TWO

Not just yet, but soon, very soon, Claire will be two.  Her birthday is this coming Monday.  Tomorrow we are hosting a little party to celebrate the occasion.  All of her most favorite people (with a few exceptions for those quite far away) will be here with us and I'm looking forward to it.  Basically, I invited those who I consider to be "her people".  I determined who those special someones were by listening for a few days to find out who she talks about all on her own.  Neighbors, close family members, a handful of good friends.  Of course doing it that way left out some of our rather close grown up friends, but hey- this is about her.

Soup, cake, music, a fire, a wall of photos from the past year..... should be a good time.

And, just last night we heard from Nana up in New Jersey that she is driving down tomorrow to join in for the festivities.  That's nearly 700 miles of serious baby-lovin' right there!  Go, Nana, go!  Claire will be thrilled.  I am thrilled and very touched by what, to me, seems like a grand gesture, (and one for my baby!) though I know that that nana-love is strong stuff.

I know I'm supposed to say I can't believe she's two already.  Say that it seems like yesterday that I was pregnant, that I was laboring on a very blizzardy and very full moon night, that she was a newborn....  and sometimes, it truly does.  But taping up well over a hundred photos recapping our last year together, looking back at all that we've done since she turned one... well, looking at it like that it seems perfectly reasonable that we've experienced and enjoyed another whole year.

Yes, at times I want to hold onto her fading babyhood.  I hold up those ridiculously tiny onesies and pretend to cradle or burp them when I'm packing away her old things just like anyone else might.  (we all do that, right? how could you resist?)  But mostly I'm happy to be along for the ride and anticipating what's to come.

saved by french toast and music

Yesterday morning was a bit....... blech.  Claire had a rough night the previous night, which of course meant that we all did.  By the time yesterday morning came, I was just not ready for yesterday morning.  Mike was already at work at the fire department, or at least on his way.  I wanted to stay in bed.  I wanted to sleep.  Not her.  She was ready to get up and demanded that mama follow.

I'll briefly mention here that, even though she is days shy of two years old, Claire is still a long ways away (it would seem, though I'd love to be proven wrong) from sleeping through the night.  And I don't even mean 'all night' as in 8 hours or so.  Briefly, when she was 3 months old or so, she slept all night long for weeks and I thought I was so lucky with my good sleeper.  Well.  Not so much.  I think it has a lot (maybe everything) to do with the fact that that child has an incredibly strong association between sleep and nursing that I most definitely helped to create.  She still nurses a couple times a day and at night, still goes to sleep just for me.... Decisions we made about how we were going to raise her do not always make for restful nights and bright, sunny mornings.  Often, since my body has had time to adjust and since I don't have to get-up-and-go in the mornings, it doesn't bother me so much.  I can hang.  It won't last forever.  She's my baby.  Lots of other mothers are in the very same situation and we will all survive.  Etc.  Other times, though...... other times I can be a big crabster and dread the sun's arrival.  Other times I dream of going to a hotel for a night so I can again know sleep, letting Claire and papa figure it out together.  They will, of course.  When we're all ready.

Anyway.  That was just to say that I'm no real stranger to rough nights.  More often than not, that's just kind of how we roll around here.  The degree of rough varying quite a bit and sometimes being not so terribly rough.

So, the sun came up yesterday morning way too soon and I was all "ugh, go back to sleep!" and "just let mama sleep!", etc.  I fought it.  The waking, the doing, the breakfast making and all that the morning brings.  It's possible that I even stomped my feet a little in five-year-old frustration when she screamed at me for leaving her for 15 seconds so I could go pee.  Possible that I stomped so hard it made my bare feet ache.

After a while of fighting it, I remembered that I was the grown-up here, after all, and I put my (possibly achy) feet on the cold floor and headed to the kitchen to be a good mother and feed my devilish non-sleeping daughter.  Because feeding your child is just one of those things you have to do as a mother, it seems.  Even if you'd rather hide under the covers.

Of course just getting out of bed helped to shake off a bit of that funk.  As did putting a record on to play on the way to the kitchen.  And then, deciding between our usual oats or eggs and toast I brilliantly decided on french toast, my favorite.  Claire's too, perhaps.

