MommyCoddle

the new calm

Last Tuesday marked the Offical First Day of homeschool for us.

I love the start of a new school year in the same way I love January first. The fresh start. Time to make new plans, new resolutions. Time to get organized and simplify. (An excuse to buy a new calendar, moleskine and favorite pens .)

But last Monday, as the "first day of school" loomed ever closer, I was a crazed madwoman. I felt this pressure to have everything in place before the Big First Day. I needed every detail worked out and decided. I needed to have every paper copied, every hole punched, every note read. 

On top of that, I needed my house to be perfect. Clutter gone. Floors mopped. Floorboards wiped. Closets cleaned out. Every speck of laundry washed, folded and put away. (that never happens.) One would think I was preparing for a real estate open house, or perhaps, to have the queen for tea. A tea in which she also happened to open every closet door and inspect under my bed. 

No, silly, it's just the first day of school. 

I don't know where it was coming from, but there it was--a suffocating feeling that this was my last chance to get everything together. That if it wasn't done by bedtime Monday, it was doomed to never be accomplished. Ever. Apparently my life, as well as my ability to accomplish any mothering task outside of the classroom was somehow going to cease the moment I slipped back into my teacher-mama clothes. 

But then, hallelujah, in a moment, sitting on the edge of the tub watching a chubby baby splash carelessly in the bubbles, it struck me. That this craziness was nonsense. Big time. That I needed to move forward at my own pace. That I needed to find MY rhythm. Our rhythm. 

I've often heard it said (okay, really only once, but I remember it often) that when a person starts their own business they must prepare themselves for the fact that it takes a good five years before they really have their feet under them. 

And I've always found myself applying the same logic to homeschooling. 

Last year, I wholeheartedly jumped in to a curriculum that was going to give me the structure and discpline that I felt our days so desperately needed. I wanted someone to tell me exactly what to do. I wanted a plan and a vision. I wanted to get on a path and systematically walk my way down it.

This year because of budget and because of the way that path seemed to go up a really steep hill at the end, and we got really tired and burned out, I decided to bag it. 

Instead, I consulted a good friend who knew me and my children and my needs pretty well. And who also happened to be educated and gifted in curriculum design. 

And late one night I sat in her little school room, at a tiny little kid-desk, and together we hammered out my year and figured out what seemed to fit just right. 

But what fits even more, is the sentiment behind everything we're doing. It's the new calm. 

That first day, we just jumped in. Instead of feeling the tug of the clock, we tackled bedrooms and laundry before we opened any books. It felt good to work to the hum of the washing machine running upstairs. And the sloshing of the dishwasher from the pantry. Instead of feeling the push to tackle lessons in every subject, I just let it be. We did Math, until Math was done. We read, until we didn't want to read anymore. When we got hungry, we ate. When it seemed like a good time to go check the pony, she did.  When there was an itch to practice piano, we scratched.

It's funny, how much we got accomplished. How nice the day felt. How good it is let go. How comfortable it is to seek out our rhythm versus some contrived and conceived pressure from who knows where. 

If only I would learn this lesson I apparently need to learn multiple times in this parenting journey. That so much of this happens naturally. We don't have to work so hard at it. Yes, it's work. But we're doing it. Naturally. There's goodness and learning and priceless, indespensable moments and experiences happening in every single day. Homeschool mom. Public school mom. Private school mom. It doesn't matter. It's happening for all of us. 

It's the trusting enough to let go. It's the freedom to find your own rhythm. It's the new calm. It blows through every day, if we'll only take a moment to feel it brush against our cheek. 

Goodnight, Irene.

Oh my. Hello from the long-awaited land of lights that turn on, toilets that flush, washing machines that hum, water that runs from the tap. 

Hurricane Irene hit us at 2am last weekend and by 3am, we had lost our power. By 7am, trees were still falling down, even after holding out so long through the storm. 

It was an adventure at first. So fun! So exciting! We're like pioneers! 

I had written this fun little post in my head highlighting all the great fun we were having on our adventure:

Haha! The outfits Elizabeth has been putting together when she can't find clothes in her dark bedroom!

Haha! Look at Birdy playing in the puddles!

Haha! She's so dirty! She's having such a good time!

