the wee birthday girl

Charlotte had her 2nd birthday today and we celebrated with cake and plenty of time for her to play with friends.

Ruby has been preparing for it over the last few days and although I wasn't really in the mood and I could have chosen to do a hundred other things I let go and celebrated Charlotte's birthday too.  

There may not be many more.

Ruby tells me she notices that her friends play less than they used to: they seem to play less and want to talk more she says. 

She's halfway through nine so I guess it's to be expected. 

Nevertheless there is sadness for Ruby in growing up and the prospect of losing this safe, innocent imaginary world which has been her constant companion throughout her childhood.

We reassure her that she will never lose this world, just as we never lose our childhood. 

We tell her that her imaginary play will enrich her entire adulthood.

We tell her that her relationship with Charlotte will always comfort her, where ever it is she goes in her life. 

We tell her this and yet we also know that as she spirals out and grows, slowly other interests will push her imaginary world to the periphery.

We know all of this and so continue to take seriously the role that Charlotte has in our life.

We know this and happily continue to place play at the centre of our lives.

Happy Birthday sweet Charlotte.

home, finally.

Who would have thought that this humble little bach that we call home could ever hold such contentment and joy for me as it does now.

Certainly not me.

The weekend we moved in here, all I remember is crying.

The state of the building and the size of the place meant that the Real Estate Agent assumed we would demolish this little bach and build something new.

What he didn't realise was that we were beaten down from  2 years of spending a large portion of our income and too much emotional energy on a section we had bought in the area; a section that we originally thought would save us money rather than cost us more than we could ever have imagined.

When we had bought the section we were optimistic; we were on a single income, we were good at living on the smell of an oily rag and we were comfortable with building a very simple abode. Naievely we couldn't imagine that a floor, four walls and a roof would cost that much.
The section we had bought was steep, we knew that might be tricky but that too we thought we would find ways of managing.
Again, we were optimistic and had no reason not to be - things had always worked out for us in the past.
Ahem! And that's when the story changed direction :)

Quickly our naieve optimism bowed to the demands of reality; the reality of a single income carrying weekly mortgage and hefty rental payments.
This is where the story's appeal declines rapidly:)
To cut a long (3 years) and tedious story short,  we eventually discovered that we couldn't even pitch a tent on site to live in without building a retaining wall and by then we had no money or energy.
We put it on the market.

So what the Real Estate Agent didn't realise when he assumed we were a lovely middle-class family with plans for a build, was that there was no money for anything other than the necessities. 

What he didn't realise was that this little rundown bach was all our family could manage (at a stretch) and we needed it badly so as to gather together again, regain our strength and restore some harmony. We were in dire need of nurturing something that would grow and we hoped it would nurture us in return.

The weather was shocking the Summer we moved; so cold that during that first weekend we lit the fire. The house was cold, the walls and carpet were grey and I cried. 

I cried in fear for my severly stretched relationship with my dear partner Gunter.

I cried for the close friends I had left and the lose of the close community we had been immersed in.

I cried with worry for my children who had to bare the brunt of such a testing time.

I cried in fear of having to give up on our vision for giving our girls a childhood free of school so as I could help pay the bills.

I cried because at 40 I had just bought a bach, nowhere near as sound as the first house I had scrimped around and wiggled my way into at 24 years of age.

A Pity Party was the order of the day.

It has been one of those seasons of life when you wonder how on earth you ended up in this place without a soul to blame and seemingly without solution.
It's certainly been a long road to fully accept that life plays out differently than what we might have planned.
And yet there you are.
It seems that being fully present in whatever place you find yourself is really the only solution there is. 
It certainly is the only place where my life is taking place and that is where I want to be even with the grief and discomfort.
Very little has changed in reality - the section is still on the market, we still have little for extras - and yet everything has changed because finally the story in my head has changed.

This bach has been the bearer of so many unexpected gifts, the biggest being that it's size and simplicity reminds us to live humbly.
Cultivating humility undercuts this culture which screams "me, me, me" endlessly and ultimately frees us from keeping up with the race.
Living with little reminds us to be grateful for the many things that really matter in our lives - our family, our friendships, our freedom, our health.
And slowly we rebuild our internal compass, we let go of comparisons and expectations (my on and others), and we continue to wake up to our very own lives before us and the beauty they behold.

coming up for air.

