Thinkin' 'bout stuff

A boisterous late-night HELLO to my dear real and imagined readers!  What a treat it is to read blogs and participate in them.  Facebook is fun 'n all (I really am in an apostrophic mood), but I like the reined-in intimacy that this mode of communication provides.

I am so inspired by the people around me and on the Web who seek to live awake, on purpose, and with joy.

The particular flavor of joy I've been feeling of late is the type that belongs more in the subdued joy category than the crazy, colorful joy category.

I joyfully accept that.  I like neutral colors, too.  And we're in that neutral, Thanksgiving-y joy season.  Reflective joy.

Here are some of my neutral, subdued, reflective joys:  my family, the four of us and our extended family; birthday parties in churches; my-sister's-just-become-an-art-therapist parties (love those!); a gazania plant that continues to open and close in the sun; yellow maple leaves on the windshield of the car across the street and the neighbor boy wearing Anna's hat; Anthony Bourdain; John Taylor Gatto; the Renaissance Soul idea; the fact that I am bearing witness to the people my kids are becoming; sermons delivered by a two-year-old, a four-year-old, and an almost-nine-year-old in an empty church sanctuary this morning; the powerful knowledge that I can ask.for.help.; vegan cookbooks and all manner of cookbooks; a row of knitting here and there; preparations for an Advent spiral; a working dishwasher; love, love, love; health; delicious food; fondue, sausage, chicken burritos, green smoothies, roasted nuts, mangoes, sweet potatoes, chocolate chip cookies...help me!

Amen.  And goodnight!

figuring out some things

It's been great to blog again.  I've gotten to know some fabulous new (to me) bloggers and gained necessary inspiration for my daily life.

And now it's time for me to take a bit of a break.  I've got many irons in the fire right now:  taxes, upkeep on our home business records, a new dishwasher on the way (truly, glory hallelujah; I thought I could get into washing by hand, but I haven't been able to swing it), a potential new 1/4 time job for me at our church, the usual round of homeschooling things, preparations for a spring equinox celebration, a conference on Mary in Anabaptist Dress, which will provide me with the opportunity to read a lovely Gerard Manley Hopkins poem (bliss) and...an exciting 30-day at-home retreat for me (with Heather from Beauty that Moves).

Blessings!

on dolls

I loved dolls as a girl, and I'm surprised now at the emotional response I have to them. A month or two ago I bought one of the dolls in the hearth at the local thrift shop, just because her vintage plastic molded face and hair spoke sweetness and love to me.

As a five-year-old, my main doll squeeze was named, "I Love You." She was a rubber doll with formerly golden hair. When I Love You's original gold tresses became unsightly, my grandma Mildred made her a (lovely) brown wig to match my own hair. My mother wrote our address on I Love You's belly in indelible ink. I lost her at the Kansas City Airport, but they mailed her back to me. One time a playmate turned I Love You head down and swished her in a mud puddle. I was beside myself. I remember crying and crying one morning on the school bus because I just wanted to go back home to get I Love You; I felt a sudden need to take her to school (I didn't get to go).

I suppose that last memory is one reason I treasure homeschooling. When you learn at home (at least ideally), you don't have to let go of I Love You until you choose to. Your schedule allows you to go and retrieve that love, because it's worth holding on to and you're worth slowing down the world for. This, I can tell, is a whole other post in the making, but not the reason I'm writing about dolls, so I'll come back to the thought another time.

Today Henry and I listened to an episode of the Diane Rehm show that focused on the danger of encouraging little girls to engage in princess play. More specifically, Peggy Orenstein made the point that certain kinds of "princess play" can make it difficult for girls to disentangle their sexuality from our culture's tendency to sexualize them.

Objectification. Consumerism. Addiction. Selfishness. These are some of what I believe to be the real problems behind playing princess. Joel has been reading Andrew Lang and George MacDonald stories to Henry at bedtime off-and-on for a couple years now, and they're ripe with princesses and heroines in the traditional princess sense. But, in my opinion, these female characters are archetypes, just as the warrior, the king, the prince, the beggar, and others are archetypes.

So, so, so often we want to throw the baby out with the bath water instead of just getting rid of the dirty water. I think the society that sexualizes little girls instead of treasuring them, that rewards them for buying off-the-rack princess costumes and attending consumer events in them rather than wearing them for outdoor tea parties that just might lead to hole digging or tree climbing, is one that suffers from multiple addictions and chronic, collective low self-worth. I could go on and on here, but to what end?

