We continue to bend around the slightly new way of life here in Columbia, as various things in our lives are coming under the scrutiny of our will to evolve and grow without cumbersome bad habits holding us back. Sometimes these ruts in life get started, and things are so strained and stretched that merely surviving is about the highest level of functioning that seems available. The entire year we spent in Fayetteville seemed like that, combined with long hours for Chris at work, and my catching illness after illness. Thank God, truly, for how different things have been in our short time since moving; my health has been stellar (haven’t even had allergy symptoms, and I’m beginning to tolerate gluten again!) – which has afforded me with a little stamina to make some little adjustments; little internal (or external at times) push on the train tracks – ever so slightly array – so that a new course is set.

Today we altered our family course by handing over some checks – solidifying our decision to sacrifice some funds to the enrollment fee to get Ethan in with the waldorf co-op here in town, both for a 2 week summer camp as well as the 3 mornings per week “kindergarten” (ages 4-7) next year. I also went to my second “book discussion” group with the waldorf community (teachers, parents, etc) today – we are reading through Eugene Schwartz “The Millennial Child” – good stuff! (I’m embarrassingly fascinated by the history of educational pedagogies and parenting philosophies – this is my version of GEEKING OUT!)

Today marks day number 10 of our “zero screen time” policy for Ethan. It’s been wonderful, even though at times (like when it is cold and raining outside and BOY that PBS kids could come in handy with my wired and whiney 5 year old!) I have had to really dig in deep to establish this new rhythm and live in a new way with my children – where there is no alternative to living together, playing together, cooking together, gardening together; to set myself (and Chris) as the authority in this way and to respectfully deny Ethan access to ANY screen time (nothing that makes electronic noise – though I have caved to a little music now and then – I don’t think I’ll ever give up listening to the classical music and programming on NPR on the radio during the day!) I’ll go into this facet of our lives more in another post, as I continue to analyze and test this decision for myself (it is not without great theorizing – I am a Mass Communications major, after all!). For now, the TV lies helplessly in the corner of the living room with two big, lovely play silks hung over it – a fluid work of art rather than a black box of digitized entertainment. Of course, Chris and I have no such rules and will on occasion catch up on a show or two, or watch a film together, after bedtime hours.

Ver just insists on hanging by herself on the monkey bars – remember when it was that easy?!

Another post for another time will be my thoughts on how to merge waldorf and unschooling – two driving (for me) and seemingly opposing ways of not just schooling, or even homeschooling, but indeed of family life as well! I am sort of in observation mode at the moment – reading a biography on Rudolf Steiner while reading How Children Learn (Holt) and trying to find the nuggets that build the bridge between the apparent tensions in the two approaches. Also, I have the fortunate opportunity now to be in this book discussion group I mentioned, where one of the leaders is a veteran of “waldorf” and “unschooling” simultaneously with her own three children, all of whom are grown. Such a wealth of wisdom I think all of us younger moms feel when we can “sit at her feet”, if you will, and see how she creatively and by all accounts, successfully, merged these two methods that appealed so much to her (as they do to me). But as I said, that’s for another time. I’m still gathering my thoughts there.

Verity recently celebrated her 2 year birthday, a sweet moment where she shyly hid in my skirt while we sang “Happy Birthday”. Her cake was a gluten-free vanilla cake with cream cheese mango icing, decorated with violets from the yard and two little beeswax candles. Happy Birthday, angel!

Let’s see… last weekend, we hit the farmer’s market, potted some herbs in pots from the thrift store, made more stock, hit a few garage sales (found myself a fishing pole – I am beyond excited to go fishing soon!), and weathered a strangely cold and wet May weekend. I, however, got a mama’s day out on Sunday, and spent a glorious afternoon at Uprise working, to be followed by a free movie at RagTag Cinema (a perk of being married to an Uprise employee!) where I enjoyed (immensely!) the film Jane Eyre (SO good!) alone with a $2.75 glass of red wine on a cozy little swivel chair. Have I mentioned how very much I love that Chris works there?! What a treat! (I envision more of these rare and invigorating afternoons in my future!)

our bog…

In other news, we dug a rain garden in a moist area of a backyard to channel the overflow of our rain away from saturating all of the ground into a slippery clay during rains. Er… it is more like a bog at this point. I am awaiting some rain and some toads and tadpoles and dragonflies (hopefully very hungry ones who will happily devour the inevitable mosquito larvae the standing water will attract!). I want it to be more like a wildlife habitat/pond with some native shade loving plants in and around it and a small amount of water to support a healthy little ecosystem. I envision the day when I see butterflies, bees, water beetles, dragonflies, toads, birds, and whatever other critters will find a little tiny spot of nature in my urban backyard. Sigh. Patience!

showing off our backyard clay creations

Ethan has been busy shoveling soil – er, clay – and finding the BAZILLIONS of cicadas hiding a few inches below the surface – our chickens are downright gorging themselves on this steady helping of delicious bugs for several hours a day. Our backyard is an all-you-can-eat buffet for my hefty gals. The four pre-teen hens we got last month are already full of adult feathers and are learning to scratch around the run and eat grass and leftovers. So far, no crowing – a good sign we have all girls, and therefore will soon have 6 hens giving us at least a half dozen of free range eggs a day! To say I have chicken-raising fever would be an understatement. Ignoring the raised eyebrows of our family members several years ago, I set out to raise backyard chickens and have loved every minute of it. So easy, so rewarding, so fun. Every one should have themselves a pair of hens.

I needle felted the kids this caterpillar – I just love these little wool creatures and how “alive” they feel. A satisfyingly quick project for an evening with hubby away at ping pong night with some co-workers (dad’s night out!).

Tomorrow we have plans to visit Rock Bridge State Park to play in some creeks and have a picnic lunch with a family we met a few weeks ago (at their garage sale). The homeschooling mom of FIVE boys graciously called to invite us out – I know Ethan will have a blast. Oh – she is also passing on her huge blackboard to us, how cool is that? Surely a feature in the next “Simple Pleasures” series of gifted, bartered, thrifted, etc etc…

This weekend we head to Fayetteville, AR! Can’t wait to see my dear friends and family I have been sorely missing.

Well, here’s where I wrap up my ramblings and save the rest for another day. Until then…

click the full screen icon on the slideshow to view recent pics of our life a little bigger

I already seem to have a different kid.

For just 3 days now, I have been even more focused on connecting Ethan with nature, keeping all media out of his life, and keeping my explanations and talking to a minimum. The reason for this has been a sincere recommendation from some wise waldorf-inspired mamas/teachers at the local waldorf coop, who I recently had the opportunity to meet and “pick their brains” regarding Ethan’s life stage and whole-child well being. (P.S. I will be enrolling him in a 3-mornings a week kindergarten [his final year of kindergarten in waldorf education] for next year. P.S.S. I have been working again- a small bit each week, from home, with a cherished former client, which will allow me to pay for his part-time schooling. Serious answer to prayer!).

Without going into too much detail about Rudolf Steiner, Waldorf educational philosophy, anthroposophy, etc (for one thing, I wouldn’t be an expert enough to explain it right, and for another, you may not find it very interesting), I will try my best to sum it up as this: Ethan’s adult/thinking/intellectual side was awakened prematurely via adult logic, correction and conversations, over-explanation, etc etc. So he has what appears to be this verbal adeptness, sharp-witted tongue, analytical nervousness, and constant flow of thinking and conversation (as opposed to the “dreamy state” of childhood, play and imagination dominating rather than watching the clock, working on worksheets, worrying like an adult, etc). Sure, some of this is normal development, some of this is Ethan’s personality – but quite a bit of it has come off to me, for some years now, as imbalanced, disconnected, unassimilated… that is to say, the intellectual part is so curious, eager, anxious, reasoning, while his physical, emotional, spiritual self he carries kinda uncomfortably. Hopefully that makes sense.