Last week was unexpectedly difficult.

This week feels different but, boy, last week I dragged myself through the days. 

Mostly people wouldn't have noticed. 

Generally I am one of those read-me-like-a-book people. You could say, an easy reader ;), but last week I was working hard at keeping moving, focusing on the small and good to get me through the days.

Mum was right near the surface. Reflecting on my mum's life put aspects of my own life into sharp focus especially those habits and patterns that I have inherited.

This was a little painful and sad.

Struggle seemed to me to be a companion throughout my mum's life - emotionally, financially and physically.

When I was growing up just getting through her days, bringing up five girls, going to work and keeping a home was a daily struggle. 

I watched this and then as a young adult I made up my mind I didn't want a bar of my mother's life :( 

Last week I regretted this. 

I regretted feeling I had to fight so hard for my own identity. 

I regretted that I never wanted children earlier. 

Regretted having moved around so much .... yada,yada, yada. 

You get the picture.

I regretted this all because, you see, from where I am now much of my life reflects the priorities and values in my mum's life. 

All that moving and learning and careering and processing and searching and wanting something different and here I am, right where my mother was, in the heart of my family.

And I wouldn't want it any other way. 

Sure the details are certainly different but so many of the fundamental values and priorities remain the same. 

In my early 20's I didn't see this coming. Not at all.

Who knew that I would have to travel so far to end up back at the feet of my mother. 

So why am I writing about this now?
Well, partly to be authentic (as in the subtitle of my blog) here in on this blog without wanting to share it all.
I'd be happy to share all over a cuppa but in such a public place I'll keep it to the bare bones;)
I'm also writing about it now because this week I still feel I'm just coming up for air.
Do you ever feel like that?

This week all I have tried to do each day is love my girls well. 

That's it.

To hear them. To notice what they engaged with. To be present.

I also wanted to notice my reactions, my impatience and my expectations. Notice them and do my best to let them go.

Last week got a bit messy - we had our share of grumpiness, ranting about the housework and some yelling. It wasn't getting us anywhere we want to be going,

So this week I pulled my focus in small and tight. 

It's all I could manage and was the most important thing I could think of to do.

When things get messy tend to the relationships.
Love the girls well.

The garden grounded us, walks connected us, read-alouds slowed us down and cuddles filled us up.

Joy feels like she's returning, we are welcoming her arrival.

for now

If I could have I might have stayed in bed all morning, under the covers, out of sight of the world. The thing is I'm not one to lie in bed; floundering around in my head leaves me feeling worse; like walking through mud with jandals on.
And so I told myself to get up, grab the fork and plant something.
As always my garden is my healer - taking me outside as the world wakes, production and beauty, connection and some work to ground me in the physical.

Grief isn't always easy to recognise. A flatness, tiredness and feeling generally overwhelmed with my life might be what mine looks like right now.

Gunter brought out coffee into the garden and we sat on the bench, the rising sun on our backs and drank it together.
Gunter left for work, the girls got up and I brought a pansy and a forget-me-not to the breakfast table to draw in my journal. The girls joined me. Today I began a morning commitment of writing 5 things I am thankful for, right next to the pansy.
Today's list:
> Morning coffee with Gunter.
>My garden.
>A day at home.
>Warmer weather.
>Obama making it in the US election.

By mid-afternoon I was still only half dressed, my pyjama top still on underneath my gardening jumper and the house was chaotic as I tried to regain order in my life by moving furniture around.
This can become an annoyingly ongoing habit with living in such a small space but right now I might just call it cheap therapy.

A gift came in the post from a friend today.
On the envelope she had written:

"Heke iho nga roimata tiaho mai nga whetu arahi mai ki te whenua"

"As the tears fall the stars shine down and lead our waka back to shore."

For now, the tears come and they go. That is the way of it. They are a comforting friend who will in due time bring me back home.

my dear mum

I have been away from this space for a while - I don't have much to say right now. 

On the first morning of our holiday I was called and told my dear mum was in ICU with heart failure.

This was totally unexpected.

