The Best Kind of Gathering (costs nothing!)

It works out to being about twice a year that my friends and I gather for a Saturday Morning Clothing Exchange. The email list that goes out advertising the exchange is I think the same one as a pretty interesting sounding book club, to which I've always been invited, but have never even read one of the books, though my intentions are always very good. One time, even though I hadn't read the book, I almost actually went to the meeting! But I chickened out at the last minute in typical me fashion. Ha, fashion. Because I'm really blogging about a clothing exchange and just got sidetracked thinking about the book club. Lol.

We take all our castoffs (and our husbands' castoffs, and some homewares and some kids' stuff... basically anything we need to get out of our life) to the home of someone generous enough to host us, and we separate into piles: tops, pants, dresses, shoes, men's, scarves, etc. Then we rummage through and try to be polite about it, even though we are all totally wanting to take home everything that everyone brought for ourselves. I'm not very discreet about my desire to revamp my entire wardrobe at these things.... I dive in face first and only come up for air when it's time to use the dressing room. (which is a bathroom, because we are at someone's house.)

These things are SO FUN. Often we all bring a little breakfasty pastryish thing to contribute and we have coffee and since we are surrounded by piles of clothes there's plenty to talk about, right off the bat. Naturally, we first talk about purging possessions, simplifying our lives, (it always goes back to the KonMari method,) and from there we move into the reasons we've got all these clothes to get rid of, which is usually due to the realization that we're never going to lose the babyweight. There's no awkwardness, because people hauling in loads of castoffs and breakfast pastries are natural conversation starters, and it's a diverse group so we really have plenty to talk about.

At the end of the morning, all that's left (which tends to be a lot) is donated; the one who volunteers to take it decides what center it goes to, and all that stuff is out of our lives forever, thankfully. Not that I have EVER gone home with less than what I brought, as good as my intentions for that outcome may be. No, no, I come home with OODLES of new things to wear! This time, I got a new dress!

I pretty much stopped wearing dresses (almost) nine years ago when I started breastfeeding because they are just so impractical. But now that those demands are fewer, I feel like I can pull it off again. And this one has buttons down the front, just in case.

Some people just come to visit, with no intention of taking anything home with them. This time we spent the last portion talking about the books that will be assigned for the book club in the months to come. Sometimes we bring kids, sometimes we don't. It's all very loose and leaves me feeling filled up with good social juice, and at the same time freshened by letting go of some possessions and acquiring some new bits for my drawers, which always feels good, especially if they were free.

If you're looking for more ways to be social with a purpose, I'd highly suggest this sort of gathering. I'm already looking forward to our next one! 

On This, the First Day of Autumn

Happy Equinox!

Aahhhhhh, the autumn equinox when the calendar officially tells us that it's Fall and we are therefore granted permission to drink as much hot chocolate as we want and add spoonfuls of cinnamon to everything with wild abandon. I know, some people live for this time of year. Leggings, chunky knit scrarves, boots, a pumpkin spice latte always in hand. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Mmmm, Fall.

I like Fall, too. I don't adore it the way I used to, thanks to a few pretty miserable winters, but I can still appreciate it. I haven't had any official “tests” done to confirm this, but I've got this suspicion that I'm actually genetically part lizard, because I just love the summer heat. LOVE IT. I bask in it. I love the heat and everything else about summer except for mosquitos. But Fall is good, too. I guess.

Tonight to celebrate the Equinox, despite the temperatures here being in the 90s, I made potato soup and baked spiced apples. Sounds pretty fally, doesn't it!? And since I don't use real recipes, I thought I'd share my “recipe” in quotations, for both. 

First up:

Five Pound Potato Soup

Five pound bag of potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks.

An onion. If you don't have an onion, a handful of green onions will do. If you don't have those, use chives.

As much garlic as you love.

Carrots, maybe four? Peeled and chopped, or peeled and shredded.

Broth to fill the pot

Milk to finish

Sage

Salt

Parsley

Chili Powder (optional)

Butter

Sautee the garlic, onion of choice, parsley, sage, salt in butter. After it smells good, add your chopped potatoes and carrots, stir up. Cover the ingredients with enough broth or stock or water with boullion, that you expect some will boil down by the time the potatoes are soft. Your end goal should be a thick, goopy mixture when you take it off the heat.