I'm sorry, but I just can't eat french toast without it making me happy.  Is it the nutmeg?  The maple syrup?  The squishy but at the same time chewy and firm texture?  I don't know.  Whatever it is, that's gonna be my new standby cure for morning-after-rougher-than-usual-nights funk.

French toast and good music.

Hours later, heading out the door to work I realized how beautiful and warm it was outside and kicked myself a bit for not having gotten out of the house with her all morning.  For a walk to the creek, a hike, even just to the sandbox... Because certainly that's our other go-to funk buster around here~ getting outside.

A french toast picnic, then?  Maybe next time.

Beatles and bread

Claire, it seems, has decided that she is a big Beatles fan.  Going through the records we recently brought back out, she asked "what this music?" as a Beatles (1962-1966) record played.  I told her.  She started dancing.  She has since asked to "listen Beatles music" several times since.  She also likes to "watch go round and round".

That dancing is mighty cute.

She is (much to my delight) also into the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.  Particularly "You Are My Flower" on Will the Circle Be Unbroken.  It came on and at first she thought it was "You Are My Sunshine".  She seemed a bit confused, but then embraced the new tune quickly.  We danced, her on my left hip and our hands together, as we often do.

We've also been kneading and baking a lot.  I'm trying to get back into the rhythm of making most of our bread.  Something that I embraced for a while and then fell out of over the last several months.  I had a few go-to recipes, and I'm trying to decide which ones to stick with.  The nerdy, planning side of me is itching to start regular weekly (or so) meal planning and set days to bake, etc.  If I really let that side take over, it's likely that much more will be included in the "plan".  Like cleaning and errands and chores and such.  Sometimes I'm more go-with-the-flow, and sometimes I think it'd be so nice to have a handy little chart to look at to tell me what needs to be done and what we're going to eat that day.  That, and it'd probably be less likely that I'd find myself looking at our toilet in disgust and wondering when on earth it was last cleaned.  (that was gross. was that gross? do a lot of people overlook cleaning the old commode now and again? they do, right? surely it isn't just me.)

Anyway.

It's Beatles and bread around here lately.

Beeba made it

This is the doll that my mom (affectionately called "Beeba" by little miss) made Claire for Christmas.  Let me just say that it is pretty darn awesome.  And she has never made a doll before.  She told me she 'just kind of pictured' what she wanted, drew up a pattern and went from there.  Easy peasy.  Mmmm hmmm.  I love her.  (the doll, but of course my mama too)  Claire loves her.  (the doll, but of course her beeba too)  So far, no name.  Well, aside from "baby doll" or "beeba baby".  She just named one of her dolls for the first time last week.  The doll that was once "pink baby" is now "Broccoli".  Don't know how she came up with it, but I like it.  But, I digress.  Back to the beeba baby~

She has a belly button.  And little fingers and toes.  And sweet braided hair made from 13 skeins of embroidery floss.

She came with one little velcro cloth diaper and a pink and white dress.  She came in an old wooden doll cradle that Beeba found at an antique store and completed by adding a mattress, pillow and hand-knit blankie.

The next time we saw her, Beeba came bearing two more diapers.  Thought it might be weird for Claire to be changing dolly's diapers and then put the "dirty" one right back on.  So now we have options.  

A week after that, she showed up with the cutest little striped pjs for the doll~  I can see where this is going, and I like it.  Soon enough this dolly is going to have quite the wardrobe.

And maybe, just maybe, even a name.

these days

Naptime is fading fast around here..... she gives in once every 3 or 4 days for a brief one, but that's it.

And so now she's early(er) to bed, early(er) to rise.  I kinda like it.  Even the getting up earlier part.

Sort of.

As long as we aren't rushing off anywhere, I'm pretty into it.

Brought the record player out of the shed, where it has been sitting for quite some time. (and before that, in another shed, at another house...)  Enjoying looking through records and having their sweet sounds fill the house.  Their scratchy, slow-down-and-just-enjoy-yourself kind of sounds.

So far, Claire is digging Elton John and Willie Nelson, Dave Brubeck and Classical Spanish Guitar, not so into Gladys Knight, and likes to look at the pictures of Joni Mitchell.

I hope she likes the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.

