{this moment--or two}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual.  Photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

 
Two moments, really.

They were the little girls, in their first ballet school.

And now they're the teachers.

Daybook on a Fine Morning in July

Outside My Window

PIles and piles of trash and recycling, awaiting pick up. We have conquered the cleaning and clutter in this place. Hooray!

I am Listening to

Sportscenter.

I am Wearing

A pink polo shirt and capris.

I am so Grateful for

the opportunity to be home with my children. So grateful.

I'm Pondering

The second problem I see is overscheduling. Most mothers I see allow their kids' schedules to get completely out of control. Evenings and weekends are spent racing from one music or athletic event to another. I know because I made the same mistake when my kids were young. If this is a struggle for you, simplify life for everyone by adopting the "One Rule." Tell each child he may choose one after-school activity per grading period. This sounds outrageous to some parents who want their kids to excel in many different areas and who most certainly don't want to deprive opportunities. But remember one thing: Whenever your child is on the soccer field, he's deprived of time with you and the family. And which does he really need more time with in order to grow up emotionally and mentally sound?

Cutting activities from a child's schedule seems heretical for a modern-day parent. Let's face it, we are competitive with the parents in our child's class and it's hard to be home watching the other kids' parents pulling out of the driveway on their way to ski practice while you and your kids are sitting down at the kitchen table to tuna noodle casserole. But whenever you neighbor takes off with a car full of kids at dinnertime, remember that you and your kids are the real winners. You aren't doing nothing with them; you are building stronger relationships with them. And kids need better relationships more than they need more practice at any sport or extracurricular activity. They will never regret time at home

 10 Habits of Happy Mothers

Really taking this to heart as I look at the season ahead. We generally adhere to the One Rule, but it's nice to see it in print.

I am Reading

10 Habits of Happy Mothers. Good stuff here. Really good stuff.  I'm listening to the Audible version on Kindle.  Actually, I just finished.  I'm planning to do a book study here, beginning next week. Join us? Get the book and meet me back here on Thursday.

My current, fun, treat-after-massive-housecleaning book is Signature Styles: Twenty Crafters Stitch their Look. I don't really--ahem--have a style. It's pretty much a look in the closet and wear what fits kind of thing. There's no budget for it and for so many years I've been pregnant or postpartum or nursing that complete utility has dictated what I wear. Furthermore, it's hard for me to spend money on my own clothes for some reason. I always head out to buy myself something and end up at a kids' clothing store. Since what fits right now is often eight years old or older,  I'm guessing I'm dated. But I'm going to work on it and this book is lots of fun!

I am Thinking

This post. I remember when I was just beginning my first post-cancer year. I'm listening carefully to what Libby is thinking these days. For me, they are refresher courses. And she is so in my thoughts and prayers. Click over. It's one of those posts that might just change your life.

I am Creating

~ a new cap sleeved sweater. All the pattern links appear to be dead ends. Maybe there's some editing happening?

~embroidered appliques on some old denim capris. I'm so inspired by this embroidery tutorial. What a generous sharing of such great information!

On my iPod

Craftsanity podcasts. So far, this one is my favorite.

Towards a Real Education

We have begun to plan. News forthcoming. 

Towards Rhythm and Beauty

Clean and uncluttered really has its own beauty, doesn't it? 

And now, we've lived here ten years. I think it might be time to make some curtains. But I'm not going to rush it.

To Live the Liturgy...

Look for a post soon on preparing to celebrate the feast of St. Joachim and Anne.

I am Hoping and Praying

for Elizabeth deHority. She is constantly on my heart and in my prayers. She needs you now. Please, please pray with me. 

 for a friend for whom life has been exceptionally difficult and lonely

for Libby Ryder and family

 In the Garden

Those tomatoes aren't looking very healthy. I do hope that we have some tomatoes from our garden. I am consoled however, that a tomato you-pick place is about a mile from my house. If all else fails, we'll pick there.

Around the House

My house is so happy! My kids are so proud of themselves! We did it, all the way down to the innermost crevices of the basement. I feel like I can take on the world--at least the domestic arts world:-)

From the Kitchen 

Raw honey. Did you know that raw honey is an excellent balm imeediately after a kitchen burn? It really lessens the sting and is nearly miraculous in reducing healing time to a matter of minutes.

One of My Favorite Things

Road trips down 29 to my favorite college town.

A Few Plans for the Week

We're heading to Charlottesville for a couple of days of spoiling and theater and lakeside fun.

Picture thoughts:

 

How I've solved my tension problem. In more ways than one;-) Machine here. Iced coffee here.

