MommyCoddle

a good 20 minutes

I stepped outside with my camera yesterday, while I waited for the grill to get hot. Within just a short window of time, maybe twenty minutes, I was able to capture little snapshots of our life. I love looking at them today, and realizing all the activity that can happen in just a short span of time. Sometimes, it's nice to capture it and hold it together all in one place....for me they tell a story. And they remind me of little benchmarks in time-- the ducklings daily excursion outside, the last chicken--who keeps close to the house, a new technique for swinging, an upgrade from nakedness to underwear, the agony that is sharing the swing with your little sister, a patient favorite kitten, a rare, still moment between two four-legged friends.....

What stories could you tell, if you captured a good twenty minutes today?

how to hang laundry on the line (and a few other things)

So, while we're talking about great things our grandmothers have passed down to us, it occurred to me yesterday, as I hung a late-afternoon load of laundry on the line, that it was my grandmother who taught me the most efficient way to hang laundry on the clothesline. And not to be a laundry-line-know-it-all, but when I see other people's pictures of their clothes hanging out, I realize not everyone knows this wee bit of insight that makes all the difference.

I love hanging clothes on the line. I've overcome my distaste for stiff jeans and crunchy towels. But I'm also married to the dryer police. Though I've been known to hang out laundry in my mittens, I think my husband would like to see one of those Amish-esque laundry lines running from our upstairs window out to a tall corner of the barn. (He'd also probably like to go to work in a horse drawn buggy, but that's another story....) When he hears the dryer running, it's like he hears money and dollars bills banging around inside, shrinking and shrivelling up into nothingness.

(I snapped my clothesline last week. And now it is a saggy mess. One of these days, I'll upgrade to something a little more permanent. In the meantime, this one gets the job done.)

I remember the first day I hung my laundry out on my grandmother's line. It was when we were living on her farm, while we made the transition to our new life in Maryland. She was coming in from morning Mass and stopped to talk to me while I draped shirts and pants over the line and stuck on a few pins.

She stopped me and told me I needed to figure out which way the wind was blowing. (On her laundry line, there's a little piece of string tied to one end. I don't know if this was meant to tell wind direction or not, but that is what I used it for.) Once you determine which way the wind is blowing you hang the clothes up so that they are open to the wind. This means only pinning one side of your clothes. As the wind blows, it will fill up and flow through your clothing.

There wasn't much wind blowing when I took yesterday's photographs, but you can see how my pillowcases are filling with the breeze in this older picture from my grandmother's laundry line.

It is remarkable how quickly your clothes will dry. It really makes a difference. Especially when you are trying to get multiple loads on the line in one day, or you're married to the dryer police chief--who is also very good at taking clothes off the line and folding them. :)

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In other news:

**you must stop by Nancy's blog and read about the new home for two of Black Walnut's kittens.

**edited to add: Anke! How did I miss your blog?? You can see the other kitten, now named "Sweetie" who found a home with Anke. Details on her blog! Oh the wonders of blogging.....

**here is an interesting article from Food Woolf on how to help your local dairy farmer. I'll be interested to hear my husband's perspective on the article. He works in the ag industry and Horizon is one of his major customers. When I complain about the price of milk, he says it's good for the farmer that the price is high. Apparently there are rumors that a local dairy may start home delivery. I'd be the first to sign up.

**a few weeks ago, I introduced my children to the sweetness that is a Wendy's frosty. They'd never had one before. But Amy at MomAdvice makes her own at home.

**And lastly, a very thought-provoking, stir up your thoughts about schooling, blog post at Wild Parenting. (via simplemom)

my last recipe box

I find myself wondering when that pit in my stomach will disappear in those moments when I realize my grandmother is no longer just around the corner, putting on soup at her kitchen stove, deadheading the roses along the driveway, or balancing her checkbook in the back living room. There are days that life just happens and the fact that she is missing from it, seems to be part of what's normal. And then there are days where her absences brings a tightness to my throat and a welling of tears in my eyes. Or days that I forget she is gone and I catch myself thinking that we should head there for lunch, or stop by to tell her there are three ducklings taking up residence in our downstairs bathroom once again, because I know she'll laugh and be excited for the girls.

