COME HERE SPRING, LEMME KISS YOU

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I made the fortunate mistake of watching the first episode of Daredevil on Netflix – fortunate because it was awesome, a mistake nonetheless because now I can’t sleep. Good news is that I got a decent nap in this afternoon, bad news is there’s no cup of coffee in my future and rooibos tea is nice and all, but it’s no freshly brewed French Press, let’s just be clear.

I’ve traded in some no-so-good-for-me habits, replacing them with ones that are a little bit more in line with where I want my life to go, as opposed to where it has already been. A lot of years have been spent in my head, thinking and rethinking and over thinking. I’m trying harder to plan, and do. I’ve given myself small, attainable goals in an attempt to begin to implement an entirely new routine around here. One that is simpler, but also more consistent.

This week, I’m focusing on these three things around my house:

1. A clean kitchen. This is a nice thing to wake up to, a clean slate from where to begin the day. Many things happen in my kitchen throughout the day, it truly is the heart of my home. I’ve taken to running the dishwasher each night + emptying it first thing the next morning, and am trying trying trying to clean as I go while I put my kitchen to good use. At the end of the day, before I unwind for the night, I do a final sweep, clearing any clutter from the counters and making sure our water filter is full.

2. A load of laundry a day. It’s really, really easy for clothes to pile up and then for the piles to pile up. Making sure at least one dirty load goes in and one clean load comes out per day has made a big impact in the way things can collect in places like the bathroom and next to the bed.

3. Vacuuming! Novel, I know. But we just invested in this vacuum and it’s literally changed my life. This little appliance might have been the catalyst to my new obsession with daily tidying.

Certainly nothing revolutionary, just good old fashioned housekeeping, which I’ve never really been any good at. There is something about approaching 33 as a mother of three that makes me feel like I should have this figured out already, so I’m attempting to play catch up. This exact same sentiment can be applied to a great many areas of my life – and it is! – which is to say, in simpler terms, that this is a season of active growth, of blossoming. Of working hard, of learning, and allowing for the possibility of new greatness to emerge.

A RECIPE FOR BIRTHDAY CAKE

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We had the best day celebrating our sweet baby and his first trip around the sun. We did all his most favorite things: we woke up early (just the way he likes) and played with some new birthday toys, he ate his morning egg and took a little nap – a rhythm he’s developed that’s dramatically improved the quality of our days, B + I took Roux shopping, swimming, and to lunch while the big kids had a lunch date with their daddy, and we all met up again in the evening for dinner, cake, and a few more presents for the birthday boy. It couldn’t have been a better day.

How far we’ve come in just one year.

With the addition of eggs and dairy into our regular diet, it was the perfect opportunity for me to try out a traditional white cake recipe I’ve been tossing around since I started getting reacquainted with traditional foods. It turned out just the way I’d hoped, better even, and I look forward to making it again for the little party we’re throwing for our precious one year old.

1/2 C cane sugar
1/2 C grass-fed butter
2 pasture raised eggs
2 tsp. organic vanilla extract
1 1/2 C flour
1 3/4 tsp. baking powder
1/2 C organic cream
1 tbsp. maple syrup

Preheat oven to 350° and butter a round cake pan.

Cream butter and sugar together. Add each egg individually, beating first in a separate dish. Stir in vanilla extract. In a small bowl, whisk together flour and baking powder, adding these dry ingredients to the butter mixture. Once combined, add the cream and beat until a smooth batter forms. Add the maple syrup and beat for one more minute, before transferring batter to prepared cake pan.

Place cake in preheated oven and bake 35-40 minutes, until a fork inserted into the middle comes out clean.

Let cool completely before frosting, though this makes a delicious naked cake. I served it with freshly whipped cream and a side of blueberries.

The baby is still not sure, but the rest of us loved it! Simple, golden, delicious, everything a birthday cake should be.

JOY AND WOE ARE WOVEN FINE

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Early Friday morning, I learned that my son’s class teacher will be stepping down at the end of this year. This is devastating news as she is both a brilliant educator and a remarkable lady. Emet loved her from the moment they first met, a few days before third grade began. She has been a bright light in his journey through his Waldorf education, and while we will miss her deeply, we are comforted by the fact that the person whom the faculty has selected to take the class through middle school is another beloved teacher at our school.

