A Year Without Mirrors

(source)

Have you seen this blog?

Mirror, Mirror... OFF The Wall

I came across this the other day, and I found it absolutely fascinating. Like really fascinating. I can't stop reading. You'll definitely want to spend some time there when you're done here (you're welcome), but in a nutshell:

It's written by a woman who formerly worked in the fashion industry, and is currently studying the relationship between "beauty" and equality. The blog is about her year-long experiment - begun 6 months before her wedding - in which she completely gives up mirrors.

I love it. Love the concept, love her writing, love how it makes me think.

Body image and self image and how we perceive beauty in general are such a huge part of our culture. I like to pretend that they aren't, but turning on a television or picking up a magazine or walking just about anywhere in public tells me otherwise.

My kids tell me otherwise too, in ways that break my heart. My 14 year old starting to worry about shaving and acne and what girls will think of his appearance. My 11 year old, who has finally stopped cutting off all his curls because he thought that straight hair was cooler. My three year old little girl, who's already been told by a proud 5 year old cousin: "You're not as skinny as me."

It all makes me sad, and certainly isn't a subject that can be covered (or covered well anyway) in one single blog post. I think I just might write about it some more in the future. In the meantime, check out her blog, and be inspired.



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The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Does anyone remember reading this book as a kid? I remember the book well, and I remember a 6th grade creative writing assignment (I remember a LOT of creative writing assignments in eery detail) where we had to write our own version. Mine involved throwing an alarm clock in frustration and accidentally hitting my dad, pouring milk on my cereal only to find out it was spoiled, and falling out an open window at school.

I always think of that book on days like yesterday... days marred by not one big lousy thing, but a succession of many many little lousy things. The kind of day that when, at 4:00 in the afternoon, you finally get your first chance to sit down for a tenth of a second (on the bathroom floor no less, because taking a bath is the absolute only thing that the three year old wants to do), your seven year old promptly kicks over your entire cup of coffee in his haste to join his sister in the tub. The kind of day when you spend a good two minutes with a wet pair of shorts, just staring at the tan puddle spreading across the tile from said cup of coffee, because you're literally too tired to do anything about it. The kind of day when you actually dread leaving your post on the cold bathroom floor - as uncomfortable as it is - because you don't want to face the mess that awaits in the rest of the house.

The kind of day when you finally and gratefully go to bed after a warm meal, in your comfortable house in your safe neighborhood... after you kiss your four healthy kids goodnight and turn out the lights... and there's nothing you can do but thank God that even on the bad days, your life's pretty damn good.




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Conversations with a 7 year old

 Everett

I just had the following conversation:

Everett: Mommy. Do you think I should go get the towel?

Me: What towel?

Everett: The towel I dried my butt on.

Me: You dried your butt on a towel?

Everett: Well I was taking a shower.

Me: Okay...

Everett: And I had to go to the bathroom. I didn't want to get the toilet seat all wet, so I got out and dried my butt on the towel.

Me: The hand towel?

Everett: No, a regular towel. Should I go get it? You know, since my butt was on it?

Me: Well, where did you leave it?

Everett: I put it back in the hall closet. (Pause) I should probably go get it and put it in the laundry.

Me: That'd be a good idea.

Everett ::::runs off to get the towel:::::

The end.



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To The Crazy Ones....

Thanks to everyone who took the time to comment on my tantrum post, I have many follow-ups in the works... just trying to decide which to start with. In the meantime, here's a little video to watch.



Need something to read? Read this.



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I'd Rather Be With My Kids

Top ten reasons why I'd rather spend time with my kids than with most of the adults I know:

1. They're cute

I mean, come on. Do any of your adult friends look like this?

2. They appreciate the little things in life

I know very few adults who derive as much - or any - joy from rainbows, mud puddles, or caterpillars.

3. They still know how to play

Not everyone loses this ability as they get older, but so many do! I want to be around people who still see the value in an impromptu game of hide and go seek, or blowing bubbles with a straw, or putting on a Spiderman costume at 2:00 in the afternoon, just because.

