Resolve

I'm making a resolution right now, starting tonight. I have let things go too long, stayed away much longer than I should have. So starting tonight, I resolve to spend at least 30 minutes every day dancing. Whether I take a class, do a DVD, or just put on some music and go for it, I must dance every day. I'm going to aim for the end of March for now. If I can manage that, maybe I can make the leap and resolve to dance every day of this year.

Nothing is going to move forward unless I move it forward. It's time to put in some work.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

As my few, proud, loyal readers can see, things have changed. New title, slightly different layout, and a more specific focus. Hopefully there will also be a new banner soon. There will still be plenty of N stories, but I am expending this blog to tell the story of our life as a Pagan family. It's such a huge part of who we are, I just can't ignore it here. So stay tuned, and if you're interested in how a Pagan family runs then keep reading, there will be lots to come!


There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~Minnie Aumonier

Words of Wisdom

N is a late talker. That is, at nearly 20 months old, he doesn't talk. He started off on the right foot, saying "mama" at a precocious 6 months old, and quickly moved on to "cat" and "car". But soon after that he dropped all but mama, and only used that in the most distressing of circumstances. T and I have been patiently holding our breath, examining each sound that comes from N's mouth (few and far between though they are) for possible linguistic meaning. But after all this time, we have given up and decided to just let nature take its course. My main concern for N is not his lack of speech, but the communication difficulties caused by a lack of speech. With me, every slight sound and gesture is quickly understood, because are very tuned in to each other. With strangers - or rotating daycare workers - it's not that easy.

So imagine my surprise today when the little guy came out with not one, not two, but three brand new words all in the span of a few minutes. "What wonderful news!" must be your thought right now. But hold that thought, because the new words? They were in Chinese. No, I don't have any problem with N learning Chinese. In fact, I'd be thrilled in he showed an aptitude for foreign language, and Chinese would certainly be a useful one. But couldn't he learn his native language first? You know, the one his mother and all his caregivers speak? It might make things a bit easier on all of us. Then again, when has my beautiful little roughneck ever worried about what's easiest.

I'm thinking soon I'll want to make some decisions. Do I want to encourage this, or cut it off until he learns English? He's not going to learn very much Chinese just from watching Ni Hao Kai-Lan, so further instruction will require stepping away from the TV and into a classroom, or at least some workbooks and DVDs. And at 20 months old, is he too young for this, however informal the education might be? If he truly has a flair for languages, or even just for the one language, I hate to cut him off and let a crucial window pass. Tell me mamas, if any of you are out there reading, what would you do?

Marching on...

My summer off has been bittersweet. With our finances in a shambles, we were unable to take a vacation, or even many day trips. Fortunately we live on a park, so we made up for it by spending almost every day playing outside. N is probably too young for The Met, anyway. We had a lot of fun together and came out feeling somewhat refreshed, but it ended all too soon.

Now the weather is changing, and daily life is changing too. We're well into the school yer, and this year all three of us are at school - T as a teacher, me as a student, and N as a brand new daycare child. The transition has been tough on all three of us. T is teaching SAT prep classes in the evening this year, and subbing during the day. I have my heaviest class load yet, and several extracurricular activities. N is in daycare twice a week, all day long, and with father-in-law the other days. I feel like we never see each other any more, and I can already feel the toll it's taking on our connection as a family. N is a different baby already - less relaxed and smiley, more likely to scream and cling, less interactive and interested in his world. But I have no choices left in this. I have dropped him down to as few days of daycare as possible, and he's still becoming increasingly listless.

Two and a half months. Only two and a half more months until my hardest semster ends. In mid-December we can reconnect, N can leave daycare, and maybe T can take a week off so we can spend some family time. I look back on our empty summer days now and see all the opportunities missed. Could I have taken N to the playground more? Should we have skipped that TV show and played a game together instead? Maybe I could have run those errands another day, a day when the sun wasn't shining and the park wasn't calling to us to come explore. But those days are over, and I missed those chances. It's time to live this day, to make sure we don't miss any of today's chances. It's time to go grab N, give him a snuggle, and play a game. Opportunity calls.

