Coffeebeings

Recoup

2012-02-15T15:54:00.001Z

Every eight weeks, I order from an online co-operative, and have a huge amount of store cupboard food delivered to my door. I'm so thankful that we have such a wonderful co-op available, and can find great bargains and lower prices for organic food. Except that...

I finished my order very late Sunday evening, and e-mailed it for Monday. I sent the wrong order. December's order, to be exact.

When the invoice was handed to me today, as the three boys energetically helped bring in the boxes and bags, my brain dropped out of my head into a mess on the floor as I immediately began a mental attempt to problem-solve my way out of this one.

For any of you reading this who have ordered along with me this time, don't worry! I'll figure this one out. There will be a way out of the mess of the moment. There always is.

There always is.

Not just for massive food orders, but for every single mess that comes up in life. There's always a path to follow, even if it's not the easiest, or the most clear-cut.

Now I'm going to sit down and recoup with a cup of coffee!

Valentines

2012-02-14T22:44:00.002Z

We gave the kids photo books today, one for each of them. Starting with baby pictures, their individual collections have a few photos from each year of their lives. These were their Valentines. As they looked at their pictures they remembered joyfully, happily... how much they're loved, by so many people. Dan and I wrote on the back of their collections - words from both of us - words of encouragement, reminding them how much we appreciate them.

I received a card from Mr J. "Happy Valentines Day. A Mushroom. Mummy. You are the best. Love Mr J." My little boy, who sees the world so differently from most of us.

They each opened cards from Grammy and Grandpa, these pieces of exciting paper: American-style Valentines, so fun for them.

We ate cream of tomato soup. Beetroot, carrot, and coriander salad. Hummus and homemade pitta bread. Mr J ate everything, even the beetroot salad. Happy Valentine's Day to me.

I thought about how routine all of this is, somehow. Homemade food. Trying to think of kind words to give to each other. So much of this we do already, every day. As beneficial as it is to have a special day to remember love, every moment of every day is really nothing but a joyful yet painful struggle to remember love, to walk in it.

"Let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair."

-G K Chesterton

Joy of Thankfulness

2012-02-13T15:05:00.001Z

Today, I'm thankful for...

My muddy boys, playing so happily outdoors in our grimy garden, even though soon they and their mud will be all over the floor by the back door.
Mr J's imaginative spirit and approach to life; I've enjoyed my repeated visits to his zoo, which has taken over our lounge. All the [stuffed] animals are named, and living in different areas.
Our week off from formal lessons; I've had time to sew! More bunting, a few drawstring bags, a shopping bag, and a holster for Righty's cap gun, using a pattern he designed himself.
All the recent inspiration I've had for creating our own raw recipes. Dan had a treat of raw ice cream made with banana puree, fresh coconut cream and milk, cinnamon, and chopped walnuts.
An evening out at the cinema with Dan, a rare treat, thanks to our friend Hannah who'd offered to look after the kids. We saw The Descendants. It was good. Not the most cheerful film I've ever seen, but it had bursts of comedy in the midst of tragedy, just like real life; and about as far from the standard Hollywood plot as you can imagine. For anyone with recent life experience of close family deaths, I think it could almost be described as cathartic.

"I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought,

and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder."

-G K Chesterton

Hobbit Days

2012-02-10T12:35:00.000Z

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort."

Outdoors: cold, grey, snow.

Inside: we're warm and cosy. Writing in our journals. Drinking cups of tea. Building elaborate towers using chairs and stools. Playing with Lord of the Rings figures. Drawing, cutting, pasting.

Later, we're venturing out into the freezing air to journey to the library, post office, and shops, finishing with a quiet coffee hour at Starbucks reading our books.

But for now, we're enjoying our comfortable, respectable hobbit-style moments. Dan has just finished reading J R R Tolkien's classic children's book to Mr J, so life has lately been all about Middle Earth. This morning we were discussing where in Middle Earth we'd like best to live. Righty claimed he wanted to live in Mordor. Lefty and Mr J opted for Gondor, and I decided on Rohan. However, after a while, we all admitted that we'd rather just live in the Shire.

My little brother Nathan listened to me read The Hobbit aloud to him when he was about four or five. That was a long time ago now, as today is his eighteenth birthday. Happy birthday, Nate!

Happy Birthday Youngest Sis... 2012

2012-02-08T10:53:00.000Z

Twenty... that makes me feel old! [sorry for stealing your picture from Facebook]

Hope you're enjoying your travels! We love and miss you lots. Have a lovely birthday.

Small Changes for Healthier Eating Habits

2012-02-07T21:49:00.000Z

After yesterday's mention of Dan's raw food detox, some of you have asked me to write more about our eating habits. In this post, I'm going to highlight the areas of our diet which we've benefited from changing. This is not a comprehensive guide to eating properly; I'm not a nutritionist. It's just a list of common sense principles to help you choose nutritionally valuable food.

I'll begin with a bit of background information. I grew up learning about the importance of nutritious food. My mother was actively involved in ensuring that we ate healthily. We had occasional treats, but they were rare and we learned to appreciate quality food: whole grains, lentils, beans, natural sweetening like honey and maple syrup, homemade baked goods, and meals that included plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables. My foodie memories include driving for what seemed like hours into the hills of upstate New York to collect stoneground flour, and the UPS arriving with boxes of organic sourdough multi-grain bread on special order from a bakery my mom had found in Massachusetts. My grandmother was a vegetarian who completely eschewed sugar. When I was growing up, I had always assumed this was for health reasons, but later I discovered that she had originally stopped buying and/or eating anything with sugar because of ethical concerns with sugar plantations and processing methods.

I ate fairly "normally" as an older teenager, munching on fast food with friends and snacking on sweets I hadn't eaten growing up. Eating more nutritiously only began to appeal to me when I was pregnant with The Boys, ten years ago. By most standards, we would have already been classed as healthy eaters. Thanks to my crunchy whole-foods background, however, I knew we'd barely seen the tip of the iceberg, with our multi-grain bread and brown rice. To start, we began to choose organic food. Initially with dairy products, moving on to fruits and vegetables, then store-cupboard items, there was no going back to conventional after becoming accustomed to the taste of organically grown food. As the quality of the food we ate improved, what we were eating also began to change.

The following paragraphs detail seven small changes for eating healthier. They're easy to implement, and once you've maintained these changes for a while, it will be difficult to go back.

Rice

We eat a lot of rice. Many of our meals are one-pot wonders that benefit from the addition of rice. Instead of white rice, eat the wholegrain version. We prefer brown basmati, which has a lovely flavour and requires less cooking time than standard long-grain brown rice. For baking, use brown rice flour; for snacks, opt for whole-grain rice cakes. We also eat steamed quinoa often in place of couscous and sometimes as a substitute for rice.

Pasta

We limit our pasta-based meals to once or less per week. Instead of white pasta, we eat wholegrain versions. Wholemeal spelt spaghetti and brown rice fusilli are our favourites. We have no wheat or gluten intolerances in our family, but we prefer to include a variety of grains other than wheat for a more balanced diet.

Bread

When The Boys were three, I stopped buying bread. It was lovely bread, too; multi-grain organic loaves in perfect slices that were beautifully crisp after toasting. Why? Because it was becoming such a large part of our diet that balance was lacking. We were capable of going through an entire loaf in a day. My sister Emily was living with us then, so maybe she was eating most of it. In any case, it was just too much yeast and wheat. Instead of bread, I began to buy wholegrain organic oatcakes, and rice cakes. We use these for sandwich making at lunchtime. Every once in a while, usually when guests are round for a soup-based meal, I will serve a loaf of "normal" yeast-based bread, and the way it is inhaled like cake convinces me that we do not need to ever have a "bread habit" again. For Saturday morning breakfast, we have organic sourdough 100% rye toast, made from a locally-produced bread. Best healthy habit advice for bread: eat rarely! It's certainly filling, but doesn't provide the nutrients that the same amount of calories in fresh fruit, nuts, and vegetables would.

Snacks and Sweets

-Instead of daily individual bags of crisps, shop-bought packets of biscuits [cookies], and other processed snacks, we eat fresh fruit for snacks. Fruit gives the kids the burst of energy they need to get through the afternoon, and contains vitamins that are invaluable for maintaining strong immune systems. Sometimes, if friends are visiting, we'll have home-made cookies or muffins. During our routine Sunday evening open house, I relax the snacks rule and both crisps and biscuits will be consumed in great quantities by all. The kids are not included in this, as they've usually gone off to bed. However, they do enjoy their Sunday morning biscuits after our weekly church meeting, and we have plenty of home-baked treats to make up for their lack of processed food consumption.

-I love to bake, and over the years I've learned to increase the nutritional quality of my baked goods by using wholemeal spelt flour and brown rice flour in place of white flour. I use rapadura, molasses, maple syrup, and honey instead of overly processed white sugar; and cold-pressed coconut or olive oil plus small amounts of butter, in place of margarine [hydrogenated fats] or vegetable oils [which routinely undergo deodorisation to remove the rancid taste that develops because of being heat-processed]. Extra ingredients like freshly ground linseed [flaxseed], mashed bananas, grated courgettes/carrots/beetroot, ground almonds, chopped nuts, and dried fruit add nutritional value to our homemade baked goods. Less is more; I do baking only once a week unless birthdays or other special occasions are taking place.

-Some cakes I make include chocolate Guinness cake, chocolate fudge cake, and baked cheesecake. For these recipes, I choose organic ingredients, even if the flour or sugar in them is more processed than I would prefer. These are our celebration cakes: the ones that I make rarely - true treats.

Juice

We predominantly juice vegetables like carrots, beetroot, purple cabbage, and spinach; adding in apples, ginger, or citrus fruits for extra flavour. These high-calorie juices are like the purer equivalent of nutritional shakes, and in large quantities can take the place of a meal. We drink these juices freshly made by Oscar, storing any extra in glass jars in the fridge but consuming within 36 hours. Masticating juicers like Oscar are the most expensive but are a better buy; centrifugal juicers can heat the juice while it's being prepared, damaging or lowering the quality of the nutrients. I still buy organic apple juice, on a limited basis, but we don't rely on this for any nutritional value. Most "fresh" juices have been heat-treated in a way that destroys many of their nutrients, which then have to be artificially added. I read recently about typical juice processing practices; if I recall the link in the future, I will add it here. Just one word to describe them: disgusting.

Animal Products

Apart from small amounts of organic dairy butter, cheese, eggs, and plain yoghurt, we consume a low proportion of animal products. There is just no need. We eat other protein-rich foods [beans, lentils, nuts, quinoa, brown rice] in place of meat; and drink fresh almond milk, calcium-added rice milk, coconut water, and hemp milk instead of plain old cow's milk. We have no dairy intolerances; we merely prefer to balance our preferred consumption of butter, cheese, eggs, and yoghurt by using plant products in place of meat or dairy milk.

Water

Drink lots. Enough said. Dan will tell you, with a weary look on his face, that whenever he claims to have anything wrong with him, my first question will have something to do with his daily consumption of water! Drink herbal teas, green teas, coffee in moderation, whatever, but still drink substantial amounts of water. Even minor, unnoticed dehydration can have an effect on your health.

To sum up: choose brown rice and pasta. Limit your consumption of bread and animal products; instead, vary your diet by increasing your intake of plant-based foods like nuts, quinoa, lentils, beans, and alternative milks. Drink fresh juices, instead of processed; bake homemade treats instead of buying processed, and make meals from scratch instead of relying on prepared foods. Drink lots of water. If you have any questions, feel free to comment! I'd love to hear from you.

Joy of Thankfulness

2012-02-06T19:24:00.003Z

I'll let the photos tell my thankful story for our last few days.

First: this is a yummy and much-needed jar of beetroot, carrot, and apple juice, a 4am prelude to setting out on a journey to an early-morning appointment in London. Thankful for the result of our trip: successful passport renewal, quality time spent with our two youngest children, a few hours with a friend, and safe travelling.

Thankful for our long-awaited snow, and for these intrepid little adventurers. He ended up opting for the warm indoors long before her. She stood alone outdoors, sobbing over his departure and refusing to be comforted, until someone mentioned the magic words... hot chocolate.

Thankful that the snow deepened to four inches, allowing Lefty and Righty to craft their own snowmen. The thaw arrived less than twenty-four hours later. In the meantime, the Boys spent much of their waking moments outdoors happily enjoying the snow.

But... who's this?

Today was Mr J's long-awaited haircut day. Thanks to our patient friend and neighbour, Beckie, we now know that Mr J does indeed possess a pair of ears like the rest of us.

Finally, I'm thankful that our first foray into the world of eating 100% raw has initially been a success. Dan is the only one of us actually "going raw" - this is a thirty-day detox he's been planning for quite some time. So far, we eat breakfast together: soaked dried fruit and oats, with chopped nuts and apples added. The kids have rice milk over this; Dan and I have either fresh almond milk, pumpkin seed milk, or oat yoghurt. Dan takes away salad, fresh fruit, and avocados or raw hummus for lunch. Then, for tea together as a family, he eats what we eat, before it's cooked. For instance, we had chickpea curry for tea; so for Dan, I set aside chopped onions, garlic, spices, fresh ginger, olive oil, lemon juice, and fresh coriander and later stirred them into a bowl of sprouted chickpeas, chopped cauliflower, tomatoes, and mushrooms. He ate this with spinach salad. Mmmm... if it wasn't so cold I'd be making the same for all of us! Our foodies, Lefty and Righty, have already been asking to "eat what Daddy's having."

"I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought,

and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder."

-G K Chesterton

Joy of Thankfulness

2012-01-30T20:51:00.001Z

Our day: an icy cold Monday, with sunshine streaming through golden pink clouds at sunset.

We're finally having some winter weather, and it looks set to stay for a while. I'm thankful, so thankful for a warm house in which to work, play, and sleep.

Thankful for homemade treats: after a long morning steeped in the history of the American revolution, we enjoyed lunch together, along with a square of spelt ginger cake, sweetened with molasses, swathed in a layer of cream cheese icing.

Thankful for our friend and neighbour, Beckie. She came round and gave The Boys' haircuts this afternoon. Enjoyed an hour of coffee and chatting while she worked. The result? Two heads of cropped, curly auburn hair, looking rather identical.

Thankful for Nanny and Grandad, who appeared today with a box of blood oranges, which we immediately tucked into with a vengeance, having not had any for three days!

Thankful for the brief but helpful appearance of Emily, who kept Coo happy and busy with "Go Fish" while I finished making tea.

