Summer Rhythm

Small children thrive on structure. I've known babes who sleep anywhere and anytime. I occasionally veered from our sleep routines, but felt it was important for my babes (AND for me) to be well-rested, at home and in their own beds.

Not that I avoid spontaneity...I love an impromtu road trip or visit. I was thrilled to find that Margot (who has been the least flexible of my children) was happy to sleep in a Pack and Play while visiting my sister last weekend! My children love to be surprised, and are flexible when our day involves events that are out of their routine...they also love sleepovers at Nanny and Papa's house, or at their Aunts' homes.

But here I am, facing summer; my husband is gone for 10 hours a day, and so far I am without wheels (he has my van, as his car finally gave up the ghost and we're still looking for a replacement). I knew that a visual schedule would be as useful to me as to my children.

I'd created these little cards on a program called "Boardmaker", and use them every day in my classroom. There are children who fly by the seat of their pants all day, and others who want to know: what are we doing next? After a few weeks of directing them to the class schedule, they begin using it independently to ease their transitions from one activity to the next, or to figure out if it's lunch time or snack time.

This 'schedule' is not written in stone, of course. But it's cool to see Violet consulting it and saying, "Time to get dressed!" or "Can we paint now?" Snacks and meals are dictated more by hunger than the time on the clock, and outside play is spontaneous...the more the better!

My children seem calmer somehow, with a visual reminder of what was already our daily rhythm. A visual schedule also allows your child to talk about their day when your spouse returns from work. Sequencing events is an early reading strategy; the more you get your child talking about events in order (how to make a sandwich, the main events in a familiar story, or the rhythm of their day) the better. Model the use of "first, next, then, last" as often as possible.

Without a vehicle, I find I need to plan a little more, particularly when it comes to meals...no more running out to the grocery store for a forgotten ingredient. The beauty and order of this little meal plan astounds disorganised me, and has added such an element of CALM to my day...I've completely eliminated my daily, "What the HELL am I making for dinner tonight??" rant. It's even allowed me to make some food the night before which has made for a happier, more engaged mama. I imagine this will also really help with our tighter summer budget, and will be a habit I carry into the school year.

Jude, at age 6, has a more developed concept of time. Still, he has been asking me EVERY DAY, "Do I have school tomorrow?" I finally found these pages from a desk calendar to show him July and August. I reiterated (for the 100th time) that school is done, that summer is two whole months of soccer, swimming lessons, visiting, and play! I've filled in important events that are written on my kitchen calendar (if they are pertinent to him)...like seeing "The Lion King" on July 16th! I fill it out by the week so as not to overwhelm him, and will "x" out the days as they pass. You could also add symbols to keep track of the weather (a sun, a cloud, a raindrop, a lightning bolt!), and graph them at the end of the month.

These little reminders of the hours and days passing, and the rhythm of our summer, help me to live in each moment, and to plan ahead to the days and weeks to come.

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.

The Wonder Times

In the quiet of the early morning, I slipped outside in my nightgown, rubber boots, and a cozy sweater to hide a few more eggs before the children awoke.

When I came back inside I was struck by the peace and quiet in this sunrise-lit space. So often it is cluttered, surfaces covered in spills and crumbs, yarn and toys. So often it contains the whispers of princesses conspiring with the pirate chief, the cries of wounded feelings, the loud negotiations for a coveted toy. This is truly a Living Room. It is the place where we play, rest, create, argue, veg out, make music, read stories, cuddle, and imagine. It is so rare that it looks this serene and orderly.

Eggs added splashes of colour here,

and there.

Magical creatures

and a guardian frog kept watch over the Easter treats waiting for my children to wake up.

Soon, we all ventured outside. A quick reminder to the oldest child to let the littler ones find some eggs, and they were off with shouts of glee and discovery.

This oldest child is always so considerate of his little sisters, guiding them to where the eggs were hidden.

The littlest one shows off her Easter booty!

Watching them, I was aware of the fleetingness of this time in our lives, when all three of our children "believe"; they have heard no rumours of whether or not our magical friends really exist, and as of yet, there are no arguments about what an older kid told them about these invisible purveyors of Christmas gifts, Easter eggs, and tooth money.

These are the Wonder Times, and, like that rare quiet moment alone in our Living Room, I have the good sense to pause and truly enjoy them.  

I know they won't last forever.

On this late winter afternoon, I am:

.:getting out my seed catalogues and planning this summer's garden

.:finishing up a knitted bit of this and that

.:reading some amazing new books with the kids

.:kindling love and passion in my relationship

.:feeling grateful for my intuition

and

.:taking a wee break from this space.