Around the world in 80 clicks

For an explanation of this post, see here.  Then join the game!

Five things I love about being a mother:

1) I get to buy all of the games and toys that I wanted, but didn't have, as a child.  For N, of course. *wink*

2) When I come home from a long day in class, exhausted and hungry, there is always a smiley little face waiting to welcome me back home.

3) The smell and sound and feeling of a warm, sleepy, perfect and tiny body next to mine at night fills me with a languorous euphoria.  There's nothing like sleeping curled up with your baby.

4) Everything old is new again.  Sometimes I feel like I'm starting over, experiencing the world for the first time, but through his eyes.

5) I have an excuse to play endlessly with my camera.

So there you are.  Heavy, light, and in between.  Now go play!  Find out whether the experience of motherhood is similar for women in Sweden, India, Australia, Ireland, and Bolivia.

Rebirth

My father-in-law is a bit of an artistic genius.  He draws, paints, and among the many other crafts he is proficient in, he restores old trunks.  He has several at his house, and in the years I have known my husband I have seen him restore several more, usually those belonging to friends and family.  I never really expected to end up with one of my own, because my husband already has one.  A few weeks ago that changed, when I walked into FIL's house to see the sweetest little trunk he has ever brought home, and knew I had to claim it.  I told him right away that that was my trunk, had to be my trunk, and he agreed.  But rather than restoring it for me, we'd do it together, so that we could spend some quality time, and he could pass on his craft.

They're not much to look at when he first brings them home.  A century of wear and tear means scuffed wood and torn paper, scratches and bad paint jobs.

The tray is a total loss, so that will be thrown away.  The first step is to remove the hinges and take off the top.  Then, piece by piece, the hardware is stripped from the whole trunk, starting with the lid.  One the hardware is off, the support slats and tin covering can be removed.

It's a painstaking process.  When the trunk was nailed together, the pieces were against a block so that the nails would hit the block and curl over, locking them in.  Trying to pull them out would be like ripping out a barbed fishhook, and would destroy the wood.  So, each nail needs to be located under the paper lining and cut with a Dremel tool.  Then a hammer and spike are used to drive the nail back through the wood, so that it can be pulled out by the head.  Once the nails are gone, the hardware can be removed.  More nails much be cut before the wood slats and tin plates are taken off.

And that's it.  Underneath all the plating is a bare wooden trunk.  

But we did find one hidden treasure: a patent stamp from the year the trunk was built.

I'm planning to post pictures and updates on the trunk as we go along.  So far we're only partially done with stripping it, and I expect it to be a long process.  It'll be a lot of fun, though, so if you're curious about how it's done or what it will look like at the end, keep checking back.

1000 words

N's birthday party was on the 21st, and I handed our old reliable point and shoot camera to my father-in-law, the family artist.  The bad news is, he dropped it while the lens was extended, effectively totaling it.  The good news is, we now have a lovely Nikon D60 DSLR to replace it.  Considering how long I've been coveting the DSLRs, I've shown remarkable restraint in my photo taking.

Where has the time gone?

A year ago today, the love of my life came into the world. I never knew a baby could be so perfect - delicate and beautiful, with big, blue eyes like his father's.

He grew so quickly, though. No matter how many times you hear "enjoy it now, they grow fast", it's still a bit shocking how fast they actually do grow.

It's been so amazing watching him turn into an independent and intelligent little person. I thank whatever Gods are listening that we decided to babywear, co-sleep, and breastfeed. I wouldn't trade all the days and nights of cuddling skin to skin for anything. I know these days won't last forever, and I cherish them.

My baby is becoming a toddler. He's so close to walking, and talking, and making the leaps and bounds out of baby days and into childhood. Every day he is a new person. With each milestone he hits, I mourn a little for the baby he was, because I will never see that baby again. But at the same time, I look forward each day to meeting the child he is becoming. Every day really is a new adventure, and I welcome it with open arms.

Happy Birthday N!