(For more thoughts on this, two good articles here and here.)

It has been sort of an experiment for me to start in this direction. I have said for many years that we, as a homeschooling family, “set up tent” very near the Waldorf “camp”. There’s been a lot of it that resonates with me, particularly the vision of early childhood being unencumbered by the adult world. That has been extra hard to facilitate at home with Ethan, however, – for many reasons that I won’t go into because it’s not really all that necessary. But having hit this wall of confusion about Ethan’s, for lack of a better word at the moment, behavior, through observing things that felt “off” for me and have been quite a challenge that I didn’t know how to tackle. Some advised public school (keep him busy, put him with lots of kids, feed his intellect?) and others unschool (same reasons, along with “giftedness” and being able to accelerate by following his own interests), but rarely did I consider what I am actually most drawn to as a child development stance in the first place: that he needed to be held close, play more, relax more, more time outside, more time in open-ended handwork (no “right” and “wrong” way, no self-critique) and no time with media (preconceived images, electronic entertainment, stunts his own ability to imagine and be creative, “teaches” too much at too young an age, etc etc), and talked to LESS.

So that is kinda the why and how with this more focused next chapter of homeschooling/parenting for the kids.

While the playschool (which was waldorf-inspired) that I did from home a few days a week last Fall was where my heart was at, I honestly felt so discouraged by Ethan’s reactions to things – wondering if this approach fits him or not… In this world we live in, a child who does have some media exposure, a variety of peers, and is exposed to any of the massive amounts of commercialism out there, I think it is really difficult to craft this “beauty bubble” of felted wool animals and wooden toys and songs and backyards… I took it personally when he begged for battery operated remote control cars and plastic ramps and movies and candy and jump zone and bla bla bla! I second-guessed myself all the time, and coming from that place of lacking confidence in if what I am doing is right for this child, I didn’t quite know where MY boundaries were, or if it was even OKAY to keep certain things from a kid if he thinks he wants them, or just HOW to do this whole thing without compromising our families values?! Giving in didn’t feel good, being rigid didn’t feel good – I was so unsure!

But then I spoke with the mamas from the coop, was reassured that all of us moms are going through it with this generation of kids and the influences around our families and so on. And then I was given something I think I really needed: the validation that it is okay to be the Mom, in the role they call the “Authentic Leader”, to say – “no” but with confidence and without huge, weighty explanations (i.e. “no, we can’t buy the plastic car because the earth is dying from over-population and pollution, so let’s go learn about carbon dioxide and leaching and landfills and global warming so that you fully understand the implications of XYZ that has marketed to you by the Powers That Be who only have their bank accounts to be concerned about — which as it turns out is ANOTHER reason I won’t buy that car because we have no money.” – YES, that was an only slightly exaggerated version of my answer.) I thought, he is so curious, so verbal, so intellectual – he seems to “get it” so why not tell him the truth? Be straight with him. Right?! Lol

So lately I’ve been praying and trying to be very awake and mindful of how I answer, what I say to and in front of the kids, and keeping things simple and firm, and often playful if necessary. In light of “zero screen time”, (we were already a fairly low-screen family compared to mainstream parenting, but I gave in often with many conflicting thoughts and feelings about it): I’ve kept PBS Kids off, not gone to the library for computer games, not even put on background music (not just because it’s a Waldorf thing, but I actually tested the background music thing on Ethan by asking if he wanted it while we wet-on-wet watercolored, which he replied, “No, I can’t paint very well when there is noise in the room”!) I’ve been trying to remember that while kids deserve the respect and courtesy and empathy you would give another adult, they are NOT mini-adults, and they need the guidance and the strength of their Leader to help them navigate.

I feel like I should just pause here to say — I know not everyone fully agrees, and that, especially with the unschooling-type folks whom I also totally get, some of this is actually counter to what they think kids need (trust, choices, freedom, equality, self-directed?). I think there is a balance to find between the two extremes, for sure, and one that I am always on the look out to find But for now, I feel, personally, a deep intuitive response to this approach with my kids at this time. I feel this is the best way in which to guide them into balance through childhood of unhurried, natural play; with all the choices about what food is served, what toys are played with, what the media policy will be, what time is bedtime, etc made by the loving adults in their lives – not them. Besides, they will have plenty of time to worry about all the responsibilities and choices later. I respect all the hard-working, well-researched mamas who are doing things differently with their broods, and would never intend to put anyone off by talking about this approach as the ONLY “right” way. It is, however, the way that feels best for us. Moreover, it is the approach I feel my children and I need to bring healing to our home — and our homeschooling.

So far, I have been really impressed – had I any doubts and skepticism about the effects of going “all in” with the “waldorf way” right now, I have been gradually shedding them in light of the effects it is having on Ethan, particularly.

This was a child who I thought could NEVER be alone, would chatter my ear off, beg (intellectually) and reason and argue til he was blue in the face. He was nervous, anxious about the clock all.the.time. (for the last 3 days we have put black tape over all the clocks in our home!) and frequently out of bounds in his body, not understanding boundaries. While always a great kid, with a heart of gold and good intentions, he exhausted me to a point that I questioned whether this was just a “normal phase” or just his “personality”. I have sensed in the last year or so that he felt put-off by others, while highly self-critical in his efforts (darn perfectionist mama’s influence, to be sure!), that others were annoyed by his energetic-out-of-bounds-ness and talkative nature, and he seemed sort of adrift in a sea without a lifeline – without a constant strong source keeping him grounded. He seemed like a child who didn’t feel safe. Clingy to anyone who showed him attention, which he hoped would be every one.

I could say a million good things about Ethan – this almost-6 year old kid ROCKS and I couldn’t be prouder of him – and I’ve shared such things many times on this blog. But the above is what had begun to frustrate and concern me on and off in recent years, which is why I’ve shared them here. Most of my close friends and family are aware of these observations and have a few of their own.

Right now, however, I’m feeling hopeful, like a weight has been lifted as I’ve been given the permission to adopt a PLAN and that the implementation has been easier than I thought it would be, and the effects I am observing this past week, of both Ethan as well as myself and MY behavior, are really validating me, like a whisper in my heart: we are going in the right direction, yes, yes, more of this!!!

Ethan has been responding with a tremendous amount of love and affection towards his family, a sort of gratitude has been coming off him. He keeps smiling, and hugging, and saying he loves us. He seems positive, less critical, even more courageous. When I tucked him in last night, after ample time together, oatmeal maple-sweetened cookies he helped make, “tea time”, lots and lots of books and a story I made up for him, songs, candles, warm foot bath – he said, “I like the way I feel at night when I go to bed now. I feel safe.” (The previous routine was less heart-felt: dinner, bath, commands to get dressed, brush teeth, pick up room, read one book, sing a quick song, say a quick prayer, off to bed and a warning, “go to sleep, okay? Do NOT talk anymore!”) I’m trying very hard to infuse my time around Ethan with more acceptance, less talking, more hugs, more magic/less logic, more mindfulness. Parenting is a lifetime’s journey, but whenever I get back to these basics, for me, it feels right. Connected, balanced, thoughtful, and nourishing.