Suffice it to say, aside from my homeschooling peeps and close acquaintances and friends, I don't see a whole of mothers and fathers out there encouraging doll play. Baby doll play. I think I don't see as much of that because parents feel ambivalent about teaching girls and boys to pretend with dolls, to mother and father dolls. Better to play at being professionals: fire fighters, iron chefs, police officers, spies, princesses.

From the surface, there seem to be more "jobs" out there for preening, narcissistic types than solid mamas and papas. Oh, pardon my cynicism. I'm really a rather hopeful person.

BUT...don't we glorify the sparkle-clad movie stars and their ilk an awful lot?

My solution is to nurture my little girl by doing a whole lot of things and celebrating her whole being. But I want dolls to be companions and teachers for her if she wants them to be. And, so far, she does.

Ahh. More to say, but it is time for bed.

I really would love to have some dolls with skin of brown, yellow and olive hues. Quite a lot of pink plastic there, wouldn't you agree?

soul food

I'm enjoying equipping our play kitchen now that Anna's using it more. Today I found a little shelf for holding kitchen items. I'm not sure it will stay where it is, but she likes it doing its shelf thing there on top of the range.

Here's something else that's giving me pleasure: good and varied reading material in the co-sleeper. I don't hesitate to read withdrawn PEOPLE magazines from the library. But I might reconsider once Henry gets curious about my reading material. I think Adam Carolla's book In Fifty Years We'll All Be Chicks is pretty hilarious, but it may not be everyone's cup of tea. The Boston Review is engaging and fascinating. I don't identify with Nancy Hirschmann, but I sure do love Shannon Hayes' response. Superbaby? Well, I decided to just check it out and take a look. It's interesting. She has some helpful, reasonable things to say to me, a mother who leans heavily to the no-scheduling end of the spectrum, about the value of routine in daily life.
This quotation from Adam Carolla, though, really gets me laughing:

"Giving birth is tough, but let's not treat it like it's anything more than it is. I can't stand the mommy bloggers, the women who have kids and then decide to go online and write about the dos and don'ts. You know, hard-hitting topics like 'Sack Lunch. Friend or Foe?' It's all the same forty-year-old white chicks. ...[A]ll of a sudden after you have a kid you must write a children's book and a blog to explain to other people how to do it. You're telling us stuff we've all known for a billion years."

new energy for this blog

And now let me tell you something else. I am happy! Yes, I truly and surely am. I could say so many things about why, but what I wish to talk about in this one-more-post for the day is that I am finding energy to want to return to this blog--not that there is any mandate other than my own for doing so, but that it brings me joy to do so. I am ready to reconnect with the identity that began unfolding here a couple years ago and use the blog to reconnect with bloggers I enjoy knowing online.

My body, mind and soul can't afford to let this pastime fill too much of my life, but keeping my blog has been a life-giving outlet. Hooray for me!

To celebrate this inner shift, I bought myself tulips this evening. My favorite kind--red with yellow tinges. Our home is messy, and I have a deep longing to get it into a cleaner state by Candlemas/Imbolc. That said, I am enjoying a reconfiguration of some of its spaces. Here are two of them that I'm enjoying right now.

a post before folding laundry

I keep forgetting I'm living the life of my dreams because there are so many things that don't feel dreamy: I'm losing my job (sometime in the future), there is a mountain of laundry to fold (and yesterday the phone disappeared in the mix), and Anna's diapers are getting threadbare (again),

BUT

she is asleep for the time being. Henry is out with Joel for the evening, which means I've had some lovely re-grouping time alone. I ate canned salmon with Annie's white cheddar shells, avocado, cucumber & cilantro. Then I made myself some hot cocoa with half and half which, I've discovered, is divine, and I defrosted some raspberries to eat alongside.

AND

I'm not losing a full-time job, but a fulfilling 12-hour-a-week job, and life's not over yet. I'm committed to enjoying the laundry, enjoying the (at least for now) opportunity to spend a lot of time at home with our dear children, and to connect with the local homeschooling community and continue enjoying the process of learning with Henry and Anna (and Joel) at home.

I AM THANKFUL FOR

Good King Wenceslas duets with Henry; good food; the sound of things humming along, like the diapers washing right now in the washing machine and the clack of my keyboard; the sight of a sleeping baby; my little family and my extended family; the generosity of my church.