Spring greening...part 1

The snow is melting, finally, and the trees are beginning to form those first tentative buds.  The past week has been sunny, dry, and relatively warm, in the mid-40s.  It's time to start cleaning and greening.

I aspire to crunch, but being a modern girl and a city dweller, it doesn't come naturally to me.  I harbor a secret love for the smell of Clorox, the squeak of a Windex-covered paper towel, and the convenience of those little wipes in a plastic can.  What woman doesn't love a freshly sanatized house, and what parent doesn't understand the attraction of swipe-and-toss cleaning supplies?  But in my heart of hearts I believe that we all should lessen our impact on the world.  I also cringe at the thought of N crawling on freshly bleached floors.

Right now T and I are not doing so well with the whole "green" thing.  Yes, we breastfeed, cloth diaper, and I use family cloth in my bathroom.  But we use mainstream soaps and cleaning products for the most part, and we probably go through a roll of paper towels every day, thanks in no small part to N.  So, my main project for this spring is to switch to natural shampoo, soap, and house cleaning supplies.  I'd like to get as close to eliminating our paper towel use as possible, and I'd like to fnd new homes for all of our old junk rather than just tossing it.

First on the agenda:  paper towels.  The best way I can think to replace them is to buy cleaning rages, and keep them in a box on my kitchen counter.  I could buy fabric and hem it, but I don't own a sewing machine (and would have nowhere to put one if I did).  Maybe cheap wash cloths from Target would do?  Something like this would be nice, but I balk at the idea of paying $5 for a single sheet.  Back in the day, my mother kept a stack of old Gerber flat diapers for miscallaneous cleaning tasks.  Maybe that's an idea wirth looking into.

Next up: natural cleaning.  Now, I know some people swear by Seventh Generation goods.  I'm sure they're perfect for some, but not for us.  They're awfully expensive, and I haven't found that they work extremely well.  I want to do right by Mother Earth, but I also want to do right by N, and having a dirty house isn't an option.  I like Method products, but I'm not sure they're really all that natural.  Maybe now is the time to experiment with baking soda and vinegar.  The same goes for replacing shampoo and soap (baking soda), those lovely little wipes (tea tree oil and vinegar), and Tilex (baking soda and a little backbreaking labor).

In the pursuit of green, I'm hoping I will also find my floor and furniture.  De-cluttering is tough when you have a little one around, but it badly needs doing in the Earthy house.  I tend to forget to fold the laundry, thinking that time with N is more important than an unwrinkled shirt.  While this is true, there's also a line, and we're toeing it.  It's time to step back.

Check back soon, dear readers, for Spring Greening part 2.

Wool over my eyes

Have you ever heard that using cloth diapers saves money?  I'm sure it's often true.  Certainly, buying a small selection of cloth diapers, which you can wash and reuse a seemingly infinite number of times, should cost significantly less than constantly buying disposables.  Even though most cloth is size specific, and must be replaced with a larger size as the child grows, the savings should still be con considerable.  In most cases I'm sure it is considerable.  Unless you start using longies.

Longies are knitted or crocheted woolen pants that are used in place of a diaper cover.  That is, you put the child in an absorbant (usually cotton) diaper, then put the longies over top of this.  Because longies are treated with lanolin, they keep moisture in while still allowing air to flow in and heat to flow out.  Brilliant, right?  And though they tend to be a bit expensive ($60-80 is the average price, in my experience), you really only need two or three of them, as they can go weeks between washings due to the amazing properties of wool.

But as you descend deeper into the world of longies, you begin to see that you have entered a clever trap.  A cute, colorful, time and money consuming trap.  Longies are just the start, the gateway drug, if you will.  Next come shorties (for summer), soakers (for nights), skirties (for the girly-girls), interlock pants (for the track suit look), and even frilly little knitted capri pants.  You realize that each of these items (for the sake of brevity I will continue to use "longies" for all) comes in an endless variety of sizes, colors, shapes, and patterns.  There are recycled longies, made out of old adult sweaters.  There are longies with stripes, landscapes, symbols, animals, flowers, and even faces on their behinds.  You can even get longies that look like tights.  Longies can cost anywhere from $5 for a recycled pair, to close to $300 for a very popular and intricate design.  Even buying used, as I always do, it would not be difficult to drop $400 or more in single day on just a few pairs of longies.