Another validating moment: I’ve mentioned that we have put black tape over the clocks. This was in an effort to help him forgo his obsession with the clock (no, really, I mean it!), to instead relax, find a flexible rhythm, and to keep him and us more involved in the present moment instead of living in and worrying about the future. But we did so with little explanation of WHY, just kinda “ho, hum, let’s not worry about the clock, what is the sun telling us to do?” kind of thing). Well at first he found this frustrating, of course, but after days of lamenting that we were keeping the time hidden from him – he was going off to bed with no idea of the actual time (roughly 8, at usual), and he remarked, “Now I kinda like that you guys won’t show me the time – I feel like the days are really looooong and fulllllllll and I’m so tired and just ready to go to bed!” *phew, I wasn’t torturing him!*

And the boy that can’t stop talking, who will never give me space, who will never be alone? Well, he seems to be getting balanced even this early in the new program: a boy who is reconnecting with nature through “practical work” (google it in waldorf terms if you need more explanation), who has been getting up before me and heading straight to the sandbox, a boy who can stay in the backyard for hours and hours in his world, hammering things and swinging and digging – therapy for the child who two weeks ago couldn’t think of anything “to do” and lived by the digital numbers on the oven to tell him how long until XYZ would happen. I am so happy for him – to see him just be a child is a mother’s delight.

Isn’t this what childhood should be; long, full days of nature and play and homemade food, leaving you eager for the pillow and the sweet dreams you’ll have? No worries about adult things, no quizzes on how to spell or add, no scientific names to remember, no critics of your work through grades or gold stars or punitive punishments for your mistakes? With an adult who is capable, composed, playful, warm but firm, where boundaries are clear and expectations are reasonable and age-appropriate? Where adults do not yell or hit or mock or belittle, or lack respect and virtue? Simply the child’s world of imagination and goodness and singing and experiencing through the senses the beauty all around them? Simple. Natural. Magical. Slow.

I think so.

There has been some tough financial struggles lately (not uncommon for us, I know) but it has more than any other time in our lives enabled me to dig in deep with the feeling of discontent, impatience, inconvenience, and so on that arise when funds allow only for the most basic of household needs.

{{Before I go on, let me take a moment to apologize for the wordy length of this post. Sorry. Also, you will be rewarded with pictures at the end. But don’t skip ahead just because I told you that, because the content explains the pictures. (gotcha!) }}

I began reading some really excellent financial books that have given me some valuable ideas and resources, but most importantly the validation that living a life of frugality is indeed a freeing and valid choice (however un-American it feels at first!). The topic is exhaustive so I won’t go into all the details, but some resources for me have been primarily Radical Homemakers (my go-to!), Your Money or Your Life, and recently The Scavenger’s Manifesto, Made from Scratch and the Tightwad Gazette (check these out at your library!). There is so much about it that fascinates me as a subject matter and lifestyle choice, as it takes a certain amount of confidence to transcend the idea that voluntary simplicity (and foraging/scavenging/bartering/waiting/and often going without) is a deprived, resource-less, bohemian (though this word might actually be appropriate) life of poverty (or worse – laziness).

I can acutely feel the pressure, on many fronts, to just forget this whole business of living simply and just get a job job, put Ethan in public school, and force myself onto that hamster wheel because what I’m faced with if I do not do so seems too exhausting, lonely, challenging, and doomed-from-the-start. But I have never been one to unquestionably accept the status quot solution without at least researching and utilizing some alternatives that don’t compromise my heart’s values and desires.

To view the lifestyle instead as a challenge in resourcefulness and ingenuity and invention (the daughter of necessity?), a call to radically reject the consumer cycle (as the Scavenger Manifesto calls it, the “Want-Get” mentality) of materialism and waste and the myth of “choices”, and to capitalize on the lack of excess as a catalyst for gaining increased self-sufficiency and experience.

It’s been heavy at times, as I sit with the reality of compulsive choices I have made, the “treats” I wanted to “deserve” over the years and the financial pressures we have incurred both from our own choices or those of the “down economy”. While I have never had what I would have called affluence, often forgoing large things like extra vehicles or a house with more space than I need or vacations or store-bought clothes, I had to recognize that we had made choices with where what little money we had fell between the cracks (where did it go?!) on silly things like convenience food (i.e. “oh, we are going to the library, we’ll stop and grab bagels first”), expensive cheeses (next I need to learn how to be a foodie on a budget!), library fines, shipping fees, so on.

Our plan to move to Columbia and for Chris to take this flexible, enjoyable, sustainably-minded, locally-owned job was a calculated risk and I am in no way making it work without flaws just 4 weeks into this venture… *yet*. For our entire marriage I have worked (I’ve held a job since I was 14, for that matter), I financed over 90% of my private-education undergrad degree with grants/scholarships and work credits, and since having children I have been the main earner generating income from my own at-home business. Yet, for a variety of reasons I have shared in the past on this blog, we have been taking steps to switch these roles for sometime now, as continuing down that path left me stressed, strapped, unorganized, unhappy, and unable to homeschool. So I knew there would be sacrifices, but the idea that I could creatively figure this out was incredibly motivating for me and continues to be as I think of new ways to live and think about the choices we can make to realize this “dream” of living simply, learning more, feeling more enriched and fulfilled by a life of time and resources to live generously — while making as a household income less than we have EVER earned before, even while in college.

So rather than recount the unexpected bills and financial upsets to our last 4 weeks (though there have indeed been those too!), I want to move on to the fun stuff, the things that I am finding just slap-knee exciting about learning to be a tight-wad!

First of all, I think being frugal is a lot easier if you live amongst other frugals; in community with swappers, food growers, barterers, pickers, foragers, forgoers, and coupon-clippers. It kinda validates the lifestyle, which is definitely counter-cultural otherwise. I think these folks exist just about everywhere, you just gotta find them — and be willing to be their equal.

Secondly, there are a lot of hidden perks to being frugal that, if you can let go of the concept of “Want-Get” mentality, are pretty rad. Clothing swaps with stylishly-dressed donators are fun and easy. Garage sales and “free bins” amaze me. Bartering goods and services is highly effective. Learning a new skill so you don’t have to pay some one to do it for you is way more satisfying. Paying only a quarter of your previous monthly vehicle gasoline budget when every one on the news is lamenting the climbing gas prices is reassuring. Having even just a few bucks left over at the end of the week, rather than going into more debt, is rewarding. Learning to wait for something you would have just ran out to get as soon as you “needed” it, like a washer/bike/freezer/radio/whatever until you have saved for it and found the right deal (hopefully free!) fosters a feeling of contentment and relaxation, a mindfulness about accumulating goods. Keeping track of receipts, organizing bills, and forgoing “treats” is, well, it’s growing up, (and it also reducing a BUTTLOAD of anxiety at the end of a pay cycle! who knew? )

I will be posting again a weekly series I call Simple Pleasures – a record of things that were bartered, gifted, thrifted, made, grown, saved for, or given away that brought pleasure to my life each week:

Things like…

A family walk to the public library (which boasts NO limits and NO late fees!), where we forage for edible dandelions and violets, sight a groundhog, and work off belly fat – who needs a gym membership when you have legs?!). Our ten dollar weekly budget that gets us 2 gallons of raw milk and 2 pints of raw cream (homemade cream cheese!) every Monday on our neighbor’s doorstep. The bags FULL of amazing books, music and documentaries we bring back from the library. The free use of internet around town. The free movies we rent for family movie night at 9th Street Video because Chris works at Uprise. The free (local) coffee both Chris and I get from Uprise while renting the free movies at 9th street, on our way to getting the free books from the library. The knitted gifts to trade for babysitting. The free movie tickets on our date night and the $5 (total) we spent for the organic wine and beer we enjoyed while watching the movie. The outings of packed lunches at the park and nature trails just outside the city. The Easter baskets filled with sprouted wheat grass (seeds a gift from a friend) and sales on the organic bulk bin candy which filled saved egg shells from breakfast. The downright gourmet meals that can be made with a friends’ surplus garden grub and bulk natural foods from Azure Standard. The upcoming “Columbia’s Really Really Free Market” and the free backyard chicken processing workshop I will attend in the coming weeks (bringing home the bird for dinner!). The fishing I will take up this summer to catch a good supply of trout and the harvest I will reap and keep from my garden beds, whose compost was generously gifted to us in exchange for a half dozen of our chicken eggs and the tomato and pepper starts donated to us from the local urban farms surplus, (thank you Luke!)