A few weekends ago, my cousins and I sat in my living room, enjoying a glass of wine together and reminiscing. I made the comment that while I was thankful her passing was quick, and not a long, drawn-out decline, it also made it difficult for me to grasp it all. It was too easy to remember her healthy, strong, and just fine. Wasn't it just last week that we were sitting together on the bench under the Sweet Gum tree? Or checking in with each other to see who needed cat food from the feed mill?

Last week, I sat in the kitchen with her big wooden recipe box in front of me. I was looking for a few family-favorite recipes. Of course, pouring over your grandmother's recipe box is not exactly the best thing to do to lift your spirits, but there was still a sweetness to it all. The greasy recipe cards typed up on a typewriter, the little slips of paper with her handwriting-- recipes from Terry, NancyAnn, Paige....

Judging by the recipe box and the recipes inside, I can tell my grandmother has had this for a really long time. I'm guessing it's been the recipe box that's been sitting on her counter for as long as any can remember.

When I went home that afternoon, to file away my copied recipes, I remembered that I'd had it on my mind lately to organize my recipe box. I have a recipe box on top of my stove full of a some favorite recipes, as well as some I've never tried, some I've clipped from magazines. And I also have a stack of notecards scattered in a drawer. And  a file folder of recipes stashed between the cookbooks on my shelf. And a few blowing around the top of my dresser upstairs.

I decided it's time to start my last recipe box. The one that will sit on my counter for as long as anyone can remember.

Several months ago, I bought myself a new recipe box with this in mind. But it has been sitting empty on my countertop. After going through my grandmother's recipe box, I realized how much of her is inside that box. Her handwriting. Her favorites. My favorites. Family favorites.

So I'm slowly cooking and baking my way through my disorganized, mismatched collection of recipes. When something is a standard, a classic in my kitchen, I move it to it's new, final home. Eventually, I hope to have my own recipe box full of recipes--tattered and splotched from years of use. That they'll become our family favorites. Passed down. Collected. Copied. Loved.

How to say yes

I walked in to the guest room a few weeks ago to find Emma on her knees, on the floor, hunched over something. She was obviously working quietly and intently, and secretively. I stepped closer and she looked up.

In front of her on the floor was a whole battery of off-limits items from my craft stash--sewing scissors, expensive yarn, scraps of fabric, rubber stamp pads, good heavy papers and permanent markers.

I felt my blood boil. "EMMA!!! WHAT are you doing??! These are my things!"

"I had this idea.", she said with a defeated sigh.

I was still upset. This had been happening a lot lately. The sneaking off while I was occupied elsewhere in the house. The getting in to things that normally require supervision. Craft stuff. Food from the pantry. Gardening tools. Things that stay inside the house being dragged outside.

It was making me crazy. Didn't my children understand any boundaries? Didn't they realize they couldn't get into anything and everything, whenever they pleased?

I questioned her further, "Why didn't you just ask?"

"Because I knew you'd say no. You always say no."

And there it was. I was confronted with the truth. Or at least what felt like the truth to her.

Now obviously, I don't say no all the time. But sometimes, I think my pile of "no's" far outweighs my pile of "yes". In fact it could easily bury the pile of yes. Sometimes the no's come from exhaustion--the not wanting to make another mess, the not wanting to break open all the paints or get out the sewing machine, the not wanting to fill another sink with dishes, the not wanting to hike to the stream and carry home dirty toddlers and ten pounds of streambed in a metal bucket.

And sometimes, I catch myself saying no because I think that's what I'm supposed to say. It's what parents do. That somehow I'm teaching them some life skill--to wait, to be patient, that you don't always get your way. And then I find myself thinking, "Now wait. Why did I say no to that?"