Other projects and people need my energy and attention right now.

See you when I see you!

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.

Looking out the barn door last winter.

It seems that every Christmas brings with it the same reflections: why do we go to so much trouble? Did we really need to decorate THIS much? And the baking! The day seems to come and go, and we're left with the realisation that the Grinch came to: Christmas comes all the same, whether you make yourself crazy with preparations or not. My parents always host my siblings, our spouses/partners, and children for Christmas dinner, and usually a sleepover of at least one night. Mom loves having us all there, but is usually exhausted by the time we leave.

We have talked for years about having a "simple" Christmas, and indeed, things have gotten much simpler over the years as we've curbed our gift-giving out of respect from all our financial situations, and for the fact that my parents now have 8 adult "children" (including spouses), and 6 grandchildren.

So, this past summer, I took the bull by the horns. I called a local couple who have a bed-and-breakfast, and booked it for the weekend of December 10-12. It seemed so far away at the time, but the weekend is almost upon us now! Tomorrow, my entire family will descend on this farm, to take up residence in a log cabin. We'll bring food, warm clothes for a sleigh ride, cards and board games, and our stellar conversational skills to keep us busy. Oh, and of course, a healthy supply of alcohol. We'll also bring a little spruce tree with us, and on Saturday I'll work with all the kids to create decorations for it. Doesn't it just call to mind "Little House in the Big Woods"?

As far as gifts go, we'll each bring 4 Christmas tree ornaments, one for each couple, to take home as a memento of our weekend together. I am reminded lately that time is fleeting, and that nothing remains the same. Seize each moment to cherish your family. Turn off the television/computer/video game/gadget that distracts you from looking at your loved ones' faces. Study their laughter, observe their hand gestures, appreciate what makes them unique and special. Embrace your family's special brand of dysfunction, and revel in its familiarity.

I am reminded of a traditional Ulster song I've loved and performed for going on twenty years now:

"Here's a health to your company, and one to my lass!

Let's drink and be merry all out of one glass,

Let's drink and be merry, all grief to refrain,

For we may or might never all meet here again."

I'll be back next week with photos. Enjoy your 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?

Retreat

I was astonished to see how many people said things like "I wish!", "I could never pull that off", "Lucky you!", and "I just can't get away from my job/husband/kids" when I mentioned I was retreating. I am not lucky, or rich, or selfish. I just decided I needed to do this, for my own well-being. How are women to replenish the well from which we draw the love, patience, faith, energy, endurance, and humor that mothering and marriage require of us, if we don't occasionally step out of it for a rest?

The word "retreat" implies a change in direction, a halt-and-withdraw military tactic. It implies giving up, a changing of our minds in the face of insurmountable conflict or challenge. Its more negative connotation is that it is a shirking of responsibilities or commitments at the last moment. I am reminded of the comment I received on Friday's post, where a reader said she could never do this, "especially leaving a sick child behind"...(for the record: Violet was on Day 3 of a gastro bug when I left and was feeling fine)...

Is it any wonder that mothers are burnt out...worn out, worn thin, barely hanging on by a thread? As Joan Anderson wrote in her book "A Weekend to Change Your Life", it is absolutely PITIFUL that we cannot find twenty-four hours for ourselves, in a year that contains eighty-seven HUNDRED hours!

It is precisely through caring so diligently for my children, my spouse, my home, and my career that I have arrived at a point in my life where it's do or die~ or maybe less dramatically, do or wilt and wither. Through the long postpartum months of caring for Margot, her subsequent surgery and recovery, my determined (then desperate) attempts to breastfeed her, never leaving her side, never taking a break, while also caring for two other young children, I depleted myself.

You don't need money. You don't need to go to a spa. You don't even need to go away for a weekend, although I highly recommend it. Ask around. Find out who has a cottage/cabin that they'd be willing to lend for a day/weekend. Do something in return, for rent: have the chimney cleaned, replenish the firewood, offer to cut their grass...be creative. This is something that will replenish you. Your only tasks should be:

keeping warm

finding water

avoiding technology

feeding yourself simply

and just sitting quietly, uninterrupted, with your thoughts.

I dare you to look at your calendar right now and pick a weekend sometime in the next few months to go away, to rest and restore yourself. I double dare you. 

Stay tuned for a week's worth of retreat-related reflections.

Frazzled Moms Unite!

I missed out on the whole "Let's Get Real" phenomenon (unmade-up self portraits by blogging moms, intending to show their real selves). My camera broke right around then, and I never thought about it again.

