The Spill/Steal Zone of Knitting and Life

Sometimes you care and sometimes you just don't.

When knitters cast on a new knitting project, we exist in a dream zone, a lull in time, the magic of the softness of the yarn, the brilliance of the design, the idea of how beautiful this will someday be. At this stage, you will be ever so careful of the baby project who needs all your attention and protection from the elements, from thieves, from mugs of tea splashing or worse. 

Just as the end approaches, this protective spirit returns, because now we are almost there and you see the value in the work that has been done, the work our very own hands did to reach this point. 

 

It's the in-between time, the "voyage" over which so much ink has already flowed. This is the time where, upon exiting your vehicle, you glance back at the knitting which, thus far you have either insisted be kept upon your person at all times, or you've locked in the trunk if you positively must part with it. Today, in the abject apathy stage, you shrug instead, "Let them have it, pain in the patooty anyway, over it, bored with it, stuck on a tricky bit, have to unravel and start over. It is not worth the trouble."

Life is a long, messy slog. All around us are perfect examples of ungrateful wretches having the worst day ever. The only thing on my bucket list on those days is the opportunity to crawl back under the covers.

It is worth the trouble, I know it is, all projects have value, all projects deserve a chance and a little love, but if this particular one were to disappear, would anyone notice or grieve for very long? Can I not have a do-over? Look at my mistakes, anyone can see this is a disaster. The cup of coffee hovering near no longer fills us with dread

...but if you persevere, it will.

The end will come, completion will once more be at hand. The beauty in creation wins out over the lackadaisical and ugly. Then you can start all over again. Cast and carry on. 

P.S. The analogy was just repeated in a concrete way with one of my children. This one had been feeling bogged down by the enormous amount of work to be done to complete her double major in four years. She is a junior; in "normal" American terms, this means she has just one year left after this one. However, this one was proving to be too too much. 

wahhhhh wahhhhh wahhhhh

Not nice, moms can't always be nice, just most days, and, yes, I had days in school when I was 100% certain that my TRUE future lay in hopping in the nearest sailboat and navigating the globe, right now. 

I am not a stranger to kids and their flailing motivation while getting through school. It is senioritis that can strike at any time, but mainly towards to middle to just past the mid-point. It happened in community college for one, in law school for another. My high school sophomore swears he has it now. 

Today came the news that this is looking like it will be so good. It will be excellent to finish college and next year will not be as bad as the three preceding it. Graduation may actually be a date in the near future. She's getting to the part where you know you'll be casting off soon and have a THING in hand. Hurrah!

The Rare Bird (Flower) that is Each Child

You too have probably heard, and I may also have thought that part of the difficulty in raising children is that each of them is a different person; entirely and distinctly themselves. 

Today I saw this iris and remembered that it is exactly this "where did you come from" aspect of discovering the child who is briefly entrusted into our care that is the true job of parenting. 

I did not plant this specific flower. It simply appeared in the well-nourished soil of my back garden plot one day. This year there are three. A lot like what happens when a family is started and grown.

Hacks to Homeschool Happier

 

HOMESCHOOLING FOR THE FREE-SPIRITED 

 

Rule to Remember: It does not have to be a drag.

In fact, learning at home can be joyful and rewarding and create moments, habits and a way of looking at the world that last a lifetime. Our homeschool days were always a mix of formal and carefree. I guided the younger children more and trusted that the older one grew, the easier it became to discover what was interesting or important enough to pursue. 

I need to rephrase that; the younger ones had a regular rhythm of meals, play, read-alouds, naps and bedtime, but we did not pursue anything academic at an early age, (unless you count the year I attempted to do an at-home-after-school boxed French curriculum each afternoon after kindergarten-disaster).

Eczema and the Secret of Habit

Summer is a time of miracles, things grow again, the garden and woods compel attention through their very sumptuousness of vegetation and bird song that is returned...and yet new once more, after months of cold and silence. Not venturing forth is a crime, even though doing so will exact a payment later.

More or less, each year, after a little sun, getting bit by half a dozen mosquitoes, using sunscreen, bug repellent, or all of the above on a glorious weekend in May; down I head, into the itchy hell-hole again. This is beyond my control, for now. (Some day, I shall control the sun's power too, just wait.)

What I am able to control is food, water, exercise, all of this is better than ever. Here is the secret; I just said "no". Thank you, Nancy Reagan. Eczema loves certain conditions, and certain foods in some people. When they are eliminated, it has a much lower rate of survival. So; gone and merci. 

Thank you as well, to a book I am re-reading; "Better than Before; Mastering the Habits of our Everyday Lives," by Gretchen Rubin. The basic tenet of the book is what is most helpful:

                                 "Decide not to decide." 