And I also realized in some odd way, my barrage of 'no's' was driving Emma to deception. She had ideas and plans that were burning inside of her. Things she had to try. Experiments she had to concoct. Recipes she had to make. She needed to bring these ideas in her head to fruition. And sometimes, the supplies she had at her disposal--some watercolor paints, construction paper, a pair of tiny right-handed scissors, just wouldn't cut it. And more often than not, when she brought her plans before the queen of the house, she was shot down before she even got started.

You've heard me say it a hundred times before, this job of parenting is a continual learning process. And once again, I've learned a lesson. I'm not saying all my no's have magically become a yes--I'm not planning to let Emma float Elizabeth down the stream on an inner tube anytime soon. However, my no doesn't come as quickly these days.

I don't want her to give up on me. To think she has me figured out. To decide that I'm always a no. I want to say yes sometimes. More times. I want to surprise her. I want to follow through on a few of those crazy ideas and see just where that idea takes us. I want her to tell me everything because she knows I'll be just as excited and curious and creative as she is.

I'll say no, when a no is what's really called for. But more than that, I want to be a yes.

a run for my money

Well, I am officially three days into my grocery challenge and things are so far, so good. I'm sure it will get a lot more "creative" as the week wears on. Sunday night we had breakfast for dinner--eggs, some potatoes, bacon and I used some Bisquick baking mix to make some cinnamon swirly kind of biscuits. It is a riff off of something that the woman who cooks for my grandmother used to make. I've never officially asked for the recipe, but knowing her--there is bisquick involved.

I just mixed together bisquick and milk until I got a dough-like consistency. Then I made up a brown sugar-cinnamon filling, which I added some oats to this time, for something different. I rolled it out flat, added the filling and rolled it back up. and cut it into two-inch rolls. After it baked, I made a little confectioner sugar icing--which I'd leave off next time. But otherwise, yummy and good.

I think this week will be a good exercise for a number of reasons. I'm not looking to make this a habit--the skimping on groceries and fresh produce. This is just an exercise that I'm hoping will bring some new perspective.

Already I find myself watching portions and the "I can always go get more" mentality is quickly changing. We are so blessed, you know? To be able to have so many food resources at our fingertips. And I love the creativity that goes in to using what I have on hand. It stretches me. We'll see exactly how much it stretches me at the end of the week.

Thank you all for your thoughts and ideas and encouragement on this experiment. I'd love to hear from those of you that have decided to join in--hear how your week is going so far.

Other random bits:

**I have a guest blog post over at the National Wildlife Federation's Green Hour blog. Go check it out, if you're looking for a simple way to get your kids outdoors.

**I've created an archive of my good things lists. It will always appear at the bottom of the list. I often find myself wishing I'd done this in the past, so I hope it will be helpful for all of you, too. If I found the good thing through someone else's blog, you'll notice a little "pop-up" that appears over the good thing, when you place your cursor over it. (did that make sense?)

**It's a new month over at habit, which means we have a new group of guests. Come by and see!

**Several of you asked for the granola recipe I use. It is my grandmother's recipe and you can find it in this post. (I make a half recipe). It is really simple and easily customized to your tastes.

**My two year old is giving me a run for my money lately--in the form of telling me "nope" for everything I ask her to do, giving herself a mullet, and nakedness. In fact, I was lucky to find a picture to post with her somewhat clothed. I count it progress if I can keep her dressed through breakfast. It's going to be an interesting summer. (Thank goodness I believe that nakedness is the best technique for potty training! :) And I'm going to have to figure out how to deal with the mullet later today.

Up for a challenge?

Last week, I went to the grocery store and spent almost $200.

I wanted to pass out. I felt sick to my stomach. So much money sucked out of our bank account. Even with my menus carefully planned out, list in-hand, I still spent way more than I anticipated. And it's like that almost every week.

I know groceries are a necessity. It's not like I'm getting my hair highlighted and my nails done. We must have groceries. But still. It is so much money. And despite some great tips, I'm still spending too much.

