the rabbit hutches are up on stilts in a shady wooded part of our yard, with hay and leaves spread around. Underneath the house, the rabbit pellets pine needles and grass pretty much compost themselves, and the chickens are free to roam around and do their

I spread rabbit manure into the tomato box, and thinned out the lettuce and greens, with the help of Baby Eva.

A bit later, our good friends came over and one of them showed us how to can strawberry jam, which will be my project for next week. I bought two gallons of local strawberries earlier this week (our little patch is young and good for only a couple of quarts this year), and those were destined for the freezer to use later this year in smoothies and such when they aren't seasonal. We have 10 quarts of strawberries in our freezer. It's a happy, heady feeling, seeing all those red bags all lined up in a row.

The jam is a.maz.ing. It's red and seedy and lovely, and it tastes like late spring spread on toast. I may try to make English muffins later this week to go with it. My baby's hands smell like strawberry jam and her hair smells like mid-May baby sweat. I'm rather blissed out.

(here's a good tip our friend shared with us: spread the berries out on a cookie sheet before freezing them,and then transfer the individual frozen berries into the storage bags. This way, when you open the bag later, you don't end up with one big berry-brick...nice, eh?)Here's the berry freezing party I had while Nate and I watched Lost the other night.

I love Tennessee at this time of year. One of my favorite things to do is drive around with my girls in the back seat with the windows down through the countryside, on some errand or another. This week we went in search of strawberry stands and to pick up a couple Buff Orpington chicks and two Blue Laced Red Wyandottes.

We like to sing show tunes at the tops of our lungs with the windows down, and even Eva tries to join in and catches a word here and there, with the warm wind whipping our hair around as we drive up and down the hills in the farmland outside the city limits. It makes me very happy. The only thing that makes it happier is when Nate is able to come with us.

I need professional help, people. Chickens are addictive. We now have three Cuckoo Marans, two Barred Plymouth Rocks, one Black Sex Link, a handful of Rhode Island Reds, one Araucana, five Buff Orpingtons (three of which we may gift to friends), one silver laced Wyandotte Banty, and two Blue Laced Red Wyandottes.

A few of them are roos, and since we certainly don't need more than one (if that), they'll be destined for the pot or for sale. Our end total of birds will be something like 18. ::swoon:: They're such lovely animals; not at all the dirty creatures I'd once imagined.

My favorite so far is a sweet RIR/mutt with willow green legs, whom I've dubbed "Olive". She lets me pet her, and is very gentle. Chickens. :grin:

Religious

2010-05-14T07:23:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine had this on her blog...I enjoyed it immensely, and thought I'd share.

Middle Child in need of attention.

2010-05-12T06:06:00.000-07:00

My 3yo demands (while standing on my bed), "Mooom, look how much I've grown!! Look, I said!!" She looks on for my response in expectation and a little frustration, balancing on her tip-toes on the mattress, her purple romper all eschew from laundry-pile jumping.

Finally, I glance up and fake interest when I say, "Oh, yeah! Look at that! Cool!" I go back to reading.

This was not the desired response, apparently, because she said with furrowed brow, "I said, I'm TALL!!!" Her eyes wide open, her little fists clenched into desperate little balls and her whole body buzzing with anticipation. Clearly, this child needs recognition, requiring me to break concentration. Ah, well. I go into over-the-top mode, gesticulating in a spastic manner: "Oh, WOW!!! You're a giant! Whoa, DUDE!! You've grown like a crazy wild sunflower overnight, and it's a MIRACLE!!"

She smiles shyly, rolls her giant eyes and murmurs gently, "It is." :D

The middle child's proverbial love tank is full.

Mommy's Law.

2010-05-11T06:46:00.001-07:00

So, yesterday, I had a stomach bug. Or I ate something that didn't agree with me on Mothers Day. It's possible that I just ate way more than normal. At any rate, I was miserable. Nate took a personal day and hauled the girls to the last day of kindermusik while I napped with Eva. That was really nice, though it threw off my Monday routine groove. I was grateful.

Mommy's law, which is 10.47 times more potent than Murphy's, dictates that as soon as mommy starts feeling the tiniest bit better, all hell must break loose in order to ensure that she makes up for the time she lost. Such was the case last night.

The girls tore into the house from Kindermusik, waving their last day "dethrombas" (diplomas) in the air, and my time as a sickie ended. We hopped in the car and drove to pick up two doe New Zealand bunnies to replace the one's that the neighbor's german shepherd (curses muttered) annihilated. I also picked up some computer paper on the way home.