I PRAY FOR

a wise heart; the self-discipline to persevere in a life-giving path and do the right thing/s at the right time/s; the ability to be truthful but not snarky when I feel I've been wronged; self-understanding; the wisdom to know the difference between justified indignation and self-righteous pomposity (in myself) in the workplace.

That picture up there is an example of what I love and enjoy: time at home in happy, colorful chaos that allows me and those around me to keep becoming who I believe we need to be--not just for our own good, but for the greater good as well.

pretty dishes

Pretty dishes are one of my life's joys. I brought this pile in from the car (the platter on the bottom I need to return to Libby) and set them in the sink. Just like that. There they are...dirty and so pretty. Like the movie title, Dirty Pretty Things. Good movie; you all should see it.

centering Saturdays

When Henry was an infant this day of the week used to be mine for imagining what being at home would look like--trying to pack so much domesticity and mother love into a single day of the week.

No more! Now Saturdays are my day for all sorts of things: cleaning (maybe), cooking (hopefully), dreaming (sometimes maybe too much), sweating as I blog (oh, the toil!), staring down at my dirty feet while I wear a silk skirt and think about my daughter asleep on the bed and my son tucked away in the basement, how we're going outside soon...I hope, how there is so much to do, so, so much to do, how summer is here and it is hot, even with central air, how peaches purchased at Walmart can still taste good and summery even though they don't embody the food practices I aspire to keep.

How down time, unstructured time, has since childhood helped my soul to form. It is the best therapy I know, helping angers to subside and constructive problem-solving to take firmer hold. I wish I could show a photo of every lived-in corner of this house. It is a good place and also a place in need of cleaning and prayer. There are comfy baby spots, clean laundry spots, puzzle spots, hard-edged toy spots, dusty corners stacked with piles of good intentions.

It is time to rise from this place and take hold of the time I have until Anna wakes up. And as I go I remember this very, very good poem.

a summer afternoon

Saturday afternoon was warm and fair...one of our first long afternoons in the back yard sun and shade. I thought my children were not able to fall asleep without parental support, but Anna is content as can be outside staring up into the sky and branches. She lay on her lambskin for an hour, gazing and sleeping, while I planted some seeds and tended to some of her brother's needs.What a gift she gave us (and herself). It was a lovely afternoon.

sharing sleep

Henry called for me early this morning, so Anna and I both went to join him. Anna is learning to share sleep with everyone in her family--including her big brother, who sometimes puts his arm around her as she sleeps.

Last night Anna fell asleep gazing at Joel. She fussed when we turned out the light, so we kept it on and she just watched Joel as he smiled at her and his eyes grew heavy with sleep. I peeked around to look at her eyes and they were still wide open, gazing at her daddy.

Sharing sleep has been a wonderful way for our family to stay connected through the tense times and busy days that come around.

sleepy treatise on nursing and working

Here she is at about eight weeks--photo taken about a week ago. We went for her two-month check-up yesterday and learned she's 12# 10 oz. in the nude. Way to go, Anna! Her onesie comes from Paul, who works here.

I've had the idea for this post in my head for days, but I'm too tired now to carry it out with as much thought as I had intended. Just read this blogger's post about the breastfeeding relationship and carrying it out over the long-er haul. I'm happy for her that she's going to a really cool writers' workshop, but sad that women who work "outside the home," to use that quaint turn of phrase, are constantly expected to put their children's needs behind those of their employers/vocations.

Yes, I know it is important to ply oneself to the task at hand, but I don't understand why working mothers, especially the mothers of children under a year, are not afforded more options in deciding how to mother and how to continue the breastfeeding relationship through at least the first year of the baby's life.

What might these options be? More U. S. employers, according to a recent NPR report, are making it possible for infants under six months to accompany their mothers to work. It is my humble opinion that, were the work world to take this idea seriously, interested nursing-working mothers from all sectors of the work world would do their best to make the arrangement worthwhile for employer and employee alike. I work as a chaplain in a long-term care setting and believe that, with the support of my mother (who is Anna's caregiver on the days I work), I could successfully have lovely Anna with me 40 to 80 per cent (or maybe more) of the time I'm on the job. Moreover, I think the women who work alongside me as nurse aides, nurses and med. aides could also, with a staffed baby room within a 30-second walk, have their babies (held safely in slings) close by much of the time they are working.

Another option, of course, would be that our nation could grant mothers / families twelve months of maternity or paternity leave when a baby is born. Right there we could do so much to ensure successful mother-baby breastfeeding relationships for at least the first year of life. And save ourselves some money in health care expenses, too, considering all that's been written about how breastfeeding ensures good health for the mother-child dyad.

