Where I'm From

This is an exercise that makes the rounds every now and then. I brought it out for my creative writing students yesterday. It's such a versatile, meaningful exercise that sounds good no matter how simple the vocabulary you use. I remember using it in a workshop, and then writing another version when I was blogging years ago. If you're interested, here's a template you can use to create your own poem.

If you write your own version, let me know, I'd love to read it! 

Where I'm From

I am from Ten Rod Road, garden hoses and sprinklers all summer long, Ball jars that pop on sticky afternoons, and T's salsa. 

I am from shared bedrooms, revolving furniture, forever open doors. 

I am from the daffodil beds, the tire swing, the scent of lilacs on spring breezes. 

I am from shoes set out for Saint Nicholas, Easter dresses and patent leather, from deep and long held grudges, from Dorothy and Rae, Mary Jane, Tee and all the sisters. 

I am from seamstresses and pipe fitters, quilters and dancers, from strong willed and tough love and lots of laughter. 

From because I said so and make do and be good and I love you. 

I am from kitchen sink baptisms, maroon fabric covered cushions in the Congregational church pews, from choir songs and natures hymns of birdsong. 

I am from the hills of Johnstown, from Germany, Ireland, and Wales, from Saint Patrick and Saint Lucia, warm potato salad, pork and sauerkraut, apple pie and chocolate cake for breakfast.

From unions, Temple, and tales from Elkins Park. From rosary beads and a portrait brought home from the war. 

I am from telescopes and kaleidoscopes, from photo collages in the hall and sepia toned photographs kept in shoe boxes, from hand sewn clothes and quilts and stories...

Making space for a pause

We came home from our Thanksgiving travels late on Saturday evening. Sunday we all slept in, in our own beds, and let the day unfold at a leisurely pace. Lucas brought me tea in bed, as he's wont to do recently, steaming and perfectly steeped for two minutes. 

Later in the day I went down to the basement and found a big green Rubbermaid bin, the kind that stacks and looms in corners collecting dust until their annual pilgrimage upstairs. The kids squealed {yes, squealed, at 10 and 12 years old!} when they saw it in the dining room. 

We tore into it and found all of the non tree related Christmas decorations. Nativity scenes, holiday themed books, jingle bells, and the quilted stockings my mother made us all. We've lived in this home for long enough that the kids know exactly where to put each decoration, they know what spaces need to be created in order to make room for trinkets and nutcrackers alike. 

It was early, I know. Not even December, not even Advent, and the plastic angel nightlight from my childhood now sits in my bedroom window. But it felt  necessary. Not because of keeping up with Instagram or Pinterest, but for the pause. 

I wanted to put up the decorations for the pause it affords us during our days: to stop and kiss under the mistletoe, to marvel over creations handmade by the kids when their palms could have fit neatly into mine twice over, to light the candles before dinner and tell the story of how Lucas's mother gave the glass star shaped holders to us years ago, and the memories they hold.

There is much I say no to leading up to this time of year in order to protect the pauses. And it's worth it, as every single no results in a more meaningful yes later on. Whether it's to a planned outing or a night in watching movies or being able to say yes to a last minute opportunity that wouldn't have been afforded otherwise, the yes I utter is unwavering. 

More than anything, the pause is what I crave this time of year. It holds the magic that happens when you least expect it, like in the early morning hours with a mug of tea and twinkle lights and a child, half asleep, who wandered downstairs in search of mama snuggles. 

If not for the pauses, so many sweet moments and memories would be missed. I'm not willing to let that happen in the name of a Perfect Holiday Bucket List, spending money we don't have on things we don't need and manufactured memories that everyone else has simply because it's what we do. No, I'll take the pauses, and the quiet, and the mismatched ornaments on the always lopsided tree, and the laughter that comes with an imperfectly perfect holiday season. 

birthday magic

Twelve years ago, he was born on national bundt cake day. I remember because in the days after his birth, the two of us spent many hours on the living room couch watching Martha Stewart while he nursed and I drank endless cups of Ocean Spray cranberry juices, and Martha Stewart did a whole show on bundt cakes, and I caught the replay. It was fitting because at that time I mostly baked bundt cakes.

Twelve years of mothering. Specifically, twelve years of being his mother. I could say all the cliches, how he's been a gift and a blessing and how he's changed our life. They'd all be true. 

But mostly, I want to write about the way he sees the world, with gratitude and joy. About how on his birthday he carefully tore at wrapping paper, and examined each gift, his face open with thanks and awe. I want to tell you about the toy store we visited after filing for passports (and how gracious he was to share his birthday with the tedious work of getting passport photos taken and the paperwork that goes with it), and how the woman behind the counter told us the entire store was 20% off, and the only thing Fynn wanted in the whole store? A five dollar mood ring. 

