A Week of Clean

Oh! I spent a luxurious weekend with my sister and her family, eating copious amounts of amazing food, drinking cold wine and coolers, and reading. A lot. A whole novel, in one day to be exact. Roberta Rich's "The Midwife of Venice"...get thee to a bookstore if you haven't read it, but make sure you book childcare so you can dive right in!

Now I'm feeling bloated, and my suspicion that I share my son's (and my sister's) intolerance to gluten is staring me in the face...or rather, punching me in the gut.

I've had the busiest two months of my life, and that is really saying something. My skin looks dull and my eyes look baggy.

So, starting tomorrow, I am going to begin my week of CLEAN...clean eating, exercising a bit, and getting into bed by 9 p.m. I'm only booking a week so as not to overwhelm myself!

I have this habit of rebelling against any expectations/restrictions I place on myself. Basically, I say, "F you!" ...to myself whenever I try to eat healthily, exercise regularly, or sleep more. Like my intelligent, intuitive self that is saying "You'll feel better, you'll lose weight and get fit, you might even LIVE LONGER!" is some controlling parent, and my ego is the cocky teenager that says, "You're not the boss of me!!"

Okay, I know teenagers probably say ruder things than that to their parents nowadays. But you get the picture.

I sabotage myself.

Just visit http://www.controlfreakproject.blogspot.com/ to follow my determined path from January 1st...when I declared that this is IT, I'm DEFINITELY losing weight, getting my finances in order, and decluttering my house!! Back then, I had six months till my brother's wedding, sort of a halfway goal. Then it was seven weeks. Then one week. I knew when the wedding was 3 days away that I was sunk, at least in terms of that goal.

My dear friend Maureen is kicking ASS when it comes to transforming herself, and I am so inspired by her, but in a faraway, good-for-her-but-I-could-never-do-that kind of way. The funny thing is, she told me recently that she was inspired by my weight-loss in the fall (when I was tremendously busy and stressed)...ha!

SO. Here I am. It's the first week of July, and the summer is spread out before me like a pretty picnic blanket. And I have set some more goals for myself:

• eat healthy
• exercise
• go to bed early
• be nice to yourself!!

It's only for a week. We'll see how I feel after that, and maybe I'll just continue. But only if I don't nag myself...


Wish me luck. Again.

I Choose Love

Fear has many disguises. It is a shape-shifter. On any given day, it can appear in my life as

• rage
• disgust
• anxiety
• judgement
• anger
• self-loathing
• negativity
• despair
• grief
• hatred
• defensiveness

The list could go on and on. But these are the guises in which fear most appears in my life. I once read that all human emotions can be divided into two groups: fear, or love.

Think about it. When you have that knot of anxiety (for me, it's in my upper abdomen/solar plexus; in my husband, it's his teeth that hurt when he feels anxious), poke at it a bit. Like your tongue probing the gap left behind by a just-lost tooth, it's a bit morbid to explore pain; it hurts. But it's hard to stop yourself, too.

If you just breathe through it, like breathing through a contraction, you'll see that surface emotion beginning to unfurl, revealing the base of it all.

Fear.

I'm tired of feeling fearful. Fear of the future, fear of not having enough money, fear of being "stuck" here with my children all summer without a vehicle, fear of something bad happening to my loved ones, fear of being clung to and depended on, fear of failing, fear of succeeding, fear of being overweight for the rest of my life, fear of not fulfilling my potential, fear of clutter.

Did I say I'm tired of feeling fearful?

I'm EXHAUSTED. It takes a lot of energy. That fear needs feeding and daily nurturing. It needs negative self-talk. It needs the encouragement I give it when I give in to it.

I read the book I mentioned above (I can't for the life of me remember its title) when I was in the newest stages of love with my husband. We read it together, and marvelled at the simplicity of it:

Choose love.

Choose love.

There have been moments in my life as a wife and mother where I scoffed at the over-simplicity of that concept. Sure, I could choose love when I made enough money to cover our cheap rent, when I had time to exercise and meditate, when the future lay ahead of us like a treasure map. Like the bloom of first love, it faded into the mediocrity of every-day-living.

