Rest

Rest. | Clean.

rest | Clean.

Rest. | Clean.

Rest. | Clean.

Rest. | Clean.

Yesterday the dishes were left in the sink.

 

Yesterday we rested.

 

Yesterday the work that did get done was shared by all.

 

Yesterday I made space to also care for me.

 

We made play dough. (Black was the runaway favorite, colored with a tablet of activated charcoal. And may I suggest mixing in glitter to any color? So. Fun.)

There was knitting. (This simple hat for Sage.)

There was even a movie for goodness sake. A rare and special treat for all.

 

And today?

More of the same is on our agenda.

Right through until Monday.

 

Wishing a wonderful weekend and good health to you all!

Thanks for all the kindness.

Love,
Rachel

 

 

Circling back to gratitude

Circling back | Clean.

Circling back | Clean.

Circling back | Clean.

Circling back | Clean.

Circling back | Clean.

Yesterday morning when I headed out for farm chores I still had a fever.

But Pete was more sick than me, so I was on.

As I moved my body down the driveway through the cold winter air toward the barn, I felt… not sick but thankful.

 

Thankful to be back on my feet.

Thankful for the feel of the cold air on my face.

Thankful for the animals I was eager to check on, feed, and water.

Thankful for my son, walking beside me to help out in the barn.

Thankful for my life.

 

The flu has a way or rearranging your priorities and your perspective.

And – for the moment – I let it all soak in.

I steeped in gratitude.

And we got to work.

 

The day was full.

Running between Pete and Lupine's respective sick-beds, tending our sick cat, caring for farm animals and other pets, cooking, laundry, dishes, and keeping our business afloat.

Sage was amazing and helped all day, but still. It was a lot.

As the day wore on I quickly wore out.

Still sick, I simply did too much and neglected to take care of myself.

I ran myself ragged and never paused to refill my own cup.

 

Why do we do this to ourselves? It's a maternal curse.

By the end of the day I was done.

Unraveling.

 

Disaster was eminent.

 

And of all the things to fall apart over, I chose pajamas.

I can't find my pajamas.

And I have the flu.

And I'm tired.

And I need to go to bed right this second.

 

Of course it wasn't about pajamas.

It was about fever. And exhaustion.

Mostly it was about needing help and needing rest.

But in the moment I mistook those things for missing pajamas.

 

And. I. Sobbed.

 

And then, something wonderful happened.

 

In an instant my family circled around me.

I was held in so much love and compassion and understanding that I could fold into the feelings and let it move through.

I could just cry. And be held.

 

They were there to hold me up while I fell apart.

 

There it was. The help I needed all along.

 

Miraculously, my fever broke.

I found some yoga pants and I crawled into bed.

I said goodnight to my family and closed my eyes.

 

As I lay in bed I circled back to gratitude.

To that glad and thankful heart I had just twelve hours before.

And I wondered if I could close the day by counting 100 blessings.

 

1. I began with my husband – loving, kind, funny, and caring.

2. I added my son – helpful, tender, sensitive, wise.

3. I added my daughter – giving, aware, nurturing, and loving.

And then… I stopped.

 

Sure, there were more.

But those three?

They felt like more than 100 blessings already.

Circling back | Clean.

And today?

Well, Lupine took this pic of me as I headed out for chores.

(They eyes are the giveaway. Still. Sick.)

But so much stronger than yesterday.

(In every way.)

 

And yes. Today I'm asking for help.

 

As Sage and I suited up for chores I asked Pete to cook breakfast.

He did.

And I'm about to read my kids a book and then knit.

 

And I'm deeply aware of the blessings I have to count this cold winter day.

 

See? I'm feeling better already.

 

 

 

Cold snap

Cold snap! | Clean.

Cold snap! | Clean.

Cold snap! | Clean.

Cold snap! | Clean.

Cold snap! | Clean.

Cold snap! | Clean.

Cold snap! | Clean.

Cold snap! | Clean.

Cold snap! | Clean.

Just before the cold snap hit, the kids and I ran away to the woods for one more fire.

We thought that -25 F would keep us inside for days, and we'd better get out there while we could.

We were right.