Driving home from an errand today, I began to think how nice it would be if I could just take one week off from grocery shopping. Right now, I plan my menus on Monday morning and the girls and I head to the groceryafter breakfast and shop for the week. I get just what I need for the week, save for a few staples or pantry re-stocking, and the occasional impulse buy.

But back to my idea about taking a week off....

You know it's not like my cupboards are bare except for the things I'm putting in each week. They are still stocked with rice and beans and cans of soup and pastas and..... There are the odd cuts of meat and frozen breads in my freezer. I have flour. And sugar. And yeast. And butter.

It's just that I often ignore those things in my pantry for what I feel like making that week.

I'm not using what I have.

So here's my challenge for this week. My own mini no-spend challenge. I'm not going to the grocery store next week. (And I'm not going to stock up this weekend either--no cheating.) I'm going to make do with what I have in my cupboards and freezer. I'm going to get creative. I'm going to do my best to put together some meals with what I have on hand. I'm going to save a little money this week.

Sometimes my best meals are the ones created when I think "I have nothing to make for dinner".

So as I head in to next week, here are a few things I'm allowing:

1. I'm allowing myself to buy milk for the week (a necessity for my children), a bag of coffee beans (c'mon, I'm not crazy), and I'm going to refill the propane tank on my grill.
2. If someone invites me to dinner. I'm going to say yes. :)
3. I'm going to buy two quarts of strawberries at the farmers' market tomorrow.

Here's what I'm slightly concerned about:

1. I have no fresh greens in my fridge. But I do have frozen varieties.
2. I still think I'd rather go with a meal of rice and beans than break into the deer sausage my grandmother kept passing on to us. Which has been sitting in my freezer since, well....deer season. Yuck.
3. I hope I can make enough to eat for meals, plus leftovers for Dan's lunches.

All next week, I'll let you know what I make each night for dinner. In the midst of my normal posts, I'll keep you updated on how it's going and whether or not I'm making it. Ugh. I'm nervous. But I know it will be fine. I like a little mini-challenge.

Anyone brave enough to join me? And by the way. We have lots of granola.

Life in the bush (and migraines)

Things are missing around this house. Water bottles. Dishes. Trays. Mail. Benches. Sweatshirts. Backpacks. Boxes of crackers. Yarn. Pruning shears. Small chairs. Pets.

Even children.

I found them.

They're in the bush.

I don't blame them. It's like a snow-colored wonderland. They've taken those pruning shears and carved themselves a tiny home among the soft balls of white loveliness. There's a whole village underneath those branches. Things that are secrets, things I'm not allowed to see (that would probably be the missing yarn, I'm guessing.) Things hanging, things stored in piles. Special seats for company. There's even a toddling two year old who delivers the mail.

I spent some time out there myself just yesterday. Not huddled under the bush mind you--because there are secrets in there. But they gave me a special bench just outside the door. So I took it upon myself to soak up some sun, listen to their chatter while they thought I was sleeping, and allow little hands to cover me in velvety white blossoms. I swear, it was like a spa treatment.

I highly recommend it.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

On Monday, Mary went to the doctor and was diagnosed with migraines. It's a long, drawn out back story, but I'm just wondering if any of you have any experience or children struggling with this. The doctor said her symptoms were classic. I never even knew children could get migraines. Right now, we're trying to treat it with diet changes, ibuprofen, hydration and catching the symptoms early. I'd love to know if any of you have any experience.

ONE simple question, no. 4

A few weeks ago sheri asked me to take part in her series on CafeMom's Home and Garden section called, "Nesting and Nurturing", she posed this question to me:

What does home mean to you?

I have to tell you, for as much as I blog about my home, raising a family, fixing up a house, teaching my children, it was such a nice exercise to sit down and actually put my thoughts about home into words.

You can read my response, as well as take a few peeks inside my home. I'd love for you to stop by.

Sheri will be continuing her series and asking the same question of other women around blogland. I've really loved reading a few of the previous responses, especially these from Rachel Saldana (of buttons magee), Kate Inglis (of sweet | salty ), Tracey Clark (of shutter sisters) , Elizabeth Fleming  (of Tethered).