Haha? I don't have a way to wash those clothes!

Haha? I just ruined those cute leggings!

Haha? I don't have a way to give her a bath!

By Tuesday, it was no longer fun. 

Tuesday night (I think it was Tuesday. At this point, it all becomes a blur.), we hit a low point. Little Mary was suffering from a migraine. A doozy which was accompanied by throwing up (haha! towels I can't wash!). It was pitch black in the house. Birdy was toddling around, tripping, banging herself about, screaming. Dan went to turn on the generator that had been powering our freezer, in order to at least turn on a light....Nothing. Broken. No generator. All children exhausted, crying. (I know you mamas know what it's like when ALL your children are crying simultaneously.) Mary, still sick. Grumpiness. Yes, there was much grumpiness. And all in pitch blackness. 

But you know, I believe, now that I'm on this side of it, I can probably pull a little light from this darkness. 

We talked to and helped our neighbor more in the last week, than we have in the last month. 

Driving through developments, I saw more children outside playing, than I think I ever have. It was like spotting some rare, endangered species on the side of the road.

I met neighbors up the road, that I've never even seen before. Standing outside, one lady holding her glass of wine, talking to the neighbor in his flourescent yellow tshirt--the mark of a county roads man, talking to the old man, unshaven and a little greasy (aren't we all?) whose suspenders hold up his ratty old khaki pants. And me. All of us laughing about how tough it's been. Talking about what we've done to survive.

And I thought, "We can do this. When we're put to little tests like this, we can all be pretty tough and pretty resourceful." That's not to say I didn't have my moments. That one morning, I decided to just crawl back in bed and hide for a few minutes (or maybe it was an hour). 

But we survived. We can be tough. My husband, toughest of all. We can haul water from the stream to the toilets. And take our showers in the freezing cold spring-fed pool at my granparents' farm. And eat a lot of cereal. And figure out a way to make chocolate chip pancakes even though there's no electricity.

We can do it, if we must.

But still.... hello. And still....it's good to be back.

So, so good.

what's a mom to do?

It's getting to be that time of year when we're really due for a little back to school schedule and regularity to our days. The way this is becoming most clear is in the amount of sibling bickering and pestering and picking that is going on in this house. 

My oldest is at an age where she waffles between wanting to be "all grown up", independent, aloof, and in the next moment right in the thick of the play with her younger sisters. And often those transitions can be awkward and bumpy. Everything is "so annoying", so much so that I think I am going to be banning the phrase from her vocabulary very soon. (this afternoon!)

But honestly, it's the bickering that really wears this mama down. There is no manual to motherhood and I find my own self waffling between "approaches" as well. I so desperately want them to learn to work it out themselves, to stand up for themselves, to let the little sibling-picking slide off them like water off a duck's back. I want them to learn to walk away and not be bothered. To maintain their cool. 

I don't want to always be the sounding board, the complaint department where you come to file your grievances. 

But I also have to help them work through some of these things. It's hard to know when to step in and when to step back. 

And so, this is how I know school days must return. These brains need reviving, rejuvinating and stretching. Energy needs to be expended, but in the right direction.

This school marm is sharpening her pencils. 

middle of nowhere, virginia

 

We're home.

family steps

How can you deny her?

*Please note: All kittens pictured in this post are looking for loving homes! :) *

Clever Girls Review: Beaba Bib'Expresso

You may have noticed in my sidebar, that I am part of the Clever Girls Collective. This is a great group of women bloggers that I am happy to be part of. Though I don't do many reviews on here on my blog anymore, every so often, something strikes me, and I take the opportunity to share it with all of you. This review was one of those opportunities given to me through the Clever Girls Collective. 

It probably makes me sound a bit old-fashioned and dowdy, but some of the gadgets available to modern moms are amazing. Even from the birth of my first, to today, raising my fourth the changes in gear, products, philosphies and even healthier, greener choices is astounding.

This little product I've had the chance to review is the Beaba Bib'Expresso. If baby food and baby bottles met Starbucks, I think they might give birth to the Bib'Expresso. 

The Bib'Expresso is a countertop appliance that warms water for baby bottles, perfectly warms jars of baby's food and sterilizes and stores extra bottles. 