Our hike warmed us through and through with ice sculptures and muskrat slides by the creek, and the quiet solitude of our little Solstice "camp" in the woods.

We made a small fire, drank warm honey milk from the thermos, and talked by the fire.

We hiked out as the sun set with a flourish behind the hills.

Perfection.

And now?

It's cold. Wicked, crazy cold.

We're grateful for valley living, as it's not quite as cold here as up on the ridges. -56 F wind chill up there!

Pete and I spent the day before the cold arrived out on the farm, preparing our critters for the bitter chill.

More experienced farmers gave us tips about insulating our beehive and feeding our goats hot molasses and cayenne tea to keep them warm.

It seems to be working, as everyone is cozy in the barn during these bitter cold days and nights. Our hens are even laying now and then, despite the sub-zeros. (We just need to check them often or we bring in split, frozen eggs.)

 

If you happen to live where it's crazy cold, do your family a favor and boil a pan of water. Take it outside, and throw it out away, up into the wind. (See what happens here.)

You won't regret it.

Oh, and frozen bubbles are always a treat.

 

Stay warm, friends. Sage and I are down this week with a bit of the flu, so I'll be back as soon as I'm up to move conversation.

Stay warm out there!

Growing up before my eyes

Growing up before my eyes | Clean

Growing up before my eyes | Clean

Growing up before my eyes | Clean

Growing up before my eyes | Clean

Growing up before my eyes | Clean

Growing up before my eyes | Clean

Growing up before my eyes | Clean

Growing up before my eyes | Clean

There is no slowing it down.

And truly, I don't think I would if I could.

Because it's your time. Not mine.

 

And in the blink of an eye you'll be done.

Grown.

Gone.

 

I had my turn, and I remember how very slow it seemed.

Like I was never quite big enough, old enough, capable enough.

And then suddenly I was grown.

 

You will be too some soon day.

 

And to you it will feel like forever, and to me it will be but an instant that I replay in my mind before sleep.

Among the sweetest days.

Ordinary days spent together – laughing, reading, being. 

As you grow.

 

Today we step outside to take your picture. Like every fall.

You slip into these adult-sized jackets, and suddenly I see you.

Growing up.

 

You are different from last year.

Your helpfulness. Your willingness. Your humor.

I see how your cheek bones have changed your face.

How your adult teeth reshape you into a near adolescent.

How at ease you are in your own skin.

 

I see you growing up before my eyes.

 

You're bigger.

You're older.

You're more capable in every way than you were just a year before.

 

And soon these young smiles and laughs will be just memories, dwelling inside of my heart.

Today will be what was.

And I will savor these memories forever.

 

I see you.

Growing up in an instant. Before my eyes.

 

 

 

You can see most of our series of annual photographs here.

 

 

Are you enough?

 Hello, friends.

I first shared these words with you last summer.

And whether you've already read them or not, they might soothe your soul today.

Sending love to you this morning, across the cold November darkness.

 

Love,
Rachel

 Are you mama enough? {Clean.}

Sometimes you wonder.

After the hard days.

When you were not at your best.

You wonder, in secret, where no one will hear.

 

Am I mother enough?

 

Because you see them around you. Those other mothers. In your town and on your screen.

Gentle.

Peaceful.

Patient.

Kind.

 

They parent with grace and with joy.

Always.

In the flow. Harmonious.

Children smiling and holding hands,

while your kids whine and fight.

And your baby cries.

Again.

 

And you question if you even know what you're doing.

Because if you did, the children wouldn't argue.

And the baby wouldn't cry.

Constantly.

 

So you must be doing it wrong.

Of course you're doing it wrong.

Are you mama enough? {Clean.}

And so you wonder.

And you doubt.

 

Am I wearing her enough?

Am I breastfeeding enough?

Should we co-sleep more?

But sometimes you're all touched out.

 

Am I patient enough?

Present enough?

Nurturing enough?

But sometimes you just need a damn break from it all.

 

Am I good enough?

Am I strong enough?

Am I enough?

And then, probably, you decide that you are not.

 

Because sometimes you yell.

You say words you regret.

Because you didn't babywear or breastfeed or co-sleep at all.

Because sometimes dinner comes from the drive-thru.