I felt plenty well enough to make dinner, and so I set about making spaghetti and fried eggplant with asiago. I was interrupted by a spouse frantic that one of the rabbits was trying to assassinate another, a screeching knock-down drag-out between two tired little girls, a distraught bub who is teething her canine teeth and a cat determined to move her babies into the girls' bookcase. Joy.

The evening ended with a 3yo saying (standing in a puddle in the kitchen) "Somtimes, drinking water makes me pee REALLY FAST!", the 5yo running into the puddle and slipping to the floor hard (despite her father's traffic cop-style gestures to slow down), and while we were trying to help HER out of the yellow pool on the tile...

...the 3yo repeated the performance and ended up sobbing in the floor beside her sisters. The baby was crying to get out of the high chair, the 5yo was wailing in a puddle of pee, and the 3yo was doing the same...I quipped after booboo bears had been applied, "Well, if it isn't the slip-PEE sisters!" 5yo belly laughed. (she likes corny word play these days).

I put the pee-and-spaghetti caked girls in the bathtub, where 3yo announced "I almost pooped in the tub." Oh, really? Did you? Let's go on the potty right away! "Well, I already did. I almost pooped in the tub, but I caught it in my hand and threw in it the potty. Isn't that gweat, mom?" ::skeeve:: "Mommy? I forgot to eat my strawberries. Can I go eat them and then finish my bath?"

Eh. Why not? It'll give me time to fish Eva's piece of shortcake out of the bathtub. :P

Letter to my tiny women.

2010-05-10T10:05:00.000-07:00

My girls.

Every day I'm completely humbled and delighted to observe what amazing individuals each of you are. I marvel. I'm dazzled. I'm made breathless by your tiny-woman tenacity, your bravery, your intelligence, your compassion, your fierceness and your nurture.

You're tiny little she-people, and I'll admit that some days I get up intimidated at the task of raising you, and some days, I wake up and grin stupidly like a teen that's just been kissed for the first time over the fact that I get to spend the day with you. Some days, both.

Being a girl is a tricky thing, and I'll tell you why: we're powerful, and everyone knows it. Our bodies are shape-shifters, morphing as life demands. Our hearts are violently protective and exquisitely compassionate. Our minds can work like trees...like power lines, making connections between emotion, intuition and intellect in ways that defy convention, and we can have all of these things knocked out by breakfast.

One of our greatest strengths is that we're willing to be made vulnerable in order to sustain life and care for those who are completely helpless. Both men and women have exploited this gift in countless ways over thousands of years, rather than honoring life, and have twisted the powerful gift to look like weakness. This, dear ones, is a lie.

We are not weak, loves. We are fantastically strong, in body, mind and heart. Willingness to be tied to the fate of the vulnerable is not weak, dear ones. It is honorable, wise and good, though the temptation is to blame ourselves as weak (we are not) or to see those who depend on us as shackles (they are not). This world's conscience and wisdom are weak. We are not.

Because it's easy to have sex, but hard to birth and nurture a child, we are the target of many opinions, because we are the life-holders. Everyone and their aunt Louise has an opinion about everything from what kind of toilet paper we should use to our destiny and purpose in life. They would seek to define what sort of behavior makes one a "lady", what sort of things we should take interest in, what sorts of limitations we should accept. Women and men are equally guilty of this, loves, and with different agendas. Don't assume that every cage comes in predictable form.

There have always been those among us who think critically, and who inspire courage when a freedom becomes a convention, and the wings given to us become fetters.

Balance has come in waves like the tide, with a push and pull of opinions about what women should or shouldn't do, how much power we should or shouldn't have, how many children we should or shouldn't have, and how we should raise them, if at all. Everyone wants a piece of our lives. Everyone would like to own us, because we hold the future, in our wombs and arms and breasts.

When your great, great grandmother was a girl, women put lipstick on and marched into the streets as a statement of independent thinking. When your great grandmother was a girl, "nice" girls wore makeup and pretty dresses and vacuum cleaners. Then came the hippies, who won back women's right to not wear makeup or a bra. Then came women who donned their power suits and broke the glass ceiling at work.

Your great, great, great grandmother had her children at home, no doubt. You great grandmother was medicated into a stupor for her births. Your grandma was wide awake and proud for hers, and your own mama chose to have you at home. And so we continue to come full circles, again and again, as others tell us what's "best" for the ones we hold dear, we answer out of hope or fear, and then reap the harvest of our choices.

There's a push and pull, like waves of the ocean, calling us into balance, calling us to nurture, calling us to freedom, calling us, calling us...