Papa was away for several days this week and it was just us girls.  He was up visiting Nana and Pipop and the rest of his (and our) clan.  We couldn't quite make it work to join him, so we stayed put and held down the fort.  Kept the fire burning, played and painted in our pjs, read lots of books.  I suppose that's what our days usually look like, but they were a little different of course without our main man around.  We did some cooking.  Pureed butternut and kuri squash soup with onions and apples, bread, cookies....

We ate a ton of clementines.  I picked them up along with some raw cashews and wine and some of my other favorite snacky things.  Good coffee in a few different grinds, trying to find the perfect grind for the chemex.   Splurged a little on munchies and such for our unvacation, I suppose.

Claire did not drink the wine.  Or the coffee.

My favorite kind of cookie jar.  One that is filled to the brim and spilling out the sides... we shared some with friends at a little mama-baby play date.  Love my mamatime ladies, and their sweet babes.

Hard to believe our little ones are all on the brink of turning two.  A couple of us talked about how we were kind of surprised that out of all of us (11 in the group) only one has gone on to have another babe so far.  Isn't two years apart a fairly typical 'spacing'? we thought...

Maybe three is the new two.....  or maybe just one (child) is perfectly wonderful.

"Whatchoo doin' mommy-o?" (this is what she calls me lately, no clue where it came from) "Making bread, baby-o, (I feel I must return the silly name- it makes any conversation a bit more fun after all) want to help?"  "Oh, YES!"

And that about sums up our week.  Papa is home now.  He got in last night right around bed time.  Claire took him on a tour of his own house, as if he'd never been here or had been away for weeks. "See my new paintin'? See my new rocking chair? See my new fireplace? See my new chair? See my new baby doll?"  He played along, only reminding her once or twice that he'd seen all of those things, maybe aside from the new painting, many times before.  That he had only been gone for five days.  I wonder if five days seems like weeks to a not-quite-two year old?

Lots of papa time today.  Leftover Indian food for lunch.  Dosas (yay!) brought all the way from Jersey from one of my very favorite Indian restaurants by my sweet mister.  He also brought back some good bagels.  (The South, I must say, is not known for good bagels.  If you like bagels and you live in the South after not having lived in the South for a while, then surely you are already aware.  I am open to suggestions should you be a local and know where to procure a decent bagel.)  More soup for dinner tonight.  Potato leek.  Soon to be made easier with the immersion blender I ordered and am anxiously awaiting.

Less internet time is working out nicely.  Never turned the computer on this past Sunday- even though that meant no Pandora streaming into the house.  There's the record player, after all.  It was nice not to be sucked into this or that for "just a minute" (er, hour).

And on that note, time to shut it down~

buddhism for mothers

Last week I mentioned in this post about mothering that I was reading Buddhism for Mothers, by Sarah Napthali and that I planned, once finished with it, to share some of the passages that I'd found so inspiring.  (though now typed out like this, many seem a bit less weighty seeing as that they've been taken out of their chapters and simplified into little bits, but still....) Turns out it was full of words that spoke not only to parenting, but on navigating many other interpersonal relationships as well.

And so~

p. 33 (quoting Tibetan Lama Choedak, speaking about meditation)
The carry over of the practice is more important than the formal practice itself.  The time you use the petrol is not at the petrol pump.

p. 34 (The Buddha, on karma)
The thought manifests as the word,
the word manifests as the deed,
the develops into habit,
and habit hardens into character.
So watch the thought and its ways with care,
and let it spring from love born out of concern for all beings.

p. 52 (the author, talking about choosing our responses when frustrated)
So often the incidents that undo us are of no lasting consequence and in losing it we ignore the other responses available to us.

p. 63 (quoting the Buddha)
Hatred can never cease by hatred.  Hatred can only cease by love.  This is an eternal law.

p. 96
Practice mindfulness.  Monitor your own feelings and reactions and ask "what is required of me in this moment?".  In particular, ask, "should I talk or should I remain silent?"
(I am really working on this)

p. 111
It's worth considering from time to time, how much love we send out into the world.  Absorbed in our own thoughts we forget the potential in each day for moments of kindness.  We fail to acknowledge the people around us, we overlook the small ways we can make others feel connected or even special.  We all have the power to reassure and honor the dignity of other living beings.

