Messy Monday

If you don't see me for the next 13 days, it's because I'm trying to turn this:

Before

 

 

 

Into this:

After

All. Over. The. House.  Before we leave for vacation.  And without making myself crazy in the process. 




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Beautiful Cacti

Emerson the chicken visited us up in the swing set

One of Tegan's very favorite things to do right is to swing.  It actually makes me a little sad just how much she loves it because 1) The swing set (which we got for free 4 years ago) is in major disrepair, and is going to have to be taken down sooner rather than later, and 2) It won't be long before the temps are 110+, and our only outdoor activities will be those involving water.

So, we've been sure to spend lots of time on the swings - and enjoy every minute - for both of those reasons.   I push her on the swings until my arms start feeling like lead, and then I push her some more.  When she's had enough swinging, we go up into the play house area, where we hang out and chat about important girl things like Dora, chickens, and farts.   We were doing exactly that yesterday, when she suddenly stood up and said,

"MOMMY.  Look!  I see houses!"  She was looking over the wall towards the houses across the street.

Tegan's view across the street

I'm not sure if she's never noticed it before, or if she was just enjoying it anew, but she was very excited by this discovery.  She was looking across the street the way a tourist would look at the Grand Canyon.  In awe. 

"Look!  Look in their front yard!  A cactus!"  And then she heaved a giant sigh.  "Oh it's so beautiful."

"The cactus?"

"Yes, mommy, look.  It's a beautiful cactus." 

Keep in mind that we live in Phoenix.  There's a cactus on every corner.  There's a cactus everywhere. We can't leave our house without seeing a cactus.  Like anything else that you're used to living around, we take them for granted.   They provide a pretty backdrop when we're off-roading, but beyond that I never give them much thought.

But my daughter wasn't looking at just any old cactus, she was looking at this cactus, and she found it beautiful.  My heart broke a little bit, again, the way it does every time I'm struck with just how very much I love these kids.  She is so innocent.  So pure.  So in love with life, and so in love with the moment.  And it's beautiful.  It's all beautiful. 

It's funny, because one of the biggest obstacles people seem to struggle with when it comes to deciding to homeschool is whether or not they'd know what they needed to know to teach their kids.   But as any parent that's paying attention could tell you: the real lessons, the important lessons, we learn FROM our kids, not the other way around. 

This particular lesson - to live in the moment, to be still, to appreciate the beauty and the wonder even in the simplest of things - is one that my youngest child has taught me well. 

"Yes baby, it IS a beautiful cactus."   And it was.  The most beautiful cactus I've ever seen.

To Do (Or Not To Do)

Don't you love it how, when you've got something on your mind, you suddenly see it everywhere? It's like God and the universe and all of humanity just get together and throw not just signs, but big, honking HUGE signs in your path until you act on them.

I've blogged over the past few days about how I've been a little bit... lost lately. A little bit overwhelmed. My husbands says I've been in a funk. I say I've been "creatively (and probably mentally, emotionally, and spiritually) blocked." No matter what you call it, I haven't been me lately. And one thing that helps me, one thing that always helps me, is getting more organized. I KNOW this. I know this well. And yet...

I still fight it, tooth and nail, every time.

No, no, no! Screams my inner child. I am a free spirit! I do not need lists, I do not like schedules, I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl! I work well in the chaos. I will not change my ways. I will not, I will not, I will NOT!

I sort of stubbornly cling to the madness instead of admitting I might need a little help. Now, I'm not a big Dr Phil fan, but for better or worse it's his voice I keep hearing in my head..

"How's that working out for you?"

And it's not. I've been spinning my wheels and getting nowhere. And I'm tired. I admit it. But what to do about it?

And this is where God, the universe, and all of humanity come in. Everything I've seen, read, or listened to the past several days has said the same things: I need to make a to-do list. I need to get back to basics. I need to remember what's important. I need to prioritize. I need to take baby steps. I need to make a to-do list.

A list? Come on. A list will not solve my problems. And ordinarily, when I'm thinking clearly, I would tell you that I LOVE lists. Lists are my friend. Lists make me happy.