… you get the idea. SIMPLE pleasures that offset some of the difficulties we have faced, and brought meaning and blessing to my life in often surprising ways.

It’s really quite fun to get even crazier!

This little home economics notebook from 1917 that I found at a thrift store was really inspiring. I’m fascinated with homemakers of the bygone era, who made due with as little as 1,200 yearly salary. Had to take a picture (but not buy! lol)

A virtually free (did have to spend a little money on the sweets), hand-made Easter tradition…

Easter brunch of whatever is on hand – quail eggs (a gift from sweet friend Natalie), fruit, plain yogurt with raw honey…

A simple park outing can be entertaining, fun, and even a bit of a break… at no cost at all!

Who needs a mall playground (without actually intending it, we haven’t stepped foot in a shopping mall in over 2 years and counting!) when you have nature trails, dandelions to blow, rocks to throw in a creek, and bridges to run across?!

I typically walk out of the library with armloads of books, as there are no limits, no late fees, and a great selection. This week’s focus was homeschooling resources…

Free meals during his shift, Chris enjoys free freshly made artisan sandwiches with locally raised meat sources, along with a glass of organic beer, 5-6 times per week. I have been impressed with how this has reduced the amount of groceries we go through each week! (gosh, his job sure sounds terrible, doesn’t it? )

Family dance jams are a nice way to pass the time…

Foraged edibles from the front yard – violets, dandelion flowers and leaves – beautiful, free nourishment

Diggin in dirt rarely gets old… finding worms, black beetles, grubs and cicada’s is just too fun!

“new” used books from the library used book sale

Tire swings from the tires just replaced on the car – endless hours of entertainment (I’ve lovingly nicknamed this swing Jenna the Babysitter)

This old suitcase ($1) and milk glass saucer (.25) from the end of a garage sale now serves as my undergarment storage and homemade salad dressing dispenser (respectively)

Big pile of great Spring sweaters (free from a clothing swap)

$1 garage sale vintage lamp base that just whispers my name…

Doll clothes found in a “free” basket!

A frugal “pantry” of bulk foods, collected eggs, and home brews…

A vintage typewriter for my prose (free in exchange for me learning to tinker with it and get a new ribbon)

It’s been quiet around this blog for awhile, I know. It’s been a struggle these last few weeks, while that was expected it still proves to be quite a difficult hurdle. The loneliness of being in a “new” town, no mama-connections for me or kid-connections for Ethan, combined with lots of transitional upset to our daily rhythms and the financial strain coming from a “down-sizing” move and reduced income while getting our bearing in a new city, so on and so forth. It is always a challenge for me to overcome (through surrender) the deeply felt emotions of disappointment that I work through from hurts both ancient and recent, and to move deeper into a realm of relating with myself and others with more grace, patience and acceptance than I sometimes feel I’m capable of. Never have I been more aware of my own inner turmoil, hardened heart, and exhaustive list of failures, which on one hand can feel like a weight I’m simply not strong enough to bare — which (hopefully, eventually) leads me to bring all of my guilt to He Who Can Bare that burden while I clumsily attempt to lay it down.

Still, sprinkled like bacon bits in the salad of my “rough patch” and “dark night” experiences are some enduring lessons and reminders; new preparations and growth that becomes invaluable for living this amazing and sometimes overwhelming thing called life.

The fact is, I am (we all are!) incredibly, unfathomably blessed, even if everything and everyone around me (which I cling to for purpose, identity, validation and acceptance) is stripped away. This I strive to remember. So yeah. It is what it is.

I’ll be back this week with more thoughts, quotes, pictures, and updates. Right now I’ve got a pile of homeschooling books from the library to glean inspiration from on this stormy day …

So often in life, the things I thought were downright rotten no good luck, indeed clouds of curse following me around my days, turned out to be – as if by some Great Planner – small redirections that probably kept me from worse blunders ahead.

I won’t share the whole fiasco today involving my car and a moment of OHMYGOD-it’s-dead, followed by my OH-DUH-I’m-just-out-of-gas realization after I had dramatized the situation and shed some tears and all that embarrassing stuff. We’ll just leave it at that.

Suffice it to say, I seem to be hitting the same road signs again and again lately (wait, am I going in circles?!), and most of them go something like, “CHILL OUT. TRUST ME. I HAVE A PLAN!”

But I digress.

In other news, we welcomed 4 new members (1 is hiding in the other corner in the photo below) to our urban homestead today, and I can’t say enough about how cute, cute, CUTE these little gals (hopefully!) are! Ethan summed it best when he said, “Oh my gosh, I don’t know but every time I look at them it’s like I’m going to cry because they are just so cute!”

Meet…

Stormy, the barred rock chick, smallest of the quartet, who is spunky, loud and dodges being held like the plague. Her eggs will be brown, similar to our current laying hens, Magic and Daffodil (a Rhode Island Red and Gold-Sex Link, respectively).

Nutmeg, who narrowly escaped the hatchery box to head home with our lot when Chris chimed in that this was his favorite and we kicked out a cute little copper-colored one to make room for this little speckled Americauna. All I can say after careful observation is that Nutmeg is a good eater. I’m not surprised her and Chris felt a connection.

Lulla, another Americauna whose coloring looks slightly like Nutmeg, but with unmistakable chipmunk-like markings rather than speckles (at least thus far, on her chick down – the eventual adult feathers could be quite different!). Ethan named her Lullaby, which we shortened to Lulla. She is robust and docile and seems to mind her own business.

And lastly, my personal fav, is Celeste, a little fluffy angelic cream-colored Americauna with nice green hues to her legs (a sign of good “easter egg” blueish/green eggs which are the signature of Americauna’s, like Nutmeg and Lulla as well). She happens to be the biggest (or just fluffiest) of the bunch and is quiet, sleepy, and seems to not mind being held in the least. She falls asleep in your palm almost immediately. I’ve seen her prance around and eat her fill, but her general demeanor is calm and chill.

I just love chick-raising time of year. This is the 3rd time we’ve brooded chicks and it’s beginning to feel like an annual rite of passage in April. I love watching them, so little for such a very short amount of time, as they provide endless entertainment. Soon they’ll be sprouting larger, darker feathers and looking all gaggly like awkward teenagers and attempting to fly out of their brooding box.

I am crossing my fingers that this group continues down an all-female path (roosters are a no-go in city limits). And I can’t wait, CANNOT WAIT I TELL YOU, for the day that I reach into the nest box and pull out a colorful selection of brown and easter-blue eggs!

I have a special affinity for easter eggers (Americauna’s or Araucana’s). Last month I purchased a dozen eggs at the co-op from a local farm, that upon opening I was enthralled to find every single one a various shade of creamy blue and green hues! I waited a week before cracking them because they were so beautiful. And the yolk is always extra yellow, making scrambled eggs look sort of neon! Even after eating them, I saved a few shells to make some dear friends some beeswax egg candles:

Other than bringing home baby chicks today, I’m happy to report that we got our bazillion loads of laundry done at the laundry mat yesterday (no more fights with the drying lines – for now), and we spent a few hard-working hours in the sun yesterday putting up the chicken run. We clipped the hens wings (they’re rockin’ flyers, but they need to stay lower and confined to their run, for our neighboring yard is full of dogs) and made an area for the compost heap and hanging feeder, as well as a new nesting box made of a storage tote with a hole cut out of the lid (non-wood means less worry about mites). We also recycled one of our used tires as a dusting box for the hens (nice size and the “lip” on the top helps them bathe without kicking up too much dust into their face). They were flippin’ out to have a sunny day to throw a new bag of sand around and scratch up a newly forming pile of winter leaves and rotting kitchen scraps. Seriously, who needs TV when you have these critters to watch?!