Think about it, or do not, just for a moment. Making a decision once is so much less tiresome than having to make it every single time one is confronted with a choice. 

In a nutshell; we do or do not do the very same thing every single day. It might look like this: get up and go for a walk, every single Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Go to the Y for a class every single Tuesday and Thursday. I do not eat sugar (or dairy, or whatever). Done. No more decisions to make. For a more strenuous elimination-type diet, this can be combined with the concept of a timer, see: Say au revoir to self-pity, or a limitation that lasts only a certain amount of time; a week, a month, a year. I have put wine on this timed approach (oh, and champagne, and margaritas...fine, anything with any alcohol.)

It is an empowering and liberating concept. But I really cannot linger to discuss it just now. My dog is pulling his leash off the door knob and losing his mind with waiting. He knows it is Friday too. 

A Mother's Influence

That title is a big, scary one. I used to think I really should not have children, since I would surely botch it up in a large, crazy way. Now I can say with confidence...that I can only hope I minimized the potential damage I may have caused by how fiercely I love them.

More or less a third of my five children have been raised to adulthood now; math is not the best at this hour of the morning...or is it still night? I am home from a call to interpret in the ER and it is an odd hour to be contemplating all of this. Originally, I was thinking about working mother vs. stay-at-home mother. I remember being slightly scandalized and a little confused by an article when I was still in high school; the gist of it was that children of working mothers have more confidence in themselves because they see their mothers as empowered.

I grew up in a latch-key era, and I would have thought that a child in that situation would feel a certain part of neglect and loneliness, and therefore less confidence. No one is there to greet them, no one to make sure they are well, are fed, to know where they are?

The me that decided, along with my husband, that I could not ever conceivably leave my baby, ever, was more reassured by the second scenario than the first. Yet, the second lingered in my mind.

Now that I have been both mothers,  I can take a look at it from both sides. Of course, I never did get to be that kid with complete freedom when I came home from school, because my own mother was always there. Other 7th graders were sneaking alcohol out of their parents' liquor cupboards and dancing in the living room. I came home, ate my allotted 3 cookies, that my mother had baked herself, and left to take care of my paper route. If I wanted clothes that were not hand-me-downs, I could either earn some money or wait until Christmas. It built character and independence. As for confidence; I always knew my mom could do anything she put her mind too, long before she re-entered the workforce once the kids had grown.

I am so glad that I was able to be home with my babies and small children! I am still glad of a week when I work hardly a day or a day and a half. The time we have together could not be replaced by a great caregiver or even a grandparent, it just would not have existed, poof; hours and days and months of our lives lived apart. The play, "Ondine" comes to mind; Jean Giradoux. In it, a fish girl, who makes her way up from a neighboring lake one night, falls in love with a prince. When he goes off to take care of some princely business or other, she is aghast; time apart? Why? Why ever? Either you are together or you are not, in her watery world. I think children have that same mentality. Mama is here, or not here, and it is the end of everything. 

This is far from a judgement or condemnation. I well know that many families from Africa, from Asia, by necessity, leave their child to relatives back home for years on end. This does not mean those babies are any less loved or missed than my own. And...there is still that nagging doubt in the back of my mind that maybe they would have been better off  with a wonderful nanny, who could leave at the end of the day, thus convey less stress, less dismay when things got all topsy-turvy.  Spilled milk and sibling fights might not have put her in a tizzy. They might have experienced more calm and less chaos, it might have been better, who can say? But in the end, I would have missed them way too much.

You Can Get Used to Anything

...which is what allows human beings to persevere in the face of misery, atrocity and unjust treatment...but what if you chose what it is you get used to? 

This was my thought this morning, as I flew down the hill I once feared biking down, because it invariably meant I had to bike back up it at some point. 

Now I enjoy that ride. I have become accustomed to going back up the hill; so the ride down is A BLAST. I am happy to have a few precious moments to meditate because I am up before anyone else in the morning. When the alarm goes off, I change my thoughts from, "already?" to gratitude, right away. 

What are you willing to change to be happier, more at peace, fulfilled by life each day?

Barns, Bloggers and Dryads

 This is where I found my tree sprite after church last week.

Michelle, who writes at : Simplify Live Love, invited Iowa bloggers to a conference last Saturday, to meet, share and learn at her incredible family homestead, above and below. I got to meet bloggers who know how to do everything from promoting your blog, connecting to brands, increasing your page views through an increased online presence, to working with a virtual assistant and managing time. I am not sure how much of it will pertain to what I do and write, but it was invigorating to be in a roomful of people, men and women, who write for a living and love doing it. Thank you, Michelle, for hosting us! What a day!