(Quoting Myla Kabat-Zinn, from Everyday Blessings)
When a child, no matter how old, feels our acceptance, when he feels our love, not just for his easy-to-live-with, lovable, attractive self, but also for his difficult, repulsive, exasperating self, it feeds him and frees him to become more balanced and whole.

p. 139
We need awareness of the intentions behind our words.  Before we speak we can pause to ask ourself, "Why am I saying this?  Am I seeking to help, to criticize, to boast, to manipulate, influence, hurt?  Is what I'm about to say true?  Is it kind?  Is it hurtful?  Could it harm?  Is now the time?  Should I speak at all?"

p. 139
Simple as it sounds, we must remind ourselves to complain less and express appreciation more.  This works miracles on the atmosphere of the house.

pp. 140-144 (on listening)
To truly listen, to be fully present for another person, is a powerful expression of love.  
What a gift the simple act of listening can be within a partnership.
We all want to feel understood and loved for who we are.  A commitment to listening allows us to understand.

p. 189
In Buddhism our access to that which is divine is through the heart.  Buddhism is about love.  The Dalai Lama often says: 
"My religion is kindness"

from the Sermon at Rajagaha:
"As the light of the moon is sixteen times stronger than the light of all the stars, so loving kindness is sixteen times more efficacious in liberating the heart than all other religious accomplishments taken together."


And this article (shared in the appendix) about parenting and mothering as meditation, was beautiful and honest.  It made me laugh, remember and tear up a bit.  Definitely worth a read, I think.


Well, that's that.  Now I can return the well worn copy of the book to the library and return here to read through these words when I need to.  (daily, ideally)  I feel I've carried some of the messages away strongly and have already been noticing positive effects on my outlook, my attitude, and the way I deal with different situations.  Here's to that lasting!



cheers~

Max said no

So there's a line in Where the Wild Things Are where Max decides that he's going to leave the place where the wild things are and they (the wild things) say "Please don't go, we'll eat you up we love you so!" and then Max said "no" and sailed away.

Well.

Claire loves that book and though we've not been reading it all that much lately, that line in particular appeals to her and it has become what she says on occasion if we are leaving and she doesn't want us to, or if we are talking about putting something away and she doesn't want us to.

It goes a little something like this:

I'm in bed next to Claire, getting ready to get her down at night and Mike asks for a hug and kiss.  She says no (she is playing hard to get here) so he says "alright baby, good night" (or something like that) and goes to leave the room.  Claire then realizes he is actually going to leave and says "please don't go I'll eat you up I love you so max said no".   With the words all mushed up together.

It makes me melt.

Sometimes she'll say it if she's being a bit rough with something and I go to put that something away.  Or the time I pretended I was going to leave without her because she wouldn't get in the car and it was time to go and she was pitching a fit about getting in the car.  I admit, that wasn't the nicest thing to do.  And I only backed the car a little ways down the drive, but still....... I'm kinda cringing sharing that.  But that's something everyone does, right?  The whole "okay, I'm going now, bye!" thing?

Anyway.  I LOVE when she says it.  It truly makes me want to just eat her up.



That, and just this weekend she has started telling me stories.  (what?!?)  Mike has been telling her stories lately (He is SO much better at it than I am.  I definitely need to acquire some story telling skills.  Mostly I just tell her stories about things that have really happened to us, because when I try to make one up it's terrible.) and it seems she's been enjoying them more than I knew.  After we left the library the other day I heard her in the back saying "once-upon-a-time.........a-little-girl-named......." and I asked "are you telling stories?"  "Yes", she said.  "Tell me one", I said.  And this is what she told me:

"once-upon-a-time was-a-little-girl-named............... (here she looked very hard into the upper corners of her eyes trying to find the little girl's name).............grandpa.  lived in an old apple tree and went home and read books."  And then she said something about knuffle bunny.

I was floored.  It was like someone poured honey in my ears.  Okay, I don't think I'd actually want someone to pour honey in my ears, but it was so so sweet to hear my little baby telling me a story.  Each time since (she's done it maybe 3 times) it starts the same, only the little girl has also been named "mouse" and "mama".  She always lives in an apple tree and she always likes books.