On the evening of his birthday, we headed into Boston to see Potted Potter. We knew a storm was coming, but the reports of how much snow we were likely to get varied, and the timeline was even more questionable. We parked the car and walked through Chinatown and into the Theater District, bundled up in coats and hats and mittens, Fynn clutching his Harry Potter wand that was a gift a few years back. The skies were cloudy, but there was no precipitation. The show was less than two hours, full of hilarity and inside jokes and pop culture tidbits. The magic came when we stepped out of the theater and into a snow globe. Snowflakes were coming down rapidly, sideways, and there was at least an inch of snow on the ground and on top of cars. Both of the kids eyes were wide, taking in the first snow of the year, but Fynn's face held all the wonder of birthday magic. He loves snow. I can't tell you how much. It'd be like asking someone to describe how much they love a child or a parent or their favorite food. 

The drive home was long, slow, and tense. Lucas's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. I'm not even sure we turned the radio on. When our kids get nervous, one gets very chatty, and the other becomes quiet. Fynn was quiet the whole ride home, only laughing when we joked about how driving through the snow looks like going at warp speed in star wars. I reached my hand back and held Fynn's. His hands are nearly as big as mine these days.

At home we had to park the car at the end of the driveway so we could shovel off snow and make it to the top. I sent the kids inside, but told Fynn he could play outside in the snow for a while. "It's late, and I'm so tired," he told me. I nodded. But once Lucas and I had cleaned off the driveway, pulled the car into it's spot, and were walking back towards the house, we noticed Fynn on our little hill, building a snowman. 

Paige watched from inside the warm house, and Lucas joined her. But I stayed outside, helped finish up the snowman, and then Fynn and I made snow angels and had a snowball fight. Just him and me. His laughter mixed with wonder, and his eyes twinkled in the dark. It reminded me of when he was little, all the times it was just me and him and I bundled him up for winter walks, all of the first snow of the season we've marveled at together. The house in Ipswich where the storm window wasn't shut properly, and we had snow inside the living room, how he played in it with a shovel and a pail. The hours he spent in his huge snowsuit sitting in snow, taking handfuls of it and eating it no matter how much I protested. Boots caked in snow and mud and how tiny they were in comparison to the big clunky ones he wears now. The blue of his eyes against cloudy grey skies, and how they come alive at the very mention of snow.

Twelve years of being his mama. On his birthday mother nature celebrated him with a nor'easter, and we partied late into the night with snowballs and cake, and joy. There was so much joy. May he always know the joy of birthday magic, a snowstorm, and a family who loves him dearly. 

whirlwinds

A week ago, we were in Washington, D.C. Lucas had a conference to attend, and since part of the reason we homeschool is to be able to say YES when opportunities present themselves, the kids and I tagged along. We left early on Monday morning and drove down the coast, putting us in our hotel room by 3pm. The following two and a half days were a blur of sight seeing and walking and touring our nation's capital. We arrived home on Thursday evening, tired and punchy from ten hours in the car, ready to rest before the arrival of my brother and his wife the following day all the way from Switzerland. 

Much to our surprise, and theirs (it's a long story), they arrived a night early! Not two hours after we unpacked the car, I was back in the driver's seat on my way to Boston to (happily!) pick up the world travelers. We had barely any food in the house, the bathroom wasn't clean, the laundry wasn't done, but none of that matters when you haven't seen your brother in over a year. We fed them bits and pieces leftover from our road trip snack bag, and then hit the grocery store the next day. 

We visited and laughed and ran on fumes and bits of sleep until Toby and his wife left on Saturday morning for the next leg of their journey, and then Lucas and I crashed. I napped for three hours, and didn't feel like I woke up until just today. There were walks, and the new season of Doctor Who (we all LOVE her), a robotics class for Fynn and tennis for Paige and many loads of laundry folded, but it was all done in a sleepy haze. Yesterday was my birthday, and the sky was grey and the air cool, my favorite, and normally I have no problem waking up on even the most overcast of days, but yesterday we were all still sleepy, all still catching up. 

It's felt that way, the last few months, that there's spurts of activity and then a period of catch up. Consistency has been just out of reach. A week or two of that is manageable, but long periods of inconsistent sleep and activity make me grumpy. And it's not being busy. I don't buy into busy. It's inconsistency that wrecks me and my highly sensitive system. But there are times it's necessary, absolutely, and I try my best to lean into it, but there is a huge recovery period. And I always forget this. 