Each new wave brings an element that was lost in the last, bringing life back to order, back to balance. The moon, who governs so much of our biology, also calls a sea of women to wash away harsh ideas and damage done like yesterday's sand castle on the beach. One scarcely recedes before the next crashes on it's heels in response.

Whatever wave you find yourself a part of, whatever part of balance you play in history, whichever path you chose, I pray with all my soul that you make it out of an independent mind, out of your unique intuition, and from a heart that feels no restraint from guilt. May you find your own unique voice in it all, and may you retain a pure, strong thread of Self and self-understanding as the waves crash over and over throughout your lifetime.

Trust your heart, dear ones. When in doubt, throw away all fear and all guilt and do what your instinct tells you to do. Understand that you needn't discard everything that makes you distinctly and wildly "woman" in order to count for something. Understand that you needn't let someone else define what makes a good woman for you, precious hearts. Be fluid, be flexible, be willing to flow like the waves of the ocean when you must.

If, in your moments of peace, your heart is happy and full, and if your spirit is singing, then you are being all you were meant to be. Wherever you are along that journey, as long as you're traveling, your mama will be so proud of you.

To all mothers, daughters and sons!

2010-05-08T16:37:00.000-07:00

My beautiful mother, mother-in-law, and grandmothers especially, and all my precious friends...I love you.

Oh, love.

2010-05-07T21:56:00.000-07:00

Is anything as sweet as little chubby one year old hands wrapped around my wrist, the soft rise and fall of a sleepy tummy beside me, and the damp, salty loveliness of tiny toddler hair in the wee hours of summer? I can't imagine that there can be.

Her mama stays constantly love-drunk and head over heels. It's that age when they can amble over with little feet that teeter in a determined "plop plop plop" across the floor until they reach you, then look up and say "Mama!! Hiiiiiiiiii!" with a finger in their mouth. And when I pick her up, she either melts across my chest with a peaceful, contented little look, or grins and grits with all her many teeth and tries to squeeze every last drop of mama love from me from her fingers to toes. My heart melts in ways I can't even put in words. I'm so pleased to be so lucky to be her mommy. I did nothing to deserve it, but here she is.

I'm so smitten. ::heart::

So I'm doing Weight Watchers, and I'm sugar crashing.

2010-05-06T09:16:00.000-07:00

I am hopelessly addicted to sugar.

I've pulled off post-baby weight 2.5 times now, and every time, I owe my success to some kind of mindful eating (I honestly don't think it matters WHAT, as long as it consists of decent protein, low sugar and lots of fresh vegetables and fruit for fiber). Each time, I find something that I can substitute for sugar for that "I'm so tired and stressed and desperate for some form of edible relief" part of my day. It's not that I'm not full. It's totally psychological. At the end of the day, I have a hard time feeling rewarded for surviving diapers, cleaning, parenting, nursing, fight-breaking, planning, cooking, etc, without something...treat-y.

With Essie, it was rice cakes and hot tea (and less stress ;P). With Naomi, it was Emergen-C and avocados.

This time...I can't find anything that works. ::hissyfit::

Iced herbal tea is helping a bit. After that, I'm at a loss. I've got nothing. My creativity is ka-put, as evidenced by the fact that I just used the work "ka-put".

Help?

First food of the season! :D

2010-05-02T10:57:00.000-07:00

Our strawberries are getting ripe! Hurrah. :D My parents gave us these babies from their garden after theirs multiplied all over their raised bed, and they're already prolific, if small. The girls opted to wait until more are ripe tomorrow, so we could make another strawberry shortcake. I may have secretly consumed one. I also might have really enjoyed eating a warm, ripe strawberry in the cool sprinkler while they weren't looking. Joy!!

Also, that (insert bad word that's not even yet been invented) fox came back in broad daylight with us in the yard, and stole a chicken. This is war. I'll invent a bad word just for this occasion.

Words in the running are:

Ferquad
Narfnuggin
Fugwunker
Snassbass
Stingmunkfinker

I'm also a fan of Nerf-herder, Gorram and Frak, for you sci-fi buffs.

Cue the music.

Boggis and Bunce and Bean
One fat, one short, one lean
These horrible crooks
So different in looks
Were nonetheless equally mean.

The cute factor here is ridiculous this month.

2010-05-01T11:42:00.000-07:00

I apologize for this ahead of time. After this, you might feel the need to squeeze something small and fluffy, or, if you have a weak stomach, you shouldn't look at all. You can call me and yell, if you like. (Still, there are no newborn *humans* here, so that itself should earn me some cool points...no people baby fever. ;P )