But now, really? A list? I've been resisting this for days.

This morning, I signed onto Twitter, and the very first tweet I read was from someone who I find almost irritatingly upbeat, positive, and inspiring. It read:

The easiest way to improve time management is to keep a to-do list.

Oh alright already, I'll make a stinking to-do list!

So this morning, I did. And wouldn't you know, I was more productive today than I've been in weeks and weeks, and I felt like I had way more time to spend with the kids. How is that even possible? But somehow, it is. I thought about what was important. I prioritized. I took baby steps. I got back to basics.

I still pushed the 3 year old on the swings. And I watched Dora. And I played Memory. And I played Uno Moo. And I baked. And I connected with my boys. And I went to bed at a decent hour, on freshly washed sheets. Instead of lamenting that I wished I had more hours, I actually felt like I had gained hours. I felt calmer, I felt less frazzled, I felt less scattered.

All because of a to-do list? Well, no. But it was a step. And sometimes that's all it takes.

"Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step." ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

Baby Steps

I tend to have an all-or-nothing personality. When I'm in my groove, nothing can stop me. I feel like I can take on the world. I'm organized, I'm upbeat, I'm productive, I'm happily humming along. Which is great when things are great, but pull out one tiny thread and I crumble. Once I start to lose my footing, for whatever reason, I let it all go. I can't sleep, I stop eating right, I stop exercising, I let the housework pile up, etc.  Until enough time passes, something reminds to get a grip, and I get myself right again.

It's kind of exhausting.

Yesterday, I signed up for another (thankfully self-paced) course that I've been wanting to take for a long time now.  As excited as I was - and I am excited - I was almost instantly seized with a sense of panic:

"Why in the world do I think I can do this when I can't even keep up with the laundry?"

I publicly lamented the fact that I wished I had more TIME (even though I know, deep down, that this has absolutely nothing to do with time)  and I got this wonderful, beautiful response from one of my readers on Facebook:

"You have all the time in the world! Just need to realize which things are for now and which are for another season in your life.... I think each thing should get our full attention and intention before we move on to the next idea. Slow it down. You'll get to it soon enough."

Such a timely reminder.  I have so many things I want to do, and because of life, and priorities, and circumstances, they keep getting shuffled around.  My yoga training has been put off again, most likely until next year... partly because of necessity, and partly because of choice.

I can't do it all right now. And that's okay.  It doesn't mean that there's something wrong with me, and it doesn't mean I have to just throw in the towel.   It means that I can live in the moment, and give myself fully to the season at hand.  It means that whatever I'm doing, I can do it deliberately, and fully, and with my whole heart...  and the rest will fall into place.

The past few weeks have been rife with sickness, sleeplessness, and stress.  I've been overwhelmed with how behind I am on ... well ... everything.  Today, I took a deep breath, decided to find peace in the moment, and slowly started stepping my way back into the light.  I can't fix it all today.  And that's okay too.

Today, it was just about the laundry.

I still had 3 more loads to do after these.

Since the kids are sick, and just needed to lay around and rest anyway, I put on a family-friendly movie, poured myself a fresh cup of coffee.... and folded the heck out of that pile of clothes.

It was actually strangely soothing and cathartic when I gave myself fully to the moment, and it felt good.  I wasn't stressing out about the rest of my to-do list, wasn't getting frustrated with the three year old (who was tossing the pile as quick as I could fold it), wasn't thinking about what I was going to do next.  I was just enjoying a movie with my kids, thankful for a tiny step back to organization, thankful for clean clothes, thankful for the opportunity to do something that would make our weekend a little bit easier.

There is peace to be found, even in laundry.

As For Me and My House, We Will Slurp

Konnichiwa.
 
Today the kids and I joined a big group of homeschoolers for a field trip to the Japanese Friendship Garden in downtown Phoenix.  I believe it was my personal favorite field trip to date.  I love the serenity, the calmness, and the simple, simple beauty.  The woman who led our tour was wonderful, incredibly patient and kind with the kids, and was able to keep their interest the entire time (no small task when you're dealing with such a large group of children ranging in age from 2 to 15!)