When you've got that, (this takes occasional stirring and mushing of the potatoes so you can tell when they're really done,) you set it aside to cool for a few minutes before adding the milk. Then you add the milk, really just enough to make it more liquidy and creamy.

Note: I like my potato soup to also have broccoli and plain yogurt in it. However, MY KIDS HATE IT THAT WAY, so I make it more plain, like above. But you can add plain yogurt to thicken it (not too much or it's too tangy and tastes like you already ate it once, if you know what I mean) and you can clearly put in some broccoli to make it more healthy and, let's be honest, more delicious. I freaking love broccoli.

There you go! You can add shredded cheese too! I try to make cheesy biscuits or cheese bread when we have this soup because my kids (seriously! These troublesome youngsters!) don't like cheese in their soup. Whatevs.

Now here was the real star of the show tonight:

Equinox Apples

An apple per person, peeled and cored. Don't be afraid if you don't have an apple peeler-corer-slicer; I just use a knife. Make sure you leave a little bottom so the insides don't seep out. Place the apples in a bakeable dish; I use a cast iron skillet.

Stuff each apple with about a tablespoon of butter.

Make the mixture:

Brown Sugar

White Sugar

Cinnamon

Nutmeg

Cloves

Ginger

Vanilla extract

My exact measurements of the brown sugar were “what's left I in the bag,” which I dumped into the bowl, and added the other ingredients proportionally to that. It was VERY spicy to just eat plain, but once it was baked with the butter, it was the perfect amount of spice. The white sugar could probably be omitted; I used it because I'd put in too much vanilla at the end and needed it a touch sweeter, but since my initial measurement was what it was, I obviously was out of brown sugar. Sprinklings of the rest... maybe half a teaspoon of the spices?

Mix the mixture well until it's made evenly crumbly by the vanilla, then spoon about two spoonfuls into each apple's center, over the butter. Two spoonfuls was about right. I have made them in the past when I've thought “more is better” and it's turned out gross. You don't want to spice-out the apple flavor!

Bake at 350* for about half an hour. You can test the apples as they bake by sticking them with a fork to see that they are “tender crisp” or whatever the term is for “perfect baked apple” or “perfect steamed vegetable.” You don't want them soggy, but you don't want to have to use a knife.

These were really spectacular for our little fall celebration tonight. Thursdays are ballet night for Anja, and everyone goes together to walk over to the ballet school to pick her up while I finish up dinner at home. When they got home they were greeted with a pretty yummy smell! And an even yummier meal. I call tonight an autumnal success, despite the actual outside temperature!  

Today I Will Write!

It's Friday. Fridays are special days here because they have been designated “Mama's Day of Fulfillment.” Martin doesn't work on Fridays, and we've arranged a nice routine where he takes the girls someplace for awhile during the day so that I can work on my music stuff, write, record, etc. It's a nice way for us to take advantage of what is actually not an ideal situation—we wish he were working on Fridays, but it is what it is, and I can't complain about having time to myself.

Originally, the plan was that I would have the entire day to myself. (Ha! Laughable!) After the first Friday of this deal, we quickly learned the complete ridiculousness of that statement. The day has since been amended to be about two hours of time for myself, and it works out well that way. Over the past few months I've used that time to get a lot of recording done, as well as starting this blog up again. But somehow, every week, this simple plan proves to be almost impossible. Since it's fresh in my mind, I'll just recap this morning.

4:00am -

Somebody is in my bed. She is awake and very wiggly and getting kind of loud. She's not going back to sleep. The person in the toddler bed next to me is being woken up by her. Awesome.

4:30am -

I have moved to the toddler bed with the two year old and the four year old. It's crammed and I have to keep my arms above my head due to where they are situated, but I * think * they are both asleep.

5:21am -

I realize there have been two kids fighting over me for awhile and begging me to get up. “When will it be day?” “When can we wake up daddy?” “I have to go pee pee!” “I have to go pee pee, too!” Take both girls to the bathroom where I realize they don't have any intention of going back to bed, no matter how good I make it sound.

5:35am -

Wake Martin, hand him the reigns. Go back to bed.

