Monday, December 30, 2013

New Year

After a wonderful Christmas (though a holiday I have to say I'm a bit happy to see the backside of - it's always a bit stressful to get everything and everyone together) it's that time I simply cannot avoid, being the goal maker (though I haven't yet quite hit "keeper") that I am.

New Year Goals (Can I ever NOT do this?):

Eat less (and better) and move more
  • Try to introduce daily exercise into my life once more
  • Try to eat "clean" and have a lot less sugar in my house in and in my body
  • Try to work on planning ahead and prepping meals to make our eating a bit easier
  • Maybe take up a new "sport" like snowshoeing or cross-country skiing
Organize and purge the ridiculous amount of kids' toys and baby clothes I have in our basement closet and attic
  • Wash and properly store all of E.'s old baby clothes
  • Properly store all of M.'s outgrown clothing, give away/return some that we were given on loan
  • Make a final purge of the toys upstairs and donate/throw away what we don't want/need
  • Properly store the toys we're going to hang on to
  • Start a toy rotation program and create some "rainy day" bags and busy bags for the kids
 Write more!
  • I would like to blog more...
  • But more than that I'd like to write more fiction (many moons ago that is all I did, and I miss it quite a lot)
Read more!
  • This is the easiest - crack open some more books!
  • I want more poetry in my life, but I somehow have a huge problem picking up a book of poetry; maybe I need to find a website or something that will send a poem to my inbox on a daily basis? (Update: poets.org does this, so yay!)
What are your goals (or resolutions) this year?


Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Things I Learned in Kindergarten

The months before Kindergarten were a struggle for me and my daughter. It's easy to be deceived by her similar appearance to me and penchant for big words and dramatics. It's easy for me to be tricked into thinking, She's just like me. Oh, but she is not. She is so, so different. And it was in the forgetting of that which caused a great deal of strife in that nerve-wracking and tumultuous time before school started.

Before Kindergarten, I would constantly ask myself (or even aloud), "Why is she doing that?" And the behavior I just couldn't make sense of would frequently be framed in a negative light, no matter how I tried to be positive.

Things are different now, after a few months of school, watching her in her classroom as I volunteer, seeing other children, talking to other parents, newbs like me and old parenting veterans, and speaking with her teacher, someone young, enthusiastic, and with a fresh eye on my kiddo that I don't easily have access to. 

That stubbornness? Independence. She doesn't need anyone's help, not mine, not yours, not that random kid who thinks he knows it all. That callousness? Well, it's not that she doesn't care, because to see her with her classmates, she does. She helps those in need with gentle reminders and doesn't tattle. But she's not beholden to anyone. She's not here to please and she wants to be happy. She hasn't yet, and I hope she never will, fallen into that horrible female trap of needing to please. She'll be nice, she's going to help the needy, but she'll be damned if she's going to change her life to make you  feel better.

We're different, my little girl and I, but we're different in a way to puzzle pieces are. They're differing shapes allow those pieces to snap together to form a connection and a fuller picture. I will help her find her balance, and she'll help me find mine. Raising a child, raising a daughter, is a long journey for any mother, but the more willing I become to see all her differences for the beautiful things that they are, the ever so slightly easier this all becomes.

Because, in the end, opposites attract. 

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

In Hot Pursuit

Let the blessed angels sing! The boy is MOBILE!

Over the last few days M. has started seriously developing his crawling skills. For quite some time, he's primarily been an army crawler, which was fine for short distances and if he didn't want to sit up and check out what he had crawled over to (so, actually, it sucked). But recently, he's started to perfect a weird little crawling stance that allows him to be able to stay mostly upright and not fall onto his tummy (it's one of those half sit/half crawl situations where he uses one leg with the foot planted firmly on the ground to push himself along).

I cannot express how much we needed this to happen. I don't think I've met a more frustrated baby. He knew there were so many things he could go see and do in the house, but unless Mama or some other kind soul sucker was good enough to carry him to every little thing he wanted to explore, then he was good and stuck. Which he hated. A lot.

So, today, after thorough practice at the well carpeted and vacuumed library (once again my new favorite place), Michael is now happily crawling at home on our slightly more challenging hardwood floors. He's able to get into all his favorite spots, which include E.'s play kitchen (Did you know opening and closing cupboards is the best ever???), under the living room end table, the dog's food dish, because that kitty will take soooo much abuse.

For now, while he's still slow and maybe a tiny bit cautious, this whole crawling thing is the bomb. However, should you talk to me about it a couple of days from now, when he's faster and getting pretty bored, I'm kinda thinking I'll be ripping the hair out of my head.

Now to find the those plastic outlet plugs...

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Getting My Thanks On

For the last four years for the month of November, until Thanksgiving, we've been following a little family tradition. There's a glass pumpkin shaped jar that sits on our kitchen table with a pile of colored paper and a felt tipped pen. Every day, when we get the chance, my husband, E. (with some help), and I will write down something we're thankful for that day.