I can totally see where she's getting it, too- books we've read lately come to mind with animals living in apple trees and kindly grandpas being silly.....  Oh, to be inside her brain.

this moment

inspiring book, writing, good coffee, the sweetest of notes from my mama, and claire singing and drawing behind me all the while......  had me thinking, this is it, this is what it's all about




*inspired by and linking along with Amanda at Soulemama

only so much

I've been thinking a bit lately about where the line is that separates the amount of outside inspiration that supports and enhances your family/home/real life and the amount that detracts from it.

I'm thinking the answer is fairly fluid, something that shifts and changes depending on what our life is like at the time, and not in fact a definitive line.

But still. 

As it stands, I have craft books, bookmarked links and pages torn from magazines enough to keep me busy for the next couple of decades.  No doubt it is fun to carry on looking for and acquiring ideas that inspire, but as with anything, there lies the possibility of too much of a good thing.

Writing in this space has been wonderful.  I feel motivated to write often and have noticed that in anticipation of doing so, I am at times persuaded (by myself) to go about my day more mindfully.  In a way that I'd feel good writing about.  (Of course, being human and all, that's not always the case... not at all.  But for me this space is more about reflecting on the positive than stewing on the negative.  Be sure, there is dirty laundry, and plenty of it.  I just choose not to air it out here) Very much like the way keeping a food journal generally helps steer us towards healthier food choices.  A bit of accountability, I suppose.  Recording our days and marking the passage of time in a way that feels like I am honoring it a bit more than were I not taking the time to reflect, pause, photograph.

But.

Writing in this space drives me to want to reach out and connect with others doing just the same.  A really, truly great thing, I do believe.  We build community, gain support, motivate and encourage.

Splendid.

And so, on a small scale, reach out I do and reach out I will continue to do.  Naturally, reaching out like that makes it (way too) easy to further reach out and look and click on links until I can't even remember where I started.  And suddenly 2 hours have passed.  Precious hours after Claire has gone to sleep, before she wakes however many times she will that night, when I should perhaps be tending to myself in other ways.  Tea?  Reading?  Yoga?  Games/movies/chatting with the man I love......  Sometimes I am starkly aware of the time I've spent seeking inspiration in far off places instead of living in my world and enjoying what is right here.

And oh my gosh, it's the right here that really matters- as we all know.

For the most part of course, right here doesn't really need to be enhanced or inspired by the outside world at all.  Right here is pretty damn beautiful just as it is.  And where there is room for improvement, well, that will most likely be tended to best by focusing on what's right in front of me instead of on how I can make a fabulous stenciled wall hanging or the most impressive dinner ever or how I can do a better job cleaning my home naturally or more lovingly parenting my child or what books I should be reading or, or, or......

I am definitely not saying that I don't need an escape from time to time because of course I do.  I think we all do.  This "I'm going to spend my life with this person and together we will raise this other little person and we will spend a large amount of our time together trying to do great things and acting fair and nice and kind" thing can be tough.  Tricky to navigate, for sure.  I absolutely believe that we all, each and every one of us, need time for ourselves as often as we can get it, to just. be. ourselves.  Whatever that looks like for us.  We need to have the time and space and freedom to nourish our own goals and dreams and desires, including, and perhaps most especially, the ones that do not tie in directly with our family life.

What I am saying is that I feel the need to reevaluate the time I spend online.  Especially the time not spent writing, corresponding, or looking up some pertinent information.

I'm not alone in these feelings, I know.  I'm sure most bloggers (most people for that matter) and certainly the ones who are also mothers, must feel the same sense of conflict from time to time.   We write about our lives with our families, about what we do to make the time together meaningful and inspiring, where we find inspiration, what we hope for the future, etc..... but then we often get caught up looking and searching and clicking and linking for larger chunks of time than we want or plan to.  Could make us feel a tad bit contradictory.  Does me.

But so anyway...... where is that line?

Is it all about setting limits for yourself?  I think for me, that may be the answer.

I won't be writing any less.  In fact, I'd like to write more.  Write more, spend some (perhaps self-alotted amount of) time leisurely looking and oohing and ahhing at what's out there that inspires me.