7:30 -

I get up and send Martin back to bed. Kids are insane. Candy Land is everywhere. They've already eaten two breakfasts. We're almost out of milk. They just keep laughing and zipping around and asking me to do stuff for them or with them and where is my brain and where is my coffee?

8:30 -

Two big girls wake up. Greta's daily drama of getting dressed goes down relatively smoothly, although she gets mad about not having the perfect shirt so she yells that she's going to wear “stinky dirty underwear.” Anja is in a surprisingly good mood and continues on her sewing project from yesterday. Get out the second half of yesterday's watermelon for breakfast. Nobody wants it after Ingrid spits her seeds back into the main bowl instead of into the “spit bowl.” Ingrid is also anti-spoon. She will need a change of clothes and a bath.

9:30 -

How many breakfasts does one family need? I take a shower and wake up Martin, get the homeschool day moving. Three kids are fully clothed, a miracle! Martin is eager to get them out the door for their fishing trip. I tell him to quickly run his errands first while we do school.

10:00 -

Martin leaves to run errands. Homeschool starts well. I make mental note of how many times I've washed the same bowls just this morning and my count so far is 4. Spoons too. Math takes a downward turn; Greta cries. She begs me to make hot chocolate and tells me subtraction is horrid. She isn't throwing her math book though, so that's a plus for today.

10:15 -

There is “a smell.” Greta and I search the house (which, in the course of the morning has come to look like a victim of some horrific straight-line winds) for dog poo-poo, but find none. Greta becomes hysterical. She makes a face mask out of a washcloth and toilet paper, but I can still hear her sobs through it.

10:30 -

We've learned about the Liberty Bell, the real Plymouth Rock and have sung the National Anthem, all punctuated by Elka and Ingrid asking completely unrelated questions like, “how do I color the fish?” and “How do I color the ball?” and “Where is my [very specific and no other will do] orange marker?” The mystery smell is still present.

11:20 -

Must make lunch! Plan on mashed potatoes and HALLELUJAH, find the smell in the potato basket! Martin arrives home from errands, shocked to find the girls not ready to go fishing and Elka still naked. Serious hunger meltdowns are happening. (How?!? THEY JUST ATE.) I find yesterdays' lunch in the fridge and warm it up instead of bothering with potatoes.

12:00 -

Martin is taking the girls fishing, dammit. Three girls are excited. Greta is not. Greta doesn't like the way her sandals feel today. Tears. She wants to wear her Friday socks, but we can't find them. More tears. After thorough search of the house, I remember that the Friday socks are in the dryer... but the load is still damp. HYSTERIA. Greta says she hates fishing and hates her Friday socks and hates everything. (Actually she only says, “don't like” because somewhere during their short life, the girls have gotten it in their heads that “hate” is a bad word and we aren't allowed to use it.) I realize that nobody actually ate their lunch because they were writing stories. Quickly peel and slice four apples and grab a sleeve of graham crackers for their fishing trip snack. Hugs and kisses, and they are on their way, with Greta hollering out the window as they drive away that she promises she WILL NOT HAVE A GOOD TIME AT ALL.

12:30 -

Everyone gone. The house is quiet. I have so much cleaning up to do. School books everywhere. Lunch everywhere. Rain clouds of parmesan cheese must have moved through the kitchen when I wasn't looking. I know the litter boxes upstairs need changing but I am seriously afraid of going up there because, even though I cleaned up the toys yesterday, today it is again begging to be declared a federal disaster zone. Pick up some scattered Little People toys. Decide it's better outside where I can't see the mess, and move my workings to the porch for the afternoon. Begin this blog post and wonder if Greta is having fun fishing.

I bet she is. 

The Devastation Caused by Misused Quotation Marks

I have a confession to make:

Sssshhh... don't tell.

((i love reading the comments on news stories.))

It's terrible, I know. Everybody knows the unwritten rule that you just don't read the comments. Good things rarely come from the arguments in the comment sections, and I think the news stories are the worst.

But, no matter. I'm in love with the high I get when I read the comments section of a news story. ("high" as in "high blood pressure.")