Her five daughters all flew to be with her. I made it and spent the last 4 precious hours with her. 

She died that afternoon. 

We are back home now and the girls and I are learning to weave her loss and her life into our days.

We are deeply grateful for the freedom that our lifestyle affords us; to deeply honour this time, to feel the fullness of grief and to embrace life with renewed tenderness.

I will return to post here as I can.

Parts of a blessing resonating with me right now from "Bless The Space Between Us" by John O'Donohue.

For Grief

When you lose someone you love,

Your life becomes strange,

The ground beneath you gets fragile,

Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;

and some dead echo drags your voice down

Where words have no confidence.

Your heart has grown heavy with loss;

And though this loss has wounded others too,

No one knows what has been taken from you

When the silence of absence deepens.

......

There are days when you wake up happy;

Again in the fullness of life,

Until the moment breaks 

And you are thrown back

On the black tide of loss.

......

Gradually, you will learn acquantance 

With the invisible form of your departed;

And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned 
To wean your eyes
From the gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your (heart) where your loved one
Has awaited your return
All the time.

working at walking our talk

Teasing out and transforming my own limiting internal dialogue seems to be a fairly constant "friend" on this trip of whole-life learning. 

Choosing to live most of my days with my children since Ruby was born and commiting to a family culture of trust and respect has meant often being confronted by my own limiting beliefs. 

There is nothing like trying your best at raising your family respectfully for having your own limiting views and behaviours reflected straight back at you. 

Staying present and working at designing one's own life leaves little room for distraction from this work it seems.
Thankfully cultivating a culture of trust and respect extends also to the relationship I have with myself. 

 

You see I was socialised very well. 

With a mum raising her five daughters single-handedly, I internalised very quickly to be  a "good girl." I tried my best to please my mum and not add to the already hefty workload.
This skill transferred to bringing me early success at school but being motivated by wanting to be seen as a "good girl" doesn't make for strong foundations. My inner compass was trained outward towards others and this has made for habits that have been ultimately limiting to my own goals and dreams.

Even now in 2012 not many girls get through their childhoods without at least a little of that "good girl" stuff smeared on them.

The girls and I have talked about this "good girl" phenomena and early on I asked them to help me notice if that particular piece of empty praise ever passed my lips. 

It did. They reminded me. We laughed.
It was usually when I was tired.

We include the children in on these conversations all the time. We try to keep a light heart about our limiting beliefs and behaviours. Laughter helps us see them for what they are - old patterns that pop in unexpectedly like old friends now and again and need to be moved on out.
We make it clear we are not interested in them getting comfortable and staying for a while.
Well that's most of them anyway - there are always those persistent ones.

Gunter and I are wrestling with our limiting beliefs around earning money once again. We are committed to supporting other currencies as much as possible - our local timebank, bartering and the gift economy - but making money is still the task that imposes a hefty structure on our life.
I know, welcome to the real world:-)
What we are working at is imagining a more diverse income stream, a stream which is not so location dependent and one that can use some of my strengths as well as Gunter's. Don't get me wrong, I love and value the job I do with the girls but we would all love Gunter to be home more.
This feels like a far off dream (neither of us work in IT for instance ;-) but I've had this seed within me for as long as I can remember, I just need to figure out how to germinate it (and if you want some inspiration, go to this post at outsideways.)
This also goes hand-in-hand with our wish to be mortgage-free because while we deeply appreciate a sense of home, let's face it, mortgages suck whatever way you look at them. And so we wrestle with figuring out how to have a sense of home without a mortgage or paying someone else's mortgage, aka renting.

Each day we support the girls to follow their interests and take the work they choose seriously.

In the long-term we want their childhood to equip them with skills so that they can earn a living from their gifts. 

It is an important part of why we do what we do.
This of course, challenges us, the parents to do the same every day; to find a way to walk our talk and we love that.

----------------------------------------------------------------

We are off to play for a week with friends. See you when we return.

saturday night

A winter celebration shared with friends makes it that much sweeter.
Tissue lanterns; glowing orbs floating in the darkness.
Walking down to the water and back again.
Carrot cake at the wharf.
Perfect.

snow

Yesterday brought us winter making an utterly dramatic and stunning entrance into our lives.
Snow enough to play in all day along with Gunter getting to stay at home. Added to this was a
birthday cake made solely by Ruby for me.
What a perfect  beginning of another cycle around the sun.

