Room for Clutter

"Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life... perfectionism means that you try desperately not to leave so much mess to clean up. But clutter and mess show us that life is being lived. Clutter is wonderfully fertile ground." -Anne Lamott, "bird by bird"

These words by author, Anne Lamott, are ringing in my ears tonight like the gong of my toddler's wooden hammer against my pots and pans.

Perfectionism. It has been a visitor in my home for a while now. Like an unwanted neighbor’s child who rings your doorbell incessantly after hours looking for a playmate (not that this has ever happened to me personally, uh, except for maybe last summer). You really do NOT want to let them in, but the ringing is so loud and why, who wants to be rude and neglect their call to love their neighbors?

Who knows when it started or where it started. But it is a force that has been steering me for as long as I can remember now. Of course I never call it by it's true name. I call it things like, "being tidy" or "looking my best" or even "taking care of business". But those are probably just cover-ups for this sturdy and keen skeleton in my closet.

I am getting deep here, and I apologize for those of you who were looking forward to photos of our family frolicking in the heart of a rose garden! On the bright side, I can tell you that in addition to rattling my soul to it's deepest depths, Lamott’s words on perfectionism have also encouraged me to rearrange my bedroom furniture again (uh, I mean, change my perspective, about CLUTTER that is!).

So here we go…

Instead of needing my kitchen sink to sparkle and smile affectionately back at me before I go to bed at night, I will instead leave a plate or two siting in there to camp out for the night. Perhaps they will thank me in the morning.

And instead of wanting my front yard to look like an Oprah-inspired make-over, I will be content with the two beautiful, healthy and well-watered flower pots on my steps (If they survive the constant plucking of their petals by my two older children!).

And instead of wanting every human being on the face of this earth (and perhaps creatures and various life-forms on other planets too if they really do exist) to like me, really, really like me, I will instead be enlightened by the idea that not EVERYONE enjoys my company.

What can I say, I am a work in progress. Call it New Year's Day in my house because I can feel a resolution coming on. If Fergie can spell “G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S”, then I am indeed capable of lightening up a bit.

Okay, say it with me, “I will allow more clutter , less tidiness and more room for living life (instead of just trying to organize and sweep it to death!)” Okay, again. And one more time.

After all, who wants to be "cramped" and "insane" their whole life? Not me.

A Blooming Marvelous Day

**PHOTOS BELOW**

If you're every in need of a natural pick-me-up, just surround yourself with thousands of roses!
We had a chance to attend one of the many "Connecticut Rose and Garden Weekend" events this afternoon and let me tell you, it was overwhelmingly magnificent!
Sadly, it was our first attendance of Hartford's Elizabeth Park Rose Garden event. We had been to the park before, but never for the official blooming weekend. It turns out that the rose garden is over 100 years old and is the third largest in the U.S.
It was an experience for all of us to walk underneath, besides and between literally thousands of delicate roses. The colors were vivid and unique. Certainly no artificial touch-ups here. Only the authentic touch and design of a perfect Creator.
Nature has its way of capturing and captivating the minds, bodies and spirits of children. And today, the park did just that. In addition to experiencing (with just about ALL of their five senses!) the roses, the children also crossed a pond, saw ducks swimming, discovered a feather, planted a marigold, crafted a branch into a "walking stick" (my Nicolas is turning out to be the ultimate mountain man), breathed in the freshness of the June air and had the chance to be a part of something really special.
Just see the photos below!

Photos

Just for the Funny of It

Sometimes you just need a good laugh. I don't know quite how to describe this photo. What's most hysterical? The fact that he is pantless and wearing red rain boots or the side-smirking grin that he's got on his face?

letting learning take it's course

I don't know whether a nap or a victory dance would be most appropriate! But as we finished up our first official year of homeschooling (kindergarten) one thing is certain, I am feeling quite proud.

One (of the many) motivations of keeping my daughter "at home" this year was that I deeply desired to travel the journey of literacy with her. Maybe it's pride nudging me to be THE ONE who helps her learn to read. Or perhaps it's plain instinct taking over. All I know is that I wanted to be there when my daughter learned to read.

Unlike traditional schooling where a child brings home projects, papers and evaluations on a regular basis to show proof of what was learned during the hours spent out of the company of the family, it is quite different when your child takes on the academic world in their own home/world. Of course we have stacks of papers, art projects, math worksheets, copied poems, traced alphabets and the like posted and stored in our house from the past year. But we don't have the "checklist" of a report card to tell the story of my daughter's learning. What I have had on a daily basis is the amazing and satisfying experience of actually SEEING her learn. It's like being there to take in the moment of your baby's first steps. Who would want to miss that? And who would be able to describe it back to the parent as perfectly as if they had witnessed it firsthand?

And although she has "mastered" the traditional skills of reading, writing and math, the learning experiences don't end where the paper trail does. Moreover, she has gained knowledge from the world around her (literary world, musical world, nature/Creation, world of movement and dance, world of humanness). Identifying the leaf from our front yard's (maple) tree, chasing and naming a butterfly ("Michelle"), picking (our neighbor's) flowers for me to enjoy at the dinner table, meeting our new neighbors, learning by heart a plethora of nursery rhymes, learning to fold (just as neatly as I'm able to) a load of clean towels/washcloths, being able to read and recite by memory (and on her OWN initiative) the poem “Fairy Bread" and learning to like, love and share her life with her two little brothers are just a FEW OF THE MANY valuable lessons that she has learned over the last 9 months. Now THAT has been the extraordinary portion of our "schooling".