So, yesterday I was reading a news story, I don't know who published it and I can't actually remember what the point was, but I *think* it was about the severe weather that recently moved through our area and the fact that in a count of 9+ tornadoes including one EF-3 that leveled a Starbucks among other damages, not one person was seriously injured and nobody was killed. I think that is just incredible. Obviously, everybody else thinks that too. Somehow in the comments, if I'm even remembering this correctly, the conversation of the local disaster tied into the recent, terrible earthquake in Italy (my family there is all fine, in case you know me personally and have been wondering. They are north of where it struck.)

In the comments section, a woman (I think her name was something like Carol, so I'll just call her that) said, "In Italy they found a 10 year old girl "alive" after 17 hours of being trapped!" Everybody was amazed and rejoicing in the comments afterward.

Everybody, that is, except Jane.

Jane replied, "Why did you put quotation marks around the word alive?" People at first ignored her comment, somebody eventually said something along the lines that, sure, the quotation marks were misused but it didn't matter since everybody knew what Carol was saying.

Jane did not think it was okay. Jane evidently has serious problems with the misuse of quotation marks. She kind of went off the deep end. People assured her that it wasn't a big deal, but she believed it was. She even started name calling. One name I remember was "dumb," but there were others. Carol herself even responded, saying that she didn't know the quotation marks were of consequence, she was just so happy the girls was alive, but Jane just would not let up.

I couldn't help commenting. I wanted to say more, but instead, I settled with saying, "Jane, you're mean." I didn't really want to get into it on there. But my brain kept going.

My brain was saying, "OH CALAMITY! SOMEBODY USED QUOTATION MARKS WHERE THEY WERE NOT TO BE USED!!!!!! CALL THE PUNCTUATION POLICE TO SAVE THE WORLD, FOR IT SURELY MUST BE ENDING!!!!"

My brain was saying, "Jane, how deeply does this misuse of punctuation affect you? Does Carol's incorrectly placed quotation marks around the world "alive" mean that everyone you love will soon be "not alive?" Does it mean your son won't get into the college he's really hoping for? Does it mean financial disaster, perhaps even ruin for you? Is your dog going to get mange because of this? Will your pen-pal in Switzerland stop writing to you? Will your half and half go sour and curdly long before the stamped expiration date on the carton? Does your computer screen explode when it comes across misplaced quotation marks? What is it, Jane? Why the heck is this such a big deal to you?"

My brain was saying, "Geez, Jane! Give it a rest!"

It reminds me of when people really get after the commenters who can't seem to figure out that caps lock button. The poor commenters probably don't even know it's there. They are typing and words are appearing on theirs screen, and sure, they are all big letters, but what they are saying obviously doesn't match the capitalization, and who really cares about the etiquette of computer type when clearly this is a person who isn't shouting, and whose issues are not related to anger, but rather to technological incompetence?

For crying out loud, people! I know there are ways to do things. I know there are correct spellings, punctuations, grammar rules, and a whole freaking language concerning internet lingo, manners and faux pas. But really, do we have to get after people for every little thing? Even if it is a pet peeve, even if seeing misused quotations is like fingernails on a chalkboard to you, PLEASE.... just keeeeeeeeeep scrolling. Chances are, addressing the mistake is just not worth it.

However, I have to admit, if people stopped being jerks in the comment sections, how would I get my entertainment? Maybe I should really tell Jane thanks!

Parenting in the Age of Judgement

I think we can all agree on one thing when it comes to parenting: it's hard. When you become a parent your status of being changes from Comfortable Individual to Person in Charge of Another Being. It's kind of scary. And that's just the first hour or so. After that it's sleepless nights and endless bottles or aching breasts (or both!) and so much crying, all while you're trying to adjust to your fresh loss of individuality. Two-year-olds will be two-year-olds, simultaneously the most incredible and most exhausting creatures on the planet. Three-year-olds are pretty much the same, except with a bigger vocabulary and longer legs—so they're faster. Then there's the endless worry that comes with being a parent. Are they getting enough green vegetables? Are they going to be ready for kindergarten? Do they need glasses? Are their teeth getting brushed enough? Are they safe? Are they healthy? Are they succeeding? Am I doing this right? And that worry just goes on forever.