So, as you might have guessed, I've been doing a little shopping.  N is growing out of his current stock of covers, and I'm making the switch almost entirely to wool.  Even buying used and mostly recycled, I have already spent $140 on longies and shorties.  For a frugal (to be charitable) soul like me, that's quite a hit, but I have two shorties, three longies, and a night cover coming my way.  Hooray for fluffy mail!  As addictions go, I suppose this one isn't a bad one to have.  Now if only I could stop window shopping for baby carriers...

I don't mean to discourage anyone from trying cloth diapers, of from using wool covers.  Cloth truly is an expensive or as inexpensive as you want it to be.  I only want to warn those of you who might be contemplating cloth, that this is an addiction you might never cure yourself of!  In any case, I highly recommend that every mama (or daddy) thinking of starting up with cloth register over at Diaper Swappers.  Cloth diapering mamas treat their cloth like gold, so it's easy to buy used, but nearly pristine, cloth and accessories of all sorts there.

A new year, a fresh start

This will be a year of many changes, almost as many as last year.  In 2008, we moved to a new home, had N, T started a career change, and I finished my A.A. degree.  This year N turns 1, I start substitute teaching, and finally begin my doula training.  I have my workshop with DONA on the consecutive weekends this month.  I'm barely a week away from my first day, and very excited.  I have been interested in the process of normal birth since long before my pregnancy, so I'm very pleased to be taking steps towards helping other women achieve it.  I also hope, of course, that having a mother who is a doula will help teach N that birth is not an illness, and that it is a natural and beautiful part of life.

But the news isn't all good.  My DONA workshops are just the start of my time away from N.  While completing my A.A., I was able to either bring him to class, or take evening classes so that T could be in charge while I was away.  Now that I'm leaving community college and heading to a university, and to a double major plus honors minor, I'm beginning to see that child care is going to be an issue.  I have always felt strongly that I want to be a stay-at-home mom to my children, at least until they are old enough to attend school.  My heavy schedule at the college, however, is not going to allow this.  I'm scrambling for a solution to our child care problem, and at the same time I'm mourning the loss of my time with N, and of my dream of being a stay-at-home parent.  I have to weigh N's needs now - a young baby who still primarily nurses, and who is very attached to his mama, and in need of her attention - with my need to finish school soon, and our future familial and financial needs.  There are no easy answers, and my heart hurts at the thought of the changes that are about to take place in N's life, and in mine.

Every night, after N falls asleep, I spend a little extra time cuddling him, stroking his hair, and enjoying a few precious moments to gaze in wonder at what I have made.  Already so big and strong, he changes rapidly each and every day, and I know soon I will not be around to see all of those changes.  Will I miss his first steps?  His first word?  How many of his smiles will I never see?  How much of his delightful laughter will warm the heart of a day care worker, instead of his mama, who so desperately needs that warmth?  I find myself mourning for the missed moments before they have even occurred.

Tomorrow, I think I will leave my laptop closed.  The books and magazines I read in bits and snatches throughout the day will stay in their stack.  Tomorrow I think I'll take N for a drive, find a nice park, and introduce him to all of the bushes and trees and birds and squirrels who live there.  I will roll in the snow with him, laugh with him, and leave with as many photos and wonderful memories as I can.  The time really does go by like a blur, they really do grow faster than I ever imagined, and each moment should be treated like the precious gem that it is.  By the time he's grown, I want to have a fortune in these gems, so I'd better start saving for now for the rainy days ahead.

Happy All-idays!

Wishing each and every one of you a joyful holiday, no matter what holiday you celebrate!

Peace on Earth, Good Will to All!

In the bag

I'm a reusable bag junkie. I have big ones and small ones, colored and patterned ones, some for groceries and some for produce and mesh ones and cloth ones and recycled plastic ones. I probably own about twenty of them. And they rarely make it as far as my car, let alone the store.