And they watch too much TV.

Because sometimes the thoughts in your head are dark and shameful.

Because every day ends with regret.

 

And all around you are those mamas who make you feel inadequate without even trying.

Those mothers with stardust in their eyes.

And when you look at them you measure yourself and you know what you suspected all along.

You are not enough.

 

Sometimes you curse this life you made and all the smallness that surrounds you.

But mostly you curse yourself for your shortcomings.

And then the baby cries.

Again.

Or your children set to arguing.

Again.

 

And you know you're right.

Of course you're right.

You're not enough.

Are you mama enough? {Clean.}

Oh, but sister. Hear me when I say:

You are.

You are good enough.

You are loving enough.

You are mother enough.

 

You are brilliantly, beautifully – yes! – the mama your children came here to find.

No, you aren't perfect.

But none of us are.

 

No one has it all dialed in.

We have all made mistakes.

Even the "Dali Mamas" around you.

Oh, yes. This I know is true.

 

And every day you are learning and growing and evolving.

You are becoming.

And you are their mama.

The one they came here for.

 

And for all of your flaws, they are sheltered by you.

They know love because your love is fierce.

And they learn to get up when they fall and try again by watching you.

 

And best of all, they know they don't have to be perfect to be enough.

What a gift that is.

 

And also know this:

As that mama who seems to have it together, I have never been more humbled in my mothering than when I see you keep your head just above water as the rapids around you churn.

 

Yes, mama. I see you.

And I'm humbled.

 

Now it's time to see yourself.

 

So are you enough?

Hell yeah you are.

 

: : :

You might also love:

What I did not know: reflections on motherhood.

Behold: the power of cropping.

What I need.

Ten ways to rock your parenting, where ever you are.

There is no label for what you do.

 

And you can find more of my reflections on motherhood and imperfection here.

: : :

 

Boom! Instant vacation.

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Well, hello there.

Pardon the very-long-weekend sort of silence.

Thursday morning (after sharing the cherry jam with you) inspiration struck.

More of a realization, I suppose.

That it was time to hit the road.

Healing from Lyme means I'm spending much (much) more time sitting and knitting and resting and healing than any July ever before.

And were better to relax that at the cabin?

That's right.

Nowhere.

I also realize that our very-mellow-stay-home-and-do-little summer was somehow filling up. With visits and trips and weddings and such.

It was now or late August.

And now was sounding better all the time.

So I asked Pete over tea/coffee on Thursday morning if he'd be up for ditching out for a few days. As in: today. Amazingly he was. (I am known for my spontaneity a bit more so than my man, I'm afraid.)

Okay. Sure. Let's leave this afternoon.

(Really? Really.)

And so we did.

We juggled working and packing and violin lessons and arranging care for the sheep and chickens and then – boom! – we were out the door.

Okay. There was no boom. It took us f-o-r-e-v-e-r as usual, but we got on the road before sunset and for that I was grateful.

After packing coolers and stopping at the coop for a few supplies (like way too much crap to stuff into our version of these, Lord have mercy) it was midnight before our tires hit the gravel and we rolled the Beetle up alongside the cabin.

But we made it.

We made it! Instant shooting-from-the-hip mini-vacation.

Totally my speed. No stressing or planning just voila! Vacation.

We proceeded to spend the next four days swimming, knitting, napping, playing the banjo, and hanging out around the campfire.

And I'm so glad we did.

But then, there was one more thing. One more surprise bonus at the end of it all.

When we got home and started unpacking the car I had this amazing moment. Another realization. This time of being so completely happy to be home. Perhaps even happier than arriving at the cabin.

Home.

H O M E.

Comfortable. Safe. Quiet. Magical. Contented.

home.

Yes. That.

And if for no other reason those nine long hours on the road were completely worth it.

 

The art of a good marriage.

The Art of a Good Marriage

The Art of a Good Marriage

The Art of a Good Marriage

The Art of a Good Marriage

The Art of a Good Marriage

The Art of a Good Marriage

The Art of a Good Marriage

The Art of a Good Marriage

The Art of a Good Marriage

The Art of a Good Marriage

Yesterday Pete and I woke up to realize that it was our 13th wedding anniversay.