She taught us a few Japanese phrases, told us about their customs and superstitions, led the kids across some stones on the water, and let them feed the koi fish.  (Did you know that koi fish have no stomachs?) 

Otherwise, we just wandered and enjoyed the beauty of the gardens.  

And finally, one of the last organized stops we made at the garden was outside the tea house, where we learned about many of the Japanese customs regarding their rituals of drinking tea. From the kind of tea they drink, to the bowl they drink it out of, to the manner in which they drink it. My favorite part was hearing about how, when they're down to the bottom of the bowl and have nothing left but frothy foam (because they whisk the tea all up with a bamboo brush) that good manners dictate that they loudly slurp their last sip.

I can't explain how much I love that... that a culture that is so beautifully refined, so peaceful, so polite.. sees the value in a good, old-fashioned slurp.  Life should be lived.  Drinks should be slurped.  So many people want to stop their kids from slurping (both literally and metaphorically),  but to a Japanese person drinking tea, not only is slurping okay, it is expected.  Not only is it expected, but it would be considered impolite not to slurp. 

And you know those plaques that people hang in their house, the ones that say, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord"? Well, I believe in serving the Lord. But I also believe in "living deep and sucking all the marrow out of life." (Thoreau) I believe in eating foods that are messy and letting the juice run down my arms. I believe in dancing in the rain, splashing in puddles, and feeling mud squish between my toes.

And I believe in slurping.

Oyasumi nasai.

Perspective

I don't make New Year's Resolutions, but I do love to set goals (and lists; I love lists), break them up into pieces, and work every day to get there. If I were to make a resolution, it would be the same one year after year... not because I fail at it and need to resolve to do it over again, but because I think it's just that important:

Don't sweat the small stuff.  And it's all small stuff.

It's an old adage, to be sure, but a good one. I still have the book on my shelf somewhere, dusty and dog-eared,   moved from house to house... packed, unpacked, and packed again.

It's been at least a decade since I've read it, but I like knowing that it's there... to remind me.

Not that I really need a book to remind me, as life is replete with reminders.  I had my first such reminder of the year yesterday, January 2nd, and as it turned out it carried into this morning as well.  I was sitting at the kitchen counter, wasting a colossal amount of time doing important internet research on my laptop, and drinking a mudslide, when Tegan climbed up onto my lap.  I'm not sure what happened exactly, whether she lost her balance and reached for the counter or what.  Or maybe I shifted her on my lap and she accidently bumped it; I truly don't know.  All I know is something fell off the counter, and there was a crash - the crackling, cringe-worthy kind - and I knew something had broken.  It took me a minute to realize what it was, because I was more concerned about my laptop, as I have a somewhat bad history with my laptop and adult beverages (or any kind of beverage)  But my laptop was fine.  My camera, in pieces on the tile, was not.  The lens was broken, the body was broken, the whole thing was rendered useless.  Now, I'm not into "things", but if I had to choose, my camera would have been one of my top three favorite possessions.  

And I was looking at it, and I was looking at Mike (who was examining it, and muttering, and periodically reaffirming that it was indeed completely ruined) and I felt..... fine.  

It's just a camera.

It was a complete accident, and accidents happen.  Even if it wasn't.... even if she'd grabbed it and THROWN it onto the floor, for whatever reason... my getting upset would not change the fact that it's still small stuff.  Am I happy that I just lost a $600 camera?  No.  What I'm happy about is that if that's the worst of my problems right now, I'm doing pretty well.  I have nothing to complain about.  There are actual problems in the world.  A broken camera is not one of them.  There was a time when we would've run right out and gotten another, courtesy of Visa, but that impulse is gone.   Instead, we'll do without a camera for a bit, save up some money, and replace it in a few months.  And when we do, it'll be nice, and I'll be excited..... and it'll still be just a camera.  Like all the other "stuff" we may use - and enjoy and appreciate, sure - it just doesn't matter.   Life isn't about things.

