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. 

November rambles

November is here, and it came with it's predictable moodiness. Overcast weather, drizzles for days, and a foreboding sense of winter. 

I love it. 

For those of us who love quiet, and a slower pace of life, November is something of a treat. Especially early November, where it's nearly too early to start focusing on the holidays, but they're still in sight as a balm for when the grey gets to be too much. And let's be real, there does come a time when it's too much. But to stave off the dreariness there's fairy lights and glowing candles and before long the next season of The Great British Bake Off drops in the US on Netflix (the 9th!). 

These early November days I'm thinking about what I'm interested in and want to write about in this space, aside from writing about writing. I keep coming back to the idea of slow living, and I want to expand on that. Slow, intentional, minimal... all buzz words, I know, but they resonate deeply for me. In slowing down, I always learn about myself, and notice more about the world around me, and how I want to exist in the world. 

At the same time, it's a choice that comes with privilege, to slow down. I find it increasingly painful to read about minimalism and anything remotely to do with self help and the wellness industry because of how glaringly obvious it is that there's misrepresentation happening, cultural appropriation right and left, and a lack of self awareness and privilege. 

I'm not sure where that leaves me, except to share my own experience, acknowledging the privileges I'm afforded. 

And my experience? It's about how my body does not do well in a hurried state. A rushed state. A loud and noisy and stressful state. And how I'm starting to think maybe it's our society and culture that is troubled, and not me. 

Or at least, maybe our society could do a better job of accepting people who are not in it for the money, who aren't in it for the glory, who aren't in it to keep up with the Jones's, but who want to exist in a way that keeps them content and doesn't hurt anyone else in the process. 

I want to talk about living in a way that isn't exactly mainstream. About motherhood, but more so, about how someone who is extremely introverted feels about mothering growing children. About becoming more eco-friendly... in our kitchen and with our wardrobes. 

This season, there may be a shift in this space, and at this very moment I want to extend a preemptive olive branch: by speaking about any of these topics, I am not condemning your way of living. I will be sharing what works for me, in hopes that maybe a bit will resonate with you, or perhaps you could learn something new, or spark some interest. As with everything I write here, I write for myself, but I also write with the thought that maybe someone needs to hear what I have to say.. and that person might feel less alone after reading my words. 

That's what happened last week, when I shared about my roller coaster of emotions that comes with rejection. I'll tell you something, it helps me to hear that others are in the same boat. So it often comes full circle, and a bit of vulnerability can go a long way. 

Thank you for reading my ramblings, I wasn't sure what I was going to share today when I opened up a new blog post, sometimes my favorite bits of writing come spilling out without a plan or an outline, they flow as they see fit.

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!

shifts in spaces, and perspective

We live in a modest two family house. We think it was built around the time of the Civil War. The wide floor boards are creaky, and you can fit several types of Legos in the gaps between. The floors slant and the ceilings are low, there are no hallways - one room leads to the next on both floors. Privacy is at a minimum,  but with exposed brick in the dining room and a built in bookshelf in the living room, the house full of character and charm.

Technically, it's a two bedroom apartment. The kids have been sharing a room since we moved in, seven'ish years ago. They've rarely complained, and it has suited them well. But now they're 11 and almost 10, and their heights and collections are rapidly growing.

Every year or so we start to look at this place a little differently. Notice corners we've under utilized, shelves that lend themselves to dishes rather than canned goods, the perfect wall space for a picture previously stored in the attic. This house has grown with us, changed with our needs, and met us where we are every single time. Whenever I get frustrated with the space, or lack of, I only need reminding that furniture can be moved, pictures rehung.

The other week the kids and I were undertaking a huge spring clean. With vacuum in hand, I looked at their bedroom, how the two beds were so crowded, and the landing we used at the top of the stairs for a playroom was overrun with unused toys and clutter. We'd talked in the past about how maybe it could someday be used for a bedroom, sort of loft style.

"Would either of you want to take over this space for your bedroom?" I asked.

Paige said no right away.

Fynn pondered.

Then he said no.

"That's fine," I told him. I began picking up, preparing to sweep the floors and dust the light fixtures.

And then I caught him pondering some more.

Ultimately, he said yes with excitement in his eyes.