Add to that the six-years that we lived together first (what we refer to as the "living-in-sin" period) and we're somehow at 19 years of togetherness.

I can't imagine how that math is right, but yet, it is.

So at the last minute we called in to work and decided to spend the day together at home and in the woods, hunting morels.

The four of us. Together.

And though the day was up-and-down like any day is (with children. or adults.), it was  the prefect representation of what the past 19 years have been all about.

Reaching for understanding rather than trying to be right.

Keeping our sense of humor when everything is going haywire.

Cultivating patience and love and taking care of each other.

Getting out into the world and seeking beauty all around us.

And all the while one of the readings from our quiet wedding in the woods kept going through my head.

Because all these years later, this is still what it's all about.

The Art of a Good Marriage

The Art of  a Good Marriage

by
Wilferd A. Peterson
 


Happiness in marriage
is not something that just happens.

A good marriage must be created.

In marriage the little things are the big
things.

 

It is never being too
old to hold hands.

It is remembering to
say "I love you" at least once a day.

It is never going to
sleep angry.

It is at no time taking
the other for granted;

the courtship should not end with the honeymoon,

it should continue through all the years.

It is having a mutual
sense of values and common objectives.

It is standing together facing the world.

It is forming a circle
of love that gathers in the whole family.

It is doing things for
each other, not in the attitude of duty or sacrifice, but in the spirit of joy.

It is speaking words
of appreciation and demonstrating gratitude in thoughtful ways.

It is not looking for
perfection in each other.

It is cultivating flexibility, patience, understanding and a sense of humour.

It is having the capacity
to forgive and forget.

It is giving each other
an atmosphere in which each can grow.

It is a common search for the good and the beautiful.

It is establishing a
relationship in which the independence is equal, dependence is mutual and the obligation is reciprocal.

It is not only marrying
the right partner, it is being the right partner.
 

 

: : :

Sending prayers and blessings to Oklahoma today. Holding you in love and light.

Ten ways to rock your parenting – wherever you are.

Ten ways to rock your parenting - wherever you are. {Clean.}

Ten ways to rock your parenting - wherever you are. {Clean.}

Ten ways to rock your parenting - wherever you are. {Clean.}

When I wrote this post last week so many of you got it. You really got it. But most of you probably did before you read it too.

Blogs are so often like that. We are taking to the people who are already there. Because that's why so many of you come here. It's familiar. It's reinforces what you already believe.

But one mama wrote something about that post that I couldn't shake.

She said,

"It's
beautiful. But just reminds me where I fail. We live in an apartment,
in a bad neighborhood. I can't send them outside to explore, by
themselves."

Oh. Right.

That.

That reality of so very many parents in the world. Where it is safer indoors than out. Where there is no backdoor to throw open; no grass to run barefoot through. And even if there were, you wouldn't. You couldn't.

That.

And if this mama assumed I was writing with a picture in my head of kids living in safe, green neighborhoods, well… she was right.

That was humbling.

I didn't picture a child living in the inner city or on the fifth floor of an apartment building.

I didn't picture a child at school all day and at after-school care until seven.

I didn't picture so many of the stories that are reality for so many families.

I pictured my family. Here. In the country.

And I pictured the countless backyards devoid of children in neighborhoods where it is perfectly safe to venture out and play.

Ten ways to rock your parenting - wherever you are. {Clean.} 

The more I sat with her comment the more I felt that what I said might have missed the point for some of you, simply because of the context.

 

So today I'm giving it another go. This time written more for those of you without a yard or other safe place to run free.

Because giving your kids just what they need does not require special tools or a fancy environment.

It doesn't! You can rock this gig anywhere. Yes, even in an apartment in a bad neighborhood. Even without extra cash. Even with little spare time.

So thank you, mama, for reminding me to think outside of my small green box. This post is for you.

Here is another take on giving kids what they need – no matter where you call home.