Thanksgiving night, after we've come home from a long day of traveling along routes 117 and 4 in between eating way too much, we gather in the living room or on the bed and take turns reading what we were each thankful for every day that month. It's my favorite Thanksgiving tradition and I have saved nearly every single one of those scraps of colored paper since we started back in 2009. And so, for the second year in a row, I have taken all those notes on what we were thankful for and created a word cloud.

I love making these because they are vivid and simple. It takes a month's worth of effort and packages it up nicely. This year I used Tagul, though in years past I've used Tagxedo. Both are pretty good, though I've decided I prefer Tagxedo.


I adore family traditions of all kinds, and I love coming with them even more.I can't say how unbelievably pleased I am that this tradition has stuck for as long as it has.

What traditions do you look forward to to this time of year?

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

The Dog and the Pastor

I know church is sort of a weird place to hear a spooky story (granted, we go to a UU - you get all sorts of good "weird" there), but that's where I heard this one.

We had a guest pastor this past Sunday (Jennifer Wixson, a Quaker minister and writer), and with Halloween just around the corner, she decided to tell us the story of the autumn she spent in a cabin on the backside of Sabbathday Lake. Lots of strange things happened that fall, she explained. A strange, yowling black cat that seemed to only come to her, many unexplained thumps and bumps, and just a general air of unease that seemed to linger around her while she was staying in the cabin.

But one night, a Halloween night, things became especially strange. Spooky, even.

Our guest pastor was driving home very late that night and there was an especially thick layer of fog settled on the road she traveling home on. As she drove painfully slow through the fog, she spotted a strange figure ahead, moving down the middle of the road. As she drove closer, she realized it was a man carrying something on his shoulders, though what, she wasn't sure.

She stopped driving when the man was just ahead of her, and though she was more than a little bit anxious, she felt it wouldn't be right to just drive on without asking if he needed a ride, so she rolled down the window and called out, "Need a lift?!"

The man turned and grinned. "I don't need one, but my dog does!" Suddenly she could see what he was carrying on his shoulders - very dead dog. She could see, because its head had lolled towards her, right through her opened window. Shrieking, she shied away and head to resist the desire to just shove the gas peddle down to car floor.

"Did he get hit by a car?" she asked. The man didn't answer, but instead tossed the dog's corpse into the back of her pickup. More than a bit shocked, our guest pastor finally did hit that gas peddle, leaving the owner of the dead dog behind her. She glanced back once as she drove away and the man had disappeared.

As soon as she got back home, she ran inside and jumped into bed, throwing the covers over her head, not moving until morning and the safety of sunlight arrived. When morning finally did come, she summoned the courage to go outside and look at the dog in the back of her truck and make a decision about what do with it.

But the dog was gone. There was absolutely no trace of the dog. Not a spot of blood, not a hair. It was as if it had never been there.

It was not long after this, our guest pastor told us, that she really started to feel unwelcome in that place, that lovely cabin by the lake. She described a feeling of being chased out, and that if she didn't leave, things far worse than a dead dog in the back of her truck appearing and then disappearing were going to happen.

So, in addition to this great story, our guest pastor also shared this really awesomely creepy poem by James Whitcomb Riley, one that you might have heard or read before, or at least the title might be something familiar to you:

Linking up with Mama Kat this week.

Little Orphant Annie

  by James Whitcomb Riley
Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
An' all us other childern, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
             Ef you
                Don't
                   Watch
                      Out!
        
Onc't they was a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,--
So when he went to bed at night, away up stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wasn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found was thist his pants an' roundabout--
An' the Gobble-uns'll git you
             Ef you
                Don't
                   Watch
                      Out!
        
An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever'one, an' all her blood an' kin;
An' onc't, when they was "company," an' ole folks was there,
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They was two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!
An' the Gobble-uns'll git you
             Ef you
                Don't
                   Watch
                      Out!
        
An' little Orphant Annie says when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--
You better mind yer parents, an' yer teachers fond an' dear,
An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns'll git you
             Ef you
                Don't
                   Watch
                      Out!
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15240#sthash.dNhBu4XH.dpuf

Little Orphant Annie

  by James Whitcomb Riley
Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
An' all us other childern, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
             Ef you
                Don't
                   Watch
                      Out!
        
Onc't they was a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,--
So when he went to bed at night, away up stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wasn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found was thist his pants an' roundabout--
An' the Gobble-uns'll git you
             Ef you
                Don't
                   Watch
                      Out!
        
An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever'one, an' all her blood an' kin;
An' onc't, when they was "company," an' ole folks was there,
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They was two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!
An' the Gobble-uns'll git you
             Ef you
                Don't
                   Watch
                      Out!
        
An' little Orphant Annie says when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--
You better mind yer parents, an' yer teachers fond an' dear,
An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns'll git you
             Ef you
                Don't
                   Watch
                      Out!
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15240#sthash.dNhBu4XH.dpuf

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

First Light


Before I was staying at home, I would be driving to work at this time, watching the sun come up in pinks and purples over our little range of mountains. The colors and time alone would fill my soul and make me ready for the day.