Still, there is sadness. Having to send my tender hearted eleven year old off to class knowing the news he was about to receive from his dear teacher was not an easy way to begin the day, that is for sure.

One of the reasons she, his teacher, gave to us parents as to her departure was that she has found it increasingly difficult to strike a harmonious work/life balance. I couldn’t agree more with her sentiment, it is the very reason why I choose to remain in a supporting role at our school as opposed to a full-time faculty member. I have been a lead teacher, and it is consuming. My heart goes out to her, it really does.

There is a great lesson in this for my son, one that I hope he’ll come to with time. You see, we’ve moved around a lot, having been to five different Waldorf schools. Emet has been “the new kid” nearly every year of his academic career. For the first time in his life, he is the one staying, not the one leaving. This is an opportunity for him to gain a tremendous amount of perspective, but it is not for me to tell him that. He must arrive at his own truth, in his own way, whenever it is that he’s ready to do so. In the meantime, I’ll be here to listen to his worries and to remind him how lucky he’s been to have had these last three years with such a wonderful person as his guide. In a way, it will be his first broken heart, for he truly does love her. Which is exactly how it’s supposed to be in a Waldorf school.

In her email to us parents, our lovely class teacher so wisely reminded us that “the children will look to us adults for cues on how to process this. We want them to understand that change is a part of life, not something catastrophic or unmanageable. When we say goodbye to the past, we welcome the future. All will be well.”

And that’s just it, really. Change is simply another word for evolution, and we should all be so lucky as to evolve. Granted, that doesn’t make it any easier, awareness doesn’t soften the lump that lodged itself in my throat the moment I first read her poignant letter. But it does somehow make the pain seem purposeful, that the tears I’m shedding are really just my heart’s way of making room for what is to come.

When I picked the kids up from school later that day, I brought along with me a simple bouquet of tulips for each of the fine teachers that are currently carrying this class, one of them holding their past, the other their future.

As we pulled into the parking lot, I spotted his new teacher, who happens to be someone with whom I already have a friendly personal relationship outside of our colleagueship. I called her over to my car and handed her the flowers, telling her that I love her and I’m grateful to her for being willing to step in to such an important position. Truly, I do think that there couldn’t be a better person for the job. She is magnificent.

I made my way over Emet on the aftercare yard, after being showered with lots of love from many of my precious first graders who were playing in the sandbox and swing set, where he was immersed in a game of Kendama though the solemnity of the day was apparent. I told him I had something for him to give his beloved teacher, and tears welled up in his eyes. We walked to the car, after gathering ourselves and our things, and then headed to his fifth grade classroom, where we found his sweet teacher tidying up the room.

I’m glad we were able to share a few quiet moments together, honoring her and the carefully considered decision she has made to move on from teaching. And while our hearts are heavy with the burden of her imminent departure, we fondly bid her farewell with gratitude for the many gifts she has given all of us – her students and their parents alike – lessons which will serve us in whatever it is the future may bring. I can only hope that she finds whatever it is that she seeks, for she deserves every happiness her golden heart desires.

Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine,
Under every grief and pine,
Runs a joy of silken twine.

It is right, it must be so,
Man was made for joy and woe.
And if this we rightly know,
Through the world we safely go.

William Blake

WORK IN PROGRESS

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The winds of change are blowing strongly through our hillside palace by the sea, and lots of things are bubbling and simmering, chickens included, and the next few months are sure to be educational and transformative in equal measure.

I spent the morning in an Introduction to Ancestral Cuisine class, led by the lovely Annie Dru of Lard Mouth. I laughed, I cried, I cried some more, and mostly I did a lot of nodding my head. I scribbled notes furiously in my notebook as I sat there and listened to her tell me the reasons why consuming animals is essential to not only human health, but the very health of the Earth herself. For a person who has lived nearly her entire life as an eater of plants alone, this can be very unsettling. And yet, for me, as unsettling and icky and sad as it is, it is also primitively true.

But it is sad, which is why I cry. Often.

As I was driving home from the class, I was on the phone with my ex-husband coordinating today’s pick-up, and I couldn’t help but enthusiastically repeat to him some of what I’d just absorbed. And he said to me, “I’m proud of you for having an open mind to hear these things. Because sometimes when you strongly believe in something, it can limit you from your own personal growth.”