Within the next two hours we moved Fynn onto the landing, reorganized Paige's room, and sorted all the toys and hid them away neatly in the shared closet.

We created space where it looked like there was none. In a way, it felt like alchemy. Everyone is happy in their new spaces, they've shifted bits of furniture around, taking pleasure in the freedom they each have in making their rooms their own. The creative energy has shifted into other areas of the house, we moved around the living room furniture to create more of a conversational area, and the dining room feels more spacious after we moved most of Paige's craft supplies up to her bedroom. We're settling in, again. I'm not sure how long we'll be here, but these shifts remind me you can make a home wherever you are. With whatever space you have. Little or big. It's partly about creativity, but mostly about perspective.

When I was growing up, there were many days when my father would come home from work and find the house rearranged. Bookshelves moved (oh my word... my mother, brother, and I still joke about moving books... all the books...), bedrooms switched, furniture rearranged. He always laughed and said something to the affect of "Your mother is at it again..."

If nothing else, I learned from those experiences to take control of my surroundings, that you can make a big impact in a space without spending much money, and that moving a bookshelf can change an entire room. My hope is that my children will learn the same lesson, and we'll all be able to laugh when they're older as we remember the bruises on our thighs and arms from moving furniture, and the weight of carrying armful after armful of books from one shelf to another. Fond memories they'll be, I'm sure of it.

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?

Morning glory

The alarm goes off at six. I let my eyes adjust to the room, stretch and hide under the blankets for a few moments. And then I know, I know how I'll feel if I don't get out of bed, so I get out of bed. 

That, my friends, is my motivation. 

I make my way downstairs and pour myself a cup of water. I spread the yoga mat and more often than not I open up YouTube on my phone and find a Yoga with Adriene video to help wake up my body. A few downward dogs, a couple vinyasas, some warrior poses, and not only does my body wake up, but my mind as well. 

Next I turn the on the kettle. While I wait for the water to boil, my attention turns to the birds and other wildlife that call our backyard home. Forsythia bushes and lilac trees form a border with our neighbor's yard, and play host to chickadees, squirrels, blue jays, mourning doves, and the occasional woodpecker. With a click, the electric kettle turns itself off and I measure a heaping spoonful of loose leaf English Breakfast tea into my mug and pour hot water over the leaves. Making mental note of the time thanks to the clock on the oven (though nine times out of ten, I forget what time I started at...) I let the tea steep for two minutes. Then I make my way to the living room and sit on the couch as a golden white light streams in and the room glows with softness. 

With a blanket on my lap I open a cheap, recycled, composition notebook and bring out my pencil. Recently Sara Sheehy, a fellow writer (and actually, funny story, we went to the same college, but only knew each other through a mutual friend. We've recently gotten to know each other a bit over on Instagram, and she's someone I would love to chat with over tea and listen to her travel stories. See, social media can be used for good!) reminded me of what Natalie Goldberg writes about - how you need non precious materials to really get all the writing gunk out. To feel okay with writing things that no one else will see, writing that will free you. 

And so I sit and write three pages each morning, and it clears my mind. I used to use a moleskin notebook and a regular pen. But... there's something about how the pencil slides across paper, how it's effortless and smooth, soft. The combination of composition book and pencil not only creates a safe place for my most jumbled words, it also brings me back to Mr. Robert's sophomore English class in high school, where I first learned about the benefits of simply putting pencil to paper and letting the words fall. Every few weeks we had to fill a certain number of pages. He never read them, but we had to show him that we'd done it. I remember one day sitting in the library before class writing the same word over and over again. And then, of course, other words followed. Because that's what happens. I can trace my love of writing way back to my childhood, but my love of free writing and journal writing I believe dates back to that English class. 

By the time I finish with my morning pages Lucas has come down and kissed me goodbye and headed off for his work day. I can often times hear children starting to move around upstairs. And when they make their way downstairs, I'm ready for them. I'm ready for the day. 

A few weeks ago I was in a funk. I was tired, our days were not going smoothly, there were a lot of big feelings and angry voices (mine, and mine...), and I couldn't figure out what the heck was going on. By the third day, I realized it was because I was forgoing my morning routine for staying in bed. The cold mornings combined with late nights spent watching the Olympics were a perfect storm that I used to convince myself I could sleep in. Since we homeschool, we have a very flexible schedule, including very flexible mornings for the most part. So why not? Why not stay in bed, and let the kids wake me up, and then start our day together? 