And just so I'd have a nice little post-script - I got up this morning, anxious to get to my faithful laptop to get started on this blog.  It made a horrific noise, like a helicopter waiting to take off, froze, and has so far refused to start back up.  It's been on borrowed time since the first wine incident (which may or may not have had anything to do with the same two people who were in the near vicinity for the camera breaking) and I believe it's time I face that the fact that it's going to need to be replaced sooner rather than later too.

So I'm using one of the desktops, sitting on an old, damaged office chair, with half of the seat's cloth ripped away, and huge chunks of stuffing pulled out.  

And I'm truly, and deliriously, happy.

I am blessed.

Dora, Breathing and Other Life Lessons

Christmas is in 19 days. In one fell swoop November ended, December began, and we were thrust head-first into holiday mode. We've decorated, we've shopped, we've ordered Christmas cards. We've hung the tree, the stockings, and the advent calendar. We've started the Jesse tree. We've made paper snowflakes, we've gone to the company Christmas party. We've mailed holiday cards to soldiers.

And I feel...

tired.

It's not the kind of tired you feel when you're running around all crazy, stressed and frazzled and trying to do too much. I think far too many people turn the holidays into some sort of competition - even if it's just a competition with themselves - a race to see who can stretch themselves the furthest, and push themselves the hardest. Out-shop, out-gift, out-decorate, out-spend, out-party. It's a race I have no interest in joining. No, my fatigue comes from the simple fact that life is busy with four kids, and as much as I try to live in the moment, try to find peace and stillness no matter what's going on around me, I get caught up and forget how. More than that, I simply forget to breathe.

It seems crazy to me that one can forget to do something as basic (and important!) as breathing properly, and yet I do. One of the things I love about yoga is that it forces me to breathe again... to concentrate on breathing, to calm everything down again, to return to the moment and be able to say, "Ah yes, that feels better." But because not every moment lends itself to the feasibility of spontaneously breaking out into a downward dog, I have to find other ways to return to that place of calm, other ways to remember to breathe.

My kids don't seem to have that problem. They are almost always in the moment, almost always happy. They know that life isn't just about the little things, but that life IS the little things. That's where the happiness is. Not in money or toys or "stuff," but in the little things. In the moment. In the breathing.

A few days ago, Tegan was sitting on my lap at the kitchen table, playing with Moon Sand. Now as any parent can tell you, Moon Sand is cool, but messy. Really messy. But I already had the trash can out, along with the dust pan and broom, because I'd swept up the bits of paper from snowflake-making earlier. I'd clean up the Moon Sand, then move onto the kitchen, which still held most of the mess from the cookie-making we'd done during our play date. There were dishes to be done too, and I had to rinse out Everett's little medicine cup, because he'd need another dose soon. I'd taken him to the dentist for a tooth extraction just the day before, and while it was healing fine, I wanted to be sure we kept up with his after-care. We'd have to think about dinner at some point, and I wanted to try to go to bed fairly early, because I was to babysit at 7:00 A.M. the next morning.

My mind was focused on a million insignificant things. I was sitting with Tegan, but I wasn't there. I wasn't breathing.

"Shhhhhhhhhhh." The girl put her little finger to my lips. Had she heard my racing mind?

"Shhhhhhhhhhh," she said again, in a whisper. "Dora's sleeping."

I made sure to lower my voice before asking, "Where?"

"In here. This is her castle. She was tired from picking blueberries with Boots, so she's sleeping."

And just like that, I was breathing again. I. Love. These. Kids.

Being invited to share in a child's imagination trumps messes. It's more important than clean kitchens, and what we have for dinner, and whether or not I get my 8 hours of sleep. Even though my body was there, I wasn't being present, and she ever-so-gently brought me back to the beauty of the moment... the moment of just being, and playing, and breathing. Together. It wasn't the first time she'd done it, and I imagine it won't be the last. I thank God for these kids, and what they continually teach me. For some reason, they don't need that reminder that adults might need. They know how to live in the moment, and they know how to find peace.

And it's even better than downward dog.

Letting Go

I've decided, again, that I need to do some letting go. Not of the past, or of the stress of the toxic and negative people in my life (though of course, those are worthwhile pursuits of their own) but of the little things, and of the pressure I put on MYSELF.