I don't have those quiet morning drives any more. I don't get up extra early to sneak out the door before little ones are awake enough to miss me. So, now I fill my soul bit by bit with these little sips of first light coming through my windows each of these early mornings. Maybe I've secured myself twenty minutes to take a shower (not so this morning) or perhaps we're fast out of the gate, scrambling to get ready for school. Either way, I take what sweet moments to collect myself that I can and make myself ready for our day.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Tricks and Treats

We've been busy here the last couple of days. The week of Halloween festivities has finally hit and kicked off with two things: a story and an early bout of trick-or-treating.

I'm awful about remembering my camera (and when I have it in hand, my photographs aren't necessarily worth hanging on to - one might think my children are simply colorful blurs rather than actual skin and bone children), but I really do wish I had it Friday. Our town and it's down town businesses do an annual Halloween walk in the afternoon a week or so before the holiday. This was our first year participating, but having done the town Easter egg hunt in the spring, which was similarly organized, I felt it would be well done, safe, and fun (which it was).

E., after much deliberation, decided she wanted to be a farmer, and a friend luckily spotted a pea pod costume for M. in a local consignment shop (we couldn't quite decide what he was going to be, so it was lucky we found the costume!). They both looked absolutely adorable and a lot of folks got a real kick out of their get up. I think for Halloween I'll even add a nice little blue ribbon for E.'s prize winning, and pretty huge, pea pod.

And now, for a story. I really enjoyed coming up with our Michaelmas tale early last month. I don't normally consider myself a good off the cuff story teller, but lately that skill is becoming fine tuned. It's especially helpful to have little M. to test things on. So, when I wanted to come up with a bit of a Halloween-y story that also corresponded with our changing scenery this is what I told M., and then later, E.

Once upon a time, many years ago, there was a little goblin who lived under a stump. All little goblins love to play tricks, and this goblin was no exception. 

One crisp, autumn morning the little goblin came out of his hidey-hole and looked up at the green, green leaves of the trees. 

"I'm tired of these green leaves," he said to himself. "I should play a fun trick to change just that!" 

So each night, for many nights, the little goblin went out and painted the trees leaves. Some were golden yellow, others firey orange, and still more were golden red. Very soon, all the leaves were different colors and the little goblin was very happy and so where the people who would walk in the woods and gaze up and the beautiful fall leaves. 

After some weeks, as the autumn air grew cooler, the goblin began to grow restless and tired of the colorful leaves. He was ready for another trick. 

He thought to himself - "Wouldn't it be fun if all those leaves feel to the ground. The would go swoosh, swoosh crunch under people's feet, and mothers and fathers would rake them up into piles and children would jump in them or hide in them and pop up and say, 'BOO!'"

So each night, for many nights, the little goblin went out and shook the trees, making their leaves flutter down to the ground. The wind helped, too, and soon all the trees leaves fell to the ground, going swoosh, swoosh, crunch under people's feet and being raked into piles from children to jump and hide in. 

The little goblin was very happy with his tricks that autumn and thought perhaps it would be fun to do them every year. And from then until now, everyone has seen his handiwork in the autumn's colorful and falling leaves.

E. really loved this story and has since requested others (including one featuring a swim in "our" lake). I've told her she has to give me a couple of days to think of something, but I think I can fulfill the order.

A quick little note: This little story is my intellectual property. If for some reason you feel like you'd like to share the story online, please link back to my blog. Thanks! :-)

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

How We Celebrate


Sunlight, that sweet smell of fall leaves full of crunch, the taste of perfect apples right off the tree - this was our Michaelmas. We went apple picking at a local orchard and picked so many apples that have slowly been turned into crisps, apple sauce, a pie (hiding out in the freezer until Thanksgiving), and school snacks.

Apples led to a brief exploration of a town we didn't know so well, eating one of those apple crisps and a blackberry crisp, all followed by a candle-lit retelling of my version of the story of St. Michael, featuring Daddy as the dragon and E. as the fearless, dragon-defeating saint.

Not long ago I was asked why we were choosing to celebrate these old holidays, these days that so few in our country know about or pay attention to. Why celebrate something that doesn't have a Hallmark card all ready for you to grab or designated section for that holiday that's set up months in advance? Well, that's why. For once, I said to them, it feels so good to celebrate something for the sake of celebrating it, to understand the meaning and to not be bogged down by the commercialism (you see, I'm getting in touch with my inner Charlie Brown).

In our crazy busy world that marks the most deeply entrenched traditions in our lives with department store holiday displays and wintery commercials in October, all along with the push to buy, buy, buy, it is such a relief to NOT. HAVE. TO. DO. ANYTHING. Do nothing, but be with one another and look deeply into ourselves and our family to see how closely the traditions and people of the past touch our lives.