Ten ways to rock your parenting - wherever you are. {Clean.}

Ten Ways to Rock Your Parenting – Wherever You Are

1. Put down your phone.

No matter where you live you can
cultivate presence with your child. Choose your priority. Your time with
your little one is fleeting. Facebook isn't going anywhere.
.
Like any addiction it can be uncomfortable to make changes. But do it. It's so very worth it. (Tell you what. I'll do it too. There. Now you have a buddy. I won't check Facebook or Email except mindfully twice a day. I'll turn off my phone too. Are you in?)
.
Edited at 3:30 PM to say: Dang! This is hard. Really, truly hard. I honestly found myself sneaking online (not sure who I was hiding from) to check for comments on this post. Sneaking! Oh, the irony. Know that unplugging is as challenging for me as for you. Mercy. But I'm doing my best. And it ain't perfect.

2. Turn off the screens.

If you're going to go, go big. (See discomfort acknowledged in step 1. Ahem.)

Curb your own screen addiction and that of your child. I know. Media is easy. It's relaxing. (Sort of.) It's like a mini vacation.

But it's not the best way to spend your free time. Especially when you're a kid.

I've always taken a pretty radical
stance on media for children. Turn off the screens and they will become
more grounded, more imaginative, more present. And in that space life will bloom.

3. Embrace boredom.

Ten ways to rock your parenting - wherever you are. {Clean.}

You
do not need to entertain your child.
.
Nope. You don't.
.
And while I'm not suggesting that you ignore them, I am suggesting that you let them get bored.
.
Boredom can be uncomfortable (for
you and for your child) but it's a path that leads to creativity if you
let it do its work.
.
When you move through boredom creativity will flourish and magic will happen. (But first it might get a little ugly.)
.
The steps that follow can help mitigate some of the discomfort that comes with this change and turn your family on to a whole new presence of mind.

4. Find nature where you live.

Ten ways to rock your parenting - wherever you are. {Clean.}

Nature can be found in big expanses of green or in a clay pot on your windowsill. Heck, nature can be found in a crack in the sidewalk it you just take time to lay on your belly and look.

Do one of the items on the list below, or do them all. It's up to you.

*Watch clouds drifting across the sky and imagine aloud the magic pictures they contain. You can even make cloud art with your child, painting with a teased apart cotton ball instead of a brush.

*Watch and/or feed the birds. Hang a feeder from your window, or visit a park and sit quietly beneath the trees.
.
*Keep a pet fish. Thrift stores often have old aquariums for a few bucks, and a goldfish can be had for less than $1 out of the "feeder" tank at the pet store. Super affordable, simple nature experience. Done.
.
*Make a nature table. A nature table is a simple shelf or corner of your home where you arrange pinecones, sticks, leaves, flowers… anything that communicates the season to your family. Every month or so remove anything ratty looking and add some new items. Your kids will go crazy for this.

.

Prepare yourself for so. Many. Acorns.
.
*Make a homemade terrarium in an old peanut butter jar.
*Plant flowers with your child. In your yard. In a chipped tea cup on your kitchen table. On your balcony. Or my favorite, in a vacant lot down the road. Anywhere. Read the book Miss Rumphius (the Lupine lady) for inspiration.
.
*Find a safe, nearby natural area to visit often. It need not be big. Just green. Take your child there often. Make a ritual of visiting your "secret nature spot". 
*Look into the starry sky. No matter how much light pollution your neighborhood provides, you can surely see a star or two if you look deeply enough. Rooftops are often great for this if you have safe access!

5. Create rituals to celebrate the seasons.

Ten ways to rock your parenting - wherever you are. {Clean.}

Pagans celebrate the turning of the seasons at eight points in the calender. At the start of each season and at the mid-point. You don't have to be Pagan to celebrate the turning of the year!

These celebrations can be as simple as making a season painting together at your kitchen table, gathering with friends to celebrate, or taking a walk on the same path to take note of the turning of the year.

Put these on your calendar as you would an important birthday. Make time to celebrate the turning seasons.

6. Keep a phenology journal.

"Phenology journal" is a fancy way to say "seasonal nature book". Grab an old notebook and have your child decorate the cover.
.
Then every time you notice something happening in nature – say, the maple leaves turning color in the fall or the last frost of the year – write it in your book.
.
You'll begin to tune in and notice birds, insects, and weather patterns you never saw before.