According to my own mother, parenting these days is just no fun. Moms worry too much nowadays. We stress about every little thing until parenting—which is hard enough to begin with—is just robbed of all it's natural joy. I think she's absolutely right, and I can see why it has become that way.

We are living in an age of Judgement, especially among parenting social circles. Admitting that there are some really terrible and abusive family situations, and leaving those to their own realm, it seems to me that parents are not safe from criticism these days, no matter what methods they use, philosophies they live by, no matter how much they think they are doing the right thing for their children. And if a mistake is made, no matter how small—LOOK OUT.

Parents look at other parents and they pick out all the ways their peers are doing it wrong. All the way they are damaging their kids, all the ways they aren't giving their all... just thinking about all the different ways parents criticize each other makes my head spin. But a big thing lately seems to be reporting those parents they deem “unworthy.” A child seen playing basketball in his backyard is deemed in danger because his parents aren't home. Any child farther than an arm's reach from his parents is being sorely neglected. Children in general are no longer allowed to do things like ride their bikes or walk to school or camps because of the incredible danger that those activities pose to the kids.

What? Are we serious? How has it come to this? I find it hard to believe the world is really that much more dangerous than it was thirty years ago, when my generation and all those before me were allowed to roam free. It's talked about a lot on the internet these days, how it doesn't seem like that long ago that the parents of today were kids with a lot more freedom and individuality. We were allowed to do things independently, learn from our mistakes, problem solve, find out who we were and who we wanted to be, without a parent constantly holding our hand. I would prefer to give my girls the same upbringing, but it seems like that is pretty frowned upon these days.

Earlier this spring we moved back to our old house right across the street from the public library. Anja and Greta are now 8 and 7 years old, and the posted age to be allowed unsupervised in the library youth department is 6. I had always imagined them walking over to the library on their own, and as adults having great memories of doing so.

How foolish of me!

I talked to one of the youth librarians who told me the rules about kids in the library, and I told her where we lived and that they were going to start walking over on their own sometimes because I felt like they were old enough to do so. Independently, I made the rule that they were never to go without the other, that they were just to check out books and come back home, not hang out there for long spans of time, and that they were to be on their best behavior, remember their manners, look out for each other, etc. Typical parental rules that really are only stated as a technicality because I should hope they would do all this on their own without being told. The first day I let them go they were SO EXCITED. They packed our library bag with books to return, and set off. Now let me be clear here: I could see them until the moment they entered the library. The building is across the street, the entrance is less than a block down. I sat on the porch and watched until I saw they had safely made it into the building. And then I sat on the porch, watching the door, waiting for them to come out. I was nervous. I knew they would be fine, I knew they would be perfectly behaved, I knew they would find their books, check out, come home, just as I had told them to do. I knew nobody would snatch them because I was WATCHING THE DOOR, and I knew they couldn't possibly get lost because they go to the library almost every day and know their way around. What was I so afraid of then? Well, I'll tell you: I was afraid of judgement. Honestly, I was afraid someone would call the police. I was afraid I would be labeled negligent. I was afraid that allowing my school aged children to go to the library alone would somehow lead to all of my children being taken away from me.

Doesn't that seem a little extreme?

It should seem extreme, but it turns out it's not so far fetched at all. Since then, I have heard of many, many stories of well-meaning parents having their children taken away from them because they were “left alone” or rather, allowed to be alone. Children older than my own. Children even better prepared than mine were, with a cell phone and house keys. Somewhat recently, a friend of mine had the police called to her house by some passersby because her baby was crying inside—crying because she put him down while she was getting dressed. I know her to be an excellent mom, the farthest thing from negligent you can imagine. But in the eyes of the world, putting your shirt on is next to abuse, if your baby makes a racket about it.

Such a big day of going to the library by themselves for the first time seemed worth the commemoration of a social media post. It was interesting, the responses I received. Most applauded—for the girls being so grown up and independent, for me allowing them to stretch their wings. But some didn't. Some offered to go with them if I couldn't. Some advised against letting them go alone because it was dangerous. In general, the response I got was a mixed bag. I thought the negativity was unfortunate, though I didn't take it personally, but it spoke volumes about the parenting norms of the day.

And the parenting norms these days instill fear and judgement.