 

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Popping in with Half a Thought


Did you know being a mom is exhausting? It is so, so tiring?! Where are these bloggy ladies getting all this time to write beautiful blog posts and take perfectly composed pictures and make all this delicious stuff? (It should be noted that I take a lot of time late at night reading other really awesome blogs.) Clearly their priorities are different than mine. (I watched two hours' worth of Scandal today.) Or maybe their sweet babies have regular (read: "normal") eating habits and, actually, I don't know...sleep. (I nursed M. for about two hours' worth of those Scandal episodes today. He slept for maybe half of one.)

While I've been trying to find a rhythm that fits nicely with our family, I've been trying to carve out time for me to write within that rhythm. It's part of that whole idea that Mama needs something for herself on top of everything else she does.

But, damn, I do a whole lot.


Sunday, September 15, 2013

Grumpy Mama

There were supposed to be pictures...but I lost the camera.

It was my mom's camera.

Ugh.

We went camping this weekend, and I loved it. I went four-wheeling for the first time in years (years!) and felt like a real red neck woman without guilt. We stayed up late with a bonfire and some beers (well, I didn't have a beer, but it was nice to see others with one...and maybe I did have a sip or two of Pumpkin Head).

But, damn, am I tired. And that camera is still lost.

And I am one grumpy mama.

"What do you do when you feel grumpy?" I would ask E. when she's got her fists balled up and that scowl on her face.

What does a grumpy mama do?

Deep breaths, nurse the baby, eyes closed, make my big girl laugh. Sometimes.

Stamp feet, snappy voice, not-so-kind words. Sometimes.

What makes a grumpy mama feel better? Sleepy babies in bed (after some giggles that make the roughness from before a bit smoother), a movie with my biggest love, new polish on my nails. Being home again.

Grumpy mama is glad to be home again.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

The Last of the Bounty

The last week has been a bit of an up and down, weather wise. Monday, when I brought E. to school, I had M. in a fleece hat and and snuggled in the carrier. Today? Baby and I sweat it out in the dance studio - and we weren't the ones dancing!

Rhythmically, this week has been a lot like the weather. We've had our pretty incredible share of car issues, I started my new job, E. started ballet and tap lessons, the mister was home an extra day, we're getting ready to go away for the weekend, and E. is still adjusting to going to school. I'm exhausted just thinking about all if it and whatever footing we gained last week completely went out the window.

But today we tried to bring back some of that soothing quiet back into our lives. Between nasty rain and thunder storms, M. and I got outside and picked what little was left of our blackberries.

At this point in the year, they're really not that tasty. The berries are a bit shrivelled and more bitter than sweet. Gone are those addictive bursts of juicy-sweet tartness. But now it's not so much about the berries themselves, but the act of harvesting - the soothing rocking back and forth with the occasional pause to kiss a baby's head.


The blackberries are just about gone (though I have loads waiting in the freezer for a Michaelmas feast), the leaves are just starting to let the color start at their tips, and I can imagine that after this week is done, the humid days of 90 degree weather are, for the most part (I hope!!) behind us. The last of the summer bounty, for my home at least, has come in, and I can feel that desperate need to slow down so our bones can settle in for the winter

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Kindergarten Questions

Okay, so, first of all, here is the required, ADORABLE picture of E. on her first day of Kindergarten:

She's pretty darn cute, right?

School has been okay so far. The first couple of days, while drop off was difficult, had gone really well. E. was excited to go, pleased with her new classroom and friends and teacher. But as our week has gone on, the words, "But the day is so long!" have been heard more than once. Yesterday, as we got ready for school, there was a refusal to get dressed, E. hiding under the covers, unwilling to get out.

"I don't want to go! I want to stay home!"

Part of me very much wanted to say, "Okay!" but, of course, I did not. I coaxed her out with promises to visit the playground after school and a favorite supper that night. We got her to school and she went in without a problem for the first time all week.

I left the school building, torn. I knew she was going to be fine. But, I would then say, what about better than fine? I know I have brought this up before, but it's still eating me up inside. I'm not entirely sure I could provide better than fine, I'm not sure if I should try, because although I am at home now, I'm not entirely sure I will be next year. With things so up in the air, it's hard to make plans, and while I don't know for sure her school is the best place she can be, I know it wouldn't be ideal to be changing things around a lot in just a school year or two. Above all, I know she needs consistency.

I want to provide a childhood for my daughter that speaks to the very best parts of her world, and I don't know if that's happening right now (both at home and at school - I'm not going to lay this all at the feet of the public school system). So, for now, E. goes to school. I try to make a healing rhythm at home. We both make new friends and learn new things. And we wait and see and hope that it will be better than fine.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

A Taste of Michaelmas


As I've been exploring Waldorf education and Rudolph Steiner's philosophy I couldn't help but stumble across the immense amount of holidays and festivals that are celebrated in Waldorf schools and home schools or by families who identify with Steiner's beliefs. While I was raised in a Christian household and am married to a Catholic (who seems to have all sorts of hidden holidays I didn't know about), a lot of these Christian oriented festivals and their corresponding stories were new to me. What's more, I was drawn into the effort as well as simplicity (if such a thing were possible) the parents put forth in making these somewhat obscure days special for their little ones. 