7. Make art together.

Ten ways to rock your parenting - wherever you are. {Clean.}

We thrifted a big stack of old nature magazines recently. With some scissors and a little diluted white glue we could spend all day at our kitchen table, creating collages on old boards and pieces of cardboard.

Stock a drawer or shelf with some basic, affordable art supplies and let art replace screen-time. You'll all be glad you did.

Supplies to keep on hand: watercolor paint, tempra paint, thick paper (watercolor or other painting paper is nice), white paper (we use regular office paper), colored pencils or markers, and a few jars of random extras – buttons, glitter, acorn caps, etc.

You'll find lots more tips over here.

8. Grow food, prepare food, and eat together.

Ten ways to rock your parenting - wherever you are. {Clean.}

This is a powerful act.

You can grow food in a big garden outside or right on your kitchen counter.

Sprout seeds in a mason jar or grow edible herbs in pots. Re-grow celery from a cut off stalk.

Growing and eating food is a wonderful lesson to empower us in our lives!

9. Embrace unscheduled time.

We tend to over-engage, over-schedule, and over-plan. Childhood is no exception. Let your kids have free time. Lots of it.

They don't need more activities. They need more undirected free time. (Yes, even if it's happening inside the walls of your flat.)

10. Let them explore.

Ten ways to rock your parenting - wherever you are. {Clean.}

Give your kids a bucket of rocks to play with. Or their own bin of flour in the kitchen. Or some clay pots full of soil.

Fill the dishpan with soap bubbles and a pile of yogurt tubs and measuring cups. Stick them in the bathtub with a baking soda and vinegar.

Anything.

While my kids love playing mud kitchen, they also love what they call "potions". And this, friends, is like mud kitchen without the mud. And, um, indoors.

Potions involves vinegar, baking soda, beet juice, food coloring, stale spices, flour, water, cut grass, seeds, a mess of little jars and bowls… you get the idea.

Just let it flow and let it be and allow them to explore their world. Don't tell them what to do. Just let them go.

Clean-up can be epic, but it's worth the mess.

(We often do this in the tub.)

11. Love yourself and your life.

Ten ways to rock your parenting - wherever you are. {Clean.}

Okay, make it 11.

Know that life is imperfect. It's meant to be. There are lessons to be found in your less-than-ideal life, home, or schedule. Embrace the imperfection while you sift through for the magic within.

To live in a fifth story apartment means that when you do run barefoot through the grass it can be ecstasy. Even if it only happens once a year.

Love,
Rachel

What I need.

What children need. {Clean. the LuSa Organics Blog}

What children need. {Clean. the LuSa Organics Blog}

What children need. {Clean. the LuSa Organics Blog}

What children need. {Clean. the LuSa Organics Blog}

What children need. {Clean. the LuSa Organics Blog}

What children need. {Clean. The LuSa Organics blog}

What children need. {Clean. The LuSa Organics blog}

What children need. {Clean. the LuSa Organics Blog}

What children need. {Clean. the LuSa Organics Blog}

What children need. {Clean. the LuSa Organics Blog}

What children need. {Clean. the LuSa Organics Blog}

What children need. {Clean. the LuSa Organics Blog}

What children need. {Clean. the LuSa Organics Blog}

I don't need you to keep me busy.

I don't need you to cure my boredom.

 

I need you to throw open the back door and invite me outside.

Into the sunlight or the moonlight or the hazy morning fog.

 

I don't need more lessons or activities or organized after-school-anything.

I need to wander out in the rain and the snow.

Aimless and dreaming. Exploring.

Where I will see fairies dancing in the mist.

 

Give me time for games without rules.

Give me space to run barefoot through the dew.

 

Give me a childhood unburdened so that I may be the person I am meant to be.

 

I don't need more toys.

Or newer. Or better.

I need less. 


Just give me a few wooden planks, your old mixing bowls, and a shovel.

Then let me go without guidance.

To play.

To get dirty.

To live.

 

I don't need you to plug me in.

Instead I need you to plug into me.

 

Put down your phone.

Turn it off.

And tune into my childhood.

 

Dig with me.

Be with me.

Share these fleeting and dreaming days.

 

Because all that I truly need is you.

And a simple space in which to grow.

 

Edited: I've added a follow-up to this post. You can find it here.