4. They're REAL.

My kids are authentic, always. They don't play mind games, they don't act a certain way around certain people, they don't just tell me what I want to hear. Happy, sad, silly, frustrated.... they are wonderfully unmistakably themselves, and they express it. And as a bonus, I'm more real when I'm around them, too.
 
5. They always give me something new, 

When it comes to a life with kids, it's nothing if not full of surprises.  I never know what each day is going to hold, and I love that!

but at the same time,

6. They're always comfortable and familiar

I know my kids better than I know anyone on the planet.  I've been there since their very first breath.  I know every story, I remember ever wound.  They truly are my heart and my soul walking around outside my body.

7. They're great conversationalists and even better thinkers 

You know how 2 year olds constantly ask "why?"  They're not doing it to annoy you;  they're doing it because they're learning how the world works, and they're looking to you - their most trusted and loved ally - to help them figure out.  Kids are naturally open and curious and questioning, and they are not held back by the preconceived notions of so many adults.  Some of my very favorite times with my kids are in the car, discussing anything from armpits to snakes to heavy artillery.    Their perspective is always fresh, honest, and enlightening.

8. I enjoy their company

Whether I'm catching an episode of Dr G with the 14 year old, discussing music with the 10 year old, making simulated blood with the 7 year old, or playing dolls with the 3 year old... or doing something more out of the ordinary...  I'm having a good time.  I love my kids - of course - but I like them too.

9. They're funny

No one makes me laugh harder than my kids.  Period.

10. They teach me more than anyone or anything else combined 

No, not about isosceles triangles, or finding the value of 'x', but about LIFE.   They teach me the things that matter.  They teach me about love.  They teach me about living in the moment. About being honest with myself and others.  About not sweating the small stuff.  About being REAL.  My kids teach me everything I need to know about what kind of parent I want to be, and what kind of person I want to be.  

They teach me about smiling...

Even when I'm faced with the metaphorical business end of life:

And you just can't put a price tag on that.




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Messy Monday

If you don't see me for the next 13 days, it's because I'm trying to turn this:

Before

 

 

 

Into this:

After

All. Over. The. House.  Before we leave for vacation.  And without making myself crazy in the process. 




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Haircuts and Hyprocrisy

I cut the boys' hair yesterday. They'd been asking for awhile, and for various reasons it kept getting pushed further and further back. Since our vacation is fast approaching, we knew we had to commit to doing it and stick to it. Because I'm a dork - and simple things amuse me - I made this:

and Everett taped it to the wall. He and Paxton both called (from the next room) for their appointments, and Spencer looked at me and said, "Mommy. Can't you just cut my hair?"

Party pooper :)

When I got out the clippers for Everett's mohawk, Tegan begged me to cut hers too. "Okay, sure," I told her. "I'll give you a trim," even though I knew that a trim wasn't what she really wanted.

She sat in the chair and I gave the very tips of some of her hair a tiny snip with scissors, and she cried. "No, with the clippers! I want it all cut off!! I want it like Spencer's!" And it wasn't the first time she'd asked.

Spencer's hair post-clipping is even shorter than this:

Then (this is the part where I'm a hypocrite), as much as I believe in giving children choices and autonomy, as much as I respect her right to take ownership of her own hairstyle, as much as I know that in the bigger picture, shaving her head wouldn't have mattered...

I talked her out of it.

Can you blame me?

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You Don't Know Me. Or Do You?

Last night I was talking to some friends about my most recently received "You're a terrible mother" diatribe from someone who took issue with one of my blog posts. It wasn't a regular reader, but simply someone who followed a single link, found me objectionable, and posted about it.

It's become easy for me to dismiss that kind of critique, because obviously that person doesn't know me. Reading one single blog post does not an expert make. And sure, it feels good sometimes (in a wrong kind of way) to make snap judgments about someone when they write things we disagree with, but the fact still remains: That person doesn't who I am as a person, who I am as a woman, or who I am as a mother. Maybe if she got to know me, she'd find I wasn't quite so terrible after all. Or maybe she'd think I was even worse of a human being than she'd imagined. But right now, today, she doesn't know me.