If you can operate a coffee maker, you can work the Bib'Expresso. By simply adding water to the well at the top and pushing a button, the water is heated to a proper bottle temperature. Another button is pressed and you can dispense water into your waiting bottle. 

While convenience is a great thing, the Beaba also reduces air bubbles and hot spots in your baby's bottle.

At the back of the Bib'Expresso is a removable compartment that can be filled with water and your baby bottles, placed in the microwave for bottle sterilization. The extra bottles can then be stored in this same compartment at the back of the machine. 

If you're past the bottle stage, or if you're breastfeeding baby and have no need for bottle-prep, the Bib'Expresso also works for warming jars of baby food. Simply fill the well at the top once again, place a jar in the water well and choose your proper setting--depending on whether the food is room temp or straight from the fridge. 

While I haven't given this product a hefty, long-term workout, I have to admit, it's pretty cool. Not to mention, it's kind of cute sitting on top of my counter. With a self-cleaning option to keep the unit sanitary, it seems like a pretty interesting tool to add to a new mother's repertoire. I'm thinking of middle-of-the-night feedings, when, through sleepy eyes, it might be kind of nice to press a button and have my bottles ready. 

And while I tend to err on the side of making-do and frugality when it comes to baby gear, this might be a really fun and out-of-the-ordinary gift for a new mom (or a mother of four who deserves something modern, fresh and new.)

What do you think? Kind of fun? Practical and helpful? Or over-the-top? I'd love to hear!

The Beaba Bib'Expresso can be found at  Beaba USA, and amazon .  It retails for around $129.95

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While Béaba provided me with a Bib'expresso to review, the opinions I've expressed here are solely my own and represent my honest viewpoint. Béaba,Clever Girls Collective and I promote Blog With Integrity.

a recipe for sweet relief

Prepare yourself. Now begins the season where I need to discuss the weather constantly. Good-bye Maryland Spring, hello Maryland heat and humidity. We obviously have no air conditioning in this little gem of a farmhouse. I find myself relentlessly checking the weather, the weather maps, the hourly forecast, hoping for a break in temperatures, a drop in humidity, a good strong storm. (And dream about slipping off to an air-conditioned condo in the city. I've said that before, haven't I ?) 

So we learn to make-do and deal with the heat. 

As little Jane Fonda here can attest, it has been pretty wicked the past several days. I'm in survival mode. I'm not above a sno-cone break in the middle of the afternoon. Cereal for dinner when it's too hot to cook or even eat. 

But one good thing that has come from this recent heat wave is my adaptation and (near) perfection of my grandmother's iced tea recipe. 

You must know that the rule in my grandmother's house was that you had to be 13 to drink the tea. It has twice the caffeine and all the sugar, so you practically need a license to drink it. But a glass of that tea, full to the brim, overflowing with ice, is enough to momentarily keep even the worst hazy humidity at bay. 

Now my grandmother had 15 children. Her version of this tea was brewed on the stove top, and poured into a giant stainless steel pitcher in her industrial-sized refrigerator. With the constant flow of children (over 13), visitors and guests, she always kept two pitchers going at the same time. 

Well, my family, with only 2 of-age drinkers, doesn't quite need the same volume of iced tea. 

I also didn't want to boil water. I'm that lazy in this weather. And I wanted to see if I could make a small concentrated version as my starting point. 

So my recipe is your recipe. You can thank me later. 

ICED TEA FOR THE OVER 13 CROWD

Fill a quart canning jar with cold water. 

Add 3 large tea bags. ( I generally use Lipton and the bags I used are the jumbo-sized ones about the size of your palm. But any bag will do, you'll just have to tweak the amount.)

Screw the lid on the jar, securing the bags and set in a sunny spot outside.

Let your tea get a good sun tan. No really, a long steep is critical to this tea. I put mine out in the afternoon and bring it in the next afternoon. Almost a full 24 hour steep. You want it nice and dark.

Remove the bags and dump your tea concentrate plus 2 more quart jars of cold water into a pitcher.

Add 1/2 cup of sugar

Add a generous 3/4ths of a 12 ounce can of frozen lemonade concentrate**

Stir well.

Get a large glass of ice, a sprig of mint and thirst be-gone!

