Today I am privileged to host a guest post from Jenny at The Southern Institute, a darling crafty-type blog with projects that make you swoon and wish you actually knew how to use the sewing machine collecting dust in the closet. She and I have gotten to know one another through ye ol’ blogosphere lately, and in addition to being uber-talented and crafty, she is kind, sweet, and honest, and I appreciate her sharing here today while I continue to come to terms with the fact that I am now a mother of THREE children (holy moly!). Please enjoy, and share the love in the comments below!

There is something extremely humbling about a child’s capacity to forgive.  We are big on extending forgiveness in our home.  When someone wrongs another (usually a sibling… today it was me) and says that they are sorry, we have taught our children to say “I forgive you” rather than “That’s okay”, because it’s not okay, and it’s okay to acknowledge it.

Today I asked my son for forgiveness, and he forgave.  I felt like dirt.  Somehow I am not so ready to extend forgiveness to myself.

Each night at bedtime, we ask the children “What was the best part of your day?”, then “What was a frustrating thing about your day?”  It’s a tradition we borrowed from dear friends of ours.  The kids love it.  We then ask them to tell us one thing that they are thankful for.

Tonight, after the way I had treated him, my son said “I’m thankful for God giving me a great mom.”  He wrapped his arms around me and touched his nose to mine.  He didn’t mean to do it, but his words humbled me to the point of tears.  I wept at God’s goodness.  In spite of my worst, God protects the hearts of my young ones, and I’m so grateful.  He heals the wounds that I inflict, and keeps scar tissue from forming.Tomorrow is a new day, and as sure as my children are growing each day, I too am growing.  I’m being pruned, and it hurts at times, but more often than not, it is a joy.  My children are my teachers.  Sometimes it seems they teach me more than I teach them.  They teach me how to love and forgive with childlike abandon, and I am eager to learn.

***

Jenny is happily married with three spirited children. She became a Southern girl after moving from Chicago to Nashville to attend college. These days you can still find her in Nashville, keeping busy with her children, sewing, crafting, reading and writing. She has just released her first eBook this year, called Unbound Birth: How to Have a Natural Birth in the Hospital, and blogs at The Southern Institute and Unbound Birth.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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Canaan Maverick Ricci

(Canaan is a Biblical place name from the OT with significant to Honey & I {story to come}… and Maverick means “independent, non-conformist”)

8 lbs, 1 oz. & 21 inches long.

A beautiful “home” water birth, on Wednesday, June 20, 2012, 3:25pm (summer solstice!).

Birth story to come (being written in between nursing, sleeping, cuddling, and kissing).

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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But if we hope for that which we see not, then do we with patience wait for it. {Romans 8:25}

Happy due date day to me! The babe is snug and comfy inside, and I am waiting. With this being my first time enjoying the incredible care of midwives, there is far less angst surrounding this day. I made happy-due-date (non-real-foodie-friendly) brownies last night. They gave me heartburn. That’s what I get for eating white flour and sugar, but on the plus side I made them at home so they didn’t cost me anything other than ingredients from my cupboard. Also, there was a cup of butter which pretty much makes them healthy… or maybe I should have just eaten the butter on its own…

The general consensus among the midwifery and natural birthing community is that the baby is smart enough to choose his/her own birthday, which renders the due date more or less meaningless. Like all other stages and milestones of human development, the best time for a baby to be born varies widely – usually between 38 and 42 weeks.

For some reason our culture has come to believe that my baby is a fed-ex package with a guaranteed delivery date, or that I am a pressure cooker that might explode by a certain time. Studies show that the rate of stillbirth increases a very slight amount (point one of a percent!) after 42 weeks of pregnancy (NOT 40!), however there the vast majority of women who continue to wait are able to safely birth after that time as well (not to mention the fact that most due dates are inaccurate/estimates because women all ovulate at different times in their cycle, and thus conception time can vary widely from the average).

Adopt the pace of nature; her secret is patience. {Ralph Waldo Emerson}

Today I’m 40 weeks, and as has been my goal since the very beginning, I am of the mindset that I will likely be quite “overdue”, and I am honestly ok with that. I’ve been reflecting on patience and waiting lately, and have been meditating on a few choice words…

Faith is not simply a patience that passively suffers until the storm is past. Rather, it is a spirit that bears things – with resignations, yes, but above all, with blazing, serene hope. {Corazon Aquino}

These words are beautiful and they exhort my soul to hope in something bigger than myself. My baby and the good Lord above know the best time for him/her to be born, and I wait with blazing, serene hope (most of the time!).