Thankful for a constant flow of creative ideas; I seem to be swimming in them at the moment. Just need the time to make them happen! The one I'm most looking forward to making a reality at the moment is soap-making. I've had the supplies for this packed away in a cupboard for over a year now. My desire to make soap probably dates back to childhood, listening to my mother read "Little House" books aloud, and wishing I could someday be as resourceful as Laura's Ma and Almanzo's Mother in their constant use of the things around them to create what they and their families needed.

Other upcoming projects I'm anxious to start include: baby blankies made from organic cotton and bamboo fleece, hanging wall organisers for the boys' room, tee-shirt skirts, and more bunting. Because I just can't stop hemming those triangles every time my sewing machine is out. Addicting... my advice is, when it comes to sewing bunting, don't start; you'll never stop! Paper bunting is easier and just as fun.

"I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought,

and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder."

-G K Chesterton

Comfort Blankies

2012-01-29T22:49:00.001Z

Righty and Lefty have always loved their comfort blankies, made by Grandmother and my sister Emily. Even now, the scraps of their blankies that remain are tucked into little bags and safely hidden away in their beds.

Mr J never really acknowledged that his blankie existed. Carefully folded among his stuffed dogs and animals, it stays there still, in spite of the fact that it was given to him at every opportunity when he was tiny, no different from the others.

When Coo was born, Mr J kindly offered his blankie to her, but I had another one ready. Two, in fact. Lefty's first blankie was lost, sadly, when he was around twelve months old, and we learned our lesson about always using the loops to attach the blankie to pushchair straps while out! When I realised Coo was very attached to her feelie blanket, I made a second identical one.

These blankets have truly "comforted" over the years. During a long drive in the car, or any similar time when baby has had to wait for breastfeeding or holding, snuggling his or her feelie blanket has done the trick. Most of the time.

I've made so many of these for friends' babies, and their friends' babies. Nowadays I fold the blankie carefully into a simple handmade drawstring bag for giving away. A few blankies made last year include these:

I am setting up an Etsy shop to sell simple handmade items that we use every day, and plan to include comfort blankies. If you'd like to place any custom orders for one of these blankets now, please feel free to contact me via e-mail for details!

Light of Life

2012-01-27T13:40:00.000Z

A bit of creating from this past week...

Joy of Thankfulness

2012-01-23T15:45:00.001Z

So, Monday again.

I'm sipping hot black coffee and thanking God for weak winter sunshine streaming through our windows this afternoon. Our winter has been mild so far; plenty of rain and grey days, but very little real sunshine, so today's glimpses through creamy silvery clouds are definitely something to be thankful for.

Enjoying the busy chaos of film production happening all around me. Lefty is coordinating the boys' very own Lord of the Rings visual adaptation. Constant change is the hallmark of this rather haphazard venture, for instance; some days Righty has left the crew and yet on other days he appears to have taken charge. Mr J goes back and forth between making his own [hilarious] LOTR short videos on Photobooth, to being heavily involved with the art and scenery creation needed for the older boys' film.

Our weekends are always busy; the past one was no different. Birthday outing to attend, visiting and dinner at Nanny and Grandad's, making enchiladas yesterday to share with fellow Americans I met when taking my UK citizenship test last week, Sunday evening open house.

All fun times to be thankful for, but I'm so, so grateful for our peaceful Mondays. They could very accurately be termed our day of rest. Apart from work and learning, we do little else. The boys appreciate the entire afternoon to spend on creative play, with no schedule or outside obligations.

And how can I resist mentioning being thankful for this sweet girl, all curled up in her big girl bed underneath her"spotty one duvet", as she calls it?

Memories and Stargazing

2012-01-17T23:53:00.001Z

Today we celebrated Pappy Day. For our family, this time of remembering my grandpa on his birthday means yummy food: cornbread, brown beans, purple coleslaw, and fried potatoes. And, of course, the long-awaited cherry pie with vanilla ice cream.

After we were comfortably full of food, we shared memories of my grandpa aloud while I scribbled them into a memory book.

Then it was time to bundle cosily into our coats and go out into the chilly evening, to a BBC Stargazing event at our local art gallery.

We all took a turn looking through the huge telescope on the roof. I've never seen Jupiter's moons before. I can almost imagine how Galileo felt, viewing them for the first time!

I've also never had a chance to see such a great view of our town at nighttime.

St Matthew's church below... where Dan and I were married over ten years ago. Also dubbed "The Plague Church" by Lefty, apparently because it was built many years before the plague devastated the medieval world. Oh, the analogies to be made!

Joy of Thankfulness

2012-01-16T21:19:00.017Z

Mondays seem to be one of those days when I find myself wanting to be thankful. I'm not naturally a very grateful person and have to work hard to cultivate a thankful attitude, so this in itself is something to be thankful for!

Starting with the simple things.

Blood oranges are now in season...yay! We've been eating them indulgently, but today Oscar and I juiced a few; the result was used to create a sticky, pistachio-dotted homemade version of Turkish Delight. We were studying the 17th century Ottoman Empire in Story of the World, Vol 3. Of course, after all this, we had to listen to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe during lunch, because no sweet-eating experience in our house is quite complete without hearing of Edmund's delicious encounter with enchanted Turkish Delight... and the unfortunate consequences.

A happy hour in a bookshop and lunch with a friend yesterday: a lovely, long-planned birthday treat. Mmm... perfect. Coo came along too and arrived home accompanied by a shiny purple balloon. Meanwhile, the lads and Dan went off for some outdoor adventuring, inspired by lately reading about Bear Grylls' SAS selection training in his autobiography.

A few free evenings in the last two weeks, spent watching Pride and Prejudice, the most recent miniseries. [apart from appreciating the beautiful cinematography and costumes, I'm not a fan of the overly simplistic 2005 movie] Do other book lovers out there rejoice, like me, to hear non-stop real quotes from the book, onscreen? I have such respect for the makers of this 1995 version; they kept to the original plot and didn't feel the need to change a thing. I'm re-reading the novel again in my spare time and plotting an upcoming book review!

And here are some of the people in the world who give me the greatest joy, and for whom I'm very thankful...

The Boys playing SAS selection... on their tea break!

Watching one of Hatty's Polaroid photographs develop

Helping

Coo rolled a Yahtzee!

New Year's Ideas

2012-01-06T00:41:00.001Z

Ah. First post of the new year. Why has it taken me so long to have something to say? Rhetorical, I know; and the answer is, I have no idea. I've been busy. But I'm always busy.

I think the real reason is that my brain is having a difficult time adjusting to the fact that we've moved into a new year.

Lots of little happenings around me are a reminder that it has arrived.

The Christmas tree has been ceremoniously placed in the back garden [where it was almost immediately blown over by gale-force winds]. Fragile decorations have been wrapped in crumpled, decade-old tissue paper and packed away with Coo's eager assistance. Green and red ribbons and candles are tucked away in the Christmas box for next year. Seasonal greeting cards are stacked in a bag to be taken out one at a time during our family's morning prayers, when each of us will pray for the giver[s] and then the card can either be recycled or saved for crafting.

Our numerous fairy lights shine on. I made the decision that in this blustery, grey January we needed more light than usual and didn't pack them away. Winter-themed things are scattered around now... snowflakes on the candle holder in the middle of the dining room table, our funny china penguin tea-light holder in his place on the kitchen windowsill, the winter books being read aloud. Red, cream, and gold bunting brightens up a wall in the dining room, wooden snowflakes hanging at either end.

So I'm not in denial about Christmas being over. I'm definitely ready for this new year. There's just a slight feeling of limbo going on right now, because...

I haven't PLANNED anything yet. No projects, no crafts, no trips.

Well, that's set to change. My list of things-to-do will be carried over from last year, with a few new additions.

Projects:

Soap-making, and candle-making. In that order. The supplies have remained packed away in my under-stairs cupboard for over a year now. No more excuses on this one!

Crafts:

Finally learn how to knit on circular needles! I want to knit this slouchy hat for myself, and these sucky thumb mitts for Coo.

Trips

Return to York. We had a lot of fun there in November, but it was too much to take in during one visit. Possibly on the same trip, also visit Haworth Parsonage, the home of the Bronte family.
Take out a National Trust membership again after a seven-year hiatus. A year-long family pass is a worthwhile investment. Favourite places I want to go back to include Calke Abbey and Kedleston Hall. I'd also like to see Lyme Park and Sudbury Hall for the first time. We really should visit Moseley Old Hall, too, as we've just read about Charles II. This is where he hid from Cromwell's troops after the Battle of Worcester in 1651.

2011 trips included...

Those were Wroxeter, twice; Attingham; and the National Space Centre in Leicester.

Finished. Now it feels more like 2012!

Goodbye 2011

2011-12-31T10:50:00.003Z

Here are a few of my favourite posts from this past year, as it swiftly hastens to a close. I chose them for the memories they evoke of fun times, people, and thoughtful days.

January, when we celebrated 'Pappy Day'

Valentine's Day in February

Physiological birth introduction, written after attending info sessions for doulas, in March

In April it was all about treasuring time and learning to say goodbye

May: coffee, breastfeeding, co-op order, and Stormchasers

Our twin boys' birth story, written in June although they were born in the autumn! [also in June, saying goodbye to Grandmother]

New sling for Coo in July

Mr J's August birthday celebrations, with a link to his birth story

Film review of Jane Eyre, seen in September [book review here]

Musical theatre fun in October

A November visit "up north" with family

December letter for my Grandma

Posts that were very enjoyable in the making included my interview with Emily about her creative endeavour, Supremily Jewellery; and also writing up a review of Texture's amazing clothing.

Some of my favourite 2011 posts from other bloggers include:

Journey Mama has a conversation with her inner eleven-year-old

Chrispy's photos of kerbside house numbers - unique!

J writes about missing home but appreciating new things after moving countries

MammaCake's "home fries"

Mamaccino's poetry

Andrea's published photo, "Morning with Daddy"

What was one of your favourite blog posts this year? [your own or someone else's]

Comment with a link so we can all enjoy!

Small Joys

2011-12-28T11:21:00.000Z

First sleepy glance out the rain-spattered window: a many-layered cloudy landscape of sky with a tiny bit of sunshine peeking through.
Adding milk froth to my usual black coffee.
Watching my kids dance around the kitchen to Bruce Springsteen singing "O Mary Don't You Weep". They were using carrots and leeks for guitars and fiddles!
Helping the three boys wisely spend their Christmas money on Amazon. I think I always knew we were going to end up with three sets of miniature Tintin figures!
Enjoying our California girl's last post, about her New Year's resolutions.
Planning two new recipe posts: gingerbread cake, and haricot bean soup. Watch this space.
Thinking about how nice it was to see our friends yesterday. Ruth and her family stopped by for a few hours, which flew past too quickly!
Feeling thankful, once again, that we're not ill during these holidays, unlike last year and the year before!
Still wearing my pajamas at eleven in the morning.
The invention of italics...

Happy Christmas 2011

2011-12-25T23:45:00.000Z

... from all of us!

Our "Christmas" photo... taken in October!

Advent Treat 3: Findus at Christmas... a book review

2011-12-23T23:45:00.001Z

Our third and final Advent treat was another new book in the Winter Books basket: Findus at Christmas, by Sven Nordqvist. We all love laughing over Findus and Pettson's silly adventures in Pancakes for Findus, but until now have not read any of their other tales.

Findus is a clever, witty cat. Pettson is his rather absent-minded owner. On Christmas Eve, they suddenly find that through an unfortunate accident while attempting to procure their tree, they have no way of doing their food shopping and will have to do without... Christmas dinner!

But Findus and Pettson immediately begin to make the most of what could have been an awful situation. With a persisting attitude of ingenuity they create a Christmas tree from what they have on hand, and are soon happily surprised by a visit from the neighbours.

This is where the story really comes into its own. For by the end of the book, all of their closest neighbours have crowded into their home, generously sharing what they have by bringing Christmas food and treats to Pettson and his cat.

I saved this book for last because it really is brilliant, a treat worth waiting for.

For starters, the humour is far and above better than most children's books. Sharp, quick, and sometimes sarcastic, it immediately grabbed my kids' attention and started them laughing. Near the beginning of the story, Findus scrubs the kitchen floor, then decides he is too tired and cannot be bothered to dry it. "Well boo hoo for you," Pettson replies. Mr J laughed immediately and I did too. In our family, I'm not ashamed to admit that we appreciate a fair amount of sarcasm, subtle enough to be missed by strangers and gentle enough to refrain from offending.

The illustrations, as Dan later pointed out, are incredibly detailed, providing vivid portraits of plot development that tie the story firmly together. Findus' facial expressions and his dramatic gestures are priceless. Pettson's visual portrayal fits his written description amazingly.

Findus at Christmas is a tale that realistically celebrates the wonder of kindness and sharing as a community of friends and neighbours. After reading it, I found myself ruminating on the sub-plot: Findus' and Pettson's resourceful desire to make the best of their situation and using what they had on hand to improve it. Mr J enjoyed pointing out the interesting objects they chose to put on their Christmas tree as ornaments: a fork, an old used paintbrush stained with red paint, etc.

Timely. For once again, we've found ourselves facing illness during the holidays. It's nothing serious, just enough to drag us all down a bit and make us wonder why; it's the third year in row that at least one of us has been ill at Christmas!

So the reminder contained within this book, of choosing to make the best of our situation no matter what, is a simple one that all the kids immediately understood. Mama needed that reminder too!

I've found myself making the best of it in spite of my expectations, which had been high. No one wants to be ill. But it happens. I've stayed well, so for me the last week has been full of cleaning, laundry, and tidying alone, thinking and writing about my Grandma [who passed away last Saturday], and baking and arranging Christmas cookies for the families on our street. Giving these out as a family will be our final Advent activity.

So, on to tomorrow. Cranberry cake and stuffing to be made for Christmas Day... chocolate cupcakes with cappuccino butter icing to bake for Boxing Day Big Feed... Christmas Eve dinner with friends to prepare... and somewhere in there squeeze in an hour to help Lefty sew a drawstring bag to carry his gift for Mr J.

In fact, that's going to be the first thing on my list for tomorrow. Sitting down with my tall, ginger, nine-year old and spending some quality time as he refines his sewing skills. He needs the creative time, and so do I!

Advent Treat 2: Ollie's Ski Trip... a book review

2011-12-19T15:59:00.002Z

Our Winter Books basket was hiding another new book today! Ollie's Ski Trip, by Elsa Beskow [author of Children of the Forest] is a mini-edition, in a sweet small size and yet still possessing easy-to-read text and detailed illustrations.

Once again, the kids sat around with rapt attention as we started this fresh story.