One of the reasons I was so desperate to move out of the city three years ago was fear. I was anxious all the time, afraid of the police showing up at my door during any one of the many fits from my babies, toddlers and preschoolers through the six years and three children we had in this house. Many, many times, instead of addressing a toddler tantrum with comfort and redirection, I reacted with anxiety and fear, doing everything I could to quiet the tantrum as fast as possible, before anyone noticed. My fear made me parent in ways I didn't agree with. I have often found myself even shushing their happy screaming in the backyard, for no reason other than I don't want someone to think they are in trouble and send “help.” It's one of my greatest fears that someone might suspect me of negligence and snatch my kids, and I feel that the fear is not unfounded; the more I read the news, the more I see that it happens way too often without good reason.

Now that we are back in this house, my anxiety has spiked again for all these same reasons. While my life can often look like a collection of serene Instagram photos (and sometimes it is,) it's often all four girls screaming at each other at the same time. Sometimes it's loud and unpleasant and I'm sure that everyone on the block can hear them. But I deal with it the best I can, aiming for gentle but not permissive parenting. I succeed sometimes. Sometimes I don't. But you know what? Whether I succeed in my parenting style or not, I will be judged by others no matter what I do. Because we don't just judge other parents when we feel they are endangering their children—we judge them for everything.

Gentle parenting is criticized for being permissive. Having strict boundaries and disciplinary followup is criticized for being too rigid. Bottle feeding is criticized for being unnatural. Breastfeeding is criticized for being sexual. Homebirths are unsafe. Hospital births are intrusive. Natural birth is overrated. Cesareans aren't birthy enough. You can't win.

On the one hand, I guess it's nice to know that I'm a failure no matter what. I can march forward with confidence, knowing that the path I'm choosing is best for me and that nobody else will think so. On the flip side, however, there's that relentless nervous feeling I'm constantly battling, worrying who is judging me and if the judger is someone who will take action, or mind their own business in the end.

Parenting is tough. From start to finish it's so hard, but so rewarding. I wish we could stop stealing the rewarding aspect from one another and show more support to our peers in the field. It's not a competition. Yes, we all have different viewpoints. That's what makes us individuals. That's what gives flavor to the world. It's special. And raising unique individuals as unique individuals is what will continue to keep the world an exciting place, where not everyone thinks alike, where everyone has experienced different things, or experienced the same things differently. I worry that by taking the joy of adventure and individuality out of our childrearing, we are covering up the variety of our future generations. Let's let go a little bit. Let's let our kids spread their wings a little wider, fly a little farther from the nest. Let's assume healthy risk in parenting—and view others' healthy risks without judgement—so that we can help our little people to grow into really great big people. Let's support our kids and our peers in the raising of an awesome future. Our kids are destined to be the grownups of the world someday, the ones running this place, so we truly are all in this together. Let's do better.  

The Day I Took my Own Advice

We are now one week into our homeschool year. Anja is a third grader, Greta is a second grader, and I started our year as a homeschool instructor one hundred percent lacking in motivation. Our first days back were rough. Nobody was feeling it, nobody wanted to buckle down and learn, we couldn't find our groove... I felt like I was failing, big time. I told Martin—we take this homeschooling thing year-by-year, child-by-child and maybe this is the year that they need to go to school. We struggled through the first week of math review... tears over addition and subtraction they learned half a year ago was suddenly causing them endless anguish. Five full days went by with the same schedule on each day of my planner with almost nothing actually getting done. We didn't learn the St. Michael prayer. We did the cursive workbooks, but we didn't follow up with the full Geography lesson I had planned for each day. Poetry? None. Copywork? Zero. We did take a nature day on Friday, which was very successful and educational, but I count that as my single success of the week. Other than that, on the Train of Success, I was riding on the caboose. 

We had an extremely relaxed weekend. Usually our weekends are spent running around, but somehow it ended up not that way this past weekend, and it seemed to be just what we all needed. A nice, relaxing reset for our tired minds. Today everybody woke up cheerful. We didn't even have a nutritious breakfast, but all the girls were being super kind to each other, and so willing to do their work! It was amazing! They helped each other through math and the older girls helped Elka with her alphabet and color-by-numbers. 