I’m not sure where exactly I am dietarily other than that I am on a journey to learn as much as I can about feeding my family as nutritiously, sustainably, and compassionately as possible. For as long as I can remember, I have believed in what Hippocrates said, that food is medicine and medicine is food. This is why my eldest child, going on twelve, has never been on any sort of medication. Even for a cold! I rely exclusively on the healing forces of plants and herbs in various forms and methods of delivery to keep our health as robust as possible, and this includes, most importantly, the things we eat.

I have been lucky in that we have always been of strong constitution. That is, until this last year, when suddenly I found myself and my brand new infant in the middle of our very own health scare. And after trying virtually everything else, I’m changing the one thing I haven’t yet. Our diet.

All of this to simply say, I’m learning as I go.

Also, I’ve noticed a few things on this site of mine are not working, some link and sidebar functionality issues, as well as a couple other things here and there that need addressing. Bear with me as things are tinkered with and updated.

ALL HEARTS FOR FEBRUARY

peonyinside

I’ll bet I’m not the only one who’s slightly relieved to see January come and go. This January, especially.

I’m happy to report that all is quiet on the western medical front, knock on wood. I made another batch of stock yesterday of which my tiny guy heartily slurped up two bowls, and wouldn’t you know it, but he slept so well last night he forgot to wake me up on time for school this morning. He’s my little chicken lover, and I’m slowly coming to terms with this new lifestyle we seem to have adopted. But if it’s chicken that’s going to make that baby of mine finally get some sleep, so be it.

I did think it very interesting that a person I admire who’s dietary journey is very much guided by her health shared her own story of reincorporating animal products into the food she eats last week. She wrote two really funny, honest pieces which can be found here and here and are each worthy reads.

Someone is 50 (FIFTY!) weeks old today, and is just about the sweetest, most angelic, gumdrop of a baby. I can barely wrap my head around the fact that we are actually planning his first birthday party.

But first, Valentine’s Day! It’s not so much that I love the holiday itself, but I’m positively head over heels for love. And hearts. And crafting! And chocolate!! AND FLOWERS!!! Not to get carried away or anything, but I’m pretty darn excited to celebrate this year. I’ve got myself the four sweetest valentines a gal could ever want, plus there is something about surviving a personal crisis that makes me all gooey and sentimental inside. Maybe it’s the drugs they gave me, but ever since I woke up from anesthesia, I’ve been extra giddy and overly optimistic. I’m certainly not complaining, and I don’t think my family is either.

A good mood is like a fresh start, all shiny and bubbling with possibility. I’ve parlayed this particular burst of creativity into making plans for new + exciting ventures with my husband-to-be. To start to put into action something that we’ve talked about since the very beginning of our relationship is like turning a little once upon a time dream into our current reality.

I look forward to sharing more soon!

THEY KEEP ME IN STITCHES

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First of all, I would like to say a very heartfelt thank you for all of the texts, comments, emails, well wishes, gifts of home grown eggs (thank you, Jennifer!), and general good cheer that came flooding toward me as I underwent what was scary but ultimately relatively minor when compared with some of the other surgeries that were happening at the very same time as mine. Everything went very smoothly, and I’m expected to make a quick recovery, feeling close to normal by next week. I’ve already moved beyond any pain medication, which is promising, though I’m still rather swollen and stained from iodine.

Also, I can’t bring myself to look at the stitches! One of my best friends called and asked if I’d taken off the bandage yet and when I told her no she laughed and said that she knew I hadn’t which is why she asked. I’ve always been famously squeamish, I guess!

To close out our month long medical diversion, Emet and Jade both had check-ups at the same pediatrician’s office Roux’s been seeing since always. Truth be told, my big kids have been remarkably healthy throughout their lives which has kept them out of doctors offices altogether, but since one of them is about to, or is, starting puberty, I figured it’d be a good thing to have them weighed and measured.

We fielded many, many questions, seeing as it was a new-patient type visit. At one point, the doctor asked Jade what she wanted to be when she grew up and without missing a beat, my daughter said, “a bartender.” The doctor’s face was priceless! I’ve come to know and love her well over the course of Roux’s growth, and to see her turn bright red and have a good hearty laugh was something I’ll never forget.

She asked us as we were leaving if we laugh like this every day. I told her, living with these two, there’s no way we could not.