My own bit of fluff - trying my hand at making a Waldorf inspired hand kite
 Of course, as one learns about Waldorf education, you realize that it is about so much more than sweet little natural toys, making flower crowns, and celebrating the summer solstice (I love this bit from Waldorf Essentials about the "fluff" families are often drawn to in Waldorf). It truly embraces the belief of making childhood count for something (something good and beautiful), but I suppose one of those things that helps make childhood all it should be is celebrating. And celebrating different seasonal holidays is a wonderful way to create a feeling of rhythm throughout the year (and months and weeks and days), something strongly encouraged in Waldorf education and any mother who wants to stay sane. 



Michaelmas is the next upcoming festival (September 29) and as a family we've decided it's something we'd like to celebrate. Now, for those of you who aren't in the know, Michaelmas, as I understand it (if you are in the know and see something off in the explanation to come, let me know!) is a celebration of a couple of things: One, the battle of archangel Michael and his subsequent defeat of Lucifer, which is often shown as a knight defeating a dragon (St. George is wrapped up in this is as well since he is a noted dragon slayer apparently). Two, Michaelmas is also associated with harvest celebrations, where people partake in the bounty of the wood and field (geese and blackberries where two common food related themes I had noticed).


Below is a children's story that I told (and later wrote in very rough form) to my daughter. It is the story of St. Michael made a wee bit tamer for the five year old set as well as brining in the harvest festival elements so often associated with the festival. If you like you're more than welcome borrow the story to tell your own little ones, but I do recommend telling the story sans text. Little ones love to be told a story, and even if you think you're lousy at it (I know I am), it will be enjoyed nonetheless, trust me.

Mama's Michaelmas Story

Once upon a time, in a beautiful land filled with farms and fields, lakes and rivers, forests, hills and mountains. Many animals lived in this land: deer, boar, wolves, squirrels, and even frogs and toads! The people who lived in this land were good people, they worked hard, cared for their land and the animals that lived in it, and loved one another very much.

As good as things were most of the time, there was one big problem. In the mountains, not too far way, there was a dragon. He was as green as an emerald, with jet black eyes, and was as big as a house. This dragon would watch the people of the land in their villages, happily taking care of their homes, fields, and each other and it would make the dragon, who lived all alone in the cold mountains, very angry.

So, once a year, just as the people were finishing gathering the harvest, mending their woolen winter clothes, and readying their homes and animals for the long winter, the dragon would come and burn one of the villages down to the ground. The people of that village would lose everything – all their food, all their clothes, even some of their cows and sheep, which the dragon would eat right up! The people of the village the dragon had chosen to burn that year would be very sad and worry, because they had lost all they had prepared for the long hard winter and didn't know how they would survive.

In one of the other nearby villages, there was a young knight named Michael. He had seen the village that was burned down and had many friends there. It made him very upset to see people he cared so much about with nothing just before wintertime, especially when they had just worked so hard to prepare everything they would need. He helped his friends from the burned village find places to stay for the winter and new clothes, but he still felt angry. Every year this happened and it just wasn't fair!

No one wanted to fight the dragon. The people of this land were a peaceful people and not many kept things like swords and shields. Besides, the people were very afraid of the dragon – he was so big and fierce and they were so small! But Michael did have a sword, one he had made himself, and a shield as well, and he was just upset enough to finally say, “I will go to that dragon and I will defeat him!” The villagers were proud of Michael and as he left his village they gave him many supplies: a horse to make him fast, food to fill his belly and help keep up his strength, and a shining cloak of gold and red, as bright as any dragon's fire.

Michael road his horse across the land, towards the mountains. He galloped through open fields, trotted through narrow forest paths, and crossed over rough and gravelly hills. Finally, he came to the dragon's mountain.

He stood at the base of the mountain and summoned as much courage as he could. He called out, “Dragon, I dare you to come down and fight me!” He waited for a moment, but there was no answer.
He called again, louder, “Dragon, I DARE you to come down and fight me!” Again, there was no answer.
Michael was starting to not feel so brave. He thought about how big the dragon was and how he could breathe fire and eat huge cows in one swallow. He knew he had to call out to the dragon again, so he started to think of his friends and family back home, especially those who had no home this year, and the ones who didn't have a place to last winter last year, and how this happened every year. Finally, he was ready to call out again, and when he did, it felt as though everyone who wanted that dragon defeated was calling out with him. Do you want the dragon defeated? Call out with Michael if you do!
“Dragon, I DARE YOU TO COME DOWN AND FIGHT ME!”

