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.

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Poetry Sunday


Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
        Hath had elsewhere its setting,
          And cometh from afar:
        Not in entire forgetfulness
        And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
        From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
        Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
        He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
    Must travel, still is Nature's priest,
      And by the vision splendid
      Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.

- William Wordsworth

I recently saw this segment of the ode Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood in the book You Are Your Child's First Teacher. With a child still so new in our home, this touched my heart in a special way. There is something about an infant that seems ethereal. He's not quite entirely there with us, sometimes, as though a part of his being is still mingling with God or some timeless force from where he came.

This is a seriously beautiful poem, and is quite a bit longer (this is only one small section). I would recommend reading the rest if you find your heart hungering for some meditation on the beauty of childhood. The rest of the poem can be found here.

Poetry Sunday is a day to find a piece of poetry that stirs your soul and makes your heart race in that oh-so pleasant way and share it with the rest of the world.

Friday, August 16, 2013

Though She Be But Little, She is Fierce

Oh, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school. And though she be but little, she is fierce. (A Midsummer's Night Dream, Act 2, Scene 3)
 

Kindergarten is coming. Not this week, not next (though we do have an open house to attend), but the week after. Just under two weeks away, to be exact.

Outside, with that cool, dry air moving about us, you can smell school. When I stuck my head outside to let the dog out and took in that lovely deep lungful of breath, I could smell a warm breakfast, waiting for the bus, and school bells ringing. It's very September-y out there.

I've had quite a lot of turmoil, knotting very nicely in the pit of my stomach, about sending my big little off into the less insular world of "big kid school" (despite the fact that her preschool was actually located in the local high school). But I am also getting excited about this new adventure, and E. is, too. She's also very anxious.

Five year olds don't tell you, "I'm really scared about going to a new school, having a new teacher, and being with new kids who aren't my friends from preschool."

No, instead they tell you their bed is uncomfortable and they must sleep in yours (as if she'd stay in her own bed anyway...and we're okay if she doesn't). Instead, they pinch their baby brothers when you're not looking and tell you it's because he, "Gave me a mean look!" Instead they won't stop telling fart jokes or pretend to fart or poop on everything, even though you've asked a thousand times for them to stop. Instead, even the littlest thing takes them completely off kilter and results in an entire evening of, "But I want it!" and "You're the meanest mom EVER!" when previously they've never been one of those kids before in their lives.


Why didn't anyone tell me this would be so tough? Why didn't anyone tell me that in addition to feeling that little bit of sadness about my baby growing up was going to be mixed with the heart wrenching guilt and questioning of whether or not we're making the right decision in sending her away from our little home.



I know, in my heart, that once school starts and she starts to relax and feel comfortable with where she is going every day, things will settle down and our happy, not-quite-so-stormy girl will be back in full force. And I hope my own excitement about school will help her feel easy about it all the more (and I swear, she is excited, too). But then I wonder how long it will take her to
relax. What are those first days (weeks) of school going to bring us? Is it all going to be worth the emotional turmoil in the end?

I have been reminded over and over that kids are resilient. And they are. But should I have to make her be resilient?

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Just Smile :-D

I'm joining Mama Kat this week (for the first time in ages - so happy it's one more thing that's making me smile)!

10 Things to Smile About (inspired by Things I Can't Say)
Here are 10 things that are making me smile today.
  1. Learning new things (this past week I've read this and this and am reading this)
  2. Impromptu photo shoots with E. with her new school clothes for Kindergarten!
  3.  Finally getting to go for a run and really running. 
  4. Beer brewing in our house. (And it has chocolate in it!!)
  5. A delicious forecast expected for the rest of the week, perfectly coordinated with boat rides, balloon festivals, and a trip to Mackworth Island. Love August in Maine. 
  6. These last few weeks of uncomplicated nursing with M. It makes me smile, but shed a tear or two as well, not knowing what to expect once I start working part time again. 
  7. Seeing my name in print in the adult ed. brochure! 
  8.  This song:
  9. M. and his sleeves. 
    What...what are these??
  10.  Ocean State Job Lots and a giant bottle of $7 organic extra virgin olive oil 

    What's got you grinning?

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Why I Don't Hate Wal-Mart



I dont' know if it's just my Facebook feed or if this is something that's really “happening” on the interwebz right now, but there seems to be a lot of Wal-Mart hate going on.

And I get it. Wal-Mart has a pretty crappy reputation in most departments. I, personally, don't enjoy shopping there. It's loud, gives me some pretty serious sensory overload, and makes my kids (read: five year old and husband) act out (seriously, I blame the store, they're perfect everywhere else). You know, and I'm battling some internal feelings about my personal consumerism, minimalism (or lack there of), buying locally vs. at big box stores, etc.

But I won't say I hate Wal-Mart. Now, this is a reformist attitude on my part. I used to say I hated Wal-Mart. Swore up and down it was the worst place ever, that I avoided going there at all costs, but then I realized two things. One, I was being a huge hypocrite by saying, “I hate it there!” and still going, and two, while I have some serious issues with Wal-Mart, I don't know that I actually dislike the stores quite so much as I dislike the company.