And then promptly turning off the computer and reminding myself what is truly to-the-bone important to me, and dive into that world instead.

Into that very real and very right here right now world.

this weekend

an unseasonably balmy day lead us to the creek for a bit of rock throwing
bare feet in January
where is winter?

dog got chicken
I felt a surprising lack of emotion regarding dog-chicken incident
hmmm

a very satisfying bout of organizing, shifting and culling of things....

a certain little someone seems to have decided to stop napping
a phase?
(she's not quite two, you know)

three nights of good meals~
chana saag curry,
lentil soup,
noodles with chickpeas, tomatoes, kale and parmesan

'balanced' out by finishing (what surely MUST be) the last of the holiday sweets

happy about that
but at the same time already planning on making a batch of sugar cookies for Claire's upcoming birthday

predictably, NOT because she likes sugar cookies all that much
but because I really like them and because I won't be quite so driven to share this batch with the mailman, trash collectors, lovely neighbors, family and friends.....
(I realize that probably made me sound like an ass- really, I'm not...and truly I will share *some* of my cookies)

bought a new toaster oven
because I started a fire in one a year ago and replaced it (much to Mike's dismay, since we don't use a microwave and the toaster oven was the only good way to reheat many things) with a 2 slice toaster that (probably much to Mike's delight) broke this weekend.

he'll be so happy to see the not toaster on the counter when he comes home tomorrow morning

is it really almost Monday?  already?

rambling reflections on mothering: vulnerability and fears

As I approach two years of mothering, I am often taken aback by how emotionally vulnerable I feel at times.

It's not unusual for me to reach over in the middle of the night and feel for the rise and fall of her little chest as she breathes.  Still.


There are times that my mind wanders down that path of "what if?", and I catch myself shuddering at thoughts of harm coming to my little one.  For example, when we've gone to the Outer Banks the last two years and found ourselves on extended ferry rides, I have insisted to Mike that both he and I, should we wish to have Claire out and about on the ferry deck, must wear her in a carrier.  No running around and sitting on the railing funny business with my baby.  I thought about it over and over before we went, imagining what would happen if for some reason we were careless for a moment and she fell into the water.......  just typing it now gives me chills.  We are not parents who hover over her at playgrounds or while we are out hiking in the woods or playing by the creek.  Yes, we are cautious and aware of where she is and what she is doing, but generally we let her explore and test the waters on her own a good bit.  But a ferry....... well, certainly no testing of those waters.

As I watch her grow and her personality develop and see her becoming a little person, my respect for her grows so much.  Not that I didn't respect her before, but somehow now that she is older, it's different.  Somehow now when she is frustrated or upset because of this or that, I feel empathy for her on a whole new level.  Like she's really one of us, just trying to get by and figure out this world and such.  When I see her hurt- either physically or emotionally, I can feel it.  Not little surface wound type things, but the real pain and the real sadness.... it gets me.  I hurt for her.  And it's usually then that I think back about so many things my mother told me when I was younger, or pregnant- things about how I'd feel about my own child.  How I'd worry, how intensely I'd love, fears that may come up, that feeling of having your heart outside of your body.....  And here I am.

All mothers, for all time, know/have known those feelings.  They connect you instantly to mothers everywhere.  I've always felt close to my own mother, but becoming a mother myself strengthened that connection so much for me and has made me so very aware of just how much she has done for me.  I don't even know if she knows that.  I try to express it, but maybe not often enough.

We all want so many things for our children.  To protect them and make them happy.  And to give them all of the tools we can in order for them to go out into the world and find happiness on their own as adults, since it isn't really something that anyone else can give you.

I want her to be happy.
I know she won't always be.

I want her to never have to know intense pain or grief,
but I know she will.

I want her to know how loved she is and to never question it, though I'm sure she will.

I want her to find more joy and love and peace in the world than disappointment and anger and hate.

To have more reasons to trust people and the world in general than reasons not to.

I want these things for her and so, so much more.




We go to the playground and she climbs up things that I'm not sure she's quite ready for yet.  Those serpentine metal bar ladder-y type things........  Usually I spot her the whole time, sometimes I look over and catch her half way up and then go running over (trying not to let my fear show) to spot her the rest of the way.  I wonder.... "would she be okay if she fell?"