From a high, high rocky ledge, the dragon leaped down, green wings spread wide, smoke coming from his nostrils, a sneer on the dragon's face.
You think you can defeat me?” The dragon chuckled, getting ready to swallow Michael in one gulp.
“I will defeat you, dragon!” Michael yelled, getting ready to fight, even though he was pretty sure the dragon would just burn him to a crisp.
The dragon stopped and looked at the small night with his dragon-fire cloak. “Hmmm,” he said, “You know, no one has ever challenged me before. Everyone usually just runs and hides and isn't as brave as you. I'm impressed. I'll let you fight me. I could really just burn you to a crisp now, but instead I'll give you a go. Let's fight, little knight!”

And so the fight began. The dragon would blow his fire and Michael would leap aside. Michael would run to skewer the dragon with his sword, but the dragon would suddenly fly into the air. The knight and the dragon would go back and forth, blowing fire and parrying with the sword. Eventually, the two of them began to grow tired, and Michael would land a blow or the dragon would singe the knight a bit, but nothing to cause any serious damage. After a while, Michael and the dragon became so exhausted they had to stop fighting, unable to go on, but neither defeated.

The dragon, who was really a coward at heart, knew that if they continued to fight, no one would win, or worse, he would be defeated. As Michael struggled to get up and continue the fight, the dragon yelled, “Stop! I won't fight you any longer. I'll go away and never bother you or your family or your land's villages again.”
“But I don't want you to harm anyone ever again. I must defeat you!” The knight and the dragon looked at each other, waiting to see what the other would do next. Finally, Michael had an idea. He had looked around him, at the cold, dreary mountainside where the dragon lived. It was hard and colorless, devoid of life. It seemed it would be a lonely life, living here, lonely enough to make any creature bitter and angry, let alone a grumpy old dragon.
“Now I'll make a deal with you, dragon. Let me go free and promise to never hurt anyone, and I mean anyone ever again, and the villagers and I will make a feast for you. We'll do it every year, right at this time, and you can come and fill your belly for the long winter right along with us. At the end of the feast you can make a huge bonfire for us to warm ourselves by and celebrate the end of the harvest.”
The dragon thought for a moment, considering the knight's offer. “Yes, I will agree to this, but with one condition.”
“What's that?” Michael asked.
“You'll make a special treat just for me. Though, maybe I'll share it, if I feel like it.” Michael agreed.
The dragon brought Michael (and his horse) back home again and Michael told the villagers about his battle with the dragon and the deal he had made. That very night the villagers had their first feast, celebrating Michael's bravery right along with the end of their bountiful harvest. The dragon filled his belly, as did the villagers, and all went home happy and no longer worried about being left out in the cold.

For many years feast for Michael and the dragon were held, even long after Michael and the dragon where gone. Once the dragon was gone, people would still leave food out for the dragon, just in case. Or people would bring things to others in need, lonely and cold like the dragon before them.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Gratitude Sunday

Sunday's heartfelt tradition. A time to slow down, to reflect, to be grateful. A list of gratitudes. (Joining Taryn over at Wooly Moss Roots)

This week I've been grateful for:

* My husband and for all he's given me and my family. We spent two days together, just the two of us, for the first time in six months, this week. As hard as it was to be away from the littles, I think we both feel so refreshed in our marriage and blessed to have one another. (Check out this poem I posted in honor of our anniversary on Friday.)

I am not known for my ability to capture just how attractive people are in real life...and my husband always makes faces when he's being photographed.
* My parents and the crazy amount of "help" they've given our little family. This week they took both of the kids overnight while the hubs and I had our time away. They've done any number of other things for us (there isn't enough time or reader attention span to say it all), but I don't know if I would have made it as far as I have in life without their unconditional love and support. The joy they brought my kiddos this week has been just one small part of it.
My daddy (yes, I'm one of those adult women who still calls her father Daddy) and the kids. He and my mom are just so awesome with them.
* The little things. Like sushi. Really, really yummy sushi. And new fabric.

Delaney's in North Conway, New Hampshire
* Feeling smart and learning about awesome new things.


Friday, August 23, 2013

Poetry Friday (Which Was Poetry Sunday and Will Probably Become Poetry Saturday)

 'Ahidziskeii

It's not a grand thing after all,
just that warm comfort in murmuring "good night"
before I sink into that dark quiet
that exists when we're together.

Otherwise, when I'm traveling,
same same 'good night' on the phone,
and I listen intently (for wheat I'm not sure",
leave a light on for safety, drift off to sleep, half-listening;
a little noise and I'm sitting up in bed, surveying the room,
sometimes even the entire block from the hotel window. 
I rush to the phone and double check,
should  I dial o or 8-911?
I check the locks again, then lie back down 
afraid to sleep, yet wanting to sleep, knowing 
that fatigue will be obvious in the morning.
I've had so much practice. 