I thought this afternoon, I'd ask the same question of all of you. It can be a few words, a few sentences, but I'd love to know, what does home mean to you?

independence is bliss

When you're two years old, there aren't many things you can do all.by.yourself.

But since a certain little person discovered how to loop her arms through the giant rope swing, climb to the highest point along the trunk of the tree and dive forward, we've hardly seen much of her inside these walls.

When the house seems a little too quiet, I can peek out the kitchen window and catch a glimpse of the rope--swaying back and forth. And if I listen hard enough, I usually hear some two year-old chatter and some squeals of delight. And when I call her name out the window, "Elizabeth???" I hear in reply: "Swinging, Mommy." And I know, as if I didn't know already, exactly where she is.

I daresay, it's almost as good as a live-in babysitter.

So if you're looking for Elizabeth....

this is where you'll find her.

showered with inspiration

I guess you never know when something as simple as disappearing for 15 minutes can inspire such creativity. The other day, my children had one of those blissful days where they seemed to get along all day--they played, they sang, they drew pictures, they went outside, they dressed up. It was magical.

So when I told the two of them I was slipping away for a quick shower, they must have realized this was their chance to sneak into the kitchen and get creative. A few weeks ago, Emma created this little snack, and she's been riffing off that idea ever since.

But they really outdid themselves this time:

pretzels, sandwiched around peanut butter sprinkled with brown sugar, chocolate chips and sprinkles.

I won't discuss the mess, or how hard smashed sprinkles are to remove from white kitchen linoleum floors, or how mysteriously empty the chocolate chip bag was, or the ring of wet chocolate around their lips, or how much brown sugar was sprinkled across the table top, or how they reached into the pretzel jar with fingers covered in peanut butter, or how I'd mopped the kitchen floor on my hands and knees that morning.....

I will say, they tasted pretty good, in small doses.

Meanwhile, I've had a little list of things I've wanted to share with you burning a hole in my back pocket. And now, this morning, I can't find that list anywhere....but I do remember a few:

Have you seen the new Lotta Jansdotter, Simple Sewing For Baby book? Lotta + babies + crafting? Be still my heart. Be watching here for a little review/giveaway coming up soon. Meanwhile, if you're lucky enough to be close, Lotta is hosting a Launch Party in her Brooklyn, NY studio, Friday, May 8th from 6-9pm.

Also, the people at Peek, who so generously donated a Peek to giveaway on this blog a few months ago, emailed me and asked me to mention their new promo for mother's day. And since they're such nice people, and really this Peek is just right for someone like my mom, who wants to be connected but is better with a scaled down version of this fancy-schmancy smartphone stuff, this could be a great little Mom's day gift. Just puttin' out the word.

And because it's been a really long time since I've shared some flickr favorites. Here's a little photographic inspiration for your Thursday morning. Hoping it's sunnier than mine! C'mon sun. Show your face.

(click on the photo for photo credits)

ONE simple question no. 3

I have a lot I need to get done, which subsequently always seems to lead to some sort of procrastination. Tonight it took the form of blog-fussing and the creation of this little button. It's because I really love these simple questions I've been posing to all of you lately. The one of about the library and what methods you use to avoid fines and overdue charges was full of great ideas and advice. (as well as a few of you who commiserated with my "issues".) And I thought it was fascinating to read all of the different approaches to, and styles of family dinners.

Tonight, Dan was reading a bedtime story to the girls and I headed outside, just as it was getting dark, to lock the chickens in their coop. We've been trying to get out to them a little earlier these nights because we are getting a little suspicious that there might be some fox activity around here. Last night, we lost a whole nest of eggs that our one female guinea had been sitting on, and then, well....there's Rosie.

After I locked in the chickens, I took the long way home, walking around the back field with a trail of cats and dog bounding along behind me, listening to how deafening the peepers are getting, and straining to recognize the last few birds that were singing in the sycamore trees.