Ollie is a little boy who loves wintertime. He has lovely new snow skis, all ready to be tried out. His only problem: there is no snow. "Will it ever come this year?" Ollie wonders.

After much watching and waiting, snow finally falls the week before Christmas. And because this story is set somewhere in the far North, the snowing doesn't stop for two whole days and nights, until "everything was covered with a thick white blanket."

Ollie is, of course, wildly excited and after eating his breakfast, he stuffs a sandwich into both pockets [at this point Righty informed me he would have put both sandwiches in one pocket and a bag of licorice in the other!] puts on his skis and ventures out into the forest, which is so beautiful that Ollie is overcome with wonder. He says to himself, "Thank you, King Winter. I'm so glad you came!"

With that, his fantastical adventures in the forest begin. The first person he meets is Jack Frost, who offers to take Ollie to meet King Winter. They stop momentarily while Jack Frost chases away Mrs Thaw, Winter's cleaning lady, who has turned up too early.

It doesn't take long for them to arrive at King Winter's palace, which is built of snow and guarded by two polar bears. Inside the palace, King Winter sits on a huge throne of ice. Ollie is a little afraid at first, "but then King Winter smiled, and his eyes gleamed like the northern lights." He kindly quizzes Ollie about skiing, tobogganing, and skating, then asks if Ollie would like to look round his palace.

Of course Ollie does, so he follows Jack Frost around on a quick tour. In one room, "little people" are making ski boots and knitting thick socks. In another, girls are knitting and embroidering ski mitts; and in the next, a workshop, boys are crafting skis, toboggans, sledges, and skate blades. When Ollie asks one of the boys why they're all so busy, the boy replies that they're finishing presents for everyone for Christmas!

Right after, a gong sounds and all the children rush out, Ollie included, to play in the snow. "Everyone wanted to play with Ollie and he joined in with everything."

Soon it's time for Ollie to go home, which he does with the help of Jack Frost and a reindeer. And of course, on Christmas morning, what should appear for Ollie but a pair of magnificent skates!

The book closes with Ollie's gradual acceptance that eventually Mrs Thaw does arrive quite legitimately to sweep up Winter before Spring comes "driving up in her airy carriage drawn by white butterflies".

We enjoyed this latest addition to our collection of Elsa Beskow books. Her illustrations are always enjoyable and a realistic portrayal of the mix of fantasy and real-life that she writes about. I love the way she creates a believable fairy world, so enchanting for both children and adults, with words and pictures.

A Letter for Dorothy Jane

2011-12-18T23:25:00.001Z

Dear Grandma,

I love this photo of you. It reminds me of the hours we whiled away looking at old family photographs. You would explain the identity of the people in the fading, yellowing images; usually a story about them would surface, too. If Pappy was around, he'd have some well-chewed nugget of dry humour to add to the conversation.

During my early teen years, I spent so much time at your house. I'd run across the field that separated our homes, excited about visiting you. In the midst of busy farm days, cooking and cleaning "for the men", you always had time for me. After raising three sons, you delighted in your granddaughters and so often told us how much you appreciated having girls around. You loved to show us clothes you'd bought, outfits you would put together, your new curtains, a plan for another colour scheme somewhere in the house, your fine china and Depression glass. At the time I didn't understand, but now I see how you wanted us to enjoy the beauty you saw in those things. You would take out your jewellery box and allow us to play with the heirloom rings and necklaces, each piece with its own story of the person who wore it. You would carefully lift your wedding dress, sewn by your mother, from the wooden chest Pappy had made for you, and let me try it on. What fun I had, strutting down your hallway, trying to evoke some hint of 1950's glamour in my skinny, pigtailed self.

I'd sit next to you, fascinated, while you "put your face on" in front of the mirror, various make-up pots and compacts arranged around you. You were always sure to tell me, too, that I didn't need make-up. You'd say, "Grandma has to wear this because she's old. She's not young and purty like you." With your face on, you would often then, ironically, don work clothes, and work just as hard as "the men", your collective term for my grandpa and my great-uncle. I'd often glimpse you out in the enormous vegetable garden, pushing a rototiller with strong arms, resolved not to let the weeds take over your tomatoes or potatoes. Not an easy feat in the sweltering heat of a midwest US summer. You were always very determined. I think that's why I like the photo above. A hint of your strong-minded nature somehow shines through, even in this image of you as a three-year-old.

I remember watching you work during laundry time at your house. You hung all of your clothes out on the line if the weather was fair, and didn't acquire a dryer until sometime in the early '90s, if I remember correctly. During rainy weather or in winter, there would inevitably be clothes drying in your cozy little basement, near the wood-burning stove. The combination of woodsmoke and fresh laundry scent was delicious. We visited that basement many a time during bad weather. "Tarnado weather" you called it. Somehow it never seemed as scary in your house. You always found a way to distract us kids, even if we could tell you were afraid yourself.

So many of my memories involve watching you at work! Singing little songs, gossiping, telling stories about long-gone family members while you peeled potatoes in a bowl on your lap. Talking away, sometimes to yourself if we were in the other room, while you prepared a meal. Then the phone would ring, and it would be my uncle, or your best buddy Janice, or a friend from your ladies' club, and you would talk to them for what seemed like forever.

There were many stories you told that we heard over and over again. I wish I could remember more of them. You were a very extroverted thinker; your thoughts were always out there for all of us to hear. For instance, your name. You hated it. Dorothy Jane. Plain and ugly, you said opinionatedly. We loved it. It was you.

You were firm and decisive during the card games you loved so much: Uno, Progressive Rummy, Back Alley, Skip-Bo. You won so many of them.

The only time your staunchness ever crumbled was when you watched movies. You cried while you watched Shirley Temple movies. You cried during 1940's cowboy films. You especially cried when watching "Little House on the Prairie" or "The Sound of Music". Watching TV with you was never complete without a few crumpled tissues in your hand, and the sound of your sniffling throughout. We never questioned this; it never seemed strange. It was just you.

There are so many other memories crowding in now. Sitting in front of the television watching Olympic figure skating together, sewing, making Christmas candy, eating popcorn and apples, playing cards and Yahtzee, watching you make sweet cucumber pickles and can juice from your homegrown tomatoes, looking at your beautiful African violets, learning from you how to prepare homemade egg noodles and pie and so many other scrumptious treats, eating your yummy cooking.

In spite of your busyness, you gave the gift of your time to me, to my sisters and brothers and cousins, and to so many others. We will always remember, and we'll always be thankful.

Goodbye, Grandma: you loyal, reliable, opinionated, strong homemaking woman of a fast-disappearing era. I think I'll always feel the tug of your apron strings around my heart.

Love you always,

Erin

:: This Moment ::

2011-12-16T15:09:00.000Z

I don't usually, but today I felt inspired, so I'm joining in with SouleMama's "this moment" Friday posting.

Advent Activity 3: Gingerbread House

2011-12-15T22:39:00.001Z

This was one of the Advent activities that I've personally been looking forward to the most!

It lived up to all expectations on my part: fun, messy, sugary, and generally quite satisfying.

I baked the gingerbread pieces for the house last week, which was convenient, as they came out of the freezer this morning and after an hour or so, were defrosted enough to use. Because they were still partially frozen, the icing glued it all together well and we didn't have any problems with the pieces cracking or breaking as the house was assembled. I didn't scrimp on the icing, which ended up all over our hands, faces, the table, etc.

The boys were pleased with their final touch: a broken candy cane chimney.

Coo mostly ate decorations, so she was full of energy and ready to pose for the camera!

The constant question on their lips now is, "When can we eat it?!"

When, indeed. Let's see how long this house lasts...

Fun Stuff

2011-12-14T23:45:00.000Z

I had so much fun making this Gingerbread Playdough. It smells deliciously spicy and almost edible, until I remind myself how much salt went into the dough! Packed into clean peanut butter jars, with ribbons and tin gingerbread man cutters, these are all ready to be given away as Christmas gifts. [In the background of the photo at the top you can see another completed sewing project: a string of one-sided Christmassy bunting. Simple as: hemmed triangles sewn onto a doubled over piece of bias tape, with ribbon loops at the ends.]

Advent Treat 1: The Tomten and the Fox... a book review

2011-12-13T23:48:00.001Z

Today's Advent drawer revealed a treat waiting in our Winter Books basket: a new book! This was The Tomten and the Fox, by Astrid Lindgren [adapted from a poem by Viktor Rydberg].

We've had The Tomten for a while, and the children love it. So they were quite excited to read this continuation of the Tomten's tale.

I sat down on the sofa and all four of them piled around me, ready to read.

This is a stunning picturebook. Harald Wiberg's paintings illustrate Lindgren's prose once again. The frosty Nordic winter depicted in the story comes alive on each page. Colours, predominately silvery grey, blue, and white convey the bitter cold of a snowy moonlit night in the far North.

The text subtly snatches the reader's attention almost instantly. A fox lives in the forest near the farm, and he is hungry. "Now where can a hungry fox find something to eat?"

Oh no! He's heading for the farm, as it lies in sleepy evening darkness.

He sees mice, but isn't interested. He's looking for a much more substantial dinner, and makes tracks for... the henhouse!

The anticipation around me was palpable as we reached this point in the story. The hens in the painting on the page were worried, the children were concerned as they hung onto every word. Even my nine-year-old Lord of the Rings fans sat in silence, listening to this simple book!

But of course, all turns out well. The Tomten, in a gentle peace offering, gives the Fox a share of the porridge that the farm children leave out for him every evening.

After the book's happy, calming finish, we talked about the Tomten's kindness to the Fox, and how his sharing attitude protected the farm.

Coo loved it so much that Daddy had to read both books to her all over again.

Advent Activity 2: Cinema Trip

2011-12-10T19:57:00.007Z

Yes, we all went. Where else, but to see Tintin?

The Adventures of Tintin: Secret of the Unicorn

The three boys were beside themselves with excitement. Coo was nonplussed. Even during the most intense scenes, she was quite relaxed. Of course, I made sure she had a constant supply of popcorn, so that might have been why everything was continuously well in her world!

Pinterest and Other Conflicts of Interest

2011-12-09T23:55:00.002Z

I'd love to join, and almost did last year, because I knew I would love it. But I also know that if I did, I wouldn't have time to do the other things I love: sewing, baking, knitting, connecting with my "real-life" friends, reading books aloud with my husband.

Not to mention the usual: cooking all of our predominantly vegetarian meals from scratch, keeping our living space reasonably clean [not an easy task when we actually live in it - we're home schoolers, so we sit around at home all day - cue weak laugh from one tired mama!], spending time with our friends and neighbours on a daily basis, laundry for a family of six minus the convenience of a clothes dryer, dishes for the constant eating that goes on around here without the benefit of a dishwasher, being able to spend individual time with each of my four children daily. I could go on, but I don't want to sound as if I'm complaining, because I'm not. I'm just indulging in some realism.

I suppose I could hire someone else to run my Pinterest for me! And my Facebook. Then I would be able to juggle all these social profiles that are so visibly important in our day and age. Or I could buy a new phone. My outdated Nokia doesn't connect me to every social networking site out there so I can't be at the beck and call of everyone I've ever connected with on the planet all day long. However, even with the benefit of a personal assistant and a new phone, I still don't think I could do it. Motivation to promote mySelf so brilliantly must be lacking.

Blogging seems to be my way of best expressing myself via a social network. Through sharing the bits and pieces that make up our day, I'm hoping that it's encouraging people who read it to indulge their own creative side in their everyday lives.

Not in a competitive way. Social networking is our twenty-first century equivalent of the 1950's "keeping up with the Joneses". Except nowadays, not only does our external, "real" life have to match up to everyone else's, so does our virtual, online life. It's ridiculous, folks! Seriously. Martha Stewart went to jail. Let's stop trying so hard to be her. It's just too exhausting, and the bar is always set too high.

My blog is for my family, for my kids. I want them to read this and look back at what we did, what our life was like, and remember.

It's for me, to express who I am and what I enjoy in a manageable, non-competitive way. Just because I don't tell you about it doesn't mean we didn't do it! Some things I keep to myself.

Sometimes I'm saddened by all the constant connection that goes on between all of us. Don't get me wrong; I love elements of Facebook. I like being able to keep up with faraway friends and family so easily. Other aspects of it are not so great; it irks me when I can't have a conversation with a friend without seeing them refer to their phone every two minutes to check their Facebook updates. What's happened to our concentration levels, to our ability to focus on one subject and that person right in front of us and just be present in that situation?

I want to be a "present" person. If I'm not being present for my friends, my family, my husband, or myself, I start to lose it! Am I the only person on the planet like this? Yet why is "being present" such an obsession these days? Because it's necessary to focus on the now to maintain our own mental well-being! Thinking too much about the future can cause worry to creep in, and thinking too much about the past can draw us into depression and a fruitless desire to change our past actions. And thinking too much about what "everyone else" is doing will only end in dissatisfaction with our own life in comparison to theirs.

I hope you've caught the humour in this post. I was laughing when I started to write it, laughing at the thought of myself trying to keep up all day online, with a new phone that maintained my constant connection to my online network. Then it wasn't funny anymore because I thought of all the jobs piling up and the creative ideas put on hold and the relationships slowly reduced to soundbites and shallow conversations.

This is not a rant. It's a conversation. I'd like to hear your thoughts!

Evaluating a "Normal" Day

2011-12-07T18:57:00.001Z

Paper chain making, initiated by Righty.
Practising German phrases together for our current Story of the World chapter about the rise of Prussia. Colouring Prussian flags.
Writing in our journals about our long November visit from Grammy, Grandpa, and Uncle Nathan. Mr J both draws and writes.
Math Board quizzes. Times three boys, all at different levels. Twenty minutes for each boy. Then twenty minutes each of Volcanic Panic maths. That's forty minutes of non-stop math problems and they thought they were just playing games on the laptop!
Lefty and Righty playing "Lord of the Rings" Risk with Daddy.
Tidying away our Suma order into the under-the-stairs cupboard: a time-consuming but rewarding task. [Maybe not so much when I did this the day after I gave birth to Coo!] Had a coffee with our driver and enjoyed hearing from him all about how rewarding it is to work for a company like Suma, a true workers' cooperative.
Kevin, our enormous stainless steel pot, is 3/4 full of chickpea vegetable curry... mmm!! [look for "Spicy Chickpeas" recipe.]
Looking forward to eating together with our community tonight and "share and prayer" - our cheesy term for... um, sharing and praying!
Consoling a sad, teething Coo. Amazing how just the thought of chocolate rice milk can cheer up a sore-gummed toddler!