Don't get me wrong. There are times when I wonder if it is all worth it.

There are moments when I feel like calling up the superintendent of schools and asking them to send a squad car to pick up my truant daughter and bring her to a place where people are actually "doing school"!

Yes, there are days when no official "schoolbook" is opened, no pencil sees the light of day out of the pencil box and where it seems we have noTHING to show for. But these are the days when we are simply living life together, as a family.

And for now, it just feels right.

sunny bedtime

Some of my most vivid memories from my childhood have to do with bedtime. In particular, going to bed during the summer.
I can remember lying in bed looking up at the shadows from cars speed across and around the tops of my walls like it was a race track. I can remember feeling hot. I can remember not feeling tired and most off all, I can remember the feel of that sunny room; a bright place, when it was supposed to be dark.
I always felt like my parents were tricking me during these summer night bedtimes. How could it be time to end my day, when the sights and sounds of what I knew my day to be were still present?
Well, recently, I have found a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson from "A Child's Garden of Verses" that perfectly portrays my thoughts about the summer bedtimes from long ago.

Bed In Summer
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?

I read this poem with my children the other night. They sat silently after I finished. Perhaps they have not felt the feelings about the injustice and confusion of going to bed while it's still light outside (they are tucked snugly in at 7:30pm each night!). Maybe they have been quite content about going to bed while the noises of the day are still echoing in the neighborhood. Maybe I have just given them something to think about. I wonder if it will come back to bite me?

The Dangerous Duty of Boyhood

Let me tell you a little bit about my three, almost four year old son Nicolas. First off, he is the most adorable thing you have ever seen. If he had any more dimples on his face, it would be considered illegal!

Since he has been quite small, he has been interested in very "boyish" things. It started with him pounding his wooden pegs into his toy bench with the might of Bamm-Bamm Rubble from "The Flintstones" at about 18-months. Somewhere around age two, his infatuation with wildlife started to bloom. His ability to spot and name birds, sharks and dinosaurs in nature and in books is very instinctive. He celebrated his third birthday party with a "John Deere" theme and loved every dirt-filled moment of it.

It seems that all things "boy" speak his name and call him into an imaginary world where his is warrior, captain, or resident hero. Words like "daggers", "swords", "bow-and-arrow" and "wolf" bring delight to his soul and feed his imagination like oxygen feeds flame.

As we speak, he has a coonskin cap, pirate's hat and viking helmet adorning his bedposts. He asked us during dinner recently if he was old enough to have his own hatchet ("Uh, no son. Not just yet!!!!). To say that his testosterone is flowing properly would be an understatement.

So it's no surprise that my ears perked up when I heard about this book, "The Dangerous Book for Boys", a book about the lost art of being a little boy.

Everything from how to make your own bow and arrow to how to skip a stone properly are covered in this "dangerous" book. And although these feats may seem a natural part of a boys (or girls) day for some, it is sad to think that there has to be a book about teaching someone how to build there own fort or find "NORTH" on a compass. I daresay that my father needed a book to find ways to keep busy on a summer day (let's just say that my father's childhood involved lots of frogs, a good amount of matches and entire days spent with his buddies in the woods!).

From a mother who has seen her son's eyes become as wide as saucers at the sight of a mud puddle, I know how precious these experiences can be to a little boy. Especially a little boy living in present day America. A boy who may not ever know the feeling of climbing to the top of a tree or catching a slimy, swollen bullfrog with his his own bare hands.

I haven't read this book and perhaps I never will pick up a copy of my own. But for now I am LOVING THE IDEA of letting boys be boys. It is something I allow myself to do on a daily basis!

Our "Out-of-Doors" Day

"For we are an overwrought generation, running to nerves as a cabbage runs to seed; and every hour spent in the open is a clear gain, tending to the increase of brain power and bodily vigour, and to the lengthening of life itself. Never be within doors when you can rightly be without.meals taken "al fresco" are usually joyous, and there is nothing like gladness for converting meat and drink into healthy blood and tissue. All the time, too, the children are storing up memories of a happy childhood. Fifty years hence they will see the shadows of the boughs making patterns on the white tablecloth; and sunshine, children's laughter, hum of bees, and scent of flowers are being bottled up for after refreshment." -Charlotte Mason

Today, was indeed a day of beauty. I just love this excerpt from the works of Charlotte Mason about the need and importance for children (and ADULTS) to be "out of doors". Just being in the fresh air can do wonders for the body, mind and spirit.

The cool air and warm sunshine was like fuel for the minds and bodies of my little ones today. They kept themselves busy with some very simple objects: a pail of water (that they filled, and refilled and filled again), two cloths, some bubbles and their bicycles.