The best part about having babies is getting to hang out with the people they become.

01/52 // THE 52 PROJECT REVISITED

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“a portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2015”

emet: his current obsession.
jade: my child wild.
roux: the quiet observer.

A lot more than this portrait series got away from me last year, that’s for sure. While I’m not one to harbor regret, I can say with a great deal of certainty that I simply did not slow down enough to enjoy the little things, and away they slipped. With nearly a full week behind us already, it seemed as if this year was headed in much the same manner, which is precisely why, instead of driving straight home after school this afternoon, we took a small detour to the playground. It’s amazing how special half an hour can feel, even on an ordinary Wednesday afternoon.

RANDOM THOUGHTS ON THE LAST TUESDAY OF 2014

babytoestowel

baby toes. you’re welcome.

My big kids just left for their weekly overnight with their father, that stubborn tiny guy of mine is finally finally napping, and the house is both quiet and clean, leaving me a moment to sit and gather my thoughts. Clickety clack.

I honestly can’t believe how quickly this year flew by. I’ve said this a million times already, but only because it is so very true.

Then again, I feel about a bajillion miles away from the person I was at this time last year. And really, the only thing I miss about being her was that she was pregnant. I will always miss being pregnant. I didn’t want it to end. But it did, and that is when the life of my Huckleberry friend began, and what a glorious thing it is to get to be that boy’s mama. He is so delicious.

Life with a preteen, a second grader, and an infant is blindingly exhausting, I will just come right out and say it. But only in the very best possible way. These little people, one of whom is an inch shy of standing eye to eye with his mother, they are remarkable. I am in awe of them, their talents, their thoughts, and am so very inspired by the way in which they each face the tests they are given with grace, dignity, and confidence. I’ll say it until the day there is no breath left in my lungs, they have taught me more than I could ever teach them in a hundred thousand lifetimes. They are brilliant, and I’m lucky they chose me. The luckiest.

And then there is this man I’m going to marry. He’s something else. The whole of the universe conspired to bring us together, and this little blended family we’ve created is of what I am most proud. We have had some wild adventures together, this tribe of mine, moving more times in four years than some ever do. Which is why getting to celebrate New Year’s Eve in the very same house where we celebrated last year is so significant: the last time this happened, Jade was a year old.

Who knows how long we’ll be in this place. We are, after all, a rambunctious bunch cursed with wild and extravagant imaginations, for whom things like relocating to the French Countryside sound not only practical, but down right necessary. With a brief stop in New York City on the way, of course. As you do. But being here, in sunny San Diego, has helped each of us to thrive in a way I don’t think any other place could have. It’s an expensive place to live, you can be sure, but it’s worth it. I like to call it the Sun Tax. You pay for what you get! I’m looking at you, Oregon.

As for me, this has been a deeply, profoundly personal year. I am not who I was, even two months ago. I’m even eating eggs, but that is a story for another day. My point is that there are some years where I have gone, didn’t I accomplish anything? But not this year. This was a year of doing. I did a lot. Maybe more than any other year of my life, big things, small things, things only me and my Creator know about, so many things. To list them would be in poor taste, I think, because it feels a little bit like gloating. So instead, I will say this. Good things come to those who wait, work hard, and want it bad enough.

You guys, the baby is still sleeping (!) and I think I actually just wrote something from start to finish, without being interrupted once. THIS ALMOST NEVER HAPPENS. Maybe I should go paint my nails, or even crazier, take a nap myself. What I should definitely do is eat some lunch, which is to say it’s time for me to beg my mister to take me out for burritos when the baby wakes up from the nap I was pretty sure he was never going to take.

Look at how much I can get done when you sleep, Roux!

A DREAM IS A WISH YOUR HEART MAKES

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this photo is old and blurry, but i love it. mostly because it was taken by emet, but also, her eyes. and that runny nose!

I was raised on fairy tales of the Disney variety, never thinking twice that the good people at the House of Mouse weren’t actually the ones responsible for those stories. So, naturally, when I discovered the Brothers Grimm, I was a little miffed that ol’ Walt and his team of animators positively bastardized the complexities of the German folklore.