Like lots of people, I have a to-do list that doesn't end. While I love the feeling of crossing things off my lists, I do not like the feeling that at times life has actually become nothing more than a giant to-do list. Housekeeping lists, lists of assignments for my classes, lists of playdates and practices and appointments for the kids, lists of projects I want to do, stuff to research, things I want to blog about, emails to answer, bills to pay.... surely something is off-balance there! Life is to be enjoyed and savored, not just broken down into a series of tasks to check off a list.

One week ago today, we took Tegan to the zoo to celebrate her birthday. It's been on my list of things to blog about, because she had such a great time, and I got some really cool pictures. But I haven't had time to do it, and it still remains on my to-do list... and it's stressing me out. Which is CRAZY, because I love to blog, and something's way wrong if I allow it to become a source of stress. Life is filled with enough things that we have to do, without adding silly self-imposed deadlines to the list. So, there will be no blog about the zoo. We went, we enjoyed, I took some pictures. ;-)

There, I'm crossing it off my list. And life will go on.

Out With the Old

A few posts ago I shared a picture of Tegan's new stroller. This kitchen is another favorite. I adore this kitchen! Tegan got a few beautiful sets of wooden food, a lovely tea set made from recycled plastic, and some pots, pans, and utensils. Which meant that the kitchen was fully stocked, and we could finally get rid of the big, yucky and cracked plastic bin that was filled to overflowing with old plastic food... food that was lovingly played with for a long time, and that was worn, dirty, and otherwise cast aside. Everett went through it this weekend, picked out the few pieces he wanted to hang onto, and the rest found a new home in our recycle bin, plastic tub and all. Everything they're left with fits wonderfully in the kitchen, with plenty of room to organize it however they'd like. I love it.

Few things give me such a natural high as getting rid of any sort of clutter! That one simple act has inspired me once again to continue the progress in the rest of the house.

In other current news, I snapped a couple of pictures of Spencer working on one of the cases in his new forensics lab. Very cool. I love the way their heads are bent together here, reading about the suspects.



And this is Paxton holding Leonard...


I am in love with this snake, and can't believe we didn't get one sooner.

Simplify, Simplify, Simplify

In his book Walden (one of my all-time favorites), Henry David Thoreau says, "Our life is frittered away by detail... Simplify, simplify, simplify!" With Thoreau in mind, along with my recent and nearly overwhelming sense of being suffocated by stuff, I have been slowly and systematically re-making my house and my life.

Ten years ago, we moved from Massachusetts to New Hampshire, and faced a long interim with a job but no housing. We eventually found and purchased a house, but of course the time between finding and closing was considerable. We stayed with my sister for awhile, stayed with my parents for awhile, and stayed at a campground for awhile. I've been thinking a lot about that tiny little camper we lived in... just us and a 2 year old Spencer. It was an undeniably stressful time (living in a state of limbo is a difficult thing to do), but it's a time I'm remembering with increasing nostalgia.

It was just so simple. Mike would go off to work in the morning, and I'd have the day to spend with my boy. The camper just had the bare necessities, so it would take 20 seconds to have things clean and ready for the next day. We'd head outside as soon as we ate breakfast, and walk down to the playground. We'd draw in the sand, go down the slide, dawdle by the edge of the road and collect pine cones. We'd make a daily adventure out of going to the post office to get our mail. We'd make a campfire at night, and ate dinner on our laps.

We weren't bombarded with phone calls and emails, with rooms and rooms of toys and books and old broken things that no one can even identify anymore. We washed our dishes by hand and never had to deal with a dishwasher that malfunctioned more often than it should.

We lived.

Life is good now, but it is so different from the way it was that I hardly recognize that young family in my mind. It's been clouded with details. And surely this house, SO crowded with all these unnecessary things can't belong to those same people?? I don't want to live in a campground again - although I admit to some sincere fantasies about moving us all to a log cabin in the middle of nowhere - but I want to have that feeling again. I want to simplify.

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, To put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die Discover that I had not lived.”