What was especially exciting though was giving the girls their new babies.
I have been working on them for a while now.
Introducing Holly and....well, Ruby doesn't want to feel rushed with naming her wee one.
I am so happy with them and the girls adore them.
Especially the hair it seems.

I have wanted to make these for the girls for a long time (since they were wee themselves) and, well it just didn't happen. 

I'm generally not a "learn from the book" kind of girl. I was certainly inspired by this book many years ago but that didn't translate into actually making a start.  I'm fairly strongly kinaesthetic and so like to get started on new things alongside someone and with my hands engaged.  Without my friend A, I may never have made these girls and certainly not to the same standard. Thank you A for all your experience, materials, time and wisdom. 

Now I would like to make more - there is certainly something special about making these dear dolls.

As I was finishing on their wardrobe basics I wondered about when I could give them. We don't just give presents willy-nilly here, we save them for special occasions but all their special occasions felt too far away.  That is until I thought of my birthday.

My birthday seemed to be the perfect time to gift these to the girls.

In these dolls was stitched and stuffed threads of love for the girls and my family and in the giving of these dolls, I got it all back as the perfect present on my 43rd birthday.

our community garden

It was our day at the community garden today.

We have been going each week since Sky was just 2 - a wee one, never saying much, just trotting around finding things to be quietly fascinated with. Some things don't change much, although she does become chattier without her big sister about.

We lived just two doors up the street then and were down there most days at some point; tending the garden, passing through on our way to the village or meeting with others at the building on site.

Now we are further away and with other interests vying for our time I recently suggested we stop going for a while.

Ruby's jaw literally fell open and Sky exclaimed "What? Not go to the community garden?"

Immediately I was could see this wasn't, in fact, a possibility. 

Which I kind of knew already.

I was relieved.

Because it's not just the environment that we enjoy - being in the weather with the dirt and plants and insects.
Nor the questions and knowledge and new skills we take away, little by little, each week.
Nor the chance to work our bodies in ways that bodies have worked for millenia (ok, to be honest, I've done very little of this for a while now).
Nor all the new people that come through on their way to somewhere else, who we get to meet and chat with and learn from (I think this is Ruby's favourite part).
And not even just the food we get to raise and harvest and eat.

What it really is, is the relationships we have forged over those years.

Relationships that feel more like whanau - aunties and uncles and cousins. 

Relationships and a community that have blessed us with the feeling of belonging and loyalty and commitment and love.

Community I have looked for all my adult life; one that shares in dreaming and rethinking community, family and living with each other on this dear earth in general.

Friendships that stick around, with the garden as the home we return to.

A.

Yesterday I wrote about the first part of our Autumn holiday. 

Today is about the more significant body of our time away - time that we spent with friends.

Friends at times seem to come unexpectedly into our lives. Like the best unexpected gift arriving in the mail - as you take off the wrapping you capture glimpses of colour or shape but what is found inside is utterly surprising and perfectly suited to what is exciting you right now.  

My dear friend A. is one of those gifts.

We met three years back at a camp held for families interested in natural learning. I drove a long way, not really knowing what I would find. I was a little nervous. I don't always know how to make connections with new people. My personality is generally warm and friendly and I am mostly brave when it comes to being in circumstances outside my comfort zone - I feel ok with being alone in a group - but sometimes I just don't really know what to say to people. 

I think this is a common feeling.

I remember A. as busy with three young children and friends she already knew. 

I also remember her directness and her inquisitive questions and immediately feeling at ease with her.  I relax with people who are warm but also direct - I open up and trust what I see. 

She spoke with the same warmth and clarity with her children, and mine.

She wasn't put off by the rain when we went for a walk with the children.

Her girls loved the dress ups we had brought and played with Ruby and Sky for hours.

Now she is a close friend.
We boated and swam and picked blueberries and cleared gorse and crafted dolls for the girls.
She fed us wonderful food.
The girls played.
With her I get to deeply share the joys and challenges of living fully right now with our children.
We can dream big, love deep and laugh out loud.
Doesn't friendship just fill you up and feel so good ..... and then have you missing them when it is time to return home.

late afternoon sun.