Thankfully, I'm looking forward to a bit more consistency, a bit more rhythm. We've hung fairy lights in our house and embracing all things cozy, I'm desperate to get a handle on the housework (and involve the rest of the family as well) so we're trying out The Organized Mum method, and our learning rhythms are back on track as of today and it all feels good. I feel awake. I've got my feet back under me from our whirlwind summer that feels as though it's finally come to an end, and I'm here saying yes please to it all. But first, the rest of my birthday cake is calling me...

~~~~~

Tomorrow I'll be sending out my monthly newsletter. If you haven't signed up yet and are interested, head over here. I'll be sharing a bit of an update on my writing life, and what I'll be up to next month! 

My favorite pumpkin bread recipe

The other day we were making pumpkin bread and one of the kids asked me where I got the recipe from. I shook my head, "I don't remember," I told them. It's a recipe that's been printed off and taped into a notebook. The edges are a little torn, the paper a little splattered. I've been making this recipe since both kids were in diapers, maybe even since before Paige was born. There's no website listed, and it's not one my mom, or my mother in law, uses. But it's my favorite. It's moist, makes two loaves which only ever lasts two days, and when I turn the mixer on and smell the pumpkin I can picture Fynn as a chubby toddler sitting on the counter with a mixing bowl on his head like a helmet, licking a spoon full of orange batter, his striped pajama pant clad legs swinging wildly. 

It's the recipe I'll send my kids off into the world with, the one they'll make and think of home. 

And I wanted to share it with you all. So here it is, my favorite pumpkin bread recipe. Origin unknown, but I most certainly didn't create it myself. My endless gratitude for whoever did!

Pumpkin Bread

Ingredients: 

1 1/2 cup sugar

1 cup oil of choice (coconut, vegetable, whatever...)

3 eggs

1 16-oz can pumpkin

3 cups all purpose flour (I use Bob's Red Mill gluten free one to one)

1/4 tsp ground cloves

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tsp ground nutmeg

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp baking powser

1 bag chocolate chips (optional, but I always use them!)

Method: 

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Butter and flour (or just use oil, like I do...) two 9x5x3 inch loaf pans. Beat sugar and oil in large bowl to blend. Mix in eggs and pumpkin. Sift flour, cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking soda, salt and baking powder into another large bowl. Stir into pumpkin mixture in two additions. Mix in chocolate chips if desired. 

Divide batter equally between prepared pans. Bake until tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 1 hour (though I start checking at 50 minutes and sometimes that's all it takes). Transfer to racks and cool for 10 minutes. Cool. Slice. Enjoy!

Life post screen free week

Screen Free week ended with a viewing of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix on Saturday night. We huddled together on the couch and all sighed as the television glowed and the familiar theme song filled the living room. And just like that, screens were back in the daily rotation... 

To be fair, we'd all used devices on and off all week. Mostly for work and school, but also for communicating with friends via email and various messengers. This year, we were reminded of how often necessity dictates device usage, from paying bills to knowing the details of a homeschool get together, to simply finding out the weather. 

The weather cooperated and last week we were able to spend quite a bit of time outdoors. The kids each sanded, primed, and painted a piece of furniture. We hiked with friends twice. There was an afternoon at the beach that ended with the first faint sunburns of the year... 

We had a good week, though I found myself longing for Instagram. For Pinterest. For ways to zone out which didn't take much attention or concentration on my part. 

The funny thing is, those things I longed for, actually make me tired. I reintroduced all of the above starting Saturday night, and it's exhausted me. This week I've paid attention to my moods before and after I scroll through pictures and words, and I'm not pleased with my findings. I'm irritable. Tired. Worn down, emotionally. 

I've given this a good deal of thought. As an introvert I need to be cautious about how I spend my energy, and while I think social media is a good way for an introvert to find community, participate in conversations, etc... it's still energy, and I'm still expending it by using my phone to scroll, by being at the beck and call of texts and messengers.

Don't get me wrong, I love the connections made through blogging and Instagram. They are true and valid and worthy of attention and love and provide many positive things to my life. But... I think there's a valid case to be made about how social media and the internet can interrupt the flow of life, while at the same time providing connection. It's all about how we use it, and why. 

Attention, intention, and responsibility are all words that have been floating around in my head the past few days. 

As a family, we've declared Thursdays to be Screen Free Day each week. We're going to keep the conversation going about how we use our devices, and try to be more attentive to the people around us instead of our screens. It's a challenge, especially as technology keeps moving forward and is proving to be a bigger part of our lives than at least I had ever imagined it would be. 