Ethan is ever enjoying his new mama-made hoola hoop:

Ver sporting her mama-knitted “spring” cap:

And enjoying the tree swing immensely:

Spring has sprung in our yard with a lone yellow tulip:

Ethan finding himself a bright palette of Springtime colors in his watercoloring:

I snagged the best swing jumping photo ever, of Luke and Natalie our Columbia friendies, at our picnic last Sunday at Lake Stephens Park:

Pots of coffee are now brewed in this old stainless steel percolator that I snatched up for 20 bucks at a resale store several years ago and just recently decided to put to good use. Still works great! (and check out the lovely jar of raw cream from a local pastured dairy farm – just $1.75!)

Another highlight this week was a rare seafood dinner (seafood is a little pricey when you are landlocked as we are here); I scored some wild caught salmon (frozen, but beggers can’t be choosers, eh?) on major sale, so this evening the kids and I feasted on blood oranges and rosemary salmon fillets with amaranth and steamed edamame to compliment.

So that’s the newsy news. I am going back to my books and raw milk maple steamer, while listening to the sound of wittle bitty chirps float through the air…

Home-bound (our car recently failed the safety inspection necessary to register it in our new state, leaving us, for the time being, car-free once again) and unplugged (as noted in recent posts, I am without internet at the house unless Chris is home from work with his cell phone hotspot), I have become truly mesmerized with over a dozen books to pass the time (when there is time to pass, that is), most of which I checked out by the basketfuls from our local library (which boasts no limits and no late fees!).

I have come to value, with increasing measure, the few hours of solitude each week that this new life schedule leaves me. When kiddos have fallen asleep, and Chris can’t be expected home from work for a few hours, I become an enchanted version of myself: the kitchen gets wiped up with a hum on my lips, and then I make myself a raw milk steamer or pour a glass of red and snuggle on the couch with a wool blanket, candles and incense lit, subtle music on in the background (I so rarely enjoy listening to the things I – and only I – like!), and like clockwork, a book is opened on my lap. Oh, despite my talkativeness, Lord knows I am truly an introvert through and through!

I have been blessed by many of the books I chose from the shelves on a whim – few have been disappointments and I have poured over at least 5 at a time (this is how I read books) with notebook and pen at the ready, scribbling down phrases and thoughts the author has bravely passed on in print.

The subject matter varies only a little: homesteading, gardening, cooking, knitting, parenting, poetry, and regional nature guides. (In my mind, such topics obviously belong together like butter and bread.)

In my moments alone, soaking in the knowledge and experiences found in each book’s library-conditioned pages, a single common denominator, a running stitch, has emerged to the forefront of my thoughts: domesticity.

I have had a love-hate relationship with that word, that ideal, all my relatively short life. As the daughter of a single father, in a household devoid of sisters and womanly charm, my artistic endeavors carried me to the door of the gentle arts, i.e. domesticity, many times. I was thrilled when I learned to make eggs, pancakes, and spaghetti reasonably well in junior high, but even more so when the opportunity arose to cook for friends, (playing hostess was always fun for me). The fantasy of adult dinner parties lured me, as did cleverly placed art on a wall or harmonious colors in home décor, and images of motherly nurturing women who embodied ferocious strength and gentle patience were some of my most treasured icons. Still, I was limited in my lack of confidence and much of what I knew came from TLC programming rather than a real life experience and first-hand witness to domestic skills. So acute was my feeling of tom-boyishness that I vividly remember pouring out tears of anguish to my youth pastor and his wife in high school, plagued with the idea that marriage, family, and household management would be impossible for someone as UN-domestic as I was!

Ironic, perhaps, that I married my now husband at the tender age of 18, and began the crash course in cooking, cleaning, and domestic duties immediately. Of course, it would be some time before I found real joy or meaning in such things, (at least beyond that strange and shallow competitiveness that fought for perfection at every turn to fill my gaping holes of insecurity). Eventually I would move to a city of DIY, budget-limited eccentric environmentalists (Portland) and begin to recognize the creative flow of asymmetry, brilliant imperfection, and true domesticity; Domesticity with purpose, fueled by deeply felt values, and the inspired project it takes on with beginner’s ambition.

I have heard since then many women tell me, often with a sense of lament and guilt, that they are simply not domestic. I wish I knew the best way to define that word, but something tells me that no matter what it is, we all have the sense of it being an unreachable, perhaps even anti-feminist, trait reserved for television housewives in the 50’s and 60’s. But I believe we’ve heaped enough coal on the image of domestic arts and homemaking and chastised ourselves too readily for not having attained some level of experience and enjoyment of these pieces of ourselves (however untapped).

GETTING STARTED

Getting started is always rough and full of blunder, let’s just get that fact out of the way, shall we? The first time I ever made a big pot of chili, I didn’t even know that the sour cream and cheese was to garnish the top of a served bowl: I mixed the final ingredients right on in with that luscious red soup and the result was rather thick and creamy – which didn’t look very appetizing. And the first 6 months or so that I tried to master knitting was colored with four-letter words while unraveling 2-3 hours of simple 2-needle stockinet and garter projects and starting all over when my pride had recovered.

More recently, (as in TODAY), I attempted to wash my first load of clothes by hand, out of sheer necessity and romanticized notions of the “washing days” in the warm months ahead. The first phase went pretty good – I got the tub full of hot soapy water and shook around the dirty clothes a bit. Then I wrung them by hand (I do plan to get a wringer, in case you’re worried about my sanity), emptied the dirty water, refilled with cool water and let sit to rinse. It was later, tired from other chores and now alone with both kids, that I had to wring the cool water out (again by hand) that I began to tucker out and find the wrist pain pretty uncomfortable. Still, I did it, and hauled the heavy wet clothes in a tote to the backyard so I could get them hung on some wooden drying lines that were set up in the backyard before we arrived.

It didn’t take much time to get the (still) dripping wet clothes slung up on the lines and I was feeling pretty proud of myself for making lemons with lemonade. Birds were chirping and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and I thought, this is the life. This is good stuff. One more garment to go and I can head in to start dinner. Well, no sooner did I pin that last item to the lines did I hear a SNAP and in a blink I was on the ground, knocked down by the gnarly wooden posts that had conceded to their loading capacity. I lay there only a moment, feeling a sharp pain in my shoulder where the splintery edges of the post had scraped down my body (unprotected in a tube top dress – you know, since they make such practical laundry clothing). I made myself get up, remembered the unconscious sh*t I had whispered on the way down, and then got pink-in-the-cheeks angry that my hearty attempt to do my laundry by hand failed epically on the final wrung of the battle. I brushed aside a few angry tears and hobbled towards the house, where the kids were putting on shoes to come outside, curious over the commotion of mama getting into a knock-down-drag-out-fight with the drying lines. At this very minute, several hours later, I am doing just fine, but those clothes out there are still laying in the dirt helplessly – I need a little space from the laundry for the rest of the day!

My point is, learning new stuff is rarely easy, often wrought with failure and fluorescent language of frustration, at least in my experience (so please, PLEASE, scrap any image you may have in your head of mama-earthy Vivian, dancing around in vintage aprons and whipping out gluten-free baked goods!) Reality is SO much more adventurous than that.

