another day slips past me

Friday, July 28, 2006

another day slips past me Current mood: restless I'd just like to reiterate: it's truly amazing how the day just disappears, and it's late at night and I feel as if I've accomplished nearly nothing. I've been busy all day (sometimes ridiculously so) and yet here before me are almost everything on my to-do list, still yet to be crossed out. How can two small children- two reasonably good small children- require SO much time and energy? It's easy to laugh off as an old truism that small children take time, but holy shit, is it ever true! Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed with everything that is expected of me- I know it's not possible for me to do it all. I'm just doing the best I can, while trying to hang onto my sanity. A funny side note is that part of what takes me so long sometimes is Littleman's new avid interest in "helping". On the one hand, I am really glad for his interest, and I really want to encourage the idea. On the other hand, it would be so much faster for me to do it myself. But it's wonderful for him to fold laundry, swiffer the floor, dust and put away dishes. It makes him feel grown-up and helpful, like he is a productive member of the household. It is training him in how to do these things, so he can do them well when he is older. It helps him develop all sorts of areas, including hand-eye coordination, gross motor skills, social skills, sensory awareness, and other things like sorting and symmetry, for instance. And it's something he can participate in without his little brother dividing my attention. I'm glad of these things and this is an important part of his homeschooling, but ~sigh~ it does slow me down. Still, it's very cool. Ghiradelli makes the best brownie mix ever. Period. My back hurts. This morning, Billy was trying to get Littleman to say to me, "I'll give you the first million dollars I make" or something to that effect. (As an addendum to "please"). Littleman obediently starts to repeat it back, but stops himself and shakes his head. "No, I can't" he told me. LOL! Tonight I am grateful for help, for a potty-trained toddler (yea!), for herbal tea and for my husband. :)

Lessons from the Cove

Monday, July 24, 2006

Lessons from the Cove Current mood: pleased It's not hard to imagine a life here. Without electricity, without running water. With few neighbors and little contact outside of the cove. I can imagine growing up here, free to roam the fields and forest as you please. Helping with chores and playing with siblings and cousins, making up things to do because there is no electric box around to entertain a passive mind. I'm sure it was a hard life, lonely and dangerous. But it was a life steeped in beauty, rooted to the Earth (gee that sounds so cliche but I mean it), and full of purpose. A life connected to the land around you and the people you depended on. I am sure my rose-tinted glasses make it all seem much more wonderful than it felt at the time (as I have mentioned before, I'm not sure I'd relish laundry without a washer and dryer, for instance), but I do think there is so much to be learned in that way of life that we are missing in today's world. It would be nice to have your cake and eat it too, to live those experiences without the danger, the loneliness, the gossip or the stifling feeling it can instill. But of course it is precisely some of these things that help build character and self-reliance, the creativity and a sense of belonging. Without the hardships, many of the rewards are lost. I guess the best thing to do is to try and recreate the best aspects of that life, discarding the isolation and some of the physical hardships. Become connected to the land. Wherever you are, it's possible, and in addition I think it's important to wander wilder landscapes as well. Teach yourself and our children about the Earth, about self-reliance (practical in any environment) and responsibility (to oneself and to the universe, in the sense that making your own small sphere of influence ring true will help sound echoes of harmony in the wider world). Stay connected, stay purposeful. Try to discard the distractions, if you dare (I'm not sure I do. . .) Let the children be bored sometimes. Force them to be creative. Little things regain their meaning. Let them contribute to their world; help them be useful and productive. Give them unstructured time and help them accomplish what they want to do with that time, if they need help. (Today we do not have the skills that used to be commonplace. Could you go make a working kite right now? Would you know how to fish? Do you remember jump rope games? Do you know how to build a raft? And the most important question for you today: Do you know how to learn?) I don't think these are just idyllic, outdated pasttimes. I think they hold real value, true lessons that can not be found at Toy R Us or even on the neighborhood block anymore. And I think adults today would benefit just as much (often more) from returning to these pursuits than our kids will. Try it. I hope I remember to.

Campfire

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Campfire Current mood: creative I stretch my legs out before me, rolling my shoulders back and pointing my toes toward the fire. I relax, breathing a deep sigh of warm, humid sweet mountain air. The sun has long since retired for the evening, but the moon is ripe and round, and her silvery shine mingles nicely with the golden red glow from the flames. The occasional sparks dance weightlessly up to kiss her, fading into nothingness somewhere beyond the branches overhead. I feel a little stiff from the bike ride today, but under that feeling my body has the liquid warmth I get from a good, active day- a certain suppleness that I don't realize I've been missing until I get it back. I feel good. Conversation continues around me, but I am leaning back to peer up through branches toward the winking stars. Toasty toes, cool air on my neck and the smell of wood smoke, moist forest and lingering cooking smells in my nose. The cricketts are creaking their summer song all around as the fire hisses and pops gently. We have not heard the wolves on this trip, as we once did camping here several years ago. Perhaps they are less vocal in the summer? But I sense a movement out of the corner of my eye and cock my ear for the soft whoosh of our resident wild spirit. The huge owl, like so many animals here, is relatively unconcerned with the trivial activities of the human visitors. She swoops through the campsite nightly on her hunting rounds. I get goose bumps as I watch her. A powerful totem animal, the owl. Laughter calls my attention back to our little gathering. Soon it will be time to turn in, and try to get some elusive rest this night. (Much as we are enjoying ourselves, Littleman is the only one in our little party who has been sleeping well this trip). I am tired, and the trip has been hard as well as fun. (Sometimes, more hard than fun- camping with kids is a new experience for us!) But I am grateful for this moment, for the people around me and for the memories we will carry forth from this week. I smile to myself wondering what seminal impressions we are cultivating in the kids- hopefully, they will reap the greatest rewards. Regardless, I am very glad to be here.