**I hate to waste that last little bit of lemonade concentrate in the bottom of the can. Dump it into your quart jar, fill it up with cold water. Put the lid on and give it a good shake. And take it out to your husband--who's dripping in sweat while chopping wood for WINTER!

strawberry whine

 

 

 

 

 

eating out

As much as possible, we've been eating dinner outside each night. I came home from the thrift store with this old Coleman last week, and it's been working double-duty as my oversized picnic basket. Dinner each night feels like packing for a camping trip. But with each meal, it gets a little easier. I've got my routine down. 

I'm a big fan of eating outside, even though it means hauling dinner across the yard. I'm not sure if it's the open air, the lack of crumbs on my kitchen floor, the carefree feeling when a glass of milk gets spilled, the ease of scraping of table scraps to the entourage of barn cats and chickens that hover while we eat. 

It's not always glamourous. We're often swatting an over-anxious barn cat with no self-control from the dinner table. And there was the night that the baby starlings fell from the nest above our heads on to the ground around us. I try to forget that night. 

Even so, I'm happy to welcome this season back again. My mother, who loves a well-set table and ambiance would be proud.

Meanwhile, a few little things worth telling:

*Birdy has begun to clearly call me Mama. I no longer have any power to fight her. I am putty.

*The IOU project sounds fantastic. 

*Kami from NoBiggie recently went to the Creative Estates Conference. She wrote a post about what she learned. I learned a lot from her post.

*Meg shares some kid room inspiration. I really love that last house book shelf. 

*On that same thrift store trip last week, I found myself perusing the shelf of records. Hello!? There was so much goodness for just $1. Flashbacks to my youth (Best of the Statler Brothers, anyone?) collections of classical composers, dramatic readings of fairy tales, Patsy Cline, John Denver....I didn't even have a record player but I bought twelve dollars worth of records. (I was holding back) And now, this week, I have a record player to go with it. I am in love.

*I'd like this in my downstairs bathroom. I'm pretty sure it's from IKEA (it is), but I'm not sure they still have the yellow.

*Over on facebook, they're helping me decide on a new banner. One is pulling in to the lead, it appears. I'll be doing some spring cleaning and shuffling on here later today, I hope.

Happy Wednesday, friends!

 

Because it's Friday

Happy Weekend, friends!!

a dog, a baby, a chicken, a cow

This morning was quite a doozy.

Let's see, where to begin....Mid-morning my children's collective whining broke me down enough that I blew off school work to take them to the library. While driving, the grey skies opened up and decided to rain down a torrential downpour mixed with a sprinkling of tornado warnings. We bagged the library, opted for the drive-thru window to pick up our books and began the slow creep back home, watching the sky and listening to AM radio all the way....

I dropped the kids off for lunch at my dad's, anxious for an hour or so of quiet to deal with a few deadlines hanging over my head. 

I walked in the door to discover that we were without power. 

I walked up the stairs to put the baby to bed when I heard oddly loud squawking from the yard. From the upstairs window I got a glimpse of the neighbor's dog running around the yard chasing my chickens. I shouted out the window in my meanest "bad dog!" voice which sent Birdy into a screaming fit.

I ran downstairs and outside, crying Birdy on my hip, to discover the dog standing over a dead chicken.

I threw a stunned Birdy into the car to keep her safe, grabbed a big stick and threatened and yelled and chased the dog into our garden shed. I closed the door behind him, put a bench in front of the door for good measure and rescued Birdy (who was now hysterical) from the car. 

We walked to the front of the house, so that I could inventory my chickens and see who was missing, only to hear loud rustling and movement at the other side of the house. 

There, standing in the middle of my flower bed, was a teen-aged calf from my OTHER neighbor's farm. 

By this time, Birdy was still sniffling, but beginning to think that maybe this outdoor adventure was ranking higher on her list than a nap. 

I called in for reinforcement, trying to decide how I would manage a dog, a baby, a dead chicken, and a cow. 

Eventually, I decided I couldn't wait around any longer. I stuck Birdy in her car seat and drove to the neighbor's house to tell her I had her dog. My neighbor lost her husband just a few weeks ago, so I couldn't bear to tell her the whole story. I just said I had her dog in my shed. She asked if I could walk him home on his leash. Hmmn.