And now, in closing, I leave with you some of the inspiring and challenging truisms of my current reading materials:

“ ‘Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing.’ – Phyllis Diller (quoted in From a House to a Home by Jamima Mills)

***

“The gentle art of domesticity is the felicitous application of practical skills to the spaces in which we live. It requires a desire to make instead of consume, a triumph of activity over passivity and a return to using our hands and imaginations rather than a reliance on screens and technology…
Why on earth would anyone prefer to hand-stitch a quilt when you can buy a perfectly good one in a shop? Why knit a pair of socks when they are so easy and cheap to buy these days? Why bake a cake when the store shelves are groaning with ready-made treats? THE ANSWER lies in the not-so-revolutionary idea of seizing the means of production. It’s as simple and as complex as that. A modicum of practicality in the domestic space empowers us to make our own choices about what we create and eat, rather than handing over control of our homemaking to profit-making companies. It may sound surprisingly radical, and it is. Embedded in the gentle arts is a slyly subversive streak that encourages free-thought, individuality, creative self-expression, imaginative thought processes and not a little self-determinism. All this, and a great deal of pleasure, too.”

“It is so easy to lose touch… we can live in a bubble of emptiness [in lives with technology, cars, etc] and not even recognize that we are suffering from sensory deprivation. The problem is made worse by the current perception that many domestic activities are unpleasant. We no longer want to scrub with hard bristle brushes, instead we wipe with smooth, fresh-scented cleaning fluids and soft cloths. We buy nonstick pans to avoid using grating, metallic pads. We buy machine-washable everything and rarely plunge our hands in hot, soapy water. We tumble-dry clothes instead of dealing with wet washing in sun, wind and rain. We buy premade meals and keep sharp knives and grainy chopping boards for display purposes only. .. If we stop feeling our way through life, stop handling materials, we become passive and dependent on the ready-made and textureless. In doing so, we give up an element of independence, control, skill and autonomy. If we can no longer bake a loaf of bread, test a cake for doneness, plant a bulb, knit a simple garment, sew a quilt, we are quite helpless.”
-The Gentle Art of Domesticity; Stitching, Baking, Nature, Art, and the Comforts of Home, Jane Brocket

***

“Come dream with me this morning in my garden, next to our farmhouse on the road to Valley Forge. The sundial says it’s early still, though shadows can only guess at human time. From his roost in the chicken coop down by the barn, the rooster declares another day coming on, but he can wait.
I built the coop myself, of lumber scraps, and old door, and roofing I scavenged… rising early each day to hammer away before heading back to Philadelphia to earn my wage as a newspaperman. Today, half a hundred hens have the run of [the small farm]. They peck in the pasture and swale, along the pond and amid the stone ruins of the springhouse, though it’s the manure pile they love most, digging deep for the treasures within.”
-Home to Roost; A Backyard Farmer Chases Chickens through the Ages, Bob Sheasley

***

“At dusk, when I returned home, I spent more quality time with [my chickens]. Right before dark is when they’re the most active and fun to watch, so I’d go out with my fiddle and play to the crowd. I wasn’t very good at first, but they never complained during those early squeaks and squawks… Some nights in July, the farm was an absolute paradise. The cool Idaho summer night had me wrapped in a warm fleece jacket while hens hopped around the backyard. Mountain music wafted from my beginner fiddle as the tree frogs and crickets started their backup tracks. The honeybees hummed as they headed home to the hive from the garden, which was rich with fresh vegetables and bright sunflowers. The sun set behind the Selkirk Mountains in a pink-and-purple western sky. On those nights, it felt like everyone and everything was in its proper order, living together in my own peaceable kingdom.”

“Finally, after months of snow, thaw, and mud, the soil by the barn was ready for the wrath of my hoe. I pounded in the ground and roped of my two hundred square feet to freedom. It looked like nothing, no sweat. Not even as big as a standard swimming pool. I steadied my footing, raised my hoe in the air, and started hacking away.

Let me tell you something. Hoeing is really hard.

After about two hours in the April sun, which wasn’t even hot to begin with, I was panting like an ex-racing greyhound trying to sprint around the track after four months on a futon. My carelessly ungloved hands were blistered and splintered, my back ached, and all I had prepared was a small rectangle. It was about five feet by three feet. I had barely made any progress. I was about ready to throw up. Let’s hear it for me.
…

Sod breaking went like this. First I had to pierce the sod with a shovel and then pick it out with a hoe. This required muscle and several attempts of beating it into submission before it gave in. When I finally broke through, I had to keep hacking away at the topsoil till I hit clay, rocks, roots, and bugs be damned. When I wasn’t hoeing, I was chucking stones and yanking roots. I’m far from a delicate lady, so I was fine for the first twenty minutes. But then I started to ache. Little pains started to creep into my arms. My shoulders started to gossip with my back and half an hour later they both resented me. I kept trying with all my might to dislodge the roots that had shot back to life every Spring since The Wonder Years first aired, but they were tough customers and I was a girl who planted window boxes. I called the sod some pretty horrible things.

After two hours of this, I couldn’t imagine being able to take any more that day without dislocating something or ripping my hands open. So I stopped, gave the rest of the area I had plotted a good long look up and down, and promptly gave up. I had been defeated in honorable combat…

And that, my friends, is how I ended up with three small raised-bed gardens… Just between you and me, I still think m original plans were solid (if only I had been able to find a team of Amish kids and a rototiller).”
-Made from Scratch; Discovering the Pleasures of a Handmade Life, Jenna Woginrich

The life season I am in is uncharted territory. I like it. But its strange at the same time.

I am living in a city not far from where I originally planned on going to college, (as a teen still living in Florida, I had Missouri on my mind, and visited this area twice, even stayed a weekend only 30 minutes away in Moberly,) and finding myself here again is strangely like putting on an old shoe and realizing that not only does it still fit, it’s also conveniently back in style.

I am also not working. Now, I laugh at that statement because anyone who cares for children full-time knows that it is possibly more work than any other job on the face of the earth. But I’m not working-from-home AND parenting/homeschooling/homemaking and this is a first for me. It takes some getting used to, the lack of anxiety about deadlines and getting back to people, the replaced anxiety about budgeting and bills (which, to be honest, was there whether I was bringing home the bacon or not).

I have this memory: I was sitting in duplex in Portland 3 years ago, working a 12 hour day, and dreaming. Something struck me as I looked out over the lush backyard, full with lilies and tulips and cherry blossoms and apple trees and raspberries… and I was inside, on the laptop, working, while my son watched PBS next to me. This notion came into my head: I wish I could just be a farmer! While I don’t desire the actual life of being a farmer (not yet, anyway), what I was recognizing then was that there was something in me that knew how unhealthy this lifestyle was for me, that itched to get out in that yard as often as possible, and to learn skills that would increase my self-sufficiency and decrease my need for ever increasing amounts of income. It seemed such a crazy hack-kneed thought back then, even as I shared it with my husband we laughed at the absurdity, the out-of-reachness, of such an idea. Yet things did sorta begin to change, slowly my intention was towards increasing self-sufficiency and living on less. Then around a year ago, I remember breaking down into sobs, (many times), lamenting that I will never be able to JUST be a mom, JUST care for my home and focus on my children, especially while they are so young and need my attention so much.

Today I suppose I am just so grateful. It seems like Someone heard my cries, wiped my tears, and worked consistently in the background to orchestrate a situation in which I find myself exactly where I wanted to be, even when I didn’t want to let go, when I wouldn’t willfully walk towards the way life is now (Chris working at a local service job, me not working at all, etc). I would have never been able to paint the picture before me; I lack the imagination and sheer unearthly genius that the Creator has. But here I am, partially from an imposed trajectory of purpose and goals, but mainly due to the gracious hand of a loving Father who knows how to care for His children.