Advent Activity 1: Decorating

2011-12-04T22:37:00.000Z

This December, in our daily Advent box, some drawers open to reveal a sticker for each child to put in their sticker collection book. There are a few drawers, though, with slips of paper tucked inside describing an activity, an outing, or a treat to share.

Today, our first activity arrived: decorating! Coo and I took a trip to town yesterday and chose the tree for this year: a short, potted tree with a fragrantly yummy scent. It has been aptly [albeit ridiculously] christened "Prickles". Mama's secret plot to stop the shorter people in the family from playing too much with our Christmas ornaments, many of which are ancient and fragile: buy the tree with the sharpest needles!

Prickles is adorned with lights, a rather short string of popcorn, and an even shorter string of dried apples. Much of the original amount of apples and popcorn had been consumed before I'd begun the strings!

The Christmas ornaments, whose familiar faces we missed last year when we decorated our tiny tree with only paper snowflakes and lights, came out of their two-year retirement to take their place on Prickles' protectively sharp branches.

We joined a group of friends on Friday morning for a wreath-making session and came away with two wreaths: a larger one for the front door and a smaller one to hang inside, above the door. Both are made with fresh pine branches and they smell lovely.

Decorating in the kitchen/dining room area is still not finished; I need an evening sewing session to finish the Christmas bunting and flags that will be hung in the dining room. And there are a few things yet to be done with our Nativity table, which is being enhanced by the bonkei garden this year. The rather Mediterranean-looking, mossy, stony garden is surely an improvement on cotton snow, considering that it's highly doubtful that Bethlehem was covered in snow for Jesus' birth!

In our daily Common Prayer reading this morning, we enjoyed this beautiful rendition of the Magnificat:

It was a fitting, uplifting start to our day, which is ending now in tiredness, reading, and rain. But with a beautifully yet simply decorated house, ready to receive the festivities of the season.

December Creating

2011-12-01T16:19:00.001Z

Bunting. Lots and lots of bunting. Or flags, maybe... whatever you want to call them. Some of my sewing projects are complete; quite a few are not!

[that's Mr J's birthday sign for his Paddington Bear above the bunting]

Righty's Tintin paper dolls. The boys and Mr J haven't seen the movie yet. But when they do, it will certainly push the Tintin obsession in this house into drastically high levels. Tintin library books are scattered everywhere, and Mr J's Tintin drawings are piling up on his bed, the kitchen table, and the floor.

Today, Coo and I filled our Winter Books basket. It's full of well-loved books old and new. Three upcoming Advent Box drawers will contain a slip of paper promising a new book surprise slipped into this basket.

There's a lot more yet to do! I'm praying for good health for all of us this year, after two past Decembers full of illness.

Up North

2011-11-30T23:45:00.000Z

We left home early last Friday morning, travelling north to Yorkshire.

Morning traffic and roadworks meant that we arrived in York rather later than we had anticipated, around noon. We munched peanut butter and cranberry sauce on sourdough rye bread sandwiches [surprisingly good] and walked to Jorvik, a museum showcasing excavations of the 1,000-year-old Viking settlement in post-Roman York. This was quite a child-friendly place, but like any other museum trip with our kids, we found ourselves moving quite quickly, interrupted often by toilet visits. I prefer to read and examine everything slowly, absorbing the history, but that wasn't possible. However, we will go back again soon, as Jorvik have employed the advantageous technique that others seem to have adopted more recently of promising unlimited free visits for twelve months after your initial ticket purchase. [we experienced this when visiting CAT, in Wales, and have already returned there once]

Leaving Jorvik, we moved on. Dan took all three boys, along with my dad and brother, for a run around outside York Minster, one of the largest Gothic cathedrals in Northern Europe.

My mother and I enjoyed a serendipitous few hours in a quilting museum. Sleeping Coo cuddled in her sling, missing most of our visit, but woke up as we walked around in the public garden outside the museum. Fading sunshine shone in the late afternoon sky, ending an earlier cold rain, and the shrubs and paths were cheerfully rain-drenched. We remembered Grandmother, who was an avid quilter. She loved York's historically beautiful city and cathedral when she visited England in the 1970's. We tucked some of her ashes away into the bark layers beside a wintering plant, in the gentle shadow of the wall that surrounds much of the oldest part of the city.

Dark crept up quickly, but a St Nicholas fayre was taking place in the town centre. The extra illumination and noise, adding to the other fairy light decorations scattered around for Christmas, cheered up the typical chill darkness of a short, northern day. [Yorkshire is around the same latitude as southern Alaska!]

We walked through the crowds to dinner and ate Italian food together in a warm upstairs room with a window at the end of our table looking out onto a square brightening by the twinkling fairy lights. Our friend Katie, who studies at the University of York, joined us. Lefty, Righty, Mr J and Coo finished with social niceties quite early on and spent most of the meal climbing on us adults, rolling around under the table, and going to the toilet. Looking back on all of it, I am thankful for the cosy, tired fun.

Late November Sunshine

2011-11-22T00:48:00.002Z

We just spent four days in Wales... with no rain. Yes, that's right. No rain. Amazing.

The boys in battle mode. I think they were playing Lord of the Rings.

Coo was joined to my hip during most of the trip. Literally.

On the sand dunes at Borth.

At the RSPB reserve in Ynys-hir we made lots of noise. We didn't see many birds.

Righty was prepared, sketchbook in hand, to record the birds we saw.

Climbing hills in the early morning sun.

Tired Coo. Her legs are still rather short for all the walking, especially in this dew soaked, mossy grass.

My mom, brother, and dad enjoy a brief few moments of respite from my kids.

Thankful 5

2011-11-21T23:45:00.000Z

Today was my thirty-second birthday, and thankfulness filled this day. I'm thankful for family and friends visiting, gifted jars of jam and potted plants, balloons and birthday bunting and my mom's baked cheesecake, and for Righty's amazing personal assistant skills during gift opening. Seriously... he just took charge and was so helpful.

I'm thankful for the beautiful meal that my husband prepared for all of us to enjoy. It was time consuming and labour intensive for him and a wonderful gift. Spanish tapas... mmmn!

[These thankful posts, inspired by Journey Mama, are sort of a Saturday thing... but I'm often late with mine!]

Thankful 4

2011-11-12T21:43:00.000Z

I'm thankful for so much, this week. Simple but beautiful things, like a few firsts.

For freshly baked cookies, tiny ones, gracing the table at a little girls' tea party; Coo's first ever. She learned how to pass the cookies round, offering one to everyone at the table, while I poured steaming tea from the teapot into cups. We munched cookies and drank milky tea [black coffee for me]. The sugar bowl eventually had to be hidden, as it was in highly disproportionate demand when compared to the amount of actual tea being consumed!

For Righty's first journal writing session without stress. We sat together and worked on a plan for his writing, and the stress left him. This creative boy needs a plan to help his thoughts flow! Who knew.

For clean kitchen cupboards. It's not actually the first time they've ever been cleaned. Truthfully. Possibly the second?

For the Grammy who cleansed them of their years of grime. She stays busy all day at my house, cleaning and scrubbing and washing. In between all that she reads to Coo, plays innumerable games with all three boys, and takes them out for runs in the chill November air so they'll be tired at bedtime. No, you can't have her!

For the continual loosening of the hold that material things have had on my life. Every day I find myself realising that my stuff just doesn't matter quite so much any more. Reminders come in the form of breakages, misplacements, actual losses, and just plain forgetfulness. I love it when, unexpectedly, I find something I don't need that can be dropped into the charity shop bag.

For the people who have taken the place of that stuff. The people who were responsible for breaking or losing my things are so much more important than whatever they broke or lost, or forgot to return.

I'm tired now, so I'll end before this turns into rambling.

I'm thankful for yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

See? I told you this would be a simple one!

[Thankful posts inspired by Journey Mama]

Remembering

2011-11-11T22:58:00.000Z

In memoriam.

Thankful 3

2011-11-06T23:32:00.001Z

It's been an easy few days for generating thankfulness. As much as I appreciate fun, family-focused weeks like this, I also love the challenge of searching for simple things to be grateful for during difficult, less exciting times.

I'm thankful that Grammy arrived safely for her extended "surprise" visit. The four miniature adults in our house did not know she was coming. It didn't take long for Coo to unearth her Purple People for Grammy's appreciation.

I'm thankful that Righty remained unscathed during his first-time solo pumpkin carving [with a very sharp knife!]

I'm thankful for Mr J's boundless ideas, bursts of creativity, and [now] happy energy after a brief illness.

I'm also thankful for his genuine thoughtfulness in choosing to spend time with his adoring younger sister, by reading to her.

I'm thankful for our houseful of friends and family, celebrating Bonfire Night together. It was fun, loud, and slightly pyromaniacal. Baked potatoes and vegetable chilli were eaten, as were home-baked treats: pumpkin pie, pumpkin cake with cream cheese icing, and apple cake with homemade custard sauce.

I'm thankful that no one was hurt and nothing burst into flames after Dan decided to put a few fireworks into the bonfire as a grand finale. I'll forgive him. I'm thankful Bonfire Night -and the need for excessive firework displays- only comes around once a year! Behold the culprit...

Bonfire Night last year

[Thankful posts inspired by Journey Mama]

Not For Sale

2011-11-01T22:52:00.001Z

My friend Josie over at Set a Fire has been posting about this campaign. Check it out!

I'm not planning on ever writing about what Dan's job entails, unless it's in a past tense sense; but I will say that these human rights issues are very close to our hearts. [Please don't click on the link unless you're prepared to read sensitive and disturbing material!]

Last October Post

2011-10-31T21:06:00.001Z

It seems appropriate to post a favourite quote I've been mulling over during October...

"Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared to love in dreams."

-Fyodor Dostoevsky

When I'm finding it difficult to put love into action, I find it helpful to sit down for some thinking and drinking time [just coffee], and mentally resolve to keep loving, no matter what.

Thankful 2

2011-10-29T23:46:00.000+01:00

It really has been a week since I last posted. The intervening space has felt much shorter than that. Time seems to slip past so quickly. At night, I close my eyes and have barely taken a breath before it's morning again.

Writing this post has made me turn my mind around and tick backwards through the days. What have I spent my moments on this week? In the midst of those moments, what am I thankful for?

Time spent on the phone with friends. One who's healing well after an operation, and one who's still very ill. Thinking about this makes me thankful for every moment of health that I am gifted with.

Reading books to my children. Finishing one we've been reading for a while. Saying goodbye to Paddington, and hello to another character. I'm thankful for our times of sitting together, soaking up words and stories and phrases and plots and other eras.

Coo's inexplicable love for a second-hand pair of shiny black patent leather shoes embellished with fuchsia butterflies. Personally, I don't care for the shoes, but I'm thankful for her individuality.

The Japanese garden my boys and I made this week. It's called a bonkei - a miniature landscape. I'm thankful for the minutes spent with them. It was fun to observe their creative flashes of inspiration in placing the moss, securing the pebbles, and using the seashell for a pond feature.

As I sat in a village parish church this afternoon on an unforgiving wooden pew, breathing in the musty smell of the accumulating dust of centuries, I was thankful for today. It was a day we've been looking forward to for a long time. I'm so thankful that God brought the paths of these two people together to create a new journey.

[Mr J wasn't. After a while, he voiced it. "Mum, I just hate weddings!" That's okay. I'm thankful he's an honest little boy. See that sad face in the lower left hand corner of the above photo?]

I don't think the happy couple would agree with Mr J. [Congratulations, Steve and Faye!]

And I'm thankful for these boys, who know just what to do with an ancient tree when they find it.

I'm also thankful for the date. Because tonight, the clocks go backward! Yay...

[Thankfulness posts inspired by Journeymama]

Thankful

2011-10-22T23:15:00.001+01:00

"Over thirty years of experience as a midwife have not lessened my awe and respect for the efficiency and beautiful design of the female body as expressed in labour and birth. In fact, the years only increase my sense of wonder about how well our bodies can work -- given the right circumstances. The outcomes of our births... demonstrate how rare it is for complications and difficulties to occur when women are properly prepared for birth and when technological interventions are kept to a minimum -- that is, used only when necessary. Ninety-four percent of women gave birth at home or at our birth center."

-Ina May Gaskin, from Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, speaking about The Farm Midwifery Center

I'm thankful that on Thursday, my lovely sister Emily was able to give birth at home to her second child, another beautiful dark-haired girl. I'm thankful for the wonderful people who were around her while she laboured, and for God's grace and peace on her and her family during the life changes they're experiencing right now.

[Thankfulness post inspired by Journey Mama.]

Dear Santa

2011-10-22T14:09:00.002+01:00

Because you all know how much I love the consumeristic season that is once again rushing towards us at the speed of a freight train, full of selfishness; debt; and spending; I thought I'd write out my wish list to Santa as a blog post.

Dear Santa,

For Christmas this year, I'd like to be able to walk through town and see people carrying their toddlers and laughing with them, instead of shouting and swearing at them while they lug heavy carrier bags full of plastic toys which will eventually end up as floating waste somewhere in the Pacific.

For Christmas this year, I'd like to see people giving each other time. It's something we never seem to have enough of. I want people to come round to my house for a hot drink and a chat and empty hands, instead of armfuls of presents and a hurried chat before rushing away.

For Christmas this year, I'd like to receive some simple things I need from people who can give them, but won't, because they're not "proper" presents. Such as haircuts for my kids and a fresh coat of paint in the boys' room.

For Christmas this year, I'm hoping that my family and friends will be happy with presents we're choosing to give: vouchers for home-cooked meals and homemade cake; fresh Christmas cookies; and time.

For Christmas this year, I'm most looking forward to individual hours spent with each of my children, shopping for necessaries for their siblings and continuing conversations about how much more important giving is than receiving. I'm looking forward to baking together and decorating the house for the season; and planning how we'll spend our St Nicholas money this year.

For Christmas this year, I'm hoping that our industrialised world's temporary frugality in the face of recession becomes a way of life. I'm hoping that the current trend towards simplicity is more than just a fad.

Because people are more important than stuff.

All of it.

Santa, you don't qualify, as you're not real. You're sadly nothing more than a validation to spend money we don't have on more stuff we don't need.

I'll be addressing any further correspondence to Nicholas, the patron saint of giving, instead of to you, the patron saint of receiving.

Love,

Erin

Juicing

2011-10-20T11:40:00.001+01:00

Righty and Coo have the sniffles, so Oscar was put to work this morning. [not sure who gave Oscar his Postman Pat stickers, but I'm guessing Mr J...]

Lovely purple juice.

The vivid colour came from the beetroot, and these richly tinted carrots that keep turning up in my weekly veg box.

Delicious!!

Love

2011-10-14T13:42:00.000+01:00

Both of these were taken during a weekend spent in Wales last month.