It was a much-needed time for me. I needed to get away for a few moments. Step back.

Tonight, as I often do, I was feeling the press of time on my shoulders. Feeling like our evening was slipping away too quickly. That by the time we were finished at the dinner table, I was already feeling like we were running late for bedtime and stories, and out of time for my planned baths for the girls.

During the work week, Dan gets home at 6:15, (on a good night) and we quickly sit down to dinner. Before we know it we're shuffling the girls upstairs for pajamas, tooth-brushing and stories. And sometimes, it all feels like it's happening too quickly.

So here's my (not so) simple question for all of you:  How do you slow down and savor your evening family time? How do you keep things from feeling rushed? Do you organize or plan your evenings to make more time for enjoying each other?

I really enjoy hearing from all of you and interacting with you through these questions. I hope you are enjoying hearing from each other and learning from each other, as much as I am.

another simple question

Since my last simple question was such a success, I have another one for you this evening:

What is your dinner style? Buffet? Family style? Serve yourself?

Let me explain....for me, the moments right before we sit down to a meal can be pure chaos. Kids are whining for dinner, Dan is walking in the door, I'm still counting out forks and napkins, and realizing I forgot to put out everyone's drinks.

And I'm notoriously guilty of calling everyone in for dinner way too early--so that they're champing at the bit, mulling around the kitchen, and I'm still running around getting things together. (In my defense, it seems like the days I wait until every detail is taken care of, "people" lolly-gag too long and end up sitting down  to a table full of cold food.)

I used to be a fan of the "buffet style" dinner, where I'd serve everything up from the stove and pass out plates to people sitting at the table. But sometimes, this gets a little crazy--the lack of counter space, the ones waiting for their plates to be fixed, hungry little ones digging in (and sometimes devouring) before we've even said grace, the getting up and down every time something is forgotten or someone needs more.

So lately, I've been bringing everything to the table and serving it up family style. It makes for a full table but it seems to make for less trips up and down and a smoother transition into dinner. I *think*.

But I'd love to hear your style.

How do you get everything on the table, get settled and enjoy a family meal?

sewing that stays home

One thing I've always loved about my grandmother's house, is that her handiwork is everywhere--a framed picture of  a family tree made of thumbprinted "leaves" turned into masked raccoons, embroidered and appliqued pillows, cross stitch, oil paintings, curtains, laundry bags, down jackets.

And as I walked through her house a few weeks ago, I was struck that the majority of crafting I do, goes out the door. Though there's nothing wrong with that, I generally craft for gifts, for other people--pillows, knitting, appliqued tees. And accept for a few curtains, a knitted hat or a pillowcase dress here and there, not much of my hand work is around.

With this in mind, I've made a new resolution which I *hope* I can continue. I want to make the girls a yearly wall hanging, for each birthday (a little late this year) that illustrates a few significant events or interests from their past year.

I started with Emma--a horse jumping since this was the year of her first jumps (and falls). And a house-- we've moved into this house almost one year ago. (Is it ironic that it's a little crooked and pieced together with a few stitches?? I think not.)

I only used what I had on hand and most of the fabrics came out of my scrap basket. And a few of them have some special significance--a scrap from Emma's great grandmother, a bit from my own mother.

After I did all the stitching and zig-zagging (lots of zig-zagging), I went back and added some hand-stitching....her initials, the date, a little secret message in the corner, a few buttons, some little stitches here and there.

It felt a lot like scrapbooking with fabric...adding little elements here and there.

Yesterday I hung it from some willow branches, which I still need to trim back and eventually, once she stops shoving it in her bag and showing it people, I envision it hanging above her bed, until it's replaced by another year of growing.

That is, if I let her get any older....

living a complex life

This weekend has been a strange one for me. I'm not sure what it is exactly. I feel like I've experienced all the ups and downs of life in a "fixer upper farmhouse in the country". I feel them all weighing on me in a spectrum of emotions.