Yarn Along

I finished the To Eyre shawl early this week and took just a few moments to cast on another Cap Sleeved Shirt. I'm not even going to pretend I know who will wear this one. This sweater sizing tends to be a bit unpredictable and I have a knack for knitting things in the wrong size. There are three girls here who are likely candidates for wearing the sweater when it is finished. I"ve begun this one in Cotton Supreme. I think I might have found my favorite go-to yarn. So far, it's really lovely to handle and the stitches look quite nice. (It is sort of funny that this yarn, which I purchased a month or so ago, is about the same shade as the shawl yarn, which was purchased way back at the beginning of this knitting adventure.  Anyway, I've barely begun, so there's not much to show here. 

I'm reading Educating the Wholehearted Child; it's a summer tradition. Sally Clarkson has long been my mentor and this year it is such a treat to be able to read a brand new version of my favorite homeschooling book as I look for inspiration this summer. My version is a prepublication copy . If you click on over to the Clarkson's site, you'll see a very thick new paperback version. It would not be summer without a visit to the Wholehearted Child...

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Go visit Ginny for more knitting and reading tales. I've settled into a Wednesday afternoon tradition: a big cup of tea and enough time to myself to click through a big bunch of the links at Ginny's. I am enriched by the yarns shared there.

Small Steps Together: Cocooning and Flying Free

I have long loved early childhood. From the time I was very little, I have invested much thought and prayer into the mother of young children I feel called to be. Much to the chagrin of pretty much everyone except my husband, I even majored in early childhood in college. (Just an aside: I had enough nursing and anatomy/physiology credits to also be certified to teach health and PE. God had a plan. I grew up to educate children who, when asked to name their school, inform the general public that they attend the Foss Academy for the Athletically Inclined. But I digress.)

 

I have held tightly to the promise that it's never too late to have a happy childhood. And since mine was not childish or carefree, I've set out very deliberately to create for my children what I think I might have missed and to enjoy it alongside them. Deep in my heart, my fondest wish was to be the very good mother of young children. You might say that I've dedicated my adult  life to that task.

Not too long ago, I can't remember where, I read about a woman around my age who said that she was too busy with her grown kids and teenagers to mourn the fact that her babies were growing up and there would soon be no wee ones in her house. I'm not. I'm not too busy. There are still small children in my house and they slow me, still me. I still stay with them at night as they drift off to sleep. I still sit with them at the table as they eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, ever so slowly. I bathe them and brush their hair and braid it up before bed. I sit and rock and hold and read. I still thank God for them with every breath, much like I did the day they were born. I have plenty of time in the course of my day to be still and know that these are precious moments that will not be a part of my days in the not too distant future. 

In a way, I envy those women who blithely move along to the next stage of life and smile brightly and say, "There! That's finished. Wasn't it grand? Now what's next?" I'm not one of them. Perhaps I'm just not good at transitions. I sobbed at my high school graduation. I remember how reluctantly I traded my wedding gown for my "going away" clothes. I cried so hard when Michael left for college that I had to pull over because I couldn't see to drive. I held more tightly to each newborn than the one before. And this last one? I don't think I put her down at all for the first twelve weeks. My intimate relationships are deep and rooted and meaningful. When I live something, I feel it. 

I know it's time.

I know because my environment cries out that it is so. My house is full to overflowing with people. Several of them are more than twice the size they were when we moved in here. Some have left and come back and brought with them more of their own stuff. We are bursting at the seams. It is time to acknowledge that we are in a new season of life and to allow my house to reflect that.

And so. I cocoon. Somehow I know that this is intense, deeply personal business and at the end I will be the same and yet, forever different. I spin a silken thread tightly around my home. My cell phone goes dead. I don't recharge it. I don't touch my laptop. I don't carry the house phone with me. I don't leave for several days. It is time to conquer all those recesses of my home that I neglected while I held babies. It is time to let go.

We need space. We no longer need a co-sleeper. Or the sheets to go with it. We don't need a swing. I begin in the basement.

We don't need three neatly labeled boxes of beautiful thick, pink, cotton clothes -- 0-3 months, 6-9 months, 9-18 months. I carefully save the christening gown, the sweet baptism booties, the first dress Karoline wore to match Katie and Mary Beth. The rest I fold into giveaway bags.  Michael takes the baby "things" to the Salvation Army on Friday.The clothes remain until Saturday morning. The Children's Center truck is due to arrive at 8 AM. After I've finished with the clothes, I cannot  stay here in this basement on Friday. I've done what I know will be the most difficult task. I also know I'm nearly suffocating.  I need to go upstairs and get some air. 

I begin in Mike's office. This isn't really my mess or my stuff or even the stuff of children who haven't been carefully supervised. It is just the overflow of two busy adults who pile and stuff a bit too much. He doesn't use this room. It's a lovely room in the middle of the house with a bright window. I put a new sewing machine on the desk. I rearrange shelves, discarding things he no longer needs. I spend an hour or so carefully dusting his youth trophies and 25 years of sports paraphernalia. I think about this post and I know that we can (and should) share this space. I move some baskets in. My yarn, my knitting and sewing books, a few carefully folded lengths of fabric, holding place for a stash to come.