It all got me thinking.

Surely you can get to know people on the internet. Some of my dearest and nearest friends are people I've yet to see in person. I know them. I know their personalities, and I know their hearts, and I know their intentions. Simply by reading their words on a screen. To me, there is no distinction between online relationships and real-life relationships. It's ALL real-life. Those relationships though have taken conversations, back and forth sharing, and input and effort by both parties. Unless you're commenting and interacting, a blog is very different. A blog can be rather one-sided. Can you get to know someone through a blog?

While it's impossible to know someone based on one blog post, what about 50? Or 100? What if you've read every post I've ever written but never interacted with me?

Do you think you can get to know someone solely through reading their blog? Do you think you've gotten to know me through reading my blog?



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“If you hear that someone is speaking ill of you, instead of trying to defend yourself you should say: 'He obviously does not know me very well, since there are so many other faults he could have mentioned.'” -Epictetus

The Girl

I tell a lot of stories about my youngest, but you just can't truly appreciate her unless you see her in action. Now, I know that kid videos are never as cute to anyone else as they are to the child's parents, but if you need a quick break from life, take a look at this original Tegan song and dance. She was inspired by watching the American Idol finale, so we paused it to give her our full attention.   She makes me smile, and last night I needed it.

You have to watch the whole thing though, because the very end is my favorite part. :)

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The Story of a Cupcake

This is the pretty cupcake picture I shared on Facebook

We wanted to bake yesterday.  We found a yummy-sounding recipe we hadn't tried before, and Everett, Tegan and I went to the store to pick up a couple of things we were missing.  We made the cupcakes, and they cooled while the kids rode around outside on their scooters.  We had a nice dinner, frosted the cupcakes, and snapped the above picture just before we dug in. 

About four and a half minutes later, I followed up with this shot, taken seconds after Spencer dropped the cupcake carrier out of the fridge (although in his defense, Everett hadn't put the top on properly)

This is the picture I didn't share

And that's the reason I don't cry over spilled milk.  It just. happens. too. often.  Life is messy.  But the cupcakes were still good.  And the dog thoroughly enjoyed licking the floor afterwards.

The end.



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Just Breathe

Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl.
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe... just breathe ~Anna Nalick

Yesterday, the kids and I were at a homeschool group play day at a local church (and by "group", I mean us and one other family) We were sitting in a huge kids' classroom, very well-stocked with blocks, lots of dress-up clothes, kitchen, play food, et al. The big kids were lounging on little futons playing with their DSes, and the little kids were, well, being little kids.... running around, playing, laughing, and making a general rumpus.

How can you not love this kid? :)

It was all happy, noisy, babble... and then for one brief second there was a moment of silence. Without intending to, I sighed. It wasn't a dainty little sigh, but a big, heaving, whoosh of air sigh like you'd do after you've been holding your breath for a long time.

I'd forgotten to breathe again.

It sounds ridiculous to say it, but it's true. And I do it all. the. time. Sometimes I get so caught up in the noise and the hustle and the bustle and the business of life that I almost quite literally hold my breath. I'm just kind of hanging on, waiting for that next quiet moment when I can let out that whoosh of air. When I can relax, when I can settle my mind, when I can BREATHE.

The ironic part about it is that I know the importance of breathing. I do yoga, I had natural births, I study natural health. I know about breathing. Even my kids will tell you the importance of breathing because it's something I talk to them about often. I remind them to take deep breaths when they're angry, when they're injured, when they're feeling sick, when they're anxious. It oxygenates the body, it calms us down, and it centers us. There's virtually no ailment that it doesn't help in some way.