I find myself in one moment, swooning over the setting sun on the forsythia and the pure white muzzle of a new born calf at the fence. I stand back and watch as my 72 year-old neighbor, a man who was born in our house and now lives next door, slowly rolls his tractor into our yard. Using a two-bottom plow that he hasn't hooked up to his tractor in more than fifteen years, he pulls it back and forth, slicing through the green earth and turning it over to reveal damp dark soil underneath that will be our vegetable garden.  I sit on the back porch and stitch, while my husband builds bluebird boxes, and I listen to the faint squeals of my girls wading barefoot at the stream crossing.

I send a container of my oatmeal raisin cookies to the neighbor as a thank you, and throw brush on a burn pile--that Dan has cut back from a fence row in order to help the neighbor, for helping us. I stand outside and am struck that the only thing I can hear are the spring peepers and the ticking of our neighbor's electric fence across the road.

But despite these obvious treasures that come with where we've planted our feet, I find myself also feeling frustration with some of the trials. I get tired of every weekend being sucked up by something that is broken, needing repair. This weekend--an upstairs toilet, leaking down into the kitchen ceiling. I want to take a shower, but have to use a wrench and a pair of pliers to turn on the water and adjust the temperature, because the handle has fallen off and there hasn't been time to fix it. I get tired of always having to figure out how to do it ourselves because we don't have the time or the money to call someone else up and get the job done.

I once again experienced animals being animals, acting on their ingrained instincts, and yet I hate being faced with the near-death and the worry and the trauma. I get tired of twisting ankles on rubber boots kicked off just inside the door and weary of a kitchen floor that is never lacking its collection of mud and grass and leaf litter. I get tired of working, working, working and figuring out how to make work-time into family-time. I wonder if there will ever be a weekend where there isn't a major project on the agenda. I wonder if I'm cut out for this.

Late last night, when we were finally sitting down to dinner at eight o'clock, I know Dan could sense my weariness. And he said something to me that has not left the back of my mind for the rest of the weekend. It was something he heard Wendell Berry say. In so many words, Wendell Berry says that this life we are leading or striving for, so many people refer to as "the simple life" or "living simply". But in reality, what we should be striving for, is actually "the complex life".

It is simple to go to the store and get your strawberries in January, or call up the repairman on the weekend and get your toilet fixed and your shower handle replaced, or throw your load of laundry in the dryer. But what we think of as the simple life, is actually very complex. It is work and sacrifice and timing and waiting and figuring out how to make do. It is far from simple.

My mother always says, "this too shall pass" and those words are also ringing in my head tonight. It seems whenever I write a post like this, I find that the next morning, once I've slept on it, I have to resist the urge to go in and delete. I want to go back and add a footnote and say that I'll be fine. That these feelings will pass. That there is joy to be found in a new day. That often, all it takes is spewing out all the thoughts and frustrations and emotions. And then they are gone. Weightless. Carried away.

And as I sit here in the dark, typing, I can hear the raspy breathing of a little girl asleep in bed beside me, in droopy, tangled pigtails and a flannel nightgown. And I hear knocking and banging behind the closed bathroom door and know that repairs are being made and he's still working. And he's okay with it. And he's probably doing it for me. And I've married a good man, who works hard.

And I know that tomorrow this place will win favor with me again. And a good song will come on the radio while I'm sweeping the kitchen floor and picking up boots. And I'll stop trying to figure out why my life isn't simple and marvel at how beautiful a complex life can be.

how we do things

This is how we keep her pants on during naps. Onesie snapped on the outside, superhero-style.

This is how she carries a v e r y patient cat.

This is how she apologizes to that v e r y patient cat.

Hope you all had a lovely spring weekend.  Here are a few things I'm enjoying right now:

How Do You Start Your Day? :: The Small Notebook

New music :: Josh Garrels

20 Tips for Finding Your Routine With Kids :: Simple Mom

Spring Trees :: Stitched Leaves :: Ocean Kit (it's about as addicting as fabric shopping)

Green Hour Activities :: National Wildlife Federation

Felted Easter Eggs :: Waldorf Mama