On my drive back from her house, I spotted the other neighbor pulling in to his driveway. I flagged him down and asked if he needed help with the calf. 

I became a human roadblock to keep the calf from traveling farther up the road as he herded it back into the fence. I hear Birdy wailing in the car. From her rolled down window, I wave at her and try to tell her I'm coming. She's not interested in my attempts at comfort. 

I returned to my driveway, only to run into my uncle who was coming to retrieve my dead chicken to put out for the Bald Eagles. (word travels fast in the valley.) I asked if he would mind walking the dog home, too. 

He was happy to. Thank goodness

I took Birdy back upstairs and threw up a prayer that she'd nap despite not having her usual sound machine running in the room.

I pulled the blinds, closed the curtains and laid her down in her crib. 

I walked outside and flopped down in the chair, sweaty, wishing I'd showered that morning, and run the dishwasher, and done a load of laundry, and wondered what work I could possibly accomplish around the house that would involve absolutely zero noise in order to keep the baby sleeping.

There was a loud hum, and the lights came back on. 

But, alas, the day has only since improved. I have showered. The baby has napped. The girls have plowed through some school work. My kitchen is clean. And I have even managed to squeak in a four o'clock cup of coffee (which I'll probably regret later) and a few things ticked off my to-do list. 

Things are good.

free range baby

I'll be honest. Birdy is giving me a run for my money lately.

We've entered the Phase of Discontent.

The screeching, screaming, back-arching days when nothing seems to make her happy, when she can never keep up, and when the only thing she has interest in doing are all the things she can't do. (aka she wants to do whatever her sisters are doing). 

It is begining to wear a bit on my nerves. A full day of a discontented baby makes for a very long day. I try to remind myself that this is a phase, that all my children went though this. That with each of the girls there were days where I found myself standing in the doorway, tears creeping down my cheeks, waiting for my husband to arrive home from work so that I could hand over the babe and catch my breath.

Yes, that was me just a few days ago. Phew.

But one fool-proof way to keep Birdy happy is to take her outdoors. Now, outdoors at our house is not your typical green grass and swing sets. There are patches of mud, stones and ahem, chicken poop to dodge. Wood piles and stray splinters of logs. Gardening tools and sump pump hoses. 

I could make myself crazy keeping her from all these things. Trying to keep her from crawling straight through the mud. From putting the sticks in her mouth and taking off across the soaking wet tall grass of the field to go after the dog. From eating stones and tree buds scattered over the driveway. From sticking her face down in a pile of dirt and tasting it. 

And so, to save my sanity, I've been letting her have at it. Giving her freedom. Letting her roam and explore and taste (to a point) and touch and crawl through and over and under. Unless I'm concerned for her safety, I just let her be. 

I watch her pull up clumps of green grass, eat a few strands, make a strange face and spit them out. I see her spy a scurrying barn cat out of the corner of her eye, and immediately change directions to crawl after it. From my watchful perch I can see her learning and exploring, and I imagine how that little brain is expanding with all these experiences. 

What's the harm in a mouthful of soil? Or sucking on a stick? Or crawling through a mud puddle, hands and knees and toes covered in brown?

It's about letting go. And freedom. And fresh air. And learning. 

For both of us. 

we'd do it all over again

♥ a side note : voting ends some time tomorrow for Circle of Moms Top 25 Creative Moms. You can vote once a day. Would you mind taking a moment to cast a vote for me? Thank you! ♥

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I travelled a lot as kid. A father working for commercial airlines meant the freedom to explore lots of places and states, countries, national parks, attractions...

But with all this traveling, many of the "attractions" just a few hours drive from my home, are places where I have never been. 

And so, when given an opportunity through Dan's work to take a (free!) weekend to Ocean City, Dan and I knew that despite our lack of attraction to the beach scene (not to be confused with scenery), we had to cash in on the offer. 

My children (who apparently don't get out much) were through-the-roof excited about the trip. (In hindsight, I'm thinking I could have saved myself a lot of repetitive clarification and re-telling of every minute detail about the trip, if I'd simply sprung the plan on them 20 minutes before departure.)