I'll tell you why. Because sleeping in makes me miserable. 

I cannot even believe I'm typing that, because I love sleep. And for years, I've loved sleeping in. 

Mornings are the only time I can find actual quiet in the house. Yes, I make time for writing most afternoons, but during that time I'm okay with a bit of distraction, I've trained my writing brain to work alongside distraction when necessary.

But I still need quiet. 

I've never been a morning person, and so this has taken work. It still takes work. But it's worth every yawn and afternoon slump. And I'm not saying everyone should do this. It's not about the hour or the yoga or the journal writing. But I do think that every person should listen to their own bodies and see what you need. In a world that keeps getting louder and louder, busier and busier, finding space and quiet, and time to recharge is essential. It will probably look different for you. Whatever it is, a run or a yoga session, coffee with a friend or your daily cuppa before work, an afternoon walk around the block, make the time, and savor it. Even if it's only five minutes. You'll never regret it. And it'll make a difference in not only you, but the people around you as well. 

A few moments to pause, to enjoy what's in front of you, and to reset is one of life's simple and greatest joys. It feels like work, but really, it's gift you can give to yourself every single day. And the best part? It's free. 

Rabbit holes and memory lane

Me and Paige, Florida 2017. By Lucas.

The other day I went down a rabbit hole on YouTube. Have you watched the Great British Bake Off? On one of the seasons (I can't remember which one...) there was a tall firefighter named Matt. Well, he and his wife now have a YouTube channel to share about their lives with two young children, called The Life of Riley. It's adorable, sweet, funny, and brutally honest about what life is like as parents of two children under the age of three.

I won't tell you how many of their videos I watched over the weekend, but it was a lot. The reason I so enjoy their videos is because they remind me of when my children were that age. Fynn and Paige are 21 months apart, and so juggling a toddler and an infant was so very familiar.

My children are now 11 and 9, and parenting them is much, much, much different them than parenting toddlers and babies.

Now, if you have small children, don't worry. I'm not about to tell you to enjoy every moment because you'll miss it all one day. It doesn't do any good to glamorize the sleepless nights, the temper tantrums, the cracked nipples from early days of breast feeding, or the utter exhaustion. I remember being told I'd miss every bit of it - and to be honest? I don't. Not at all. And at the time all those comments did was make me feel like a terrible mother for not enjoying a tantruming two year old in the middle of Target while onlookers told me, "you'll miss this one day..."

But, there is a simplicity of parenting infants and toddlers that I miss, desperately.

I remember needing to meet basic human needs: food, sleep, clean and dry bums. And now, the needs we are trying to meet are ever changing: mental health, physical health, education, braces, anxiety, social situations, friendship issues, making sure they are decent human beings as they grow up right before our very eyes. Parenting, at this stage, feels much more mental than physical, but at times every bit as exhausting... just in a different way.

I wouldn't go back to my children's infancy if given the option. Neither of our children slept at all (which, to be honest, is why we have only two children...), and I really, really, really love my sleep at this point in life. But, I do miss how easily most (not all, trust me, I know not all...) problems were fixed with a bath, nap, snuggle, or snack.

So no, parents of very young children, please don't cherish all of those parenting itty bitty children moments that make you want to cry from exhaustion or with frustration. But know that certain memories of your child's baby and toddler years will make you smile as you navigate the tween years, and (I'm guessing) the rest of their journey into adulthood. They'll keep you going when times are tough, remembering how sweet your babes were, how their belly laughs were contagious, how they smelled straight out of a bath and how heavy in they grew in your arms when they finally fell asleep...

And don't get me wrong, I have loved each age and every stage of the kids development. They are fun, hysterical, sweet, smart, amazing human beings who I love being around, and the older they get the more I'm aware of what an absolute privilege it is to watch these people grow up and blossom and simply live...

...but... if you need me anytime soon, I'll just be flipping through the photo albums instead of working on novel edits (more on that next week!).

Fynn & Paige, just about exactly nine years ago