When Emet was born, one of the sweetest gifts I was given was a complete and unabridged collection of the original Grimm’s Fairy Tales. I suppose the only thing more complete would be an untranslated version, but sprechen sie Deutsch I do not. So, English it was, and oh! The language in those stories is just poetic.

It was a few years later, when I was in training to become a Waldorf teacher, that I learned just how important these particular narratives – and the eloquent language contained therewithin – are to young children. The curriculum of the Early Childhood and the First Grade are based entirely upon classic fairy tales and so it was that I decided my children would not bear witness to the animated movies of my childhood. Also, I’m of the media-free childhood persuasion, so it wasn’t really an issue.

As my children have grown, they have indeed been exposed to their fair share of movies and television shows, albeit far less than the average American child. And yet, purely by coincidence, the Disney movies were left unwatched. A few months ago, we were at a restaurant where each of my big kids were given a coloring page. Emet’s was Sponge Bob, and Jade’s was Belle. And while Mr. Squarepants was instantly recognized by the both of them, neither Emet nor Jade could name the princess or the film from whence she came. I felt a little bit proud and a little bit sad, because truly, I loved those movies. LOVED THEM.

So, when my handsome mister called me into his office a week or so ago to show me a trailer he’d come across of a live-action version of Cinderella due to hit theaters this coming Spring, I rolled my eyes a little because, honestly, how good could it be? Only so good that I cried. Not once, not twice, but three times. Every hair on my body was standing on end, and the flutters in my heart told me I had to share this with my daughter.

I will never forget her eyes as she watched, like saucers they were, filled with stars and fairy dust and all the magic I remember from when I was a little girl. In that moment, I knew exactly what I had to do. Why, read her Ashputtel of course, a tale which she’s heard at least a half dozen times.

When Christmas morning came, there was a small package finished with glittering gold ribbon addressed to the youngest maiden of the house. And when she opened it up, she squealed with delight to find her very own copy of Disney’s Cinderella.

To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I saw that movie. I’m almost positive I was Jade’s age, or thereabouts. But when she and I sat down later Christmas day to watch it together, from the moment the first note of the overture sounded, I was mesmerized. I remembered all the songs, all the funny little things the mice say, all the magic. Sharing this film with my beautiful girl, at an age when she is more than ready to appreciate it purely as entertainment, well, it was perfect.

She and I have a date to the movie theatre this coming March, and we are so excited we can hardly stand it!

THE CROWNING OF THE YEAR

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This is it, folks. The home stretch. All the candles on the Advent Wreath are illuminated, we’re more than halfway through Hanukkah, and tonight is the longest night of the year which might be the one I look forward to most of all. I love a good Winter Solstice the way I love a good song, a firm tug on the old heartstrings kind of thing. Also, there’s a new moon tonight and I read somewhere on Instagram that this will actually be the longest night in history? I’m not sure about that last bit, but it sure sounded mystical.

This part of the year just gets me, you guys. It’s my spirit season, I think, because I’m always filled with so much gratitude and inspiration, something about looking back and forward all at once, celebrating what has been and what is yet to come. All the caroling and cookie baking and tidings of good cheer, all the decorations and the stories and the movies, this stuff thrills me through and through.

We spent nine straight hours cleaning our house today – it might actually be shining like the top of Chrysler Building, thank you very much Mrs. Hannigan – and tomorrow morning, the Salvation Army will be coming by to collect a dozen bags filled with things that have worn their welcome with us but that might find new purpose elsewhere. I’ve intended to make this a sort of tradition for the past few years, and the fact that I’ve finally managed to pull it all together is extremely gratifying.

With only four sleeps until Christmas morning, the excitement is mounting by the minute. Our halls have had a proper decking and our tree is finally all gussied up in her holiday finest after spending three straight weeks standing in our living room naked as the day we brought her home from the lot. I’ve named her Aster, fitting for the lovely late bloomer she’s turned out to be, and she smells divine.

There are a few projects that need finishing, a few packages that need wrapping, and at least a half dozen movies that need watching before the big day arrives, not to mention countless cookies that need to be baked and eaten. All the makings of a cozy, quiet, homemade holiday with my happy, healthy(-ish, we’ve got some coughs and runny noses), adorable family in our super clean home in the hills of sunny San Diego. All my Christmas wishes granted, and I haven’t even opened a single present!

Wishing you and yours a week filled with joy, from the bottom of my very happy heart.