Another fantastic quote I found while pregnant with my daughter two years ago is this:

Everything grows rounder and wider and weirder, and I sit here in the middle of it all and wonder who in the world you will turn out to be. {Carrie Fisher}

Rounder? Check.

Wider? Check.

Weirder? Check.

I am trying desperately not to go on about the make-up-less face in the photo above, complete with double chin and chunky arms, and let’s try NOT to dwell on the horrified reaction of my face in the mirror after catching a glimpse of my bare behind after a shower the other day. Yikes.

Instead I choose to write a story of beauty in that mirror.

I am beautifully marked and used, housing a complete separate human being and birthing that person into the world. My body is functioning in a most remarkable fashion, and will be left with evidence of its other-worldly achievements. Stretching and sagging and leaking and aching – all glory-marks in a world of artificial contrived beauty and denial. I am not ashamed. I am beautiful.

And so I wait. I heave myself over in bed and feel the pelvic muscles scream pain, the belly drags on my lap and restricts my lung capacity. The baby seems to weigh a billion pounds (somehow I’ve “only” gained sixty. Yes, six-zero…). I. Am. Tired.

But I wait. 

Life is steady. And full. And hanging in this place of the in-between of my readiness and my babe’s.

And so I wait. 

***

(And since the rest of the world seems to be a great deal more anxious than I am about WHEN this baby will come, please – sit back, relax, and enjoy these random iPod photos of late. Breathe, relax, and your my baby will be here soon enough…)

 * the state of my bathroom sink *after* the muddy boy-child “washes his hands”. He and the darling girl-child also managed to dirty an entire load of laundry with mud from head to foot in all of ten minutes *

 * the next logical step *

* mama and daughter love *

* a favourite summer-time treat – tomatoes and cucumbers from the market. add some cashews and serve it for lunch, and these kids are in total bliss. isaac finished his tomatoes first – they’re his favourite. *

* there’s been a lot of this going on around here… babies are being birthed at record speed – baby monkeys, bears, and dollies by the dozen. isaac usually says “look at my belly! ask when my baby’s gonna come out! (when, isaac?) in five minutes!!” 30 seconds later the baby’s out, and giving birth has never been easier… *

***

And now for a final word… my last couple of posts have each been slightly controversial in their own way. I greatly enjoyed writing about encapsulating my friend’s placenta, and the positive responses I’ve received. If you haven’t checked it out yet and feel like broadening your cultural horizons just a little, please do. Also – my post addressing some of the ignorant and sanctimonious attitudes of privileged folks who don’t really get that some people truly cannot afford to buy whatever they want at the grocery store was very well-received by nearly everyone. The comments left here on my blog on my blog’s FB page were super encouraging and positive, and though I was nervous hitting the publish button – I don’t regret a single word I wrote, or how I wrote it. Thank-you, dear readers for your beautiful words and for “getting it”. I’ve responded to the comments there, and would love to continue the fantastic conversation that was begun.

Happy Monday!

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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“”No man can live without joy” is what Thomas Aquinas wrote. And I confess, it is true, I have known many dead waiting to die”.[i]

*

Here I sit, fireside, in a leather chair, sipping my Starbucks. I haven’t seen my husband or children in 24 hours. I’ve interacted only with total strangers, a silent hotel room, a cab driver, and the wait staff at the hotel restaurant.

That gift-giving big heart of a man booked me this night away with belly swollen and just weeks from its time to give birth. I envisioned relaxation and hours upon hours to myself to finally catch up. To finally get a chance to do what I never seem to have time for (whatever that may be).

Since the time he dropped me off yesterday, my mind has been spinning and whirling and not quite sure where to stop. In truth, this little getaway has been strangely difficult. A wrestling, of sorts.

I confess, I spent most of my time yesterday just flitting around from one thing to another. I went on facebook, I watched at least an hour of natural birth videos on youtube, I downloaded Uno onto my ipod and never played it. I read a book, some posts from my google reader, had dinner by myself, and flipped through TV channels mindlessly until I had the sense to just turn it off altogether. I sat in that king-sized bed surrounded by mounds of white fluffy pillows, wearing just my hubby’s t-shirt (At 37 weeks pregnant? Yeah.) until I fell asleep knowing I wasn’t going to be wakened by anything other than the little one dancing on my bladder.

*

In these mothering-the-little-years-life I often find myself thinking that if only I just had more time to myself, more hours in a day, more focus on my own wants and needs, then I could be a better mother, a better wife. More organized, less behind on everything. I was certain that I would be more patient, wiser, and happier. A veritable trifecta of Mrs. Brady, Martha Stewart, and Mother Theresa.