There's just so much more to fear now, with three little people depending upon me, with my heart walking outside my body in the form of my children.

But I've recently come to realise that all of the things I long for: a peaceful, clutter-free home, harmonious children, a passionate and connected relationship with my husband...are within my reach.

When I get angry at my children, it is easy to blame THEM: they're aggravating, they make too many messes, they are so DEMANDING!

When I am frustrated with my husband, it is easy to blame HIM: he's forgetful, he's self-centred, he doesn't earn enough money, he doesn't take care of his car.

I'm tired of all this blame. I'm remembering something I once knew:

It's not them. It's me.

I'm afraid. Mostly I'm afraid of not having control in my life.

But I've made a decision, because I've remembered in a deep place within my soul what once made perfect sense to me.

I have a choice.

Starting today, I choose love.

I choose love.

Enjoy the Show

When the winter days get too long, and the temperature drops too low, mamas have to delve into their creative bags of tricks (or sewing baskets) to help pass the time. On one such day last week, we made sock puppets. Each of my children chose what they wanted, and got to help out with a few stitches.

Margot got a doggie (note my hand-clamp on her wrist to keep the thing still for a photo!)

Jude wanted a monster (complete with purple horns and craaaazy eyes),

and Violet chose a duck (hand-clamp again...that duck just didn't want to keep still!)

By some stroke of luck, I happened to have a yellow sock in my drawer.

The real fun began when the puppet show was performed, a plotless, convoluted thing that involved lots of squeaky voices and puppets biting each other. I imagine that as our puppet supply increases, we'll attempt performing actual stories. Or maybe tomorrow's pass-the-time activity will be writing a story about a duck, a dog, a monster, and the mother who loves them.

No tutorial here. Just get any old sock. Pull in the toe and secure with a stitch to create the mouth. Cut out ears/teeth/tongues/appendages from felt; sew on. Sew on buttons for eyes. Your child does not care how unprofessional your sewing is. She'll stick her hand in a marvel at how moving her hand causes the puppet to talk. She'll talk back to her new friend. Feel proud of yourself.

Then sit back and enjoy the show.

Everywoman: She Who Wants to Do It All

I need a new mantra. I need to look at the faces of my husband and kids and remember that they're enough, that I don't have to fill my life up with time-clutter.

Here's what my weekend looks like:

We're participating in Eganville's first (hopefully annual) "Celebrating Our Game Day", an event that hopes to bring together lovers of both hockey and the arts. All day long, there will be hockey played by all ages and abilities at the local arena, while live music is enjoyed upstairs. My husband will be involved as both a hockey player and a musician. I will also be performing. So I am in my bedroom at the moment, guitar sitting beside me, blogging instead of coming up with a set list. I'm anxious about it. Margot will not take well to me being front and centre, without being able to climb onto my lap. This has been an ongoing issue since I had kids. It's only a half hour, but still...

My husband plays at 6 p.m., and since he's new to the sport, he'd really like us all to watch. I WANT to watch. But I got a call this week that a Mass will be said in memory of my Grandma, TODAY at 5:30. You can see the problem. I want to represent our family at the Mass. The idea of dragging three tired kids and keeping them quiet for 45 minutes or so is not so tempting.

I'll bring them home, get them to bed, pick up the babysitter, then head out to tonight's "Hootenanny" (where the hockey players will play music at a local restaurant)...

Did I mention that I'm a Kindergarten teacher? And that my report cards are due next Wednesday? It took me two full days just to finish the reports for my Junior Kindergartens. Now I'm trying to figure out...when to do the Seniors' reports?

Oh, did I mention that I'm hosting a knitting gathering here tomorrow, to teach some friends how to get started on a Scrap Cardigan?

This morning I felt frustrated because Margot is clingy and cranky. She has a cough and might be teething, and had two days in daycare this past week. She's likely overtired. I'm overtired. And I was frustrated with her because I wanted to: write a blogpost, practise my music, read this terrific book I'm into, work on my report cards, get a handle on Mount Washmore (my laundry pile). I couldn't get away from her. When I get frustrated like this, my husband gets anxious and starts offering to withdraw from the things he'd planned to do today.

Until I finally acknowledged the truth. I want to do too much.