Now you, the reader, can certainly go on and say whatever you like about Wal-Mart, good or bad. You can choose to shop there or not shop there. But here, I think, are some reasons to give pause before you say something like, “I hate Wal-Mart!!” or the like (and are my personal reasons for why I stopped saying it).

The crap they sell at Wal-Mart isn't any worse than the crap that they sell at [insert any big box or other non-specialty chain store]. Junk from overseas is junk from overseas, regardless of where you get it. It's not like the sweatshop kids who manufactured your downgraded designer t-shirt from Target  any happier or paid any better than the ones who made the shirt you could have gotten at Wal-Mart. Even if you buy from a more local store (like in Maine, we have the chain Reny's), it's still the same thing.

Sometimes, you just don't have a choice. Maybe it's different for those in more urban areas or who don't live on the lower-end of the middle class (or lower), but sometimes there just isn't anywhere else to go. Sometimes you are a parent and you realize last minute, as you look at your calendar ,that it's your kid's friend's birthday party the next day. Even if you wanted to order something online  (and pay for shipping) or make something (because, you, the working parent, has so much time for that), you can't. And because it's a Friday night and you live in the middle of nowhere, nothing “local” is open (and even if it were, the next question would be, could you afford something local?). You're left with one option – Wal-Mart (or Target, I sincerely feel that the two, in terms of quality of items, in most cases, are interchangable, though Target doesn't seem to get slammed like Wal-Mart does).

“Wal-Mart People” aren't a reason to not shop somewhere. You've seen the memes, the ones with the obese people riding scooters in their pajamas. Yes, people who look like that do exist and yes, some do shop at Wal-Mart. Sometimes people, for whatever reason, can't or won't dress up to certain expectations. They won't look how you* think they should look. Who don't take care of their bodies in the same way you do. That's life. Different strokes for different folks. To go around saying that you don't like shopping at Wal-Mart becausee of those people is your perogotive, but understand where it comes from inside of yourself. You're letting the state of other people's lives (which is no one's business, even if part of that life is displayed in public) prevent you from going about your own life.*

I (and you, too, possibly) know people who work at Wal-Mart. At our local Wal-Mart, which is also a major employer in our largely lower-middle class community, I know several employees. They're people I went to high school with, parents of kids I knew growing up, friends who's kids play with mine. They are all people who I know to be kind, intelligent, and hard working. Knowing and spending time with people who work at Wal-Mart is probably the single biggest reason I've changed my tune about the store, which brings me to my  last reason I've stopped saying I hate Wal-Mart...

Regardless of whether or not you know someone who works at Wal-Mart, how you feel about their products, or if you disagree with their company policies, it's people who run that store every day, and they do not deserve anyone's hate or dislike. While I don't believe people who disparage Wal-Mart have any ill will towards Wal-Mart employees, one has to wonder – if someone is going to spend the time to say how much he hates Wal-Mart, what is he saying, conciously or unconciously about the people who work there? I don't enjoy hearing folks badmouth my place of work (and I work for a public school system – trust me, I hear it) and I would think it's the same for many Wal-Mart employees* (and, keep in mind, just because you don't like it there it doesn't mean everyone else feels the same way, store employees included).

And quickly, here are some things I know (but may not be readily obvious from what I've written above):
  • Things need to change at Wal-Mart and many other stores in regards to how employees are treated, receive benefits, and are paid.
  • Wal-Mart kills local businesses. I believe whole-heartedly that it is best to shop locally, when possible. That said, Wal-Mart employs local people in ways that small businesses can't (i.e. On a large scale.)

    I know that I am not an expert in economics, business, or policies regarding these and related areas and don't claim to be. Everything written above are my informed observations and personal opinions. And no, I'm not being compensated by anyone, Wal-Mart or otherwise. [There is supposed to be a bullet here,  it won't format for me...]

*Generic “you.” I don't mean YOU you...I think.

*I could go on and attempt to talk about the interconnectedness of classism and the disdain for “Wal-Mart People”, but I don't think I could speak to it as clearly as necessary, but know it's on my mind.

*Keep in mind, that even if someone who works for Wal-Mart is not happy abou the treatment of the company and stores' employees, it doesn't help to continually hear how much where they work sucks.

Monday, August 12, 2013

Starting Over, All Over

Here we are. Again (well, again if you're familiar with any other blog I've written, and there have been a few). I'm really quite good at starting over. I think it's a secret joy of mine, creating and recreating these little spaces online (well, maybe not so secret, since it's rather public). So, while I find a lot of fun in starting these spaces up, I do hope to keep this one going for a while longer than my last start up (which lasted from January to July of this year - those posts have been imported here). And though I could go into the great saga that has been my "This Domestic Life" blog, I won't. I'll simply say that I've given up on Wordpress, moved my blog love back to Blogger, and that you can find my previous thoughts and account of my pregnancy with M. here. I also kept a blog here before that one.

All right, enough housekeeping. On to blogging.