Today Chris went to his first day of work at the bakery. He rode his bike, he comped a yummy local meal and beer, and he thoroughly enjoyed himself. He came home from his shift by 3pm, invigorated with plenty of energy left for the second half of his day. It has been a looooooong time since he has been in a job that is agreeable to him on so many levels. Seeing him this way made my heart glad. Glad that I trusted his instinct to leave Fayetteville for Columbia despite my fears of how it would work, and glad that I embraced the challenge of yet another move for the sake of much needed changes in our family’s lifestyle.

My verdict thus far on my home is very positive. It’s tight, tidy, clean, and well laid out. I find pleasure in nesting into its corners and decorating it with special items I’ve collected over the years that mean something to me. It’s what I would call a “Vivian-sized house”: petite, yet strong. And so quick to clean! In addition, the city is so sweet – just enough of the crunch of a good ol’ granola-y college town, mixed with some of that “weird” eclectic, youthful vibe we enjoyed about Portland. It has lots of nearby farms/local food movement, very bikable, a good amount of mom-n-pops (locally owned shops, cafes, etc), and a relatively nice climate as well.

Our budget is blowing my mind a bit, too. I was fairly unsure about how it would all work, taking a job for less pay, etc. But then we got this great little rental for $500 a month with a nice sized yard for my chickens and gardens, and only blocks from the farmer’s market. As I blogged about last week, we don’t need to pay for internet anymore. So far, this has worked out nicely. I blog offline and hop on only to quickly communicate with friends/family. Chris’ smart phone works as a wifi spot we can use to hop on, and for bigger things we can go to the library or his work. Plus, Chris’ job has perks that ease the tightness of a small income, like good tips, free video rentals and movie tickets from 9th St Video and Rag Tag Cinema, free day old artisan breads from the bakery, and half off on bottles of wine. It amazes me how much we “needed” to “live” just 4 years ago compared to today. These days it seems like so long as we have God, each other, fresh food, interesting books, and plenty of yarn, I’m a very happy camper

In other news, the kids have been fighting a stomach bug since Saturday, which has kept us quarantined a bit this week since landing in Columbia on Saturday. This is probably a good thing, however. It’s forced us to move slowly, get to know our home, and spend less money going out and about. The kids seem to be finally on the mend and now I’m just crossing my fingers and taking my vitamins and praying I’m not next!

I guess I don’t know what else to share. I just feel like… a weight has been lifted, some prayers have been answered, and a calm has come over our family. I can sense the release as I learn to live on less income, no longer feeling the extreme pressure of needing to work, and seeing how a family can have everything it needs – heck, to even “afford” luxuries like time to garden, write, knit, read, etc – to be a Radical Homemaker, a Thrifter, a Scavenger’s Manifesto, a semi-Freegan… to continue the journey of simplifying and living well with less.

As our family prepares for our move 5 hours north to Columbia, Missouri next weekend, many things have been discussed via our lifestyle once in our “tiny home”.

For those of you who are yet to be informed, I’ll try to backtrack quickly and sum things up: back in January we took a trip up there at the leading of some sweet friends whose family we know from church here in Fayetteville. A fun, flexible full-time job for Chris opened up in the coming weeks at a bakery downtown that focuses on sustainable and local ingredients. We went back up a couple of weeks ago to look for rentals and found an older, small (750 sq ft I believe), 2/1 house (but to be fair, also has a basement, shed, fenced backyard, and hardwood floors) in our price range (to my knowledge, the lowest rent I have ever lived in, even as a child), located just over 2 miles from his work (so he can bike most days and I can have the car for me and the kids again, woo hoo!), just under 2 miles from the main library and the waldorf preschool, and 2 blocks from the farmer’s market. Oh, and we can have 6 urban backyard hens – enlarging our flock

So we are preparing not only via packing, cleaning etc, but also by going over some possible challenges and adjustments we’d like to take this opportunity to make.

For one thing, our current house this passed year is the first single family dwelling we’ve ever had (previously duplexes and co-housing were our residence), and it is also the most square feet we have ever lived in (a 3rd bedroom). It hasn’t been all that great, to be honest. It’s a lot to clean and most of it goes unused. I couldn’t help but feeling like, so long as I wasn’t needing the extra space for childcare income, it really wasn’t part of our “living simple” plan. The old Less is More, thing. I have, as you may know from reading this blog any amount of time, been attracted to the “tiny house” movement and peruse my copy of “Little House on a Small Planet” often dreaming of the day we can move into a yurt in the pacific NW or a derelict cottage in rural France SO – while one perspective might be that I’m moving into a drafty tiny house in mid-Missouri, I’m looking at the upside; a cozy space with less to clean and more in line with our values of living small and treading light on the planet. In addition, it meets our requirement for affordability, which allows us to find work that doesn’t compromise those values. (Aside: like the Radical Homemaker 4 tenets: community, family, social justice and ecology – any job outside the home must honor these, which is a lot of the reason we felt we should take the slight paycut for Chris to take a job at the bakery close to home, rather than his current job in AR which is 40 minutes away in a cubicle in the logistics industry.)

Okay, so we are all caught up now and I’ll try to get back to my point.

This transition is in some ways another phase of our journey towards sustainable, simple, intentional living, and with that step we are considering our lifestyle choices, and how we use our time and money is one of the main concerns. With a small single-earner income, no health insurance, all credit cards closed (our plastic-free 3 year anniversary is almost here!), every little bit counts.

One decision we’ve made is to not have internet when we move. Our average bill for highspeed internet is currently around $70 a month, which will be about 6% of our spendable income. Since I currently plan to not work from home any substantial part of my day, we no longer NEED high speed internet for my business, and the only thing we do use it for beyond that is watching shows on Hulu after the kids go to bed, or streaming movies on Netflix (we don’t have cable). Basically, for entertainment, mixed with a little educational documentaries here and there, (as well as my favorite internet uses: browsing recipe sites, blogs I like, and checking my email and facebook, all of which I can do quickly with routine visits through wifi cafes or the library with my i-touch).

I must admit, I’m not sure how it will work (!). I won’t see the finale of the few shows I watch until they are available next season to rent on Netflix (I know, I know, boo hoo – but ya know, its an adjustment!) And if I have a sick day, snow day, rainy day, etc in which movies becomes my only aid in entertaining the kids, we won’t have the internet (which we currently hook up to via HDMI to our tv as a second monitor) at our fingertips. Hmmm… am I talking myself out of this? lol

No. I know it will be good for us, and what’s more, we are reallocating a portion of that money towards something more valuable – a family membership to the ARC (columbia’s recreation and activity center) that is conveniently located 2 blocks from our house. With the remaining 20 bucks we’ll put towards an outing once a month (like the Missouri Botanical Gardens, zoo, museums, etc).

I know this will be a challenge for our family, and we are not big TV viewers as it is, but having it for a few hours a week is one of the few “luxuries” we can afford and I’m wondering how we will adjust to being without it, particularly Ethan who is majorly into on-screen entertainment and games.

But as I was saying, we’ll have the ARC – the classes and indoor track and pool will be great escapes that are much healthier for us than a few hours of tv a week! Next, I’m sure we’ll get even more into our weekly library visit where we haul 50 or so books out at each trip. And finally, I think we’ll have more time to spend in our hobbies and crafts, gardening, reading, as well as keeping up with chores. When I think about the money AND time we will be saving, I admit I get pretty excited!

And this brings me to some broader reflections I’ve had of late. One of the things about trying to live more simply that I’ve enjoyed over the last, oh, 4 years or so, is the challenge of my personal comforts and the sense of accomplishment over realizing I can do without things I once couldn’t have imagined. Choosing to be without a car (when we have access to PDX mass transit), or sharing 1 (living in a small city as we do now), or learning to cook from scratch, or figuring out how to allocate money from eating out/entertainment towards whole foods and self-made fun, or learn skills we would have needed other people to do for us in the past. We’ve had to get creative with buying from furniture, clothes, and decor from thrift stores and craigslist so we could avoid cheap products at the cost of unethical labor at Big Box stores. I’ve taken on coordinating the local natural food bulk buying drop so I would have access to warehouse direct prices on “real food”. I have been more committed to the tenets of attached parenting and home learning because I have to take a closer look at why I feel like “giving up” when things get tough and increasing my knowledge and network so I don’t burn out.