When we're together, checking locks doesn't occur to me,
local crime seems so far away (never mind
that we are in the heart of the city),
I insist upon complete darkness, and what I ams sure of 
is that if I turn over, your warm chest or arms will surround me.
That should I awaken, confused as to where I am (once again),
you will reach for me knowing exactly how to reassure me. 

And when we drink coffee together
in this bright California morning, 
mountains towering around us, I move closer to knowing
what the Creator means by "nizhonio 'ahidziskeii."
They are sitting beside each other in a house of beauty. 

Lucy Tapahonso

Five years ago today I married the man I love the most, who makes me smile the broadest, laugh the hardest, and can piss me off more than anyone possibly could (and still accepts my apologies and forgiveness). When I read the poem up above, I see my husband and I, together in our home, our own "house of beauty." It is his "warm chest and arms" that make me feel safe and protect our family. And when he isn't home, there is a hole in our world and things just don't seem quite right. 

Our marriage is quietly special and subtly sweet. There aren't any ostentatious gifts of affection or over the top gestures of love, just the little things bind our family together. Things like never going to bed without a kiss goodnight, or the phone calls to one another when we reach our destinations, or still holding hands as we walk into a store.

I want five years, twenty, fifty years and more with him, learning more about one another, raising our babies, and having our best adventures.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Back to School

I think I really need to start taking some grad courses. You know you have school deprivation when you easily pick up a textbook-grade paperback and flip through it like it's Us Weekly (you also know you've been out of school too long if you debate whether or not you ought to italicise the name of a magazine, both because you care and because you don't know the answer).



A few weeks ago I showed up at our library with a list of seven books. Seven books that did not contain characters that were married to sexy Scottish warriors, scheming dwarves (who also somehow manage to be sexy, in that smart guy kind of way), or have anything even remotely to do with Edwardian England (hello, Downton Abbey withdrawal). They were all books related to Waldorf education, either from a parenting or a curriculum/education perspective.

Over the next few days the books came in and I spent a lot of time at the library, schlepping small children, who both love books, but would have preferred to be outside (well, I suppose the baby didn't care, but E. most certainly did).

I don't know that E. would agree, but I'll say, so far, it's been worth it. I'm about halfway through the pile, having read three and a half of the books (I'm literally smack in the middle of my fourth) and I have learned so much. There is a sense of empowerment that comes with being presented with new tools in life, particularly in parenting. There have been so many areas where I have felt helpless and have known in the back of my mind that my way of doing things needed to be changed. Now I understand why I need to make changes, and I'm attempting to make those changes. It's not easy, but it feels so good to try and to see positive results.

I doubt all this sort of vague hinting about at what I've learned and am still discovering is terribly interesting, but I hope to eventually synthesize it into more bite sized (and interesting) bits here, if only for my own reference.

So, after I become an expert in Waldorf education, I fully intend to return to my "fun" books (including and not limited to presidents' killing vampires, more hot Scottish warriors, dragons, and maybe moving back in time to Victorian England, either with Austen or Dickens, not sure). Learning new things is undeniably good, but one does need a bit of variety, right?

What are you learning about?

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Time Warp

What is your favorite age? If you could stay that age forever, would you? (Prompt courtesy of Mama Kat)


I have to think back pretty far to reach my favorite age. I have to bypass teenage pregnancy (which I'll never regret, but people DO look at you funny), my troubled years in high school, awkwardness in middle school, the misery of making friends after our move to Maine (I was the quintessential Mass-hole), and the death of my Grandma Ruth. 


Once you get through that mess, you hit about eight. That's not to say 9 through twenty-five stunk, it's just that eight was...well, eight was just about perfect.


We lived in Groveland, Massachusetts at the time, in a beautiful colonial on a quiet suburban street.
My dad and grandpa did a ton of work and an amazing job renovating this almost 300-year-old house, which you can read about here.
We lived in an actual neighborhood, something that is somewhat scarce in our current neck of the woods. There were lots of kids right around my age and we participated in the usual roving gang of kids activities, like flash light tag, secret clubs, and adopting a stray dog that spent a lot of time going through our trash cans.


Halloween! I'm the kiddo in the white turtleneck next to the scarecrow. All these kids grew up to be amazing and kinda gorgeous, by the way.
At eight, I was never bored. I spent crazy amounts of time outside. I had ambitions, ideas, stories, pictures, a voice. It's not to say that I don't have any of that now, because I do, but it was so pure and so uninhibited. There was no concept of, "What will they think," because "they" didn't exist. The only other people in my life were my family and my very best buds, and they all loved me unconditionally, so it didn't matter what I did - it would all be great.


At eight, you're all innocence still (or, at least if all is right in your world, you ought to be), but you are cognisant of the world enough to really be smart about stuff. It's a perfect balance of a willingness to see an unjaded and beautiful world as well as an understanding that maybe everything isn't perfect, but you can do something about it. Rudolph Steiner, who I'm reading an awful lot about lately, would say an eight year old is spending a lot of her time interacting with the world via feelings. Kids are discovering empathy at this age, and truly feeling the brunt of their emotions. They are understanding how emotions work and preparing to someday control them so they can be used to benefit others. It's an amazing time to experience the world. Maybe because I tend to feel so intensely is why I can connect so easily to eight-year-old me.