Declutter. Lose weight. Exercise. Write. Blog. Perform. Craft. Be an amazing mother. Pour my heart into my classroom and students. Farm. Knit. Read. Plan my garden. Keep in touch with friends.

And then I'm upset with myself when I can't pull it all together. And on top of that, I beat myself up for the fact that I'm looking tired, a little rumpled in the face (I am approaching my 37th birthday after all), and am starting to go grey at the temples.

Enough!

The new mantra might sound something like this:

I don't have to be everything, all the time, to everyone. I don't have to always do all the things I'm good at. It's okay to sit on the couch reading nursery rhymes for hours. It's okay to say no to requests for performances.

I could pare it down a bit. I'll work on that...maybe add it to my to-do list.

Sometimes I need a little reality check. This morning was it. I need these regular reminders to say no sometimes. So after this crazy weekend is done, I'm going to make a new list:

1. Say YES to playtime with my kids.
2. Hug my husband at least 4 times a day.
3. Get more sleep.
4. Exercise.
5. Say NO to anything unrelated to my family or my job.
6. Read and knit if time allows.

Blogging can wait. The laundry isn't going anywhere. I'll see you here when I see you.

Dust of Snow

Dust of Snow

The way a crow

Shook down on me

The dust of snow

From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart

A change of mood

And saved some part

Of a day I had rued.

~Robert Frost

The Homestead, Winter 2009-2010

I like to think I'm outdoorsy, when in reality, I am the one knitting by the fire, sipping coffee laced with something boozy, napping and hoping the real outdoorsy folk are enjoying the snowy weather. I imagine the future, when my husband will take the kids out skiing or skating, leaving me at home to read and knit in peace and warmth. I want them to be outdoorsy..."do as I say, not as I do", indeed!

In spite of the momentous task of dressing three little ones in snowsuits, I always say "Yes", when my kids ask to play out in the snow. I squeeze myself into my snow pants (pre-children snow pants, hence the squeezing!) and venture out. Inevitably, I enjoy myself. I slide down the hill. I make a snow angel. I lie down on my back and imagine the drifting flakes are tiny fairies, just as I used to when I was a little girl. My mood is invariably lifted by the simplicity of playing in the snow with my kids.

Looking at these faces always cheers me up, too!

We've been blessed with a mild winter so far, and have only had to have our lane way plowed three or four times. We've been able to keep the chicken coop door open during the day, and are managing to collect both chicken and duck eggs daily without them freezing first. The mild weather also means that their water doesn't freeze every night.

I always dread the idea of the birds being locked up tight all winter (being mildly claustrophobic), so seeing them emerging gingerly to peck around in the snow has done my heart good! It looks like our wood is going to last us through till Spring; only 10 weeks to go till the Equinox! It's likely that we'll still be using the wood stove well into April, to ward off those chilly Spring evenings.

For now we're hunkering down, and making the best of being Canadian in the wintertime. It is almost unimaginable that in 6 months we'll be outside in bare feet, surrounded by green and growing things, heading to the beach, getting sunburns and bug bites, and enjoying campfires well into the evening. I've always loved the wonderful variety of seasons we have in Ontario; just when you think you can't bear another moment of one season, the next is upon us.

For now, I'll settle in with some hot chocolate and my seed catalogues, knit a few more cozy items, and enjoy the rest of the winter.

Mama's Elves

Sigh. You know that sigh, the one you may suppress each time your children follow the question "What are you doing, mommy?" with "Can I help?". The sigh that suggests the indicated task just might get done in less time, with less mess, if you could just do it yourself...

I've done a lot of sighing this Christmas season. Untangling lights. Decorating the tree. Making gifts and cards. Wrapping said gifts. But I almost always say yes. This is what memories are made of, after all.

My older sister, wise woman that she is, told me to let myself off the hook when it comes to baking this year. She suggested I go and BUY cookies! They're cheap, they're good, and my kids don't really know the difference yet. I may follow her up on that suggestion, but it just wouldn't feel like Christmas here without at least one batch of sugar cookies.