There are so many places for fear and a sense of inadequacy to arise in the daily act of mothering a child.  "What if she falls/chokes?"  "What if I react poorly?"  "What if X?"  "What if Y"  "What if Z?"

I'm starting to think that mothering, full of lessons as it is, is, aside from a lesson in love, mostly a lesson in letting go and trusting.  Letting go of fears and worries and feelings that you aren't 'this' enough or 'that' enough, for you, your child, your partner; letting go of the 'what ifs' and 'shoulds'.  Trusting in yourself and in whatever or whoever you call upon when the going gets tough.  Trusting that what you do is enough.  What you say is enough.  The things that you offer your child- all of the time and energy and love and sacrifice, is enough.

I've been reading Buddhism for Mothers by Sarah Napthali and finding so much wisdom and comfort in it's pages.  Some of the things I've read seem obvious.  Others, though simple, strike me as quite profound.  And very freeing.  In reading some of these, it's almost as if I can feel many of my fears and feelings of inadequacy in mothering float away.  I've still got a bit to read, love it as I do I've been puttering along slowly with it, having already renewed it from the library 4 (!) times.  I'm like that with nonfiction sometimes, even if it's something I really like.  I plan to finish it up and record my favorite passages here sometime in the next week or so.  So I'll always know right where they are when I need them.

Think I'll jot a few down and put them up around the house as well.

(maybe I should just buy the darn thing, it's probably only $10 or so.... hadn't really thought of that....)



Mothering.

Wow.

welcome 2012

I was inspired by a recent post on one of my favorite blogs, in which was written (among many other things):

I'm not much of a planner, and never manage to remember to make any grand resolutions for a new year. My regular resolutions always seem so obvious. But I like how New Year's Eve prods you say them, even the obvious ones, out loud, along with everybody else. 


I liked that.  Who doesn't like a fresh start, right?  Or, at least the idea of a fresh start.
And so, with that (and a bit of reflective reading I've been doing lately) in mind, here's what I've been thinking about a lot these days~


I want to be a better listener,
a more patient mother.
More patient in general, for that matter.

I want to acknowledge my blessings more often and do away with my occasional (though less so then I'd like) pity parties over how trying or challenging something that I'm facing is.  Because in fact nothing I am facing is half as challenging or trying as things faced by so many others world wide on a daily basis, and most of them are things that I could choose to change if I really wanted to.  It's all relative, I know.  But still.  I have my health, good food, my loves...... many, many reasons to be grateful, loving, grateful.

I want to go to sleep earlier,
to start cashing in my work-trade yoga classes,
to eat more greens, do some meal planning.

I want to remember to (and always be willing to) put my money where my mouth is, so to speak~ to continue using my dollar to cast my vote for the things I either want more of or less of in this world.  I'd much rather feel more like a citizen than a consumer, but I absolutely acknowledge the power of money spent.

I want to write more,
to write from the heart more,
and to do a better job of staying in touch with those I love but don't see often enough.

I want to work on letting things slide a bit more, on not taking things personally.  On choosing a bit more carefully the things that I will allow to take away my time and energy and happiness.  (because really, they need to be pretty damn important to do any of that, right?)



Happy New Year.  Happy endless potential and dreaming, which, though it's there all the time, is perhaps just a bit more easy to see and get excited about at this time of year that seems so alive with possibilities.

cheers!

tradition

Now more than any other time of year I find myself (like so many others, no doubt) reflecting on traditions.  Which ones to keep, which to leave behind.  Which to take on, which to try to breathe more life into in hopes that they will one day stand firmly on their own without much effort on my part.

It's easy to want to do it all.  To infuse this time of year with meaningful family traditions and experiences that will help become a sort of backbone for future celebrations.  Things we will hold onto and lean on and count as our own when life feels challenging and we're looking for a little extra happy and oomph in our days to get by.

Of course, we don't really need all that.  As long as we've got love and our people and more often than not generally good moods, then we'll more likely than not be just fine.

But.

But why not add some more beauty to our journey, right?

For me, the appeal of traditions is strong and I happily answer it's call by diving right in.  I try to acknowledge my limits and those of the ones around me, but certainly I have fun testing the waters.