Sorry kid, the potty's all done

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Sorry kid, the potty's all done Current mood: tired The campground has facilities with running water, sinks and toilets (but no showers). Littleman was too busy most of the time to go potty (we went through a lot more diapers than he's been using at home) and we were slack (I admit) on pushing the issue. But he did go potty several times. At one point he told me he needed to poop, so off we went. The toilets there have sensors that "know" when you've gotten up, and they then flush themselves. Sometimes they seem to flush randomly because they sense other movement. Littleman has never encountered this phenomenom before. We were in the stall, removing his shorts and diaper. This takes a little while, and the toilet apparently thought we'd gone so it flushed. Littleman was really startled, and said with real alarm: "But I want to go POOPY!!" I had to reassure him that it was OK, he could still poop and we would just flush the potty again at the end. LOL! * * * * * I have more ideas on stuff I want to write for you, and some word crafting I'd like to do. But I am SOOOOO tired so this is it for now. I'm going to bed.

I'm back!

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

I'm back! Current mood: busy Sorry for disappearing- we were off camping in the Smokies for a week. It was a good trip! Littleman in particular had a really great time. I have been busy since we got back catching up on laundry, dishes and paperwork, not to mention all the other things on our calendar. I will blog as I find time. Now however, I really must get a few more things done.

I can hear the crickets

Friday, July 07, 2006

I can hear the crickets Current mood: tired I can hear the crickets chirping outside. It is one of my all-time favorite sounds. Instantly I feel echoes of childhood, the rosy afterimage of half-remembered moments. Summer camp, sweet muggy evenings at my great-grandparents' farm, taking short-cuts through backyards after dark. Catching firefies or eating ice-cream on the deck when I should have gone to bed long ago. Their rythm also calls up later memories- skinny dipping at Rockbrook Camp with some other counselors, motorcycle rides through the liquid summer night air, sweet sweaty sex with the summer night breeze to cool us. Rich, rich remembering. I want to fling all the windows open to let the sound pour in. I like Winter, Spring and Fall (especially Fall), but they do not bring me this gift. I am so grateful for summer nights, and the crickets that remind me.

clothesline

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

clothesline Current mood: thirsty Quiet now, one child off with my Mom and the other napping. I collect the laundry basket off the couch- I had set it there earlier when I was distracted from the task at hand, since Littleman had to go potty and then the doorbell rang and then I had to collect his suitcase and I was irritated at my Mom and irritated at myself for being irritated, and I had to install the carseat in her car and let the dogs in and Sweetcheeks started to fuss and what was I saying again? Oh, right- so I collect the laundry basket and step onto the deck. The air outside has a mirage-like quality to it, shimmering with the intensity of the sun. It's so humid it seems I can actually feel the weight of the water in the air, pressing in on me and coalescing into sweat droplets that trickle slowly down between my breasts. I have a rope tied up right now for laundry, to take advantage of the relentless sunshine. It's blaze can fade stains right out of cloth diapers and leave all the laundry smelling fresh. One by one I hang the swimsuits, shirts and other items from the basket. Not a breath of air stirs the leaves; there is no cloud in the bleached-blue sky. A dog barks, I hear a lawnmower nearby. I ponder the dedication it must take to make someone mow their lawn in this. Just thinking about it is too much work. By now my dress is sticking to my back, and fly-away tendrils of hair are plastered to the edges of my face. I hang the last sarong and retrieve the empty basket. As I head for the door, I think about washing all our laundry outside, in washtubs by hand, and not having the electric washer and dryer as options. My great-grandmother did it, for many many years at the farm in Alabama. Water from the spring, lye soap and a washboard. Many hours, many clotheslines, many callouses. She was one of the first in the county to get a motorized wash-basin for laundry, and she was SO proud and pleased. Even all those years later as she reminisced about it, it made her smile. Everyone could hear that thing for miles around! I flatter myself that I am pretty self-sufficient and hardy, but I am thankful not to test my mettle that way. Mentally I kiss my washer and dryer as I step into the air-conditioned cool of my kitchen, and count my blessings!