And let's be honest, having the world at our fingertips is amazing... provided we don't let it stop us from getting ourselves out into the world. 

Road tripping

There is no better way to test the strength of your relationship with anyone than to get in a car and drive for four days straight... rest... and then turn around and do it again. Luckily, my family passed the test with flying colors. We not only drove from Massachusetts to Texas and back, but we still like each other! Yesterday was Lucas's first day back in the office, and let me tell you... it was rough. I kept walking around wanting to tell him things. When the kids came down in the morning and asked where he was and I reminded them about the whole work thing they both pouted... 

In all seriousness, we had a wonderful trip. We visited with family and friends, took a tour of Hershey's Chocolate World, crossed the Mississippi, ate incredible Italian food outside of Knoxville, BBQ in Memphis, Tex-Mex in Texas, way too many sugary snacks in the car, saw long-horned cattle, finally understood southern drawls, felt WARM, visited a cavern and saw bats in hibernation, and so much more. We all learned a lot about our country, as well as each other on this trip. I thought I'd share a few lessons from the road I'd like to remember, as well as a few photos... in no particular order...

• Drink more water than you think you need.
• Take advantage of technology: hotels.com, Gluten Free Near Me app, maps, tourist attraction apps, tablets for the kids filled with movies for the endless highway in Tennessee and then Arkansas... 

• Bring a yoga mat, but be okay with not using it often.
• Don't push your agenda on your whole family.
• Have no, or at least realistic, expectations. And if you have expectations, share them. 
• Bring actual mugs (we didn't... but I will always travel with an actual mug from here on out. Thanks for the suggestion, Mom!)

• Be present.
• Look out the window.
• Don't feel bad if your children use devices more than you thought (hoped) they would. It's a long drive. If it didn't make you carsick, you'd be doing the same damn thing in the passenger seat!

• Snacks. Have a bag of goodies in the trunk, and only put what you need for the day in a separate bag within reach. 
• Listen to people you meet, ask questions. Be open to learning about them, yourself, and your own prejudices. 

• Stop often.
• Pee every time the opportunity presents itself, even if you don't need to.
• Read the room, or the car, and act accordingly.

• If people are tired and hungry and have to pee and have been in the car for 10 hours, maybe don't force them to take a selfie... even if it's the perfect opportunity. And if you do, don't make them wait as you try to take five more pictures because you can't hold your phone right. Long will the Virginia is for Lovers sign at the Virginia Welcome Center live in our family memories... 

• Always say yes when someone offers to take a family photo for you.
• Neck pillows. Get some, or just steal your children's. 
• Play music that moves you. Maybe cry when you listen to Frank Turner singing about how "love is about the changes you make and not just three small words..."

• Yes, take reusable water bottles. But think about where you're going to refill them... and if you're not happy with water from fountains, stop every two days and pick up a big jug of water or two to refill your bottles with. Yes, you're still creating waste, but not nearly as much as a dozen plastic bottles of water a day... 
• Check in with people to let them know you're alive, but don't spend your whole day texting. You can share about your trip later. You'll never get the time spent with your family on that very vacation again.

• Silence is a good thing. 
• Rowdy laughter and jokes and rambunctious kids are a good thing, too. 
• It's okay to be homesick. It's okay to cry. It's okay to give more hugs than needed.

• Buy a sheet of post card stamps before you leave home, and use them. Even if it's hard to find post cards, send them. It's worth the time. 
• Keep notes on what you did each day, where you went, where you stayed, what you ate, what you saw. Nothing lengthy, just enough to jog your memory. By the end you won't remember what day it is, let alone when you went through Virginia or what that incredible restaurant in Tennessee was named. 
• Remember that not everyone likes audiobooks... (no matter how much you want to like them, don't feel bad if they're not your thing)

• When approaching Memphis, put on Paul Simon's Graceland album and sing your hearts out (especially if you ACTUALLY have a nine year old travelling companion in the car... and yes, we did!)
• Do the longest driving day first.
• Remember to say thank you when friends pick you up off the side of the highway, 20 minutes from home, as your car and husband drive down the road on and in a tow truck... and then thank the heavens you weren't in Arkansas when your car broke down!

Do you take road trips with your family? I think this is just the start of our road tripping days. Even with breaking down at the very end (darn spark plugs...), Lucas is already planning a trip to the South West, and I've got my sights set on camping in Shenandoah in the next year or two. When you can see the actual progression in landscape and the change in cultures up close, it's hard to imagine traveling any other way. And honestly, I've got a pretty incredible family to travel with who make just about any journey extra special, so why not hit the road?