Learning to Read

2011-10-08T22:44:00.001+01:00

Mr J just finished reading aloud the second chapter of A Bear Called Paddington to me. Words flow out of his mouth with great expression and eloquence. He stumbles slightly over words like "doubtfully" but swiftly reads the word "mysteriously" with no trouble at all.

Once upon a time, we started lessons in The Ordinary Parent's Guide to Teaching Reading. After we had gone through the first thirty lessons or so, he lost interest in sitting down to study with me every day. Not long after, I could hear him sounding out words in one of the Beano comics. I didn't pursue our lessons, thinking he might be ready to start The Ordinary Parent's Guide again the next year. When he was five, we tried again. He was still uninterested. So I gave him Bob Books, and he happily read these to me. He read picture books aloud to Coo, and I would often overhear him reading stories from Beano in a whisper during quiet time, or sometimes paragraphs from the Narnia books, which were popular with the older two boys that year.

Now he's reading Paddington. He requested this book from the library, and waited excitedly for two days before we could collect it. He seems to feel a particular affinity with this messy, slightly clumsy, often-misunderstood bear. Aww, Mr J...

The moral of the story is that I did not teach him to read. He learned when he was ready, and when he wanted to.

The older boys were totally different. At four, we began a fun program of Jolly Phonics, which they enjoyed greatly, as it was like playing a game while we learned sounds and letters. At five and even six, they still did not easily put the sounds together to create words. Finally, everything "clicked" for Lefty, and he ambitiously began reading The Hobbit just after his seventh birthday.

Righty still struggled, and remained at the point of putting basic sounds together without any fluidity. I encouraged him to read Bob Books for a long time, without any pressure, and was careful to assure him that everyone learns to read at their own pace. I reminded him that he learned to walk first, while Lefty crawled around after him for over a month, crying, because he wanted to walk too! I decided to go back to the beginning for him, and we started The Ordinary Parent's Guide [originally purchased with Mr J in mind] together. For him, this traditional approach to phonics did what Jolly Phonics had failed to do, cracking the reading code for him after 231 lessons. With the confidence now to pick up a book, he started cautiously with easy readers. Within weeks he had begun reading the Narnia series. He was nearly eight.

Three children: three very different stories.

Coo informed me today, quite confidently, that she doesn't want to use a potty.

I replied, "But you're a big girl now, and big girls go on the potty! They don't use a nappy. Would you like to try sitting on the potty instead of going in your nappy?"

"Big girls go on the potty?" she repeated questioningly, looking thoughtful.

"Yes, they do!" I answered, thinking to myself; Yay! She's going to want to try it now!

"I don't need to use a potty. I use my nappy," she responded. "But I'm a big girl," she finished, firmly.

And so begins the fourth story. In my head, I can already hear her strong, self-assured voice telling me, "But I don't need to learn to read. You can read to me."

"Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera..."

2011-10-03T23:00:00.002+01:00

When I was fourteen, my youngest sibling was born. In the same year, I became a chicken farmer; I read all the books Conan Doyle wrote about Sherlock Holmes; I made homemade doughnuts for the first time; and I discovered the Phantom of the Opera.

My first introduction to this story was through English composer Andrew Lloyd Webber's 1980's musical masterpiece. However, being a ~~nerd~~ book lover, the original book by Gaston Leroux quickly made its way into my possession, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. There was a strangely pleasant lack of fluidity in the English translation of the original French; and the sad, tragic romance, so similar to other well-loved Gothic novels, as well as a spell-binding introduction into the magical realm of the late-19th-century Paris Opera House all combined to create an intriguing world so different from the practical reality of my own.

My best friend, Hannah, was similarly appreciative of the Phantom. Never capable of simply enjoying a good story, we immediately began optimistic plans for our own production of Phantom of the Opera. These plans joined a queue that included a Jane Eyre musical and an Ivanhoe play, if I remember correctly. There might have been more. We were very ambitious. Hannah worked on musical scores and librettos while I drew costumes and thought about sewing, makeup, and materials. I played the piano and Hannah sang; she played the piano and I sang... or at least tried to.

But time crept by quickly, and we were so busy. Hannah had voice lessons; I went to art classes. We both learned French and, for a few months, Italian. I don't know when we passed the day that marked us out as being too grown-up to have so many never-to-be-carried-out ideas, but it must have come and gone without us knowing. Before long, I was in Scotland at Bible college, and Hannah was beginning university studies. My college days started me down a path that would end up in my immigration to the UK. Hannah's musical studies were more apropos to our original theatrical plans and took her into the world of opera.

And years passed.

But how suddenly they fell away and were gone in an instant.

Yesterday, I found myself sitting with two friends [ironically, both named Hannah] in the Royal Albert Hall, for a twenty-fifth anniversary performance of Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom musical.

It was the third time I've seen it on stage, and I can't qualify it as being the best rendition.

But everything seemed to come together to make it the best experience: timing, a long-loved story, friends' names, music, merging into a beautiful clash of sound and light and memories.

We sat in Hyde Park afterwards, in the golden afternoon sunshine of our waning Indian summer, and basked in the afterglow of our adventure.

Coo was napping in a state of total exhaustion. She had spent three hours playing in Hyde Park with a very patient [and equally exhausted] Daddy.

Link

2011-10-01T15:53:00.002+01:00

Here's a great interview with one of my favourite bands. I love listening to their music, and seeing them play live is always a treat!

Sharing Life

2011-09-28T11:04:00.000+01:00

I was going to scribble a thoughtful post about Tom's. How I was first intrigued by them, and then disappointed by their sudden popularity. Everyone is wearing them right now. And if you know me, you know I'm snobbishly allergic to wearing what everyone else is wearing. So now that I'm already -sort of- writing about Tom's, I will just mention that I've felt the need to change my attitude. Instead, I'm choosing to be excited that this people-focused company has successfully popularised their shoes. [find out why here] I still don't think I'll be wearing them, but Coo is. The narrow shape fits her thin feet perfectly, and the velcro fastening means she can put them on herself!

An ethical company made it big?! Rejoice, and be happy. Isn't this what all of us ethical consumers have been hopefully anticipating for years? Tom's shoes are no canvas trainer made in Vietnamese sweat-shops, which reminds me... yes, I do still buy Converse, as they're practical and cute for the boys. However, only in used condition, won on eBay. Other people's trash, for which they paid The Man, becomes our treasure.

Anyway... as I sat down to write, I began thinking more about community instead of Tom's.

Fourteen years ago, in the Borders of Scotland, I attended Bible college. It was my first foray away from home, an eleven-month-long adventure. Right in the midst of community. I was the youngest student, and as a result I think the older and wiser ones didn't hesitate to let me know if I needed to be told off or given a wise piece of advice. Looking back, I am so thankful for all those people who didn't keep their mouths shut for fear of offending me. During a recent visit to Oxford, I was able to catch up with two of these significant people, and voice my appreciation.

We shared so much: food, learning, relaxing, studying, talking, debating, having fun, working. We shared life together. This is what made all the difference. I trusted them because I shared life with them.

In the last month we've said goodbye to three members of our community here: three people we've shared life with. One headed off for her own year of Bible college, while two travelled away across the Atlantic into a new stage in their lives.

I was reminded of how sharing life with people can be beautiful and ugly, happy and sad, peaceful and crazy, such a paradox of colours and feelings and situations.

Last night I sat in our cosy, red-painted lounge, with the fairy lights etching out a gentle glow around the ceiling, and felt the sorrow and joy of the last eight years in this house. So many people have passed through our home. We have given out to them; we have received from them. People similar to us -in their beliefs, journeys, and spirituality- and people different to us, in every way possible.

I'm sensing that it's time to let go of the more difficult memories. Time to be done with remembering the conflicts and the sorrows that have come with our choice to be very real and involved with people. Time to say goodbye mentally to those past-midnight counselling sessions. Time to throw away the thought that we didn't do enough. Time to let the past burn itself out. It's not wrong; it's just not now.

I feel the need to celebrate the now -the present journey we are on, and the future that awaits us.

Why

2011-09-22T23:10:00.001+01:00

...this?

Birthday Eating

2011-09-16T00:39:00.000+01:00

Righty and Lefty's birthday menu becomes more and more elaborate, as years are added to their age and inches to their height. Last year we ate well. This year, even better.

They decided a few months ago, in that all-important "what will we have for our birthday tea?" conversation, that they wanted three kinds of curry. After much discussion, I helped them settle on a spicy red lentil dhal, milder chicken biryani, and chana sag -a chickpea and spinach curry.

We also ate a crunchy green salad made by Nanny, and followed up this enormous meal with a choice of Lefty's "birthday cake": apple and blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream, or Righty's: chocolate Guinness cake.

The "what would we like for our birthday presents?" talk never happened. I think they've mostly acquired birthday money, plus a game to share, new books, chocolate, and tea mugs. [complete with mug cosies!]

:: Supremily Jewellery :: an interview with Emily Jane Adam

2011-09-15T00:13:00.002+01:00

A few months ago, I posted about my dread beads. Covered in vivid yet tiny patterns and intricate designs, they're richly coloured and sturdily, delicately beautiful.

Today's post is an interview with their creator, Emily Jane Adam. I hope you find Emily's story an inspirational example of what can happen when you choose to leave the rat race behind for the road less travelled.

[Me] How did you begin the artistic journey that eventually led to the creation of your own business?
[Emily] I'd always wanted to have a go with fimo, having never used it as a child. I'd seen some examples of millefiori techniques in the past and had never quite understood it! My adventure began Christmas 2009 when my partner Ian bought me the tools I needed to start making beads after I had mentioned I was interested in having a go. I took naturally to sculpting and manipulating the clay having studied ceramics in A level Art at school and realised I was onto something special! My jewellery was receiving lots of positive comments and at the time I was unhappy in my job. I would spend time at work writing lists and planning how I was going to escape the rat race and start my own business. The jewellery became very therapeutic to make on an evening and I loved doing it so much - why not do it as a job? So, I handed my notice in with hardly any money in the bank and no business advice or loan and started selling at the local markets and to friends and family. And so it all began!

How long have you worked with polymer clay, and what drew you to it as a medium?
Two years in December. I loved working with sculptable materials when I was younger, and the vibrant palette and amazing techniques you can have with fimo are limitless.

What did you make first?

I had started making basic canes (patterns) and making them into earrings by slicing and attaching ear posts. I wore them, then my friends wore them!

Where do you find the inspiration for the colours and themes in your art?

I love making kaleidoscopes and flower images, techniques that I have enjoyed repeating to see how different each one can be. The colour themes just sort of come to me, nothing is pre-planned. I wouldn't say that there is an underlying theme in my art, I just sit and create whatever my hands decide to make!

Do you have a favourite time of the day/night to work?

I work whenever I'm feeling up to it. That's the beauty of working for yourself. If I sit at my work station, whatever time it may be, and don't feel its working I will get up and go to the park to hula hoop or potter around the house until I next feel inspired!

What are some designs you'd like to make that you haven't tried yet?

My next big venture will be a rainbow butterfly. I have such an affiliation with them! Other than that I want to work on some more statement necklaces with more sculpted shapes rather than intricate images. Watch this space!

What ideas do you have for the future, with regards to your business and creative aspirations?

I'd love to sell at more festivals next year, and at some point get a van and a stall of my own. As far as my art goes, I'd love to try making things other than jewellery, maybe covering odd bits of furniture and exhibiting them in galleries across the world! Haha, we'll see.

How do you drink your coffee? ;)

Milk, no sugar and STRONG! :)

Links: You can read Emily's blog here, or visit her Etsy shop to see more of her jewellery!

Ninth Birthday Interview with Lefty

2011-09-13T14:17:00.001+01:00

This is Lefty. He is the firstborn of our twins: often serious, yet capable of subtle humour; questioning; blunt; the man with a plan.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

A storm chaser

What’s that going to be like?

Fun

What are some of your favourite things?

Figures and Percy Jackson

Who are your best friends?

Mum, Dad, and lots more

What makes you happy?

Going to America

What makes you sad?

Getting hurt

When you dream at night, what do you dream about?

Percy Jackson

What do you like to do with Dad?

A lot of things: make music CDs, play chess

What do you like to do with Mum?

Learn history

What do you like to do with Righty?

Play Percy Jackson outside

What do you like to do with Mr J?

Ride bikes

What do you like to do with Coo?

Play dolls in the morning

What's your favourite thing to do on your own?

Play figures or read

What’s your favourite colour?

Blue

What’s your favourite book?

Percy Jackson and the Battle of the Labyrinth, by Rick Riordan

What do you enjoy learning about the most?

History

What's your favourite tea?

Enchiladas

What's your favourite cake or pudding?

Everything

What does Daddy do during the day?

Goes to work

What does Mummy do during the day?

Lots of work

What do you do during the day?

Learning and play

Ninth Birthday Interview with Righty

2011-09-13T12:58:00.003+01:00

[These birthday interviews were an idea from Lauren, who writes over at Sparkling Adventures]

This is Righty. He is our second-born son of thunder: a joke-loving, funny, thoughtful problem solver who loves to play the drums. One of Righty's greatest priorities in life is food, as you might guess after perusing the following set of questions.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

A storm chaser

What’s that going to be like?

Fun and exciting

What are a few of your favourite toys?

Knight figures

Who are your best friends?
Lefty, Mr J, Sol, Jacob, Coo

What makes you happy?

Thinking about being a storm chaser

What makes you sad?

Getting hurt

When you dream at night, what do you dream about?

Percy Jackson

What do you like to do with Dad?

Science stuff

What do you like to do with Mum?

Make pies

What do you like to do with Lefty?

Play Percy Jackson

What do you like to do with Mr J?

Play firemen

What do you like to do with Coo?

Play dolly party

What's your favourite thing to do on your own?

Play with figures

What’s your favourite colour?

Red or green

What’s your favourite book?

All of them

What’s your favourite breakfast?

Pancakes

What's your favourite tea?

Green salad with grated beets and carrots, green peppers, onions, boiled eggs, parmesan, and olive oil & vinegar dressing

What's your favourite cake or pudding?

Everything

What does Daddy do during the day?

Goes to work

What does Mummy do during the day?

Lots of stuff: cleans clothes, dishes, does cooking

What do you do during the day?

Play Percy Jackson

::Jane Eyre:: a film review

2011-09-12T00:16:00.004+01:00

To begin, you must understand that I am a lover of ancient, archaic English and Scottish literature. In case you didn't already know. Yep, I'm a geek. This review is written for those who love Jane Eyre and want to know how this latest screen adaptation matches up to the novel. If that's not you, much love... but prepare to be bored.