I stitch a few things in that room. And I am happy there. I am no longer knitting in my womb. But I am still creating. And it makes me happy. My arms are ever more often empty, but my hands are increasingly free for other pursuits. Still, a small voice whispers, knitting and sewing are nothing like the co-creation you've done for the last 22 years. I hush the voice. I have no idea where this is going. He is the Creator. He has written a beautiful pattern for my life. All He asks is that I knit according to His plan. Trust the pattern.

On Saturday morning, that truck comes. I can't even watch as they load my dear boxes. My stomach clenches and my eyes fill with tears. Things. They are only things. The girls who wore those things are safe in my arms. Another mother will be blessed to hold a sweet pink cotton bundle close and nuzzle her cheeks. I descend to the basement.

Here. Here is where I must force myself to cocoon. Here is where ten years of "put this carefully in the craft room" will come back to haunt me. They have tossed at will every single time. It never recovered from the great flooring shuffle. I do pretty well with the rest of the house, but I dislike coming down to the basement and Mike rarely comes down here. So, here is where the disorder has collected. The "craft room" is a jumble of stored clothes, curriculum, craft supplies, and 25 years of family photos. It is a mess.

I am humbled by the mess. Quite literally driven to my knees. But I have spun myself into this small space and here I will stay until I can emerge beautifully.

I have banished all outside interruptions, but I have brought with me the Audible version of this book. Good thing, too, because I will benefit greatly from the message within and, frankly, I will need to hear the narrator say "You are a good mom" as often as she does. 

I see the abandoned half-finished projects, the still shrinkwrapped books, the long lingering fabric and lace. Did I miss it? Did I miss the opportunity to do the meaningful things? To be the good mom I want to be? I am nearly crushed by the weight of the money I've spent on these things and the remanants of my poor stewardship.What was I doing when this mess was being made? To be sure some of the time was sadly wasted. It is easy to berate myself for time slipped through my fingers. Cocoons are really rather nasty things.

Determined, I clear out the clutter. I tell myself that life is not black and white. It's not all bad or all good.  I fold fabric and recognize that what I have here is the beginning of some new projects. I gather acorn caps and felt and label them and tuck them away for the fall. I make a very large stack of books to sell secondhand. I sort and sweep and remember. I see picture after picture of smiling children. I see, in those color images, time well spent. Time well filled.  Their mama always looks tired. I recognize in  those pictures that my children were happy--are happy. And I also recognize that it's been a little while now since I felt that tired. It is true that much of my time in the last twenty years, I have been filling well. I have been holding and rocking and nursing and coloring and listening and reading and giving and giving...I have been cherishing childhood. And it is a true that in a household this size, it is darn near impossible for every corner of the house to remain clean and every lesson to be carried out according to plan ,while caring well for babies and toddlers.  Messes happen.

The season just passed? The very long season? It was good and full and messy and cluttered. It was bursting-at-the-seams joyful in a way nothing ever will be again. It was also very hard work. Very, very hard work.There were utter failures and big mistakes. And there was a whole lot of good. 

This new season? I don't know yet. It's not nearly as cluttered. I have stayed in this cocoon until every corner of my home, every nook and every cranny, has been cleared of the clutter of the last season. Every poor choice, every undisciplined mess has been repurposed. Every single one. I can see my way clear to do the meaningful things. And the blessing is that there are still plenty of children in this house to do them with me.

As I sweep the room for the last time before considering this a job well done, I see a picture that has slid under a bookshelf. It is Mike and me at our wedding rehearsal. I stare long and hard at that girl. But I stare longer at him. He is still every bit as happy as he was that night. Happier, really. Really happier. These days in this cocoon, I have been brutally honest with myself. I've held myself accountable for every transgression. I have humbled myself before God and I have confessed my sins.  I look at his image and then back at mine and I realize something very important. Whatever my failings, I have consistently been a good wife. I wonder at the ease with which this recognition comes to me. I am certain that much of it is born of his frequent words of affirmation. I know it is so because he has told me it is so. But why is it so?

Grace. 

Ours is a gracious God. It is only by His grace that I am the wife I am. And it is by His grace that I have this sense of peace about the most important relationship in my life. These children willl grow in the safe home he and I have created together. And then they will fly. Mike and I? We will be us. Always us.

I carefully put away the very last picture, turn out the light, and climb the stairs.

I've cleared out the clutter, made peace with the past. I've learned a very valuable lesson that I'm long going to be pondering in my heart. It's time to fly free.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Small Steps focuses on humility this month. Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion. Please leave a link to your blog post below and then send your readers back here to see what others have said.You're welcome to post the Small Steps Together banner button also.

It's a Wrap!

Just not sure it's a wrap for me. It fits Katie about the way I'd hoped it would fit me. 

 

Details here on Ravelry.