But would I want to be eight forever? No, of course not. I think most adults, when they think about it, wouldn't want to go back. There are wonderful things about childhood, but once you've tasted adulthood, you know there is no going back. Not necessarily because being a grown-up is so much better, but because what you've seen and done can't be unseen or undone. What we've experienced as children and young adults has helped us unfold into the full person we've become - and really, that's not such a bad person.

What I want to hang on to is some of that eight year old perspective. The world is a wonderful place. My family and friends love me (including some of those folks in the picture above). I am capable, smart, and beautiful. Flashlight tag is fun (heck, any kind of tag is fun). And you know what? If I want to be a ballerina, then, damnit, I can be.


How old are you, really?

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Weekend Lovin'

I've often said to folks, "When my husband's gone, he's gone." Meaning, he works an hour away at a job that requires him to work twelve hour shifts doing some really tough stuff. When his days off turn up during the summer we're pretty relieved to have him home and are ready to go out and have some fun. Unfortunately, our kind of summer fun takes us to the great outdoors, and up until this month, the great outdoors has been pretty soggy in these parts, especially, it had seemed, on my poor husband's days off.

But finally, finally we've had some truly fabulous weather, and every day he had off the weekend we found ourselves out doing something just so nice.

Friday:








Out on "grandma and grandpa's lake" with my parents. The sweet sunshine, delicious food, jumps into the lake, and looking at beautiful lakeside homes. 

Saturday:















We were up at 4 o'clock Saturday morning to drive to Lewiston to watch the morning launch for the balloons at the annual Great Falls Balloon Festival. It was a beautiful morning that was followed by a yummy breakfast at a local diner. E. had a wonderful time and was very happy to finally have a chance to wear her balloon outfit. 

Sunday:







It seemed fitting that the week of our wedding anniversary my husband wanted to take the kids and I up to Frenchman's Hole in Newry, one of the places he took me when we were first dating. With a little grilling and some swimming later into the afternoon, it was a very pleasant and relaxing end to a really perfect summer weekend.


Monday, August 19, 2013

Abundance

This week I'm joining, for the firs time, the Make Your Home Sing link up party over at Mom's the Word. So very excited!




The season for blackberry goodness is upon us again. We have a ridiculous amount of blackberry bushes on one side of our property that have yielded a ridiculous amount of some of the most delicious blackberries I've ever had. In the past two summers that we've lived in our little house (with it's small surrounding jungle) these berries have never tasted so good. Big, juicy, sweet (with that lovely hint of tart) berries that quickly fill our bowls and bellies.

Every other afternoon, the kids and I have been going out and picking berries, setting some aside to make something special. E. is begging for blackberry pie, but I'd love to make this from Cinnamon Girl.


With the blackberries comes the extreme green of summer at our house. Everything is so vibrant and growing so well, but...I don't know what half of it is. And most of the other half are weeds, or there's just a lot of it (it being hosta, bee balm, day lilies, iris, some sort of weird monster plant that grows to enormous heights, and six-foot-tall thistle that I have a love/hate relationship with).

There's one particular part that is abundantly overgrown (pictured just above) for which I have high hopes. For the last two years I've been desperate for a vegetable garden. But our yard is woefully shady in most places, except for this one particular crazy patch of ground that's afloat amidst our lawn. So, while logic might dictate (or at least it does to me, a person with limited gardening experience) that we simply tear up what's there and plant a garden (I realise it's slightly more complicated than all that, but that's the gist of it).

But it can't be that simple, of course. Two reasons: that particular patch is over part of our septic system and those crazy monster plants grow non-stop, no matter what, and, as our neighbour informed us, the only way to really guarantee their demise is to rip them all up (thankfully the pull out easily), put down a layer of newspaper followed by a black tarp and leave that there for upwards of a year.

So, in order to unite my desire to have a veggie garden and to get rid of those crazy plants (all while not using potentially icky, septic-contaminated soil), we've decided to try raised beds over the layers of black tarp and newspaper. Win, win, right?

We're in the midst of phase one right now, which mainly involves me ripping up the crazy amount of weeds, and trying to figure out if I'm capable of ripping out a six foot thistle tree bush. After that we'll put down the newspaper and tarp and settle in for the cooler temperatures. Over the fall and winter I plan on beefing up my gardening knowledge and spending those chilly months being an armchair gardener, hoping to put my new knowledge into use come spring.

We'll see how that goes. Hopefully, come this time next year, we'll have quite the abundance of home grown veggies to fill little and big bellies alike as we do home grown weeds and wild blackberries.

Or I'll have a lone zucchini (possibly from our neighbours garden). Either way, I'll call it good.