[This review does contain spoilers, none of which will be a surprise to you if you've read the book or already researched the movie!]

After watching this film in an open state of mind, I think I'm ready to conclude that it is a reasonably faithful, gentle adaptation of Charlotte Bronte's classic novel.

I re-read the book last week, and felt completely prepared to critique, sitting in the sparsely populated cinema Friday evening on opening night with Hannah, my friend and fellow book-lover.

Strangely, I was instantly struck by the stunning colour palette. Mossy greys, forest greens, earthy browns, a few rare glimpses of russet reds. Black shadows... deep and dark, pierced only by lonely candles or dim golden firelight. Truly evocative of an electricity-free 1840s England, this lighting [or lack of lighting] style has resulted in a drama that is more realistically shaded than than most period films.

Concerning the portrayal of the title character, I felt gratified by Mia Wasikowska's accurate interpretation of Jane's strength and inner courage. After being quite disappointed in Ruth Wilson's pretty but meek and mild performance in the TV miniseries of Jane Eyre from 2006, it was refreshing to watch Wasikowska capture Jane's self-possessed yet passionate personality brilliantly.

Michael Fassbender conveys Mr Rochester's rudeness and generally abrupt manner quite well, as described in the novel. He expresses a rather less fierce Rochester than the novel does, but this is in keeping with the movie's approach. There is a cold, austere dreamlike quality to the entire film, due to the restrained screenplay and understated filming style that imparts a softer feel to the plot and characters. Actors playing Mr Rochester usually have a field day with their character; he is often portrayed as incredibly loud and larger than life, completely dwarfing Jane in personality, wealth, humour, and looks. An appropriate amount of restraint in the interpretation of Mr Rochester, for this movie, is a welcome change from previous versions; after all, the novel is titled Jane Eyre - not Rochester!

Having so recently read the book, I instantly recognised much of the screenplay was impressively filled with direct quotes from Charlotte Bronte's novel. Many of the poetic, well-loved lines, such as "A mere reed she feels in my hand! I could bend her with my finger and thumb", and "Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless?" are in. Others, less congenial to the story this movie is telling, such as "Reader, I married him" are out. It's refreshing to see a film adaptation of a classic novel that doesn't feel the need to drastically change the language or the plot in order to make something watchable.

A few less positive elements have inevitably surfaced, as I've had more time to think through the movie.

The main difficulty with this version is the fast-paced feel to what is actually a very slow story. As with any film struggling to fit a many-layered, complex piece of literature into less than two hours of screen time [such as Pride and Prejudice , 2005], we are seriously missing a few scenes, and some narrative that defines key developments in the plot. In order to cram the story into the typical two hours, sacrifices have been made. A number of these sacrifices have naturally been detrimental to this adaptation.

All the scenes included are right, but more are needed to truly set the story. [Here's to hoping they will appear on DVD in an extended cut or deleted scenes!]

For instance, if I had not read the book, and still watched this, I think my questions would include:

1)Why does Jane fall in love with Rochester in the first place? The movie veers quite close to a rather strange interpretation of this. It would be possible to believe that Jane is merely a lonely, persuadable schoolgirl and Rochester is using her as an escape from his tarnished past, in an attempt to return to a more innocent time in his life when his memory was "without blot or contamination". However, in the novel we clearly understand her feelings for Rochester arise out of a sense of an intellectual connection: a meeting of the minds.

2)Was Rochester's wife Bertha really mad, or did he just shut her up because he felt like it? Seriously! If I had never read the book, I would question her madness after watching this version. We see her for all of three minutes -rather calm ones, at that- and the blood-chilling dream-to-reality scene in which she rips Jane's wedding veil in two makes no appearance in this adaptation.

To finish on a positive note, I love the way the film begins in the last third of the book and then plays catch-up for the remainder of the movie. It is very well executed, and works perfectly. Someone who hasn't read the novel might disagree with me on that, but I thought it was an effective and unique method of visually interpreting the book! Also, the abrupt ending pleased me. I often feel, while reading the final few pages of Jane Eyre, that Bronte is rushing to provide a satisfactory postscript to the story of every single character in the plot, just as many traditional movies love to do. Sometimes less is more; and this film's pared-down contrast was superbly done.

Have you watched this adaptation of "Jane Eyre"? Do you consider another screen version of this classic story to be your personal favourite? If so, tell me about it! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Words for Today

2011-09-11T12:46:00.045+01:00

Try to praise the mutilated world.

Remember June's long days, and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.

The nettles that methodically overgrow the abandoned homesteads of exiles.

You must praise the mutilated world.

You watched the stylish yachts and ships; one of them had a long trip ahead of it,

while salty oblivion awaited others.

You've seen the refugees heading nowhere, you've heard the executioners sing joyfully.

You should praise the mutilated world.

Remember the moments when we were together in a white room and the curtain fluttered.

Return in thought to the concert where music flared.

You gathered acorns in the park in autumn and leaves eddied over the earth's scars.

Praise the mutilated world

and the gray feather a thrush lost,

and the gentle light that strays and vanishes

and returns.

-Adam Zagajewski

(trans from the original Polish by Clare Cavanaugh)

printed in The New Yorker, September 24, 2001

"Say to those that hate and curse you, 'You are our brothers!'"

-Theophilus of Antioch, second-century bishop

In God the LORD, whose word I praise: in God I trust and will not be afraid.

Remembering 2001

2011-09-08T00:14:00.002+01:00

This September air is clear, fresh, and infused with a welcome autumnal chill after a hot and humid Indiana summer. The sky is brilliant, deepest blue. My 1972 VW Beetle purrs along, skimming over the curvy road through the countryside into town. Instinctively, I know it's time to stop at the gas station, even though I have no fuel indicator in this ancient but faithful little red car.

After filling up the tiny tank, I go inside to pay.

Normally, this early in the day, I have nothing to say to the girl at the till and she has nothing to say to me, beyond "hi".

So I'm startled out of my silent appreciation of the beauty of this morning when she breaks the stillness.

"Have you heard the news yet?" She replies to my nod in the negative with a simple statement. "A plane flew into one of the World Trade Center towers in New York. They think it's a terrorist attack."

Back in the car, I puzzle over her words, but don't take them extremely seriously. Exaggeration characterises the passing on of news in this town.

I arrive at work, and the import of the truth of the girl's words slowly sinks in. With my fellow employees, I begin the day's tasks in unusual quietness, as a constant stream of information from the radio punctuates our movements. After a while, most of us cease our pretence of working and stand near the radio, as the events in New York, and then Washington DC and Pennsylvania play out in our hearing. Others get online. There are phone calls, and news from the outside trickles in from arriving patrons. Rumours are voiced: of employees being sent home from the local naval surface warfare and munitions plant, of more missing planes.

In the midst of all of this we continue our awkward attempts at maintaining the usual, as if in the performance of our normal tasks, we will find some sort of solace from this awful day.

But there is no solace. None as we listen to the panicked voices on the radio as they agonise over the collapse of the towers. None as we stand in stunned silence, comprehending the impact of the instant death of thousands. None as we contemplate the future.

And the postscript to that day?

War. Of course.

Somehow, we still have not learned how to follow Jesus so fully that we are capable of turning the other cheek to our enemies.

"You, my church, told me it was wrong to kill... except in war.

You, my teachers, told me it was wrong to kill... except in war.

You, my father and mother, told me it was wrong to kill... except in war.

You, my friends, told me it was wrong to kill... except in war.

You, my government, told me it was wrong to kill... except in war.

But now I know, you were wrong, and now I will tell you,

my church, my teachers, my father and mother, my friends, my government,

it is not wrong to kill except in war...

It is wrong to kill."

-US army veteran George Mizo

"Nevertheless, to you who are listening, what I say is this: 'Love your enemies! Do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.'"

-Jesus [from Luke 6.27-28]

Sixth Birthday Interview with Mr J

2011-08-27T13:28:00.000+01:00

Recently I've been inspired by an idea from Lauren, over at Sparkling Adventures. She asks her girls the same series of questions on their birthdays and records their answers in yearly "birthday interview" posts for each child.

I decided to put together a set of similar questions for our family's own birthday interviews, and as Mr J's special day happened just two weeks ago, he was my first interviewee.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

A stormchaser

What’s that going to be like?

Chasing tornadoes

What are your favourite toys?

My spaceman [tiny figure he's had since he was 2]

Who are your best friends?

Eli, Righty and Lefty, Hannah Segelov, Hannah Stone

What makes you happy?

Yellow

What makes you sad?

When I don’t get things I want

When you dream at night, what do you dream about?

Dinosaurs

What do you like to do with Daddy?

Wrestle

What do you like to do with Mummy?

This

What do you like to do with Lefty and Righty?

Play chess with them

What do you like to do with Coo?

Play keys with her

What’s that?

You have to run around unlocking doors and locking them with real keys

What’s your favourite colour?

Yellow

What’s your favourite book?

Mr Tickle [from Mr Men series] and Harold and the Purple Crayon

What’s your favourite animal?

A dog

What do you like best to draw?

Everything

What does Daddy do during the day?

Work

What does Mummy do during the day?

I don’t know [Oh dear!]

What do you do during the day?

Play

Catching Up... Sort of!

2011-08-26T14:01:00.000+01:00

No, I'm not suffering from writer's block; I've just had no time to blog!

We've been taking trips to the park, de-cluttering, going to the library, reading, enjoying visits to and from friends, tidying the garden, preparing to say September goodbyes to a few people who've been part of our community, de-cluttering, enjoying sporadic sunshine, trudging through puddles and bursts of rain, visiting the science museum, planning future science museum trips, de-cluttering, having multiple passport photos taken [Aack! Forgot how expensive those were!], studying for a UK citizenship test, and squeezing a few moments out of the day for knitting and personal reading.

A few highlights of our days out, de-cluttering, and other fun stuff...

:: Pancakes for Findus :: a book review

2011-08-16T23:49:00.004+01:00

Mr J was reading Pancakes for Findus, by Sven Nordqvist, when he suddenly noticed the recipe at the end of the book. He bubbled over with excitement. "Let's make our own pancakes, just like Pettson does for Findus!"

This book has slightly comical illustrations and an engaging text [translated into English from the original Swedish], and I find it just as fun to read as the kids do. The plot centres around Pettson, an eccentric farmer, and his intelligent cat Findus. The farmer attempts to create his usual pancake masterpiece to celebrate Findus' birthday, but his plans are upset when he fails to find his flour. The resulting chaos takes up most of the book, making us laugh and anticipate the end result so much more. When the pancakes are finally revealed in all their stacked glory, we breathe a sigh of relief, and feel hungry for pancakes.

So this afternoon I found myself with two eager helpers, each vying for the best area in which to stand while mixing up the pancake batter. Later, I slowly cooked the pancakes, standing over a very hot stove for what seemed like an age. These were Swedish/English style crepes, not raised American pancakes.

For Pettson's special pancake recipe to be complete, they had to be layered with maple syrup laced [our own addition!] double cream and strawberry jam. Raw chocolate buttons adorned the top.

We cut the resulting stacked pancake circle into generous pieces. Delicious!

Mr J now wants this as his next birthday cake. That's only 361 days away, so he will probably change his mind a thousand times until then, and end up with his requisite banana cake.

Another Birthday

2011-08-12T22:07:00.000+01:00

His birth stands out so clearly in my memory. It was a sunny, summery evening; sounds made by children playing on the street drifted in through the open window. So unlike today's muffled, grey August mugginess.

Mr J, myself, and our other miniature human, Coo, strolled into town today for a trip to our local art gallery. We spent less time playing in the children's room and looking at exhibits than we did gazing out the windows on the top floor of the gallery. We stared out over the town far below us, a jumble of old and new buildings with tiny people busily hurrying from place to place. Mr J began talking about Doggieland, his imaginary place, telling me fascinating stories about Perdita, Chippy, and Fly. Toy dogs to me... yet alive and real to him.

We enjoyed a hot drink together.

On our walk home, we watched the fire juggler.

We travelled on a Thomas train.

We took a photo of ourselves while saying hello to the concrete hippo in the town square.

And the water fountain, which is always dry!

Then we arrived home to a clean house thanks to the Daddy and The Boys.

Special days out don't have to cost a lot. When you're turning six, £2 will do: one pound to drop in the fire juggler's hat and another for three rides on the Thomas train.

Birthday cake, of course, is free.

One of Mr J's gifts was a real magnifying glass!

What's on the table?

2011-08-11T22:30:00.000+01:00

Our meals have been light over the last few weeks. We've eaten summer food... salads of every kind, toast and scrambled eggs, chilled melon and blueberries, and on Monday, plum and apple crumble with ice cream. Mmmm! [Crumble recipe is on the recipe page... somewhere.]

Other baking this week included a very special banana cake. Mr J has earned the distinction of being the first person in the family [besides the mama!] to have a hand in making his own birthday cake!

:: Right Now :: what to say?

2011-08-09T23:45:00.002+01:00

As most of you probably know, civil unrest has broken out in English cities over the last few days.

Since some of you have been asking, we're fine. It's not quite as dramatic or all-consuming as portrayed by the news media. And it's not all bad. Many communities are coming together to assist one another in clean-up operations.

We were in our local town centre today. Apart from a very visible police presence, there were few signs of anything out of the ordinary. The gangs of young people hanging out, wandering around, was not unusual, though their numbers were higher than normal and they seemed more focused and less aimless than usual. Mobile phone and jewellery shops had shut early as a precautionary measure.

Rumours were rife. We sat quietly in Starbucks, enjoying late afternoon sunshine, and Dan received a text from a friend that blared in capital letters: STAY AWAY FROM TOWN CENTRE! FULL OF POLICE VANS AND RIOTERS!!!

Hmmm. Really?

I sat down tonight and watched news clips online, and read a few articles. It's interesting. There are intense arguments going on between random people in Maryland and California [amazingly well-informed about British youth, somehow!] over the deep, real reasons for these riots. Many believe racial tensions are to blame, while others cite the inability of "young people" to retain jobs. They point out that many of the looters claim to be "stealing from the rich to redistribute the wealth". Or that the rioters are motivated by "rising taxes".

Hmmm. Really?

The first released CCTV images show rioters and looters to be white, black and anywhere in between. One of the youngest rioters arrested [so far] is eleven years old. A brief five seconds from a news clip that burned itself into my memory is of a shopkeeper sobbing as she tried to comprehend the mindless ransacking of her tiny corner shop. Rich? Really? If they were truly out to punish the rich, they could have at least looted Oxford Street! As for revolting against rising taxes, many of these young people have never been fortunate enough to hold down jobs and pay those high taxes.