But briefly, in the interest of full disclosure and lest I mislead with some ideological and euphoric description of what I have experienced thus far: sometimes this journey SUCKS. Somethings work and somethings don’t, and working through the stress of being financially strapped (not always by choice! -and losing a job/clients is never fun, btw) or the piles of wet clothes in the living room or the whiny kids on a rainy day with no escape from the house, or missing out on things I would have liked to do because of no vehicle, or worrying about how to the funds to get my kid’s cavity filled – oh yeah, its not always “simple” and definitely not always a breezy summer day of homemade bread and sippin tea!

But somethings are simple, and more importantly, everything is meaningful. I’m learning a lot, I feel more equipped, and I am looking forward to the next phase… the unplugged (internet-less) tiny house in Columbia

Ash Wednesday

Today was not exactly a showcase of my better self. Not that it was all bad or even the worst, but as it comes to an end I definitely feel regret over parts of my inner attitude, my impatience, my reactions, my selfishness, my ego, my inability to find “quiet center”.

I don’t even know if I know what quiet center is anymore. I read about it in writing class in college and I don’t even recall whose idea it was. Tolstoy? Tolkien? McLaren? Sting? {See, no idea.}

But it struck me as some sort of ultimate goal in life, or at least one of them. To find the center of oneself… more accurately, the heart… and there find a peace that passes all understanding. To feel a breeze and close your eyes and the world stops. All that is in you and around you is the breeze. Even the sound of the trees rustling or the smell of leaves or the itchy grass below – all of it is put out to the curb with the senses as you go beyond them into just being. Just breathing. Just breezing. Communing with the universe and the Creator of all things…

The life of a stay at home mom affords so few opportunities for quiet outside of myself. Even in rare moments where you might steal away, say, before the children wake up, there is the constant knowledge which compels you to stay in your consciousness because you know this time is not truly yours – even it is borrowed and can be interrupted any minute now by the sound of a waking child.

To find quiet inside and in the midst of it all is even rarer still, though at least I believe in some transcendental way it is attainable, though perhaps only with great discipline and character. A few seconds while washing dishes, looking out of the kitchen window, trying to capture the sound of my breath, to sigh a prayer, to smile internally with gratitude for Life itself, is about the closest I have come to finding a quiet center amidst the constant demands and responsibilities of child rearing.

Even as I type, I am simultaneously caring for a child, nursing my almost 2 year old, her awkward body slumping well passed my lap so as to force her gravity towards the floor; me, legs propped and/or crossed and arms contorted around her attempting, feebly, to hold her in place. She begins to slip, carrying my breast with her as far as it will flex, until her feet are now ON the floor and she is crying, “Hollme, mama! Nini, mama! Helbme, mama!” (Translation: “Hold me, mama. Nurse me, mama. Help me, mama.”) The most comical bit to this very real scene happening to me this very real minute is that I am so intent on getting a few minutes to myself to write that I hardly notice her until she is on the ground flailing to hoist her robust toddler frame back up on my petite legs, which are incidentally sore from packing for our move in exactly 11 days. (But who’s counting?)

I’m intent to tune her out, nonetheless. I made an Ash Wednesday pledge, if you will, to spend my Lent in *focused (*which I’ve come to realize is a very RELATIVE WORD.) writing each day, and dog gone it, I’m going to give it a hearty try. I may not always share it on my blog – actually I hope the majority of it stays well hidden. Some things just aren’t meant to be shared, especially not prematurely.

Since I suppose I am just writing for the sake of writing, I’ll kinda just keep going in a stream of consciousness way, and we’ll see where this goes, shall we?

I ordered a book recently, though I’ve likely had the funds to do so for some time now (which forces me to wonder just how much I have been avoiding this whole writing-practice-thing). The package arrived today, (with that annoying Amazon smiling face that reminds me that I coped out by supporting the “man” instead of the mom & pop, but that’s another story), and I felt truly as though it was packed with a significant, symbolic promise. A promise to tune in to my voice again. The book, if you’re curious, is called Writing Down the Bones. My writer neighbor recommended it to me when we first moved here, a year ago. A year of sitting on it, thinking about it, not sure if I could really prioritize it over {cleaning and cooking and marriage and diapers and gardens and playschool and work for textbooks or hotel food & beverage or small business industries… and, admittedly, over evening movies}.

But a writer is not content with not writing, because we know that not writing means not being true to the itch to do just that: to write for writings sake and with no real end to the means. To just intoxicate oneself with words and sentences and images and … well you get the idea. (Perhaps it is the intoxication behind the motivation?)

I approach the world of writing, of flinging myself carelessly into its rhythm, with a very little confidence, just a surplus of compelling instincts that make no rational sense. Will it be therapy? Doubtful – I will likely drive myself more mad. Will I gain something monetarily? Oh goodness, no. To satisfy my desire to label myself with a lofty vocational title? Puhleeze, who ever thinks “I’m a writer” is really a truthful statement anyway?

All I know is that I have to write again. I have to. I NEED IT.

That’s all. For now.

Today is my birthday! Becoming twenty-er-something is not a huge milestone, but the reminder to celebrate life (side note – my name means “full of life” ) and appreciate all that I have is a welcomed one any day of the year.

These last few weeks I’ve been trying to reduce my intake of grains, and have noticed that I may actually be very gluten-sensitive, but this has only been since a stomach bug I had in January so I believe my gut has been left depleted and wacky. In the meantime, I am enjoying eating and cooking nourishing foods, and this morning as a birthday treat I made myself (and indirectly, my family) some gluten-free cream cheese coffee cake. It’s divine, especially with a little extra maple syrup on the top

I am feeling like celebrating today, despite any concerns or inconveniences that are inevitably part of life on this rock. My husband, darling man that he is, brought me home the most delightful assortment of houseplants for my birthday, from nearby Brick Street Botanicals, a natural florist/nursery in downtown Rogers. I especially love the driftwood and old fruit crate used as planters – how lovely!

My sweet toothy-grinned child woke up before me this morning and made me THREE cards and several drawings, excited to show me what he made for me for my birthday. Here is one, where he is phonetically spelling out Happy Birthday and drew me a little cake with candles I also heard him trying to get Verity to practice saying “Happy Birthday, Mama” – it just brings tears to my eyes to be so loved by such beautiful creatures.

Tonight I’m planning a fun gluten-free dinner: coconut baked shrimp, baked potatoes, and glazed carrots. Afterwards, I’m crossing my fingers that I can pull off this amazing looking Deep Dark Chocolate Tart (gluten, dairy, and refined sugar free!) for my birthday cake. (Every one needs something baked and chocolate for their birthday, I don’t care how old you are!)

I was tickled to find so many birthday wishes when I woke up and checked my email and facebook. What a life to have lived only 27 years and have so many dear friends, family, and acquaintances. I am so truly blessed.

One message this morning was so sweet and thoughtful. My beautiful friend from middle/high school wrote me and included some snippets from a book I had made her of birthday quotes for her birthday – must have been around 14(?). Some were original quotes from me, which really made me grin at my younger self:

“Doing God’s Will is like being employed for a job you love with lots of benefits.” – Vivian Rose Melody
“Love until the day you die and you will never really die.” – vrm

Ha! Too cute.

So tomorrow, very very early, we are heading back up to Columbia, MO. Have a few things to scope out and will tell you more about that as things pan out. In the meantime, I wish you all a day worth celebrating