My favorites? The people, and the really pretty chickens!

 Warming up my lasagna, we had a potluck straight out of a gourmet cookbook. Check out the Le Creuset showcase behind me...ooo!Beautiful stuff!

 My blogging girlfriends; the casual sort of blogger, like me. Melanie's blog: Many Hands House, and Rebecca's: Archie, Down!

 A shot inside Michelle and Dan's passive house.

One highlight: finding a high school friend...of my cousin's!...whom I remembered meeting a few years ago at my cousin's high school reunion. This is Nicole, who blogs at SAHM Reviews.

Speak to the Beauty

With each passing day that I am a mother I realize one thing; I do not have all the answers, in fact, each new day has the potential for fresh, shall we say, "circumstances", just to remain positive and not say "disasters", and each one needs a brand spankin' new response. 

Tears dried and caveat aside, there is beauty and pure goodness in each child (and in most adults as well). When I yell or accuse (also called reminding the kid what they did or did not do, again), this addresses only the ugly, the unworthy, or perhaps simply my perception of the actions I am reprimanding. 

I want to encourage the kindness, honesty and beauty within. Gentle, respectful treatment is the only way to speak to the love just waiting to reach out from my child's heart, if only it is not squashed by mistrust, impatience and anger. Right this minute, with the house quiet and peaceful, I take a breath and remind myself to honor the true child within.

Living the Word

Living the Word:

Or lots of words: kind, helpful, generous, creative, active, inspired, polite. I have to take stock once in awhile, and look at how what I am doing and my vision of the world can affect my family. It may not be fair to put so much on one woman, but as mother goes, so goes the household, or; if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. This can be a good reason for everyone else to tiptoe around and appease mom, or it can be a wake-up call for me to be aware of how my mindset influences my children and husband. I can choose to blame their behavior for my bad temper, or work on being at peace within, in order to bring peace without.

Manners is one area in which my kids seem to do well when out in the world, but at home things tend to fall apart.Tone of voice, using polite words, kind words; we leave no room for negociation here. But do I give the right example every single time I speak to my kids or husband? Do I face each new situation with an attitude geared toward a successful outcome? 

I think my work over the next days, months and years, has been cut out for me. Steps to follow:

1) Think; take time to think before speaking

2) Give myself time to relax/knit/exercise/read in order to be able to be available to my family and generous with my time

3) Meditate every day to cultivate inner peace and harmony

Next up: planning our days

Encouraging Each Other

In a family of seven, one can easily imagine conflict, arguments, chaos. This happens. At times it feels like it happens all the time, but, but, there are just as many sweet, loving moments between the children and from them to us.

Some of those are out of self-interest; they need a partner in crime; water-balloon tossing comes to mind. At times the need is a second body to make something work; for example, asking your little brother to play football when no one else is around. And then that can morph into an adorable gesture; making sure that little brother gets some football gear for his birthday because he knows how happy that would make him. Other times I am simply amazed; three boys playing Legos for hours on end; ages 15, 8 and 6, willingly, pleasantly. Or the girls going on a bike ride together in the heat, and enjoying each others' company.

As for T. and I; I love it when one of the kids offers spontaneous help, hugs or words of wisdom to the adults. Running with Cate is one such opportunity; she can run longer and faster than I can. Still, she will run with me and keep me going with her example and words; "Just don't stop, mama, come on!" Duncan will massage knee caps of an angry sister, brother or parent, explaining that the knee cap is the hardest bone of the body, thus all of the anger accumulates there. Do you know how much it tickles to have one's knee caps tickled? It gets awfully hard to stay mad. Valentine has the sweetest way about her. She can become the most helpful. loving munchkin on the face of the earth, willing to take on any task that needs doing. Charles has the gift of extreme self-sacrifice; he always makes sure the other person has what they want or need before he serves or looks after himself; "no, really Mama, you go first." Gaël gives great back massages, pounding out the sore spots like a drummer, followed by a big bear-hug.

So, in the midst of the noise and bedlam, I breathe, and think of the nice moments, knowing they have been and will be again, preferably sooner rather than later.

Homework and Teens

This topic, a hot and spicy one in our family these days, has been under deep scrutiny and debate over at Blogging Bout Boys. This is my take on the subject, but Jennifer has some well thought-out remarks on homework and boys. You will want to read these if it is a problem at your house, or if you have male children at all.

In a homeschooling family, there may very well be no such thing as "homework" or you may consider everything you do together as such...it is all a question of attitude and vocabulary. When one of those homeschooled children goes to high school, the pressure to perform, for both parents and child, could feel rather intense all of a sudden. 