There's no pure-minded revolution going on here. It's nothing more than a bit of fun, as evidenced by one Hackney [London] rioter who apparently called out, "Come join the fun!" as he raced along a street where cars and shops were being torched.

I don't like their idea of fun. When I was that age, "fun" meant a brand-new book to read. It still does. I know. I'm a geek.

Quite tellingly, amidst streets of looted shops, the ignored and untouched ones were the bookshops.

A Word Aptly Spoken...

2011-08-04T23:37:00.000+01:00

... is like apples of gold in settings of silver. So says Proverbs. Mr J seems to be rather gifted at speaking "apt words". The following story is a very literal illustration of that.

I was clattering around in our kitchen this morning, drinking a cup of iced coffee [from a pot made yesterday - stored it in a jar in the fridge for today! Yummy!], while waiting to remove the first batch of finished cookies from the oven.

Mr J strode in through the open door, still clad in his blue pyjama shorts and a striped vest top. His eyes took in the baking ingredients scattered around and our huge stoneware mixing bowl filled with dough. He opened his mouth and announced loudly...

"Mmmm. I smell lovely cookies. And I smell lovely Mummy!"

Needless to say, he was the first to score a taste of freshly baked cookies.

Bargains

2011-08-04T15:52:00.001+01:00

August is sale month, both online and in reality. It's time to think about purchasing some of those items I've kept an eye on for months, and in some cases, years.

We don't buy often, so when we do, we choose good-quality items that will last for a while. Yeah, we're not very style-conscious, but that's us; take it or leave it!

Our Howies order arrived yesterday... a shirt for Dan, leggings and skirt for me. All were sale items, at incredibly reasonable prices given their original cost. The skirt I've liked ever since it first appeared in their clothing line-up about two years ago. However, I was definitely not prepared -or able- to pay full price. If you click on the link you'll see the difference.

After I'd opened the package and had a look at our purchases, my next thought was that I needed to get online and leave feedback.

Ah well. Etsy and eBay... what can I say?! Recent random Etsy purchases include flower seeds and a laptop case. Meanwhile, I've been relying on eBay for knitting supplies and new lip balms, after Coo ate all my Burts Bees!

Blueberries

2011-08-03T15:25:00.002+01:00

We went blueberry picking on Sunday with J and Q, soon-to-be faraway friends who are like family. I'm so thankful for the opportunity to make some treasured memories with them.

Lefty and Righty did their fair share of berry collecting, and Mr J also picked a substantial amount for an almost-six-year-old.

Coo kept dipping her hands into our baskets to munch on our berries. She would pick a handful of her own; then, as if those lonely berries rolling round in her basket were calling her name, scoop them out hastily and cram them into her mouth. She was our own little Sal.

I have no photos of the blueberry coffeecake whipped up later that afternoon as we ate it far too quickly!

Simplicity

2011-08-02T23:34:00.001+01:00

Dan and I are currently re-reading The Irresistible Revolution, by Shane Claibourne.

"When we talk of materialism and simplicity, we must always begin with love for God and neighbour, otherwise we're operating out of little more than legalistic, guilt-ridden self-righteousness. Our simplicity is not an ascetic denunciation of material things to attain personal piety, for if we sell all that we have and give to the poor, but have not love, it is meaningless [1 Cor 13.3]... Rather than being bound up by how much stuff we need to buy, we can [also] get enslaved to how simply we must live. Simplicity is meaningful only inasmuch as it is grounded in love, authentic relationships, and interdependence." [from Chapter 6]

In the midst of our 30 Day Clutter Bootcamp de-cluttering adventure and intention to simplify what we own into a more manageable mess, the reminder in these words was very clear to me, as Dan read them aloud tonight. It's not about our stuff, how much or how little of it we have. We are simplifying so we can be more easily focused on our relationships with God, our children, and the people around us.

Kenilworth

2011-07-31T22:00:00.002+01:00

I read Kenilworth, by Sir Walter Scott, when I was fifteen. A typically wordy Sir Walter novel, it weaves real historical events surrounding the reign of Queen Elizabeth I into Romantic-era narrative loosely based on those events. I really can't believe I've lived forty-five minutes away from Kenilworth Castle for the last eleven years and never visited.

Until Saturday. It's one of the loveliest, cleanest ruins I've ever seen. Sadly, it was "slighted" -made indefensible- after the English Civil War, so all buildings but the Elizabethan gatehouse are crumbling shells.

The kids had a great time. They were only told off thrice. Twice by members of staff, for 1) attempting to scale the ruin of a wall and 2) attempting to scale an apple tree. The third reprimand came from a rather uptight member of the public who nearly had a purple-faced fit when Righty, on the spur of the moment in true boy fashion, picked an apple from that same tree and experimentally threw it. I quietly and calmly explained to Righty his error while said person huffed away in indignation, saying; "That's not how one behaves in public!"

Fortunately this person did not put in another appearance, and all four children ended up having a jolly good afternoon.

It was a beautifully sunny day and I ended up with some wonderful photos.

Coo and her buddy, Alice

Intrepid elderly sunbathers... is this how one behaves in public?

Mr J, in front of the gatehouse

Coo decided to climb the hill all by herself

Righty, Lefty, Mr J

They reached the top! [So did she eventually, with Daddy's assistance]

:: Supremily Jewellery ::

2011-07-30T22:23:00.000+01:00

Adorning my dreadlocks are thirteen beads, all but three made by Emily Jane Adam. Emily is a polymer clay artist based in the north of England. Her artistic business endeavour is Supremily Jewellery. She has also recently begun blogging. Besides dread beads, she makes bracelets, brooches, rings, necklaces, earrings, and gauged earrings. Visit her blog and Etsy shop to see more of these candy-coloured pretty things!

Real Life

2011-07-29T15:33:00.000+01:00

So you think I'm living in a spotlessly organised home because I sometimes come up with revamped clothing ideas, make my meals from scratch, sew, knit, and homeschool?

You don't? Oh, well.

Here are a few photos, anyway, to prove you are correct in your assumptions. Most of the creativity that emerges from our home takes place in these two rooms.

Pocket-sized, tidily messy kitchen...

I'm so thankful the photo below only shows the outside of the fridge, as the amount of grime present inside is positively frightening. Just waiting for the moment when our Safety First consultant suddenly clocks all the hazards in there!

Below is the dining room. I'm standing on a chair in the far corner near the back door taking these photos. That illustrious bookshelf contains many of our learning materials, but is one of four bookshelves in the house. I'm still hoping to eliminate one or more of these with the help of 30 Days of Clutter Bootcamp. Not this one, though!

Pictured above is our table. Pencil gouges [mostly non-accidental] pock the surface, and it's a tight fit for six -or seven or eight, depending on who's joining us- around the table for tea when it's pulled into the middle of the room. However, it's just right for four people to sit comfortably for studying, writing, and art projects. Directly across the room from that shelf is the door into the back garden. These rooms are so full of light, even on grey days. Our garden is bordered by friendly neighbours at the sides and a high fence at the back with trees growing on top of a retaining wall behind it, giving us a pastoral view right in the middle of the city. I love our location and wouldn't trade it for another local house twice the size of our own, in a better neighbourhood, with no view!

Any machine sewing takes place downstairs at the table, but I store my sewing machine in our bedroom. Fabrics, wool, crafting necessities, and some art supplies are in our bedroom wardrobe on a shelf above the hanging clothes. This photo also showcases a little space I call my own...

My own mess, that is. The black and white box is full of scrap-booking materials, the stack on the right side of the dresser is an amalgamation of photos and frames waiting for attention, the two shiny bags at the back are ageing birthday and Christmas cards that might someday be sorted. The remaining detritus is generally composed of hairpins, lost and found buttons, bits of ribbon and coloured paper from various hastily completed handmade cards, items waiting to be mended, and Coo's consistently rejected hair decorations.

Someday maybe I will write about minimisation and how we've squeezed the life of a large family and community into a small home. Now is not the time for that.

This blog is my sane space. Here I can retreat and make orderly sense of the havoc of my days. For a person like me who communicates so much more concisely through writing, this is a life-saver. Some people appreciate being able to vent, ringing up a friend on the phone to verbalise the insanity of a disorganised day. I've practised something similar in times gone by, and found it wasn't healthy for me. I personally find it more helpful to sit down and write about the things that were organised and the people, events, and creative moments for which I'm thankful. Maintaining a thankful attitude in a prevailingly cynical culture is not one of my strong points, but this is something that I am working hard to change.

I'm hoping that someday I will be able to adequately express our havoc, too, in a positive way. Because it's real, wild, and often funny.

For now I just need an uncluttered space in which to breathe and remember who I am. This blog is that space. Please read and enjoy... but know that my real life -my everyday- is just as crazy as yours.

Slow Days

2011-07-28T22:29:00.002+01:00

Er no, not really. We've had a crazy few weeks. But I'm intent on slowing down a bit now, at least for the next month. Long-planned obligations are out of the way and my time feels slightly more free.

So what's next?

We are steadily continuing our 30 Days of Clutter Bootcamp, currently floating somewhere around Day 4. Dan and I work together on this one, and find ourselves making space for de-cluttering time about once a week. Our last venture was my junk drawer. It looks incredible. I will try to start taking some before and after photos as evidence.

I'm knitting away, too... nothing but dishcloths, all knitted in beautifully soft 50% bamboo, 50% cotton.

Finally, planning the purchase of a big stainless steel pot for soap-making. I already own a stainless steel pot, called Kevin, but we can't use him for soap-making! He's strictly for food only.

So yes, I'm thinking August will be soap month. I've had all the ingredients sitting around since last November! Time to conquer my ever-so-slight fear of using sodium hydroxide and get to work.

I'll let you know how it goes. Possibly with some photos, as my camera has now returned to the land of the living, alive and well!

Books, Again

2011-07-21T23:45:00.000+01:00

This year, we're ordering our new learning books on time. We will not receive them in the middle of September as usual, but at the end of August. Hooray for the Mama becoming more organised!

[geek alert] I will read Story of the World Volume 3 all by myself before September because I love history.

Thinking about this year, the most daunting prospect has been to figure out how to accrue enough books for our older ones to read. In the last twelve months, Lefty read heavyweights like the Lord of the Rings trilogy and still ended up ploughing through a total of fourteen books. Righty managed twelve, and that's not even counting all the incessant Beano reading, and the more recent Calvin and Hobbes.

The desire to stop acquiring new stuff is bringing about a big change in our lives. As self-confessed book hoarders, we have miraculously managed to set aside around twenty books for giving away. However, our local library is not up to the challenge of providing even basic quality literature for children. King Tut and His Golden Toilet?! Uh, no thanks. So yet again, I am enticed onto Amazon -yes, I know they killed off all the small-time book shops but I've never had the privilege of one of those nearby anyway, sadly- and end up buying more books.

And once a book is in our home, it becomes our beloved friend. We hold it, enjoy the scent of new pages, follow the words, and love it.

Ridding ourselves of our friend after reading it seems almost morally wrong. So onto the shelf slides yet another book to add to our collection.

Suddenly, it seems like a viable option to encourage the kids to save pocket money for their very own Kindle. Yes, I really did say that!

Treats

2011-07-15T22:30:00.000+01:00

Vinegary lavender smell of freshly cleaned downstairs bathroom. Not thinking about the upstairs one just yet!
Sixty CDs boxed up waiting to be given away, in these first few days of our 30 Days of Clutter Bootcamp endeavour. This was half of what we previously owned. Books and music - that's about the sum of most of our possessions. Fortunately, this is set to change!
Noticing raw chocolate buttons in the "new products" section of my co-op book. Typing them into my order. Mmmm... can't wait! [why raw chocolate?]
Finishing said order in time for the weekend, which is [surprise!] going to be busy.
Brand-new cotton and bamboo blend yarn in moss green, damson purple, and golden yellow. Knitting dishcloths, which is rather mundane, I know, but I cannot wait to start, especially with such beautiful colours and silky yarn.
Fighting off a cold, which is not a treat. Drinking a glassful of antioxidant rich, fresh purple juice right before bed is! This was beetroot, red cabbage, cucumber, carrot, and apple, with a handful of blended blueberries added.
Looking forward to the prospect of spending half of tomorrow with no other kids but my Coo, on a girls afternoon out.
Going to bed before 11pm!

Two Things

2011-07-11T23:55:00.003+01:00

First thing. We've just returned from listening to Rue Royale make some music for a polite, quiet crowd at the Yardbird again. I know, I know, I always go on about them... but they deserve it. They're good!

Second thing. I've hinted at the possibility of drastic stuff-reduction measures looming on the horizon, but so far we've done nothing more radical than a few small clear-outs of clothes and toys. To be honest, we don't have a huge amount of possessions; we're just feeling the need to reduce the amount of things we do have to the minimum. So... we're on Day 2 of our massive de-cluttering binge, with the help of a book entitled 30 Day Clutter Bootcamp. Take it from this speed-reader; I've given the entire book a quick once over and it's amazing! I am the type of person who loves to read instructions for everything. 30 Day Clutter Bootcamp gives me exactly what I want with minimal fuss and no complications. Each day has it's own specific set of items to focus on: music, books, photographs, etc. All clearing-out sessions are timed to avoid burnout, and there are many useful tips to employ along the way.

There was probably a third thing. But it's really late, and I've forgotten it. Tomorrow promises to be a very long day, as usual, and I need to stop all this thinking.

I'll leave you with some Rue Royale. Can't resist!

Amsterdam Acoustics - Rue Royale : Blame from AMSTERDAMACOUSTICS on Vimeo.

Image Adjustments

2011-07-08T13:01:00.001+01:00

So Little Miss Coo has recently birthdayed and shown off her new sling. What of the boys?

It was haircuts all round last week thanks to our very patient friend and neighbour, Beckie. Mr J opted for "not long and not short", which ended up looking like this, as seen yesterday with [or without?] the latest: first lost tooth!

Righty opined he could not cut his hair. He has to be able to do this [shows me what he means by violent head-banging motion] to the music. However, laid-back son Righty has already nonchalantly chopped off a few curls in the front, "because I was trying to kick the ball into the goal and they were in my eyes". This necessitated a proper evening-out of the hair in front, and an all over trim. We decided the best way to rock this look was to begin to train it to part in the middle, in preparation for the day when the shorn front will match the longer sides. I cannot decide whether he looks more as if he's on his way to Wimbledon...

...or Woodstock?

Lefty, also known as the family's own Safety First consultant, went for the [safe] choice: short. Layers of richly shaded auburn curls fell to the floor, and a very grown-up nearly nine-year-old emerged.