My days are ever hemmed in by a load of darks and load of whites and a load of colors. The towels and linens, the dirty diapers, and by the time all is washed (sometimes twice when left overnight accidentally), dried, folded, and put away, the hamper is overflowing again and the work is never ever done. When is there time for me sit and relax? To get my daily dose of joy and fulfillment by finally catering to myself after a day of servanthood?

I’ve never been away before with solely my own self for company. I felt the need to pretend. To act like it was all old hat to me. “I’m not just a housewife that spends her days within four walls with (almost) 3 children aged 3 and under, wiping boogers and bums, sweeping crumbs from the eternally-dirty dining room floor” I wanted to shout. I am important! I am more than that! Heaven forbid anyone scoffingly see through my stylish maternity cropped trench coat and cute bag to know that all I am is a mere servant with raisins and baby wipes at the bottom of my purse: the antithesis of vogue sophistication.

In truth my insides were screaming at me to notice. To wake up and realize that more me-time is not the answer. “How much larger your life would be if your self could become smaller in it!” wrote G.K. Chesterton, and I see the truth in this. I am not ashamed of my servant-status, my resumé of changing diapers and soothing babies to sleep and sharing in the delight of a puddle-splashing preschooler.

The self is small and I am glad and my heart burns with the knowledge that I am exactly what I need to be to fully receive joy.

As I wrestled with my own soul and my expectations for this time away, I found myself humbled by my temptation to pretend. I’m not a savvy business traveler, nor a career woman with a company credit card. I can try to play that part, but my fumbling fingers as I reach first for the cab’s front door then clumsily change my mind and switch to the back door likely gave me away (as did my basketball-sized abdomen).

I don’t know proper cab etiquette and I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m not in control of this wild and unnoticed life.

If I seek peace and joy by fulfilling myself and my own ambitions I will not find it. Not in a million nights of hotel getaways, and not in unrestricted free time to myself. It is not in the fancy champagne brunch (champagne-less for the swollen-bellied), nor the designer coffee beverage that I slowly sip, uninterrupted. The American Dream (Mother’s Edition) of housekeeper, cook, and nanny cannot offer it either.

It turns out that moments of peace and quiet, away from the daily grind do not bring true peace if one is running away. Peace must be found in the very life that is lived and breathed, not the moments in between.

I sit here with myself for company, and I realize this. I did not leave in order to get away. I came in order to step back and renew my perspective. To see with fresh eyes the joy that awaits when I walk back in that front door and back into the daily grind.

This was not a getaway, it was a coming-to, and I see the joy that is present in my mundane and precious life within those four sacred walls. In the midst of snotty-nosed kiddos that whine and breakdown on the kitchen floor because I wouldn’t let them push their chairs up too close to the stove while I stand with aching back and tired feet and the endless cycle of meal-making for my beautiful babies and husband. There is joy in that life and I whisper my thanks to the Gift-Giver for these beautiful gifts.

I’ll see them again in just a few hours with smiles wide and hugs and kisses freely given. I’ll inwardly gasp for breath in gratitude as I haul my toddler up on my hip with belly large, and I’ll choose joy, and I will know:

I’m just living the dream, baby. Living the dream.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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The wise old soul that resides in my little babe’s not-yet-four-years-old body is beautifully made. The little person that made me a mother by his very entrance into the breathing world on a sunny September afternoon has a heart and a soul that are rich with depth and feeling.

Sometimes I forget that.

I see his whining and immaturity, his tiresome dependency on me, the clunky slow-dance of learning that we do together, and I am tired. I think of his simple child-like play and the way I can make him smile again with just a tickle or his favourite muffins or a hug. I over-complicate my own thoughts, and I forget that he has complexities of his own. I forget that he’s a person with Big Feelings like mine.

Then sometimes, like today, I see it.

It turns out that our hearts are not that different after all.

My heart beats for acceptance. For unconditional love. For feeling wanted and understood. Oh, how I long to feel deeply understood. By my hubby, my peers, my children. The things I do, the ways I fail – the fact that I’m trying hard to do right.

As does his.

Today he watched a Frankling the Turtle episode on my laptop in which Franklin acts out. The reason he is acting out is because he feels sad and left out of his group of friends. The teacher doesn’t stop to understand and just gets exasperated with Franklin again and again, until the end when all is finally resolved.

My sweet-souled little boy slid off the couch and wandered away from the laptop a few times during this 12-minute story. After a minute he would go back and continue watching.

I paused the show and questioned him a bit. Flags were waving all over my intuition, and I pulled him onto my lap and asked if he felt sad because the teacher was upset with Franklin. “Yeah” he