You can tell that I copied this down as my mom dictated it to me over the phone! Here it is in clearer language:

Cream together 1 cup Crisco shortening and 1 cup white sugar. Then add 1 egg, slightly beaten, and 1 tsp. vanilla extract.

In a separate bowl, combine 2 1/2 cups flour, 2 tsp. cream of tartar, 1 tsp. soda,, and 1/2 tsp salt.

Mix two bowls together. Roll to about 1/4 inch thick, cut, and bake at 325 degrees F for 10 minutes. Cool on rack, then decorate with icing sugar/water glaze (add colour if you wish). Go crazy with the sprinkles!

While you bake, allow your toddler to hang off the pockets of your jeans.

And allow your preschooler to "paint her nails" with the icing, then lick it all off.

Finally, give full creative license to your little decorators!

A memory we'll cherish in years to come, because once again, (albeit through gritted teeth), I said yes.

Cabin in the Woods

I'm aware that some people's idea of hell would be a weekend spent with their whole family in a cabin in the woods, with no cell reception, internet, or television.

Still, it has been a long-held dream of mine to escape the commercialism and busyness of Christmas Present, and find a cabin in which to celebrate a version of Christmas Past. Back in August, I contacted Carole Van Massenhoven of Twin Wheels Farm, and after a brief "what do you think?" email to my siblings and parents, to which everyone replied, "yes", I booked a cabin for a weekend in faraway December.

Well, December arrived, and we were thrilled to have snow for our early-Christmas gathering. Mom and I landed in first, with my kids, to find a beautiful, open-concept, sunny and clean space in which to celebrate. The woodstove was burning merrily and we set about putting away food, claiming bedrooms, and settling in.

Then came all the ingredients that pulled our weekend together into a perfect memory:

Hugs for each safe arrival;

a simple, natural tree in a corner;

a selection of hand-knit hats;

boots, mittens, and hats left to dry by the fire;

an energetic aunt who carried the little ones up the hill again and again;

a table big enough to seat all of us at once, made by Carole's husband Joe from a tree that grew in their yard;

post-meal snoozing;

and of course, lots of board- and card-games to pass the evenings.

To those looking in from "out there", I know this seems more than idyllic; you see a perfect family, happy together, healthy and perfectly content. And I will admit, that for this one weekend, we were that family. It may have been the fact that no one drank excessively (as we used to do when we were younger!) or that we were forced to just be together, with nowhere else to go, no hockey games to watch on television, and no interruptions by phone or email. The children got along beautifully, and were so peaceful. My theory is that they had the full, undivided attention of the grownups they love; what could be more satisfying for a child than the security of being surrounded by trusted adults? There was no rushing around, and no distractions. When they wanted to play a game, we did. When they wanted to read 10 Christmas storybooks in a row, we did.

The word for the weekend was "yes", and as always, I'm amazed at the power of that one little word.

Stay tuned for more details of our magical weekend...

Saying Yes, and More Handmades...

My thoughts have been leaning towards the possibility of an internet-free December. My reasons are many and varied. You know those days where you wish you had just one extra hour in the day? Well, I don't know about you, but I certainly spend at least an hour on the internet each day. By the time the pictures load on my blog, or I check and comment on everyone's facebook status updates, an hour has passed. Or I go on for "just a minute" several times a day. Before I know it, those minutes add up to an hour.

So, what would I do if I was granted an extra hour in my day?
::play with my kids
::nap
::bake cookies
::sew/knit/paint/write/quilt
::write a letter
::do a bit of housework that I never seem to get to
::sort through a still-unpacked-after-our-move-two-years-ago box
::talk to my husband
::lie in bed and read
::and so on and so on

It all became glaringly clear to me today while I was creating these little folk for a craft class we're teaching tomorrow:

Nativity peg-people!

I was enjoying the process of bringing this wee Mary and Joseph to fruition, when Violet came in and sat beside me. There was a time when I regularly crafted with my kids and patiently taught them to do some version of what I was doing. Lately, though, my crafting time is limited and I quickly shuffle them off to less messy endeavours. She watched quietly for a moment, then lovingly picked up Joseph. So I asked her, "Do you want to make one?" Her little face lit up. I let her choose the colours, and helped her sew a heart on to her "guy's" cape. As she worked she kept saying, "You're teaching me how to do this, mommy? You're my teacher?"