Today, after stashing a bunch of bags in each of our two cars, I finally remembered to bring them into the store. I carefully chose three bags and two produce bags, knowing that I only needed a few things, so three bags would be plenty. But of course, I ended up buying more than I had intended. The grocery store happened to have holiday lights on sale, and we happen to need holiday lights, so I loaded my cart them. The three bags would work, but it would be a tight squeeze.

When I got to the checkout, I bagged my own groceries, as usual. I try to bag my own so that they're packed well, and to use the fewest number of bags possible. But today, I just wasn't fast enough. I bagged everything but the bread and eggs, intending to put them on the top of two of the bags, but the cashier grabbed them before I could. Into one plastic bag went to eggs, and into another went the bread. What the heck!? I'm pretty sure a loaf of bread can sit on top of a hard paper carton of eggs! I know this, because any other time I have had my groceries bagged for me at this store, that's exactly what the bagger has done. It's like he needed to make up for the reusable bags I brought today by using extra plastic.

It's a minor gripe, I know. Two bags rather than one, when most times I take all my groceries in plastic. But it's not just me - spend enough time on crunchy parenting boards, and you'll hear numerous stories of cashiers refusing to use cloth bags, of putting things in plastic bags before loading it into reusables, of customers handing the bag back to a cashier so it can be used by someone who needs it, only to see the cashier throw it away. The prevailing attitude - that reusable bags trendy, and make no real difference - is appalling. Plastic bags are epidemic. According to the EPA, in the United States over 380 billion plastic bags, sacks and wraps are used each year. Worldwide, almost 1 million are used every minute.

To combat this, I'm making a promise. Starting today, I will load my reusable bags into my car each day. They'll stay in the front seat, where I will remember to use them. All of the plastic bags currently living in a wad in my kitchen cabinet will be reused for something, or recycled. I have been bringing home about close to 40 plastic bags every month, between groceries and other shopping trips. That's close to 500 bags every year - with holiday shopping it probably is 500. If I reduce my bag usage by just half (though I'll be aiming for no bag use, of course), and three more of you agree to cut your bag use in two, we can eliminate about 1000 plastic bags every year. Who will take up the cause with me?

Babes in the woods

I've always been an outdoor kind of girl. When I was a child, we had a black and white TV, and didn't get a VCR or video games until I was in junior high. My play time was spent outside, wandering around the neighborhood, making up games using sticks, rocks, and the few toys I had. I would run just for the feeling of running, search for interesting leaves and feathers and bugs, watch wild animals, and ride my bike until it became too dark to see.

It's always been important to me that my children learn to respect and enjoy nature and the outdoors. As an adult, a growing interest in backpacking and other outdoor sports solidified the importance of exposing my kids to the natural world. These days, so many children spend their leisure time in front of a television or computer, growing fat and unhealthy and disconnected from reality. People seem to live from house to car to mall to car to house, never stopping to feel the breeze on their cheek or to watch a flock of birds go by. People run from raindrops as if they will melt, and pass by beautiful flowers without a glance. Instead of climbing a hill to watch the sun set, they get on a treadmill at the climate controlled gym, with iPod or television blaring. They settle down onto their couches at night to watch the imaginary lives of others, rather than living their own.

I'm determined that my son will not squander his youth in front of the noisy box. He will know how wonderful it feels to hike through the woods, listening to the bird calls and the wind in the treetops. He will bate a hook to catch fish, jump in a leaf pile, climb a tree, and follow deer tracks across a snowy field. He will understand, through firsthand experience, the importance of preserving nature as it is, and limiting human encroachment. He will know our Mother for what she is, and hopefully feel the call to love Her and to care for the world She created.