These days with everything and everyone else's experiences and merry making at our fingertips via the internet, it is hard not to try it all out.  All the recipes, all the fun ways to count down the season of advent, all of the ways to bless the season with gratitude and love and kindness and mindfulness.  The many different ways that other cultures celebrate this time of year.  All of the beautiful ways to decorate, even.  Your home.  Your table.  Your gifts.  Yourself.

And so, thinking a little about what I chose to say yes to this year and what I chose to say no to, here are a few of the things that have become "keepers" around here.  Some old, some new, some recently rekindled traditions.  Only time will tell which will come to stand their own ground as solid parts of our story.  I trust that if they don't, then they weren't meant to.  And that the time and space freed up in their absence will be filled with something better and more meaningful.  Or maybe it will be filled with sweet delicious nothingness, an excuse to just linger and slow down in an already too busy season, surrounded by our people.  And love.  And hopefully joy and peace and good food.


*Thanksgiving morning pumpkin pancake feast with friends (made easy(ish) by all the extra pureed pumpkin left over from pie making the night before)

*The Nutcracker with my little lady (who now, whenever she hears any classical music (and sometimes Otis Redding, which I can't explain...) will say "that's ballerina music!")

*a special candle designated for burning on Winter Solstice, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day

*a fire (usually outdoors, but this year indoors because of the rain), setting intentions for the year ahead and (doing my best at) letting go of the things I'd like to leave behind, and treats left out as gifts for the wild animals, all to mark the Winter Solstice and the slow return of light~

*a brew of orange peels, apple slices, cloves and cinnamon sticks stewing away on the stovetop for several days before and after Christmas, making my home smell like it always did when I was a kid

*homemade cream of mushroom soup & pierogis for Christmas Eve dinner

*a Christmas Eve reading of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas by Nana, live and in person for papa all throughout his childhood and via Skype these last couple years.  The awkward pauses and lags of Skype, at other times slightly frustrating, somehow only serve to make this holiday tradition more enjoyable and memorable. (and humorous)

*making an ornament from a little "tree cookie" cut from our Christmas tree

*cinnamon rolls (I love, love the recipe from The Bread Baker's Apprentice) for breakfast on Christmas morning~ best shared with loved ones, of course

*peppermint bark & sugar cookies, to round out the mix of holiday sweets

Our Sugar Cookies:

(adapted from something pulled out of a magazine)

3 cups unbleached flour

1 t baking soda

1/4 t salt

1 1/4 c granulated sugar

3/4 c light brown sugar

1 T finely grated orange zest 

1 T fresh squeezed orange juice

(use an organic orange to avoid all the nasty on the skin)

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

2 large eggs

*sanding sugar, cinnamon-sugar and/or sprinkles for decorating)

preheat oven to 350

mix dry ingredients, set aside

mix sugars, orange zest & butter in mixer on medium speed for about 1 minute

add eggs, then orange juice

reduce speed and gradually mix in flour mixture

now you can either scoop the dough into little (semi-flattened) balls onto your parchment/Silpat lined baking sheets, or you can roll them out.  I was all for rolling some out because part of baking Christmas cookies for me is cutting out shapes with my mom's old cookie cutters.  BUT, be careful NOT to roll the dough too thin.  (unless you like very crispy cookies)  We found 1/4 inch or slightly thicker to be the sweet spot for the rolled ones.  The little round balls stay a bit softer and chewier a bit longer, so we made quite a few like that as well.

bake until golden- the original recipe said 15 minutes, but we found 9 minutes to be perfect 

you know what to do next, I'm sure~  I prefer mine on a tray next to homemade hot cocoa in old santa mugs, with said tray placed on our coffee table and me and my loves sitting on the adjacent couch snacking away and watching old Christmas classics on the television.  

Or, apparently, anywhere and anytime, because they sure don't last long around here! 

*traditional southern New Year's Day good luck meal featuring collard greens, cornbread, black eyed peas and rice and in our house, a cherry pie made with cherries picked about 6 months prior from the tree on Nana and Pipop's front lawn. mmmmm mmmm good!

If you wouldn't mind, please do share some of your "keepers"!