Dr Andrew Weil, one of my favorite natural health gurus, has this to say about breathing properly:

Breath is the master key to health and wellness, a function we can learn to regulate and develop in order to improve our physical, mental, and spiritual well-being... In many languages, the words for spirit and breath are one and the same (from Natural Health, Natural Medicine)

Proper breathing seems like such a simple thing, but for some reason it's one I have to be continually reminded to work on. And I am always glad when I do. It makes me feel better, makes me a much more effective parent, and makes the day a whole lot more enjoyable (or tolerable, depending)

If you're reading this right now: take a nice, deep cleansing breath (in through your nose, out through your mouth) because you probably need it. Take another. Take seven.

Feel better? You. are. welcome.

New Cars and Bumper Stickers

We took a family drive down to Tucson today. I have to admit, I don't enjoy that particular drive. I love driving north, where I can sigh and breath and enjoy all the mountainous scenery, but driving south towards Tucson (which itself is a lovely city) is 2 hours of flat and brown.

But today we were on a mission.

Several weeks ago, Mike - who is very enamored with his Land Cruiser (the one that's in my banner picture) - announced that he wanted to get me one, too. That way we'd have two vehicles with four wheel drive. And plus, he assured me, I'd like it way better than my Sequoia. I hemmed and hawed, because that's what I do. He kept casually bringing up again, because that's what he does. There wasn't anything wrong with my Sequoia, but the thought of something new was tempting. In the end, I told him that as long as it didn't increase our debt load, we should do it (and decreasing it would be even better!)

This week, he found and sent me the link to this listing:

... and I said, "yes, please."  It met all our criteria, was exactly the right price, and was only two hours away.

So off to Tucson we went.  We ended up making almost a whole day of it, getting donuts on the way and lunch when we were done.  And wouldn't you know... he was right. I fell in love. It was as if fate had brought us there. After three hours (and one of the hands-down most pleasant and easy car-buying and trading experiences ever) I had myself a spiffy new - to me - Land Cruiser.

The only thing that made me sad about leaving the Sequoia behind was the fact that it meant that I had to part with my Autodidactic sticker, the only sticker I've ever put on my car. That sticker has sparked more home/unschooling related conversations with strangers than I can even count. And I loved it.

So I was thrilled when I got to have one last conversation when the salesman spotted it and asked what the word meant.

(Autodidactic = self taught.  It's one of my favorite words, and my boys are fond of proudly declaring themselves autodidacts)

The salesman loved it so much that I later caught him just staring at the sticker with a big grin on his face.  Seeing me notice him, he said, "I'm just enjoying my new word."  Hee.

I got a new truck, and I imparted wisdom.  That's just a good day all the way around.

Catapults

I have fond memories of sitting around the dinner table as a kid. We'd finish dinner, hang around talking, and inevitably start to do something like hanging spoons off our nose or bouncing things across the table. There was fun, and there was laughter. In fact, when I get together with my whole family, it's still like that, which is one of the biggest reasons I so look forward to Thanksgiving at my parents' house every year.

I was reminded of those memories last night.

Our kids have full reign of a house full of toys, books, and games. Three video game systems, five TVs, satellite, Netflix streaming... and the freedom to choose any or all of the above. Last night the youngest three chose a box of multi-colored craft sticks, and their imaginations. There was fun, and there was laughter.

So I grabbed the camera.

A Question

Tegan was carrying this Teletubby around with all her little Doras today. I have no idea where she found it, but it has been with us for just over twelve years now. The reason I know its age is that it was one of a set of all four of them that adorned Spencer's birthday cake the year he turned two. We lived in Worcester, Massachusetts then.

It has moved to 3 different houses (5 if you count the short time we lived at both my parents and my sister's), and 3 different states. It spent a couple of months living in a camper at a seasonal campground while we paid off some debt to prepare for buying our first house. It moved across the country 5 1/5 years ago, and it has somehow survived many a house-wide toy purge.

Why, with all the odds stacked against it, has this cheap little plastic figure managed to keep itself so present in our lives, when I can't even find the cup of coffee I set down 15 minutes ago?