In our case, when D. decided to go to public school this year, entering high school as a freshman, there were, at first, two terms of straight A's, glowing reports from teachers and no worries. When the A's dropped down to less desirable grades...a lot less...my husband and I felt compelled to intervene as the "responsible parents" and the ones who knew what this kid could do, when he made the decision to do so. This went against our whole homeschooling philosophy of gradually allowing a child to take responsibility for their own education as they mature and find interests to pursue, but he was no longer at home, was he? If one is going to play the school game, one needs to participate in all obligatory parts of it or be "left behind." Up until now, in order for the world, (or the educational system) to know what amazing children I have, I need only show them some of their work and write about what we are doing. Now the grades only will stand as evidence of the whole of his worth. It freaked me out.

Weeks of harping, cajoling, punishing, stress; both marital and household in general, had no tangible influence, except perhaps to let our son know we cared about what he DID more than about who he was. We gave a good lecture about college admissions, the main thing worrying me at the time, and let him know we were here for any help he would ask for, and that the math tutor was standing by, should he need either or both.

 

Now, I will admit to one caveat that has been put in place. In December, D. joined the show choir pit at school, as a guitarist. This meant a huge commitment for us as his family; afternoons and weekends of rehearsal, hours of volunteering and early morning rides to the tour bus on Saturdays...really early. What seemed overwhelming at the start turned out to be an incredible experience for D.; he was awarded "Outstanding Pit Member," he had a ball at every competition, the directors made a positive difference in his life, and he made great progress in both guitar and performance skills. I was glad we made the decision to let him try it. 

However, before the show choir season had even ended, he began training for next year's football program. Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, came the motherly wail. This began when we were still badgering him daily about missing assignments and poor results on tests. Our first reaction was; "no football, ever." The grades had descended during the show choir season, but he was so happy to be playing guitar that we considered pulling him from it a cruel and unusual punishment.

The kid talks a great game. T. decided, after a long conversation with him, to let him train and to talk with the coach about the program, if D. set up the interview for us. However, on the question of school work, instead of either letting it go completely  or continuing with inefficient tactics, we chose to address training as a privilege to be earned. The grades need to go back up to par before he can start staying after school for anything else. Staying after or arriving early implies that he misses the bus and that someone must then come pick him up. "Allo, Mama?"

Permission to lift weights before or after school has not yet commenced, but I noticed last night that the grades have taken a turn for the better. I do not see this as coercion, more as encouragement and a natural consequence; before beginning something new, first fulfill your original responsibilities that you freely chose to take on. 

How about your house? Homework woes? What do you see as the main difference between homeschooling and school in this regard? What is your basic philosophy regarding "work" and your input as a parent? Has this changed as they've grown older? What are your best strategies/ worst problems?  Is your hair still its original color? Chime in and we will share solutions and stories together.

Winter Parenting

Parenting in sub-zero weather can be at its best and its very worst. These January days are so short and so cold that time outside is limited and time inside gets boring. Little arms and legs get restless and big voices miss having a space in which to loose themselves. It's not always easy to find ways of getting that energy out without destroying anything and everything in its path.

A Waldorf Conference: Inspiration and a Grand Time

Isn't Grand a great word? When was the last time you heard it? I'll bet the person was either over seventy or using it to describe their car, as in Pontiac Grand Am, in which case they were probably under twenty-five.

But Grand is exactly how this weekend turned out to be. Accompanied by my co-pilot (of the non-driving but highly entertaining sort), Aragorn, 12, we set out for Viroqua, Wisconsin, at 4:30am, Saturday morning. Destination: a conference on Simplicity Parenting. What attracted me to register was that it was a Waldorf conference. I was looking forward to my painting workshop in the afternoon, but the whole simplicity thing  seemed sort of old hat. Oh well, maybe a Waldorf approach to simplicity would hold new treasures. How little I knew!

We stopped for gas and caffeine and Aragorn talked me into sharing one of those energy colas that I now know taste like sweetened recycled pee with bubbles. Luckily, I also had a thermos of tea and some good chocolate on hand. We took one wrong turn and ended up 20 miles from Madison before I knew what hit me, that is an hour out of the way.

Why drive four hours (OK, five and a half) to spend a weekend in lectures and workshops? As a parent and educator of my children, the spirit and intellect need some renewing and fresh air once in awhile. Inner work is the term for this in Steiner language, becoming a better person, thus a better mother and better teacher through a conscious effort to do so is the idea. Besides, I am really bad at painting and always hoping for a miracle break-though each time I try.