I'm so proud of those tiny stitches made by a 3-year-old's hands!

She painted on a face, then decided she wanted the whole head purple...

I thought of that extra hour. I looked upon the pride and joy on that little girl's face, and reflected upon the many opportunities I could have to teach her things a small child might want to know, without hurrying her on to less messy things. I found a well of patience I thought had been lost to me. I am thankful for this moment of grace, and plan to add many of them together to make up an hour a day to nurture my children's spirits.

December will be a quiet month at The Knitty Gritty Homestead, at least in its blog space. I'll post occasionally as inspiration nudges me, but I will choose my moments carefully.

How would YOU spend an extra hour in your day? Where might you find one?

Before the Long Dark

November is decidedly upon us, with its colour scheme of grey and brown, its withering and fading away of colour. As we get the last of the wood in, set more mousetraps, and prepare to nestle in for the winter, getting outside to play in rubber boots and sweaters takes on a new urgency. Yesterday we had a spontaneous lunch in the potting shed, with milky tea, cheese and crackers, salsa and chips, and some homemade ginger crackle cookies (will share recipe next week!). We enjoyed the warmth of the sun through the windows, the ease of running in and out without the armour of snow-clothes, and the pleasure of each others' company.

Irish-farmer-Jude.

Bengal Spice Tea.

Margot's inevitable spillage...

This window seat is a perfect fit for this little body.

Now and again I need the reminder to make hay while the sun shines, as they say, and just go out to PLAY...the imminent winter is a good enough excuse (if one was needed!) to get out and enjoy the last days of Autumn.

Culinary Adventures

They say that one of the hardest things to say is "I'm sorry".

If this is true, then the second hardest thing to say is "Yes".

There are so many appropriate reasons to say no. No, you can't watch another movie. No, you can't eat hotdogs for every meal. No, playing with a saw is not safe.

But let's face it: often we say no just to save ourselves the mess we know will ensue when they ask to play with glue, paint, and glitter. Or because it would be so much quicker to make pancakes or wash dishes without their help.

Still, sometimes you are granted a moment's grace, where you realise that every quest of a child, no matter how messy or annoying, is an opportunity for them to learn, create, and grow.

So when Jude asked to make soup, I said "Yes".

Go get your cookbooks and a pen, now, because I know you're going to want to write this down. In a small saucepan, combine grapes, bread, blueberries, rice milk, some Cheerios, and a healthy dose of sea salt. Make up the quantities as you go.

After much stirring and tweaking, Jude decided he wanted to eat his concoction for dinner. Good mama that I am (it was actually a bit of a struggle for me), I said, "Yes". Then along came the hardest request to say yes to: "Want to try some, mommy?"

But I did. I tasted it. It was sweet. And very salty. I managed to avoid consuming any of the solid, floaty things. Not to be outdone, daddy (who is a bit squeamish about certain textures of food) tried it. Even Violet, the picky eater of the family, gamely gave it a try.

 

Here's what she thought: 

Jude asked for a "side" of spaghetti, which is what the rest of us were eating. He was so proud of his creation, and delighted that we all tried it. He'll never know that we were all lying through our teeth when we said, "Yum!" What he'll remember is one word:

Yes.

Black and White Wednesday: Another Installment of "Say Yes".

Around the time we were expecting daddy to get home, we went outside on this foggy late afternoon; it had rained all day and it was our first foray outdoors. Jude found an inviting puddle and soon had his hands clenched around balls of mud. I said, "Get muddy, Jude!". The girls were drawn away from their own outdoor pursuits by his glee, and soon stripped down to the waist to join in the messy fun.

Jumping in mud puddles in late September? Yes!

My favourite of all the photos taken this day: Margot, ever chasing after

her longer-legged, fleeter-of feet siblings.

And the race back to the deepest puddle.

Daddy's car is spotted, so Jude moves Margot out of harm's way.

Daddeeeeeeee!

The bravest of daddies flinch not at the threat of mud on

their work pants; the wisest know that these hugs are precious,

and fleeting...

Please pop by Natural Suburbia to see more Black and White Wonders!