Anyhow, from the roadtrip (that excitement lasted about 20 minutes), to the hotel stay, to the pool, to the dinners out, and to dream-of-all-dreams: a visit to Assateauge Island, the girls were mildly enthusiastic.  Since January, every journal entry (65 more days until Ocean City!), every dinnertime prayer (thank you God, that we get to go to Ocean City!), every bedtime conversation (How many hours does it take to get there? How big is the pool? Will we really see wild ponies?) has had something to do with the trip.

And so, last weekend it finally arrived. Ocean City is a quiet place in the dead of winter. But in a way, it was kind of nice. The beach is cold and windy and seventeen different shades of grey. And it is beautiful. 

We went to the beach. We ate hotel food and sat through banquets and videos about the history of Dan's company and International Harvester. We swam in the hotel pool and spent dollar upon dollar on wacky arcade games. We collected shells and saw wild ponies.

We had meltdowns.

We (meaning me) wondered at which point the parents begin to have fun on vacations. 

And we slept like rocks that first day back home in our beds. Birdy, clocking a 15 hour sleep.

And I've decided that for me, the best part of vacation is this part. The looking back. The relief that it's over and the joy that we did it. 

The forgetting of the maxed out tired baby, the endless laundry, the packing and unpacking...

And the remembering of their pure joy and excitement and enthusiasm....

And that we'd do it all over again.

jiggity - jig

I am home. 

By the time I lugged my large suitcase and multiple carry-on bags up the sidewalk and back into the dark, quiet house late Thursday night, my exhaustion had reached ridiculous levels. 

When I fell into bed beside my husband, I have to admit I was a bit miffed that I didn't get a bigger welcome home. He mumbled, rolled over, attempted to rouse himself from sleep.

What? You weren't waiting up? Ready to welcome me with over-sized hugs and big wet kisses? Didn't he realize how tired I was--emotionally, physically, mentally? 

By the time I finally settled in to bed, he was awake enough to talk. "I am so glad you are home. These three days have been hellish."

I was completely unaware.

My poor husband went on to explain all the events of the past three days, beginning with the first morning, when Birdy managed to swallow a piece of mettalic glittery confetti. This, in turn, led to uncontrollable dry-heaving, vomitting, and most scary of all----spitting up blood. He called in for help (it's always nice to have a former-EMT  uncle in the valley) and watched her carefully as she played normally after all the drama, as if nothing happened. Then came the morning nap. More spitting up, more blood and finally the glittery red star ejected itself from her gullet.

And things continued to go downhill from there--a baby who wouldn't sleep. Who discovered she could stand up in her crib---but couldn't get down. Dishes. Cooking. Mess. Nap-less children. Less than hearty meals.

Ugh. The poor thing.

When I called to check in (multiple times) daily, my children and Dan would reassure me that everything was fine. No one spoke a word to me about the troubles at home because Dan knew, from all the way across the country, there was nothing that I could do, but worry. 

At one point, Mary said to me, "Mommy. We have a surprise for you when you come home. But Daddy says we can't tell you." Her voice was so chipper and excited. I had memories of last time. What could it be this go round? A new kitchen floor? A painted bedroom? A remodelled bathroom?

Turns out the surprise was a vomitting baby.

I guess, upon return, it should have been me--embracing my poor, exhausted husband. My nights alone in a luxurious but all-too-quiet-for-good-sleep hotel room didn't seem quite so sacrificial. My inability to sleep on the airplane rides felt slightly less deserving of sympathy. 

But you know what? He didn't make me feel an ounce of guilt.

Somehow, I came home feeling more appreciated, needed and loved than I have in a long time. 

And San Francisco? It was fantastic. Amazing, amazing people---Whitney and Heather, Kristen, Kristina, Hadley, Denise, Kami, Marie , Sara, Whit, Carolyn , Betsy ... not to mention Scott, Dina and all the others at BabyCenter and MOMformation--I'm not even coming close to mentioning everyone. It gave me a new vision for momformation, for the mission of BabyCenter. I am in good company over there, with amazing people who truly care about the journey of motherhood. 

There is lots to love on this Valentine's Day--the goodness of being home, of scribbled valentines, spring-like weather, and surprise donut runs. I hope your day is filled with sweetness and goodness. And as always, thank you for coming to this space and sharing in these moments of sweetness with me.