Then, just when I thought surely my luck was going to run out, we had a peaceful lunch all together, followed by more schoolwork, done with cheerful smiles. It was..... incredible. 

And I thought at the end of the day, how was that day so good? How did we make that day so much better than the past week had been? 

And I realized, just maybe, it was my own attitude. I started Monday feeling good because Ingrid, who had woken up at an insane hour that morning, had gone back to sleep around 8:00 and I knew that her little morning nap was not only going to make our morning easier, but it was going to make her super cheerful when she woke up. I was looking forward to her waking up, knowing how cute she was going to be. I was calmer and more relaxed in our lessons because I was in a better mood. Surely, the girls sensed that and were their good natured attitudes were a reaction to my own. I didn't nag them about anything. The morning flowed easily at it's own pace. We STILL didn't get our Geography lessons done. But I didn't worry about it... I willingly put it off until tomorrow and filled the time with extra reading time, which we all enjoyed. We started The Wind in the Willows and instead of staying inside to read it, we went to the porch where everyone colored in their sketchbooks as I read aloud to them. (I was tickled that Anja loved it so much. We tried starting it last year at this time, and she was not ready... this year, they love it!) It was a picture of how I envision homeschooling in my most lovely homeschooling fantasylands. It was really great. (Until Ingrid fell off the porch swing onto her head and I, in a rush to try to catch her [I didn't] flung Elka from my lap, causing her to fall on her head as well. Many tears, but even that turned into a cozy time of togetherness. I'm telling you, this day was magical.) 

Slowing down really worked. When Martin got home from work, we were all still in good moods. The girls had had a lot of time for free play that afternoon and had been very involved in their doll games. I was able to get dinner made and we all sat down together to eat. Martin gave them even more impromptu schooling. After dinner we took a family walk and when they asked if we could take our walk up to my parents' house, even though it was after bedtime, I realized that our days of walking up there were very limited and I said yes. 

It was a great day. I'm hoping that the rest of the week follows (I know it probably won't) and that we have a learning-filled week of happiness. This was just the change I needed to get me appreciating our choice to homeschool! 

So, Annie, How's 'bout that Recording?

Way back in April I decided that my summer project was going be to record again. I was going to do it on the cheap, at home, solo, using just what I had--my own instruments, my own voice, my own computer--simple. While the disc I did so many years ago was fun, and I'm so glad I made it, it really opened my eyes to how much goes into recording, even on the local, personal level. Lots of time, lots of money, of which I currently have neither, haha. This time around I was hoping for something more raw.

Conveniently, our move back downtown had two immediate benefits to my recording: one was that I started writing songs like the olden times. For having gone close to three years without writing a single workable song, this breakthrough has been incredible. The second benefit was that it was soon to be tax return time. With our tax returns we bought a nice laptop computer, one that could handle the job of recording. With the help of a friend, I got a deal on a decent microphone and help setting my computer up with a recording app, and then I was set to go at my own pace, in trial-by-error style.

Surprisingly, I was able to achieve the sound I wanted pretty much from the start. (Turns out "simple" is not difficult! Shocking!) Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, time didn't come as easily. I was able to snag an hour or so here and there by taking advantage of "Special Daddy Time," but in general, my time is taken up by my kids, who even when they are not immediately needing me, are LOUD. IN EVERYTHING THEY DO.

Another thing happened as I got rolling on my own music, which was that I started playing out more often! It started just playing a coffee shop with Kim, but it has turned into playing more frequently with more people as a band, and it's been REALLY fun. But of course, with limited time, if I'm playing out more, I'm recording less.

Overall, I've been shooting for a twelve-track disc and as of today I have eight of those songs recorded in completion. Ten are my own originals, two are public domain, old folk songs. I'm happy with what I have so far! It's definitely simple, but it's a good feeling to supply everything needed to make a full song that's a step up from just guitar and melody. I hope to soon start making the recordings more presentable and then move on to learn about how to get them online for listening. And I'll have an actual, tangible disc made as well.

So that's where that project currently stands. While I definitely am having to push off my finish date into the fall, I'm pleased with how it's going and still excited for the finished product. Hopefully soon it will be able to be heard outside of my house!