NATURE, the gentlest mother,
Impatient of no child,
The feeblest or the waywardest,—
Her admonition mild
In forest and the hill
By traveller is heard,
Restraining rampant squirrel
Or too impetuous bird.
How fair her conversation,
A summer afternoon,—
Her household, her assembly;
And when the sun goes down
Her voice among the aisles
Incites the timid prayer
Of the minutest cricket,
The most unworthy flower.
When all the children sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps;
Then, bending from the sky,
With infinite affection
And infiniter care,
Her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.

~ Emily Dickinson

In which I go for broke

The festival season is upon us. All you Pagans out there know of what I speak: the circuit of art, dance, music, and religion fests that simply can't be missed. Entire campgrounds taken over completely by robed (and disrobed), henna-dyed, jewelry covered hippie types, frolicking over the fields and fens in all their tie-dyed and hemp bedizened glory. If you're a mid-Atlantic Pagan, you simply must attend a summer festival. My choice for this year is Starwood, the mother of all Pagan fests. Starwood is the east coast Burning Man, but with less dust and more love.

Not only is this my first Starwood, it's also my first camping trip of the year, and my first time going away with my 4-month-old. T (the husband), being the godless sort and not one for public nudity, will not be attending. Which brings me to the issue at hand - camping with an infant.

I've been a serious backpacker for a few years now. I own enough equipment for two backpackers to be comfortable at any time of the year. But can I attend Starwood with the equipment I have? Of course not. In order to have a comfortable and successful trip with the wee one, I need enough gear to fill a Babies R Us and a Cabela's. (Note to self: start up a new store, "Babies R Camping," and make a fortune off your first customer) New tent, camp chair, cooler, diapers for over a week, toys, stroller, carriers... You name it, I had to buy and/or pack it. And because I'm riding up with two friends - one of whom has a 19-month-old - space in the car is limited. I've been sorting the pile and sorting again, tossing back everything that I don't absolutely need for the trip. Guess who's things make up the majority of the toss back pile? Two guesses. If you guessed N (the babe), you're wrong. Because apparently a 15 pound person needs five times more camping gear than a 130 pound person does. Go figure.

So, the car seats were installed today (borrowed car), the gear will be packaged by Friday, and Saturday morning I make the long drive out to Brooklyn to pick up my friends, and then onto points unknown. A nice, simple, relaxed camping trip. Just me, N, and a mountain of large and expensive camping gear.

Gods help me...
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Win a Bum Genius 3.0 Starter Kit from Nature's Child - Wholesome Goods for Mothers and Babies
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A warning would have been nice

Why didn’t anyone warn me that I’d love you like this? That the sight of you sleeping would make me tear up, and that the sound of your cry would make my heart race. That no matter how much I love your father – an all-encompassing love, the kind that can rattle my whole world and take my breath away – that no matter how much I love him, that love would be like nothing compared to my love for you. Why didn’t anyone tell me that my arms would ache for you when we’re apart?

I became a new person the day we met. My love for you rose up like a wave and smashed so many of my fears, my insecurities, my shallowness. The day we met you took over my mind, but I did not “lose myself” as I had sometimes feared, in the darker moments of my pregnancy. I have lost nothing, but gained everything. Though I have always been a complete person, my completeness has solidified since meeting you. It has more texture now, more depth. Though you did not give my life purpose, you have made my purpose, and everything I do, so much more meaningful that I ever could have imagined life would be.

Sometimes, while you nap, I stand in front of a mirror and look at what has become of me, physically. I think about the fears of pregnancy – that I would get fat, that horrible stretch marks would form, that I’d never “get my body back”. As I look in the mirror I think back to that, and smile. If only someone could have told me then that I’d cherish the roundness my belly has now, and will likely always have. If only they could have warned me that I would still smile and caress that spot, your former home, even after you had vacated. I wish I could have known then, while you were safe and warm and protected inside me, that I would miss those days so much now.

Every day you grow and change, almost before my eyes. Each time I look at you, you are bigger and stronger and more like a little person, exploring the big and exciting world. Every day you become more like yourself, you draw away from me just a little bit more, and I know that this will continue until, someday, you will move away. And the thought of that day makes a hole grow in my chest – a bottomless pit of fear and sorrow and pride. Why didn’t anyone warn me?

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