For me, full-time ministry and full-time mothering don't mix. I feel too divided in my soul if I have to choose (in the middle of the night or on a birthday or too many week nights in a row) between my children and my career. I want my children to win, because I'm the only mother they have. Even working fewer hours than I did before Anna was born (about twelve now instead of about sixteen), those two days of working outside the home take me four days to catch up from.

When Henry was an infant I nursed him in the middle of the day and then pumped my milk in the morning and afternoon. I felt okay about this arrangement. It seemed like the best it could be given the circumstances. I was thankful to have a husband who was committed to getting our baby to me once a day. Now, thanks to my mother (who lives a short walk from my office) and my employer's willingness to let me be flexible with my schedule, I don't even have to pump. My nursing relationship with Anna can continue on work days and at-home days.

Here's the thing: like many women in the workforce, if I were to quit my very meaningful job right now (or if I were to be "terminated"), Joel and I would face great difficulty continuing to feed and house our family. The money I earn is not recreational or even savings money; it is essential to our family's well-being. True, we'd come up with some kind of alternative; we'd have to. But that alternative may well be my going back to full-time work in a lower paying job, taking both Joel and me away from home and our children nearly 100 per cent of the work week.

Oh, my earnest prayer is that all families would have the security they need to start their children off in the world. I wish all mothers who want to could breastfeed their infants 100 per cent of the time. If you're passionate about this topic, you might read this and listen to this. After listening to that last link, I felt exceptionally ambivalent about the National Organization for Women.

calling Ms. Kristin

In these last weeks of pregnancy I am trying to bring some order to places in the house that are delightfully dis-ordered. I long to see this drawer through your eyes and lens, Ms. Kristin, because there are so many treasures in it. The problem is, my house is full of treasures. I have a husband and son who want to hold on to everything (which is in many ways cool, because there are some cute little ca. 1984 plastic finger puppets in here, as well as other odd and interesting stuff) and a very low personal tolerance for plastic storage bins.

130-in-one!

Oh, the delight of watching little hands work on this fun project when I came home from work yesterday. Henry taught me the ropes with ease and confidence and we completed the circuits for this chirping bird. Then I made sugar cookie dough and yogurt and we listened to more of Analise's Advent Journey.

Today's the day to get down the Christmas decorations, get the house ready for our tree and bake cookies! We are being remembered by so many dear friends with cookies and kind gestures and words that I really long to return the favor.

Peace of the Advent season to you!

meanwhile...

While Aunt Libby and I sewed Advent calendars on Saturday, Henry and cousins painted their faces. He wanted me to photograph these faces for future reference-- in case he needs to remember how he made white circles around his eyes, a lightning bolt on the forehead, and white fangs below the mouth. I love the toughness and tenderness of my boy. We have been listening to an unfolding Advent story, The Advent Journey of Analise, and enjoying it.

sights to see

I've been missing my garden zinnias and all the color they brought to the table. Here are some berries scavenged from a burning bush. Up close they remind me so much of bittersweet, which I'll have to plant some day. On the way home from our walk I found dozens of juniper berries pooled in the cracks of the sidewalk. I took some inside to fill an acorn cup and the hole in a rock Henry found.

One of my home's places of refuge...under the spider plant that was out on the porch all summer.On Saturday Henry and I went to the bookshop to enjoy their Second Saturday for Kids. He could have spent the entire morning working the cold, smooth clay that Hanna set out on the concrete floor. He made a couple pinch pots, a dam (on the left) and some other things. Joel's parents gave us the Christmas cactus when Henry was born and we have enjoyed watching it flower most years...sometimes more than once. This year Henry's paid special attention to the blossoms opening.

I sewed an apron

Despite the fact that the photos are fuzzy and that I think the first picture makes me look like I have no teeth, I want to share with you the apron I made. The thrift-shop fabric had been in the middle of a pile in my bedroom until I cleaned out Joel's closet and made room for my sewing things. I had dreams of making an apron of this cloth, but it had been so long since I had sewn anything that I doubted this idea would ever come to fruition. It did, though. A pattern of my own devising. I even made a buttonhole, with Joel's help. I was amazed that I could make crude gathers under the bib. Despite thinking I never paid attention, I remember a thing or two from my mother's years of sewing for us!
The shell button is from my maternal grandma's collection. The tie in the back is the same red gauzy fabric that I used for the neck strap. I loved making this apron. It was so satisfying to come up with a plan for it and carry that plan out. Can't wait to sew some more things for the sheer fun of it. The added benefit of the apron is that I have needed it. Since I'm borrowing so many maternity clothes (mostly from my dear sister-in-law), I want to take good care of them and that means none of my customary kitchen grease spots. Thank you to my mother and sister for sharing a wonderful new button-hole-ready Singer with me. What a gift!