The guest speaker was Kim John Payne, author of "Simplicity Parenting." His lovely Australian accent made him a joy to listen to, and he was a good speaker. (Accents make me go weak in the knee anyway.) He  had so much to offer in information, statistics and practical advice. This Waldorf crowd should have had it all figured out, we knew not too surround our kids with too much junk, overschedule them or let them sit in front of the tv. Sitting there, though, I realized that modern life had unfurled its insidious tiny leaves into the clean lines we had set out for our family's life together. Like a noxious, viney weed, the moment your concentration is  focused elsewhere, the moment you begin to listen to the "shoulds" and "musts" of society, it enters your life and fills the spaces you had reserved but forgot to safeguard. More on each topic will follow in further posts, it would fill pages! For simplicity's sake I will offer my insights on his counsel in tidbits rather than the huge post I've been trying to write all week. I am learning...all the time.

Here is a link to an article on his organization's blog: 
http://www.simplicityparenting.com/2011/03/knowing-when-to-slow-down/

 

Love and Do What Thou Wilt

"Love, and do what thou wilt." St.Augustine

While in France, I went to mass the first Sunday. This was more out of a desire for my children to reconnect with their French and Irish Catholic roots and tradition than from a need for spiritual sustenance that particular day. However, from the very first sermon, this priest had me hooked. Not just the sermon, but all of the reflections beginning with the first moments of the service to the little ones in between readings, were about love. Just love, the importance of love, the all-conquering power of love, the need for love in the world. No guilt, no moral lessons, just love.

That first sermon was a syntaxical nit-picking of a phrase that could have been translated by either; "do as Christ did" or "love as Christ did". My linguistic ears pricked up and listened as hard as they could between pacifying a toddler and making big, scary eyes at the five-year-old who wanted to run and play, or at the very least, pinch his sister so that SHE would make noise. I love translation debates of ancient texts, especially when they've been translated two or three times and are thus open to interpretation and discussion.

The last sermon was a reading and explanation of the text from St.Augustine quoted above and in full here:

"Love, and do what thou wilt: whether thou hold thy peace, through love hold thy peace; whether thou cry out, through love cry out; whether thou correct, through love correct; whether thou spare, through love do thou spare: let the root of love be within, of this root can nothing spring but what is good. "

This is the one I remember and seek to apply in real life. Upon what else can one base one's decisions in life? I remember picking up a book one day, I think it is still on the shelf in my bedroom. The title frightened me, it is the well-known; "Loving Your Child is Not Enough." With many years of pondering not necessarily the contents, but just the title, I will propose that loving your children IS enough, if it is the basis for everything you do. Not from a sense of duty nor from frustration nor from a need to dominate should parenting decisions stem. When we take the time to truly see and consider the character and needs of a child and seek to fulfill those needs through right paths for that child, this is based on love. Don't get me wrong, needs also include limits and boundaries, I am not talking about catering to every whim and fancy of every child.

When we see a child as a being that we need to prepare "for the real world" and we impose what we believe to be "the right way" upon them, regardless of their individuality, we act not from love but from fear. Fear of the future, fear of personal inadequacy, fear of uncertainty, fear of failure.

Seeking to bring out what is inherent, good and true in each child is really what education is all about. Understanding their needs and interests, drawing out their latent talents and potential, these are our real life tasks as parents and educators. Beginning with love seems like an excellent starting point. So, do you wake up one day and "get your kid" and everything just flows from then on? Of course not, how boring! Life's circumstances are not static nor are children. It is a continual dance of seeing, reacting, adapting and never forgetting to see others through the eyes of love.

Parenting and Leaving the Hose Turned On

I did. I left the hose on all night. I also have a big pile of papers on to my left that might, for the uninitiated, constitute a "messy desk."

So, what to do? Will I learn better from the error of my ways if I send myself to my room (what a wonderful thought; "sorry children, mommy is punished for the day"), deprive myself of dessert for a week or take away my knitting or computer time? The first would be counter-productive and the other three would make me grumpy. I already feel bad enough, a punishment will not change what happened or ensure I never do that again...no, the water bill will take care of that.

How to give our children real consequences for their actions? I, for one, am tired of trying to improve behavior by setting out artificial ones. Language has been an item for us (and in a bilingual version!) Revoking privileges has worked well, now they're sneaky when they use bad words. What values am I promoting? The truth is, as a house ideal, I will not have nasty language flying through the air. It pollutes and makes the receiver and the others around him feel icky. At the same time, I do not think that playing potty-mouth-police 24/7 is the way to go about it. Then again, real life also means obeying the law of the place in which you live.

As you may already know, pickpockets merrily worked the crowds of London come out to see the public hanging of...another pickpocket.