The other day, though, I caught a glimpse of myself passing this mirror in our hallway. My shirt was dirty, my hair was askew, I had no makeup on, and I realised I needed to take a picture of the most unphotographed person in this house: me.

I haven't quite been feeling "myself" lately. I'm spread too thin, do too much, have too many responsibilities and not enough time. I know you can all sympathize with this feeling, that in spite of my many talents and gifts, I'm somehow not enough: to keep my house clean enough, to keep my kids happy enough, to craft/blog/perform/create enough. This is not the first time I have wondered about the intents of the original Women's Movement, and if our foremothers could have foreseen the fruits of their labours.

Because now, in addition to giving birth, breastfeeding, raising and homeschooling our children, we also work outside the home. We feel badly when we have to leave our kids in another's care to go to work, and feel guilty when we actually enjoy going to work because at least we get some feedback, adult conversation, and MONEY for our time! And then of course, there's always that nagging feeling of...do I REALLY enjoy this childrearing thing? The intent was that women should have the choice to work outside the home, but the reality, the economy has shifted so that most women NEED to work just to pay the bills. And we're supposed to take care of our kids, too.

Oh, I'm in a funk, alright. I was thinking about those pre-women's movement women, the ones who felt completely fulfilled by child-rearing and housekeeping, and were good at it. I know not all women enjoyed it, and many bucked against the expectations of the age. But I like to simplify it, to imagine that woman putting on makeup and a clean apron, setting a beautiful meat-and-veg meal on a tablecloth, having a martini prepared for her hard working hubby, combing her children's hair down, and greeting the man of the house with a smile...

I tried it. On this same frazzled day, I did it: dampened and re-pinned my hair, touched up my face, and practised a smile for when my husband got home.

Yes, it looks pasted on. Because it is. I had a really hard day, a day of screaming, fighting, bickering, arguing, and finally, me putting them out on the porch because I needed a break from it all. Lately, I've been fantasizing about filling my tank with gas, and hitting the road, destination unknown. Of course, in my fantasy, I'm NOT driving a minivan carpeted with cracker pieces and juice boxes, and there is not a carseat to be seen. I'll toot the horn as I drive by your house...or if you want me to pick you up, just hang a white flag of surrender on your mailbox.

Until then, I'm adding two more tasks to my list: seek out happiness and balance, and get more sleep!

Whilst wandering in the woods, I had the impression that I was being watched by the benevolent beasties that hide quietly there, disguising themselves as inanimate foresty things:

fierce-faced dragon;

the judgmental patriarch;

gentle giant, all scales and watchful eyes;

the elusive leaf-dwelling hippo;

and equally rare bark-faced turtle.

Finally, a bird of ornithological mystery.

Get outside and get fanciful!

Summer Scrapbook: Take Two

After a ridiculously busy day of attempting to corral 19 3-5 year olds into some semblance of order (I think I'll rename my class "The Three-Ring Circus"), I so look forward to this day at home with my little ones. I think we may just play and cuddle.

To those of you that may think "Oh, lucky her...what about housework?", I am presently combatting a tendency to overload my life with "to-dos"...this has been an ongoing struggle. I am on the verge of complete exhaustion and it is taking a lot of effort to remind myself that burning out in order to "do it all" means that I can't take care of my family at all. So I'm declaring this a No-Housework-Zone...just for today.

Before we look forward to the beautiful season that is upon on us now, I want to meander back through some of my favourite summer moments...

Saying "yes" when the kids asked to have picnic-dinners;

Violet's forays into nature photography, whilst picking raspberries;

these boots, that dress, those elbow dimples;

one mysterious, tiny egg;

the essential accessories of "The Nutbrown Maid": bare shoulders and beaded necklace;

the ever-present, generous love and help of my mother;

toddler-body-in-a-bathing-suit-bliss;

Violet's criss-cross-backed tan;

this boy learning to swim underwater, and the many sandy adventures he had;

And this...after celebrating Violet's birthday in the potting shed, Jude went outside. We were listening to Afia Walking-Tree, and he started to dance, watching his reflection in the glass. The background noises are the girls in the shed with me, as I surreptitiously filmed his dance.

This is a child who climbs, jumps, swordfights, who has never taken dance or yoga classes...and who apparently has a natural sense of grace, symmetry, balance, and a mysterious depth to his movement that left us awestruck. The quick, sudden movements add a comic element, as he wards off the early summer insects.

Happy Autumn-Days to all...