happenings

While it's a joy to return to blogging after a three-week (or so) hiatus, I have to say the rest has been wonderful. I wasn't aware of how much time I was putting into taking photos, downloading them, writing down thoughts. This discipline is well worth my time, but I come back to it with a new appreciation for the many other ways I want to (and need to) ply my strength.

The biggest thing I've been up to is growing a baby to fill these well-loved shoes. It has been an amazing gift to hear this baby's heart beat (with doppler assistance) and to feed my body's cravings. How anxious I have felt: are you alive in there? Have I done something to hurt you? After two miscarriages, I don't think I'll ever be able to be casual about pregnancy again. The blessing of this time of uncertainty (not that there is ever any final certainty, even now that my first trimester is over) is that I have had the privilege of hearing other women's stories of pregnancy loss and infertility. Oh, the dear women in my life! I can't thank you all enough. My sisters, my sister-friends...you are an amazing source of strength to me!

Let me spout on just a bit about pregnancy cravings, because I think they are so very, very entertaining. Here is what I have wanted to eat, in more-or-less chronological order, beginning around July 4.

lovely golden-yolked free range eggs from Cheryl
shrimp (which I believe isn't a very ethical--or maybe healthy--thing to eat)
shrimp
shrimp with sour cream cucumber salad on baked potato
fantasies about a carbonated sour cream-shrimp-cucumber milkshake...ugh...yum!
milk and chocolate chip cookies
beef stew
tomato juice/V8
nachos: beans, cheddar, guacamole, sour cream, tomato, chips
biscuits and gravy
biscuits and gravy--yuck! I normally don't like this, but have loved making them both from scratch this last month
red lentil coconut curry
beet borscht and reubens with lots of kraut (so thankful for Yolanda's menu)
kalamata olives
gazpacho
wraps and sandwiches made by someone other than myself that may include heated meat but do not include ham (usually a favorite of mine)
...mmm. I think I'll find something to eat soon.

Here is a photo of a beautiful meal that I really did not feel like eating due to funky nauseated pregnancy feelings. Our wonderful guests brought over the whole meal, which we ate out on the porch. Too bad I mostly felt like eating the boring beef stew in the crock pot.And here's a photo of my sister Barbara's new set of wheels. Couldn't resist including this one! Her electric bike is an eGo. It recharges for about 8 cents worth of electricity after which it can go 60? miles. Wow! And then there's the consolation of this array of healthy local food, grown and purchased from within 100 miles of home. Wow again!Take care everybody!

the love of beautiful things made by hands

Our rope old hammock, purchased eight years ago for $20 at a silent auction, fell apart last month after having been romped on six too many times. We left it outside more than we should have, but it was well-loved and much-used. No major regrets. Only thing is, Henry missed it. I missed it. How nice it was to swing him and a friend high, high in the air while humming circus music.

I've been trolling around for a new one since then, but almost any amount was too much considering our other obligations. I did notice this green and blue beauty in the window of the local Ten Thousand Villages though and, thanks to a delightful and unexpected gift, we now have a new hammock. I tried it out this evening and it is just perfect.

Joel has been reading Henry The Hobbit at bedtime, and I was reminded of how much I identify with Bilbo as I heard Joel read this:

As they [the dwarves] sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then something Tookish [Bilbo's grandfather was an adventurous hobbit with the last name of Took] woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick. He looked out of the window. The stars were out in a dark sky above the trees. He thought of the jewels of the dwarves shining in dark caverns.

A hammock is a wonderful place to dream when one is feeling Tookish!

two good reasons to have a front porch

So your generous and thoughtful mother-in-law can leave you a big pitcher of peonies because she knows all the blossoms on your bush perished from sword attack. So your sister and brother-in-law can leave a bouquet of green wheat and park it in the jeep which the porch is big enough to hold when the jeep needs recharging.

back yard rose on dresser

Inspired by Pleasant View Schoolhouse, I took this photo today of a rose, the windows, my grandma Pearl's sewing box. Pleasant View's son takes photos of the family's everyday life.