It's nice, this different hairstyle thing. I don't have to rely on clothing to tell them apart from a distance, and all our friends who still struggle to distinguish between them can definitely do so now. I wonder if The Boys will notice that people are referring to them by name instantly instead of waiting to guess/ask/figure out who they are. Perhaps this will encourage them to take other steps to be more visibly different from each other.

And Coo? How could we possibly be tired of seeing photographs of her? Here she is again in the event that you'd forgotten how perfectly lovely she is. Photographed sitting beside "Red Stick", the cringeworthy, sadly stereotyped Native American character in the 1950's Disney flick, "Davy Crockett".

Old and New

2011-07-04T20:30:00.000+01:00

The Old is from Freedom Slings. I loved this one and so did she. I even embroidered her name inside it.

Below, Tiny Coo in July 2009. Her face is right behind my hand! [I don't know why we're posing out in the woods here like creepy tourists, honestly.]

And here she is in December 2010, slightly larger but still in the same sling.

As much as we -both she and I- love the Old, it was time for the New. Miss Coo is getting heavier, and I couldn't find a comfortable way to use the Old in the back carry position.

So after quite a lot of research and consulting with other mamas, I settled on the New: a Babyhawk Mei Tai. I love it. It's perfectly shaped for carrying her on my back, and the fabric is beautiful. It's still light enough to wrap into a small bundle and slip into my bag for quick and easy use while we're out.

However, she is not amused. I give her a choice of the two before we go out, and she picks the Old every time.

What's a mama to do?

Keep trying!

So I did.

She came around eventually.

She still likes the Old but more often, now, we will be seen with the New!

:: Hello Baby :: a book review

2011-06-30T23:30:00.006+01:00

Hello Baby

by Jenni Overend
[also published as Welcome With Love]

Rarely do you find a children's book as perfect as this. The illustrations are realistic and yet still storybook-like, the narrative is simple yet complete. The plot centres around a mother giving birth surrounded by her family at home.

Her small son Jack narrates clearly and from a child's perspective. "Mum's got pains in her tummy and that means her baby is ready to be born."

His mother goes for a walk in the wild wind to "help the baby along". He observes, "I think if I was a baby listening to that wind, I'd want to stay inside Mum, floating in the warm water."

The midwife, Anna, arrives, as does Mum's sister, Auntie Meg. "She has a pot of soup and a bunch of yellow and orange poppies."

The constant theme reiterated throughout the book is that birth is normal. There is no panic, no freaking out, even when the mother's labour progresses. Jack's mum has already explained to him that she'll feel better if she yells and screams. At one point, Jack answers the ringing phone while his mother is yelling. "I yell, 'Mum's having a baby!' as loudly as I can, and I feel much better. The person hangs up. I would too, if I heard that noise on the other end of the phone." Yep. That's as intense as it gets.

My favourite part arrived at the end, when the entire family are having a camp-out in the living room after the baby's birth. Jack can see the baby sleeping between his parents, which is where he wants to be. "I sneak out of my bed and hop in next to Dad. It's warm. He cuddles me in. I bet the baby's warm too."

Think there's going to be any jealousy issues between Jack and his new brother? Not with parents as wise and loving as that.

I bought Hello Baby on the strength of the amazing reviews it was receiving on Amazon, but was surprised by how much it lived up to them! All four children enjoyed this story from the time we first read it aloud. Coo, particularly, fell in love with it and carried it around as her "book of the day".

It's worthwhile to note that some readers might find elements of this book unappealing, due to its realistic portrayal of a mother's labour and natural delivery. The baby's birth is shown [not graphic but it's obvious where the baby's coming from!]

Also, I noticed that a few Amazon reviewers [.com not .co.uk] criticised the story's apparent location at a cabin in the woods as being too different and idyllically removed from the real world. However, the author is from a remote part of Australia, where a home birth scenario like this would be more commonplace.

Sometimes different is nice.

And maybe someday, different will be accepted as normal. I certainly hope so!

Short and Sweet [again!]

2011-06-30T13:13:00.002+01:00

I am still here. Writing time has not been plentiful this week.

I will be back as soon as I can make some time.

Just so you know that I'm still in existence, here I am, doing one of the many things I do that add up to eat away the moments.

Finished

2011-06-23T23:00:00.002+01:00

These photos aren't great, but here she is. I haven't named her. We'll leave that to Coo. She has no hair [yet] but I crocheted a crimson beanie to keep her warm for now.

Modelling her flannel shorts and top underwear/pajamas set.

Vibrant and beautiful dress. I started out with the intention of using Mexican influences for this dress, but clearly somehow managed to end up in Africa! Is that a queenly posture or what?

So onwards now to the birthday. I hope to be posting a Coo birth story at some point this weekend!

A few people have asked, so here's the link to the website where I purchased the doll materials.

Birthday Preparations

2011-06-21T23:35:00.003+01:00

Or, what I've been up to in my not-so-spare time.

I've created oversized, simple rag dolls with crazy heads of yarn hair and dungarees made over from daddy's old jeans for each of our boys. This doll, for the Tiny Feminine Person, has marked my foray into slightly more complicated doll territory. I'm enjoying every minute of its creation... even though the hours until the Birthday are quickly ticking down. She is two on Friday. Where have these last twenty-four months gone?

:: Jane Eyre :: a book review

2011-06-18T10:51:00.002+01:00

It's alright. Go ahead and conclude that I'm a completely crazy woman for even attempting to review a classic like this. Why am I doing it? Well, after my recent ninth -or is it tenth or eleventh?- reading, I decided it was time to put my lazy brain into gear and analyse this famous piece of nineteenth-century fiction.

My first foray into Jane Eyre's world occurred when I was fourteen. [geek alert!] It was summer, and I was desperate for new reading material. I loved to read, especially older literature. Books were the only items that ever appeared on my wish lists. I had grown out of all the books on my bookshelf -well, actually it's probably more accurate to say I'd read them so many times I had entire passages memorised. Little Women? Read eight times, maybe more. Any of Louisa May Alcott's books for that matter. I had finished my perusal of the entire Nancy Drew classic collection -all volumes written up until the 1970s. I'd just read Ivanhoe through twice. I had gone through every single story Conan Doyle had ever written about Sherlock Holmes. A Tale of Two Cities and Great Expectations had been finished a few years before. There seemed to be nothing left. Nothing... until I started poking around among some incredibly dusty volumes I found on the top shelf of one of our family's many bookshelves. I selected one, settled myself on a sofa in the midst of our noisy, busy home and sank into another world.

It was not a world I was immediately drawn to. The grey suffering of Jane's childhood was distant and boring to me. I read quickly, as usual, trying to figure out the plot early on. It was impossible. This was like no other book I'd read. Just when I thought I'd guessed everything, another twist would throw me off, and I'd find myself back at the beginning.

This was no cutesy Ned and Nancy, Little Women-esque romance. The developing relationship between Jane and Mr Rochester was a surprise to me, one I hesitantly warmed up to. The idea of intelligent, eighteen-year-old Jane in love with a grumpy man in his late thirties seemed strange and unpalatable. When it all unravelled, I felt relief at her escape from his clutches. As the story continued, I couldn't believe that she was still in love with him. And she did not fall for the golden boy, who, in my infinite fourteen-year-old wisdom, I considered to be the much better catch.

I finished the book feeling somewhat disappointed, and yet intrigued. I had this sense -just a slight suspicion- that I hadn't quite understood the story. This feeling began to gnaw away at me. Anyone who knows me knows I can't stand to get it wrong. I have to erase, revise, re-do, and re-write until I think it's right.

So I started the book all over again. After a second reading, Jane Eyre shifted, in my eyes, into a better light. Meaning, it moved to my annual re-reading list. Why? Well... As Jane's positive character qualities became more obvious, I began to identify with her even more than I had with dramatic, writing Jo from Little Women. I saw myself in Jane, as countless girls have done before and since, and wanted to be like her.

Jane Eyre

by Charlotte Bronte

Friendless and forsaken by her only remaining family, Jane Eyre, an orphan, is sent to a severe boarding school at the age of ten. She emerges from her time there shaped by her early experiences: fragile and small due to malnutrition yet strong in mind and spirit. How strong? Her entire story is a carefully calculated measure of her strength.

She advertises as a governess and procures a position for herself in the home of a wealthy man, Mr Rochester. Her charge, a young girl named Adele, is his ward. She withstands endless dull days in an isolated country residence with only a housekeeper, servants, and Adele to keep her company. She meets Mr Rochester upon his return home and gradually, slowly, begins to spend time with him. He seems to appreciate her friendship, and a closeness develops between them.

Suddenly, the story shifts -what we thought was happening is not happening at all. A group of Mr Rochester's well-connected friends descend on his house in an extended visit. We begin to believe that Jane's increasing attachment to Rochester is futile; he seems to prefer one of his visitors, a wealthy, proud, beautiful woman. Jane once again is friendless. She fortifies herself against her feelings for Rochester and goes to spend a month in the home of her aunt, the guardian who forsook her as a child.

Upon her return, the plot does an about face, throwing us off course completely. Jane and Mr Rochester appear to be sailing off into a happily-ever-after ending. Just when we wonder what on earth the remaining one-third of the book is going to be taken up with, another cosmic shift takes place. This time, it has devastating consequences, leaving Jane in a heartrending position. But her incredibly steely inner and moral strength surfaces yet again, and she refuses to be bound by the wishes of anyone, Mr Rochester included, and strikes out on her own.

I'll stop there. I'm aware that this has been a plot-spoiling review for those of you who have never read it. But with books like Jane Eyre, it's practically impossible to give a general overview in a way that makes the story sound appealing to those who aren't ~~geeks~~ lovers of old literature without revealing a bit more than usual.

What eighteen-year-old girl doesn't need to read about moral courage? What young reader doesn't benefit from a sharper understanding of the serious results of immature, foolish choices? There is so much life wisdom contained within these old-fashioned pages; this 164-year-old story still resonates with its newest readers.

There are wonderfully written scenes displaying Jane's sharp mental acuity as she and Rochester converse as intellectual equals, but do not assume you are about to read another Pride and Prejudice. There's really no comparison possible. Jane Austen was a writer with a gift for detailing social attitudes through wit and clever observation. Charlotte Bronte's novel digs around in the darker depths of the social condition. Full of psychological complexities and possessing as many layers as an onion, it makes for a compelling re-read every time.

If you managed to make it through this review, you should have no problem completing the book. Go for it!

Sons of Thunder

2011-06-16T16:09:00.003+01:00

"Do you have any history of twins in your family?"

Yes, that really is the question they asked me as I was having my first ultrasound scan during my first pregnancy!

There are so many things I can think of now as a response to this loaded question. Something informative? "The only way twins can be genetic is through the mother. Some women have a pre-determined genetic tendency to release two eggs during ovulation resulting in fraternal [non-identical] twins." Or something rude? "If I did, what's it to you?" And last but not least: "So what are you trying to tell me?"

But I didn't say anything, not that I can remember. What they were trying to tell me, and eventually did, was that they were seeing two babies.

I don't recall thinking very much at the time beyond wow. As you do, when you're just 22, married for five months, and still growing accustomed to your adopted country of two years. I was excited about becoming a mother even though it wasn't quite happening in the way I'd imagined. I'd had this basic idea of walking around with one baby in a sling, an idea that soon began to slip away as I grasped the enormity of the situation. Our tiny two bedroomed flat with its closet-sized rooms seemed to fit with the imaginings of parenting one baby. However, two? My intention of having a home birth also faded away. I was informed that under no circumstances would I be allowed to birth at home, as I was considered high risk.

Even writing that now sets my teeth on edge with irritation. I swallowed everything I was told, soaking it up and accepting it blindly. Ironically, I'd always been the type of person to do my own research. Sometimes I look back and wonder why I didn't ask questions. I think it was partly because I was floating around in a dreamy haze of twin pregnancy hormones. Also, life in the UK was new to me; I was still under the impression that the people in charge could be trusted and knew what they were doing!

As much as I look back and regret that I went along, sheeplike, with the flow, I don't question what happened to me and wish to change it. I'm thankful that I had the experience I did, as I feel it gives me a certain amount of empathy with mothers who've had pregnancies and deliveries that haven't gone as they envisioned.

At thirty-six weeks, I went into the hospital for a routine check and was immediately admitted, as my blood test results were abnormal. The decision was made to induce labour, as I appeared to have pregnancy-induced cholestasis, a condition in which your liver stops filtering toxins from your body. If it takes place early in pregnancy, it can result in stillbirth. I was hardly early on; thirty-six weeks is generally considered full-term for twins.

So, induction... heavy labour almost immediately... drugs given to control hyper-stimulation of my uterus... gas and air offered and declined... told if I did not have an epidural there was a high risk of having the first twin born naturally and the second born via C-section. In a panic, I chose the epidural. In reality, they were both head-down and in the perfect position to be born naturally.

Panic. Sadly, it was this way. As I've learned in the eight years since birthing my firstborn boys, it didn't have to be like that. But it was.

Looking back, I wonder why they were so determined to control the birth of my boys. At no time did my babies show any signs of distress during their constant foetal monitoring. A friend has since given birth to twins at the same hospital and was treated very differently. Perhaps the additional six years is the key to the change.

Anyway, our boys came into the world in the midst of noise and panic and many people -students, doctors, midwives- and they were beautiful. Long-limbed, skinny, identical, with coppery hair and entirely different voices. Lefty had a lion's roar and he ate like a gannet. Sleepy Righty breastfed twice in the first twenty-four hours and his wail was mournfully, pitifully hungry. After a threat from an impatient midwife about "cup-feeding him formula", the shift changed. A much more sympathetic midwife arrived on duty and showed me how to breastfeed them at the same time. Righty was able to eat properly after that, when he joined his brother.

And that is what I did. For months. Even when they screamed constantly after being fed, I thought it was normal. I fed them almost continually, and assumed it was par for the course with newborns when they vomited up half of what they were eating because it was too much. I didn't know anything about colic then - didn't really know anything about it until after we had already soldiered through it and were out on the other side. I struggled to keep up with all the other singleton mothers I'd made friends with through breastfeeding support groups and courses, not realising fully how different my crazy life was from theirs. A few years later, when Mr J came along, the silence and calm surrounding his arrival showed me what life could be like with just one.

But our first two... they were born as they live. Charging ahead, full-lunged, protesting, courageous, confrontational, questioning, knights of the Round Table or the Jedi order or of Gondor or Narnia, depending on whatever imaginary land they're living in at the moment. Storm-chasers rushing out to meet the tornado face to face. Our sons of thunder.