A Day in the Life

A few weeks ago, myself and another unschooling friend spoke to a graduate class about unschooling. Since then, I've been contacted by handful of students wanting to interview me, learn more, and use our family as a case study for a final project. At first, it was just through email, but yesterday someone came to visit, observe, and talk with us in person.

I was nervous... worried that it would be the day that the kids would bicker, the washing machine would overflow, and the dog would finally catch and kill a chicken. Thankfully, I worried for nothing. None of those things happened, and in fact she was able to witness the kind of unschooling day that just unfolds like a symphony.

She arrived in the late morning, and by the time she'd gotten here I'd already had a lengthy conversation with Spencer about electrical circuits (complete with diagrams, by yours truly). I'd also had a lengthy conversation about the inner workings of a hand grenade with Everett (also complete with diagrams, by Everett) We'd picked up together, tended to all the animals, and gathered the morning eggs.

When she got here, we'd settled into a comfortable rhythm for the day. Tegan wanted to paint, so she was set up at the kitchen table. When she'd finished painting, she switched to making hand prints, then washed up to play with - and name - all the wooden letters in her Tegan puzzle. Everett had tired of writing his name on little post-its around the house, and was out back experimenting with water, mud, and physics. He was quite proud of the simulated hand grenade he'd created by filling a tube with water, and plugging the end with grass, mud, and a pin fashioned from a small root. Paxton spent most of his time on the computer, and Spencer alternated between computer time and adult conversation with me and our visitor. We introduced her to the rats and the snake, and spent a long time on the back patio watching the chickens and talking about school, learning, and upper level math.

I'd promised the kids we could go to the store to get the ingredients for homemade ice cream, so after she'd left we made our one – and only – outing for the day. Car conversation included genetics, war, and public transportation. We got our ice cream makings, and a fun dinner. When we got home, we pulled out the globe. Our guest was originally from Lebanon, so we found its location on the globe, along with several other countries that we'd wondered about. The geography discussion turned to talk of history, and more wars, and a good chuckle over a Friends episode where Chandler concocted a whole ruse about getting transferred to Yemen for work.

The evening held scooter riding, ice cream making, movie watching, and trouble shooting on our new (failed) camera battery.

And it was very, very good.

To Do (Or Not To Do)

Don't you love it how, when you've got something on your mind, you suddenly see it everywhere? It's like God and the universe and all of humanity just get together and throw not just signs, but big, honking HUGE signs in your path until you act on them.

I've blogged over the past few days about how I've been a little bit... lost lately. A little bit overwhelmed. My husbands says I've been in a funk. I say I've been "creatively (and probably mentally, emotionally, and spiritually) blocked." No matter what you call it, I haven't been me lately. And one thing that helps me, one thing that always helps me, is getting more organized. I KNOW this. I know this well. And yet...

I still fight it, tooth and nail, every time.

No, no, no! Screams my inner child. I am a free spirit! I do not need lists, I do not like schedules, I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl! I work well in the chaos. I will not change my ways. I will not, I will not, I will NOT!

I sort of stubbornly cling to the madness instead of admitting I might need a little help. Now, I'm not a big Dr Phil fan, but for better or worse it's his voice I keep hearing in my head..

"How's that working out for you?"

And it's not. I've been spinning my wheels and getting nowhere. And I'm tired. I admit it. But what to do about it?

And this is where God, the universe, and all of humanity come in. Everything I've seen, read, or listened to the past several days has said the same things: I need to make a to-do list. I need to get back to basics. I need to remember what's important. I need to prioritize. I need to take baby steps. I need to make a to-do list.

A list? Come on. A list will not solve my problems. And ordinarily, when I'm thinking clearly, I would tell you that I LOVE lists. Lists are my friend. Lists make me happy.

But now, really? A list? I've been resisting this for days.

This morning, I signed onto Twitter, and the very first tweet I read was from someone who I find almost irritatingly upbeat, positive, and inspiring. It read:

The easiest way to improve time management is to keep a to-do list.