The best part of my day was hearing them busily work as they scrubbed the house, shutters and railings. I stepped outside to see what all the banging was and Sophia was furiously washing the shutters and said that she just had to get them "ruby red" (the above photo)!!! Nicolas was also taking his job of soaping things up pretty seriously and took the initiative to bring the dishtowels outside.

Our day ended with a really simple dinner outside (photo of the paper plates about, I said it was simple) on our deck. It felt so good to eat with the sun on my back and a breeze on my face.
Needless to say, this day was a good one. Revitalizing. Uplifting. Important.

The Un-Happiest Mommy on the Block

Trying to find and focus on the beauty of motherhood is honestly something I strive for daily. Honestly. But today was anything but beautiful.

Waking up to the sound of rain alone was enough to send me into a tizzy trying to figure out how I was going to manage being indoors all day with a 1, 3 and 5-year old.

But I think the disastrous portion of my day really started with my little one waking up with a fever. He is teething. His nose and mouth alone are oozing enough liquid-matter to fill a drywall bucket.

He wouldn't eat. He wouldn't let me put him down. He wouldn't smile. He did however have a very keen interest in a certain part of my anatomy and was ravenous in his nursing appetite today. Kind of like having a newborn all over again.

Then there was the homeschooling portion of our day. It went from bad to worse. And I think it ended with my daughter screaming out that she hated school AND ME. I didn't handle this in a very gentle way and let my emotions get the better of me. Instead of calling it quits, I presented her with even MORE schoolwork. I kind of felt like a really bratty and selfish babysitter instead of a loving and nurturing mother.

I will try and keep it brief, but here is a little more about my day:

While attempting to strip my son's bed sheets for a good washing, I noticed a, well, there's no polite way to say it, a skid mark on his comforter. Ugh! Now I have TWO extra loads of laundry.
My baby had diarrhea from teething and the older two kept sniffing his bottom and yelling things like, "Oh, gross/He stinks/Smell his butt/Ahhh, diarrhea!!!" Bathroom humor is HUGE in our house right now.
Spent 45-minutes chasing toddler son around library as he tore books, videos, DVDs and stuffed animals off of display tables. At one point I actually lost him. Panicked for about 15 seconds and found him in the puppet section.
While at the store: 3-year old son is accidentally sprayed in the eyes by a cleaning agent while trying to move to the side of the aisle in an effort to get out of the way of a very grumpy lady (who obviously has never had children of her own OR doesn't remember what it was like when her's were young). Lose 20 minutes while filling out the "incident report" and flushing son's eyes with water in the ladies room.
My 5-year old is pretending to "shoot" tiger claws out from a tiger figure we are purchasing for one of the birthday gifts. She notices a card with George W. Bush on the front in the "Political" card section of the Graduation cards and loudly exclaims, "Hey Mom, I just shot the President". Yikes. What kind of training camp am I running in my home?
I think that after that nothing much happened at the store. Oh, except for the baby's fingers getting stuck in the conveyor belt during check-out. That's it I think.

I'm really trying to find the beauty in my day. I'd really like to be able to share a very wise and insightful lesson that was taken from my day, but I just can't wrap it all up in a neat little package for you.
Perhaps some days are not very pretty. Perhaps, like one of the titles from a library book we borrowed today, there is "A Season for Everything". Even chaos.

trash or treasure?

In addition to dreaming about planting gardens and hanging my clothes to dry on a clothesline (an imaginary one for now), I also think a lot about "tag saling" this time of year.
My husband usually breaks out into a cold sweat when he sees me sliding on my flip-flops and rummaging for any cash that I might have in my bag (usually, not much) becuase he knows what types of items I usually bring home from these tag sales.
It's just that I get so excited at the sight of hundreds of items sprawled out on garage tables, driveways and on quilts on people's lawns. Call it "impulse shopping" if you will, but if it is impulsive, it's also very justifiable. I mean who can resist a "Trivial Pursuit" game for $.75? Not I.
Looking back, I can really understand how and why Mike's realism and practicality surface during these Saturday morning outings. For starters, I usually ending up buying things that we DON'T need AND in doing so, take up space that we DON'T have.
I guess it's time to fess up and tell you some of the "jewels" that I've carried home that at the time I truly believed that I just couldn't live without.

A vinyl bib-like thing with a metal clamp on the back, I think it was from the '50s and originally used on boats. I thought the kids could use it for storage.
A trunk-full of old quilts and blankets (one of which we used as Sophia's bedspread for a while).
Wooden trucks and cars (now that we still use).
A red table (perfect for the children right? Except oops, it was glazed with lead paint and that paint was chipping!!!).
Milk glass dishes, vases and cups (really beautiful, and only a quarter for each!).
And my favorite (and Mike's least favorite. He truly loathed this item) an old "rubbing" from a grave in England. It was the prettiest shade of blue and it pictured what I thought was a saint of some sort. Mike believes it was a picture of the deceased. Needless to say, that item never made it up on our wall).

Perhaps these tag sales are just a cheap form of amusement for me. Perhaps someday I'll stumble upon a real jewel and own something very important and valuable. But for now, I'll just chalk it up to a real relaxing way to spend a Saturday morning this summer. Oh, and he doesn't know yet, but I hope to "hit the sales" in just a bit.