Yes Summer has been disappointing this year. This weekend brought yet more rain, wind and cold enough temperatures to light the fire. I might add that we have lit the fire about half a dozen times so far this year.

Yes, ridiculous.

So when the sun finally came out on Sunday afternoon we piled outside.

As I have mentioned before Ruby is all about drama and role play. Yesterday she wanted to play "Laura," as in "The Little House" series, so she looked around the garden to find some chores to do, collected her props and got into costume.

She cleared out the chicken run and swept the path at the back of the house and the whole time she smiled. Caroline always smiles while she works apparently.

Excellent.

I was keen to pass her a list of other jobs to be done - as you can imagine I was keen to extend her play - but I got busy putting the chicken-run compost onto the empty garden beds and missed my chance.

Even the bees could get back to work, which of course is what they had been waiting for.

-----------------------------------------

In other news, I posted over at our community-based blog, lyttel-town yesterday with a post on making sauerkraut. We're pulling out loads of Summer cabbages from our garden right now and loving the tangy additions to our meals, not to mention the wildness.

while we were gone.

We have been away:

• celebrating turning 8.
• enjoying a touch of quiet to sew up a few treats for the birthday girl; a toilet bag for nights away and bonnets to continue on "The Little House" theme.
• sharing photos with grandma about "the olden days" when she was a girl.
• taking in a few museums having been starved of our locals in Christchurch since the quake in February.
• Running crying from the "Earthquake House" at Te Papa after deciding they would like feeling a pretend quake.
• Playing in snow and debating if snow had been seen there in the last 50 years.
• celebrating common ground with friends not seen in many years.
• Ruby taking in what she can of the TV world and declaring her new love is Masterchef!
• celebrating family with cousins, aunties and uncles and lots of time with grandma and grandad.

our dear charlotte

Meet our dear Charlotte.

She is a much loved and carried around member of our family.

Charlotte is Ruby's baby.

When Ruby found her just on three years ago, it was pretty much love at first sight.

We were visiting friends and they pulled out some playthings for the girls, among them was Charlotte.

As we went to leave that day our friends, noticing the bond that had been made between mama and baby suggested we take Charlotte with us. They explained that Charlotte didn't have a great quality of life stuck in the hall cupboard at their house.

Ruby was hesitant. She knew the love was deep and questioned her own ability in giving Charlotte the best life possible.

She decided on a foster arrangement; she would do a bit of respite care now and again but give Charlotte back in between times.

Well, once she arrived home Ruby quickly realised that returning Charlotte to a life in the hall cupboard just wasn't possible and we went about formally adopting her.

Like so many mamas the world over, Ruby has her in bed each night and insists on giving Charlotte the warm blankets.

Like other mamas, she wakes in the night to check she is covered.

She comes everywhere with us and as with a lot of families with babies, it is sometimes a real squeeze to get out of the door while also remembering the spare clothes, blankets and carrier for Charlotte.

The carrier we made for Charlotte early on has worked really well. Ruby wanted the flexibility of a being able to carry Charlotte both on the front and the back. The pattern we came up with was super easy; basically it is a double-sided rectangle with long straps and velcro as a fastener. The rectangle pulls up between the legs and fastens around the chest.

Here is what we did:

• Choose 2 pieces of fabric.
• Measure distance from chest to back and cut out 2 rectangles of the same length.
• Sew 3 sides of the rectangles together, right-sides together and pull through.
• Measure the length of straps you need - we have the straps coming over the shoulders, crossing over the back or the front and coming back around, ending with a tie. A bit longer is better than a bit short.
• Cut fabric this length and double the width you want the final strap to be. Sew right sides together and pull through.
• Slot the unfinished ends of the straps into the unfinished end of the rectangle and sew the end shut.
• Add a length of velcro on both sides of one end of the rectangle. Sew the other side of the velcro to the other end. This fastens around the chest.

Strap your baby on and head out into the world knowing your beloved baby is snuggled up to you.

Thank you Charlotte for the love you have provided for Ruby.

We feel lucky to have you.