Oh alright already, I'll make a stinking to-do list!

So this morning, I did. And wouldn't you know, I was more productive today than I've been in weeks and weeks, and I felt like I had way more time to spend with the kids. How is that even possible? But somehow, it is. I thought about what was important. I prioritized. I took baby steps. I got back to basics.

I still pushed the 3 year old on the swings. And I watched Dora. And I played Memory. And I played Uno Moo. And I baked. And I connected with my boys. And I went to bed at a decent hour, on freshly washed sheets. Instead of lamenting that I wished I had more hours, I actually felt like I had gained hours. I felt calmer, I felt less frazzled, I felt less scattered.

All because of a to-do list? Well, no. But it was a step. And sometimes that's all it takes.

"Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step." ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

Blips

This picture is from last year, but it makes me happy, so I wanted to post it again. Today was a good day, and a fun day. The kids and I spent it at a friend's house, where they had a scavenger hunt, jumped on the trampoline, baked Irish-themed goodies, and even braved the pool. It really was a lovely day.

But...

I'm still feeling regretful that I was less patient than I would have liked in dealing with the ten year old when he didn't want to get off the trampoline, and with the six year old when he burst into tears for the fourth time, and even with my husband when I got home. I've been distracted, and scattered, and unfocused for longer than I care to admit.  The house is nearly unlivable it's so messy, half the kids are coughing (or sneezing or runny-nosed or feverish, again), and I am tired... tired and unable to sleep, one of the most frustrating and continuous conundrums of my life. 

I was telling a friend recently that unschoolers sometimes paint too rosy of a picture.  That it's such a joyful life that everything just sort of flows.  That it's always happy and moonlight and roses and rainbows.  And make no mistake... it IS a joyful life.  It IS a happy life. 

But sometimes... sometimes, there are blips.   And because I always want to keep things real, I think it's only fair if I share a blip or two.

Welcome to my blip. 

Life With a Three Year Old

This is my favorite coffee mug

We bought these mugs about 5 years ago, and they are still my favorite mugs for my morning coffee.  They just make me deliriously happy.  We originally bought 8, and are down to 7 (which is pretty darn good, considering my tendency to break things.)  I have a few other mugs that I will use, depending on my mood, but this is the mug you're most likely to see if you drop in on me on any given day.

Yesterday, I was on cup number three.  I took that final swig, set my cup down, and saw this:

It looked like a ramen noodle, but we don't buy ramen noodles.  It could have even been a small worm, which in some ways might have been preferable to what it actually was.  I asked Tegan if she knew what it was, and she very casually peered into my cup, went back to what she was doing, and said,

"Oh, that's my dental floss.  I put it in there."  Because naturally, the most normal and sensible thing to do with your dental floss when you're done with it is to put it in your mother's coffee. 

She'd put used dental floss in my coffee.  Used dental floss.  In my coffee.

"How about next time, you put it in the trash when you're done?  Or you can give it to me, and I can put it in the trash for you?"

"Okay, Mommy."  Sweetly, innocently.

Never a dull moment.

Moving Day

The kids wanting to be moved in the trailer

This weekend, we moved Mom and Dad into their new house, a larger house just a few houses down from their current one.  We made trip after trip, back and forth, stopping only to enjoy pizza, beer, and soda.  (And as a side note, who decided pizza and beer would be the official moving foods?  I don't think I've ever helped with or participated in a move where we've eaten anything else?)  After we got most everything set up, Everett amused himself when he discovered that doing this:

Made his hair do this:

We all toasted with some champagne

And enjoyed the view

From their back patio

That's Sedona in the distance

The boys loved helping carrying and moving - the heavier, the better.  Tegan has been fighting off a cold and cough for a few days now, so she wasn't quite her normal animated self, but she took her responsibility to help with packing and loading boxes very seriously.  And she was, as always, ready for her close-up.

Mom, Dad, and their littlest princess

I'm excited to make new memories in the new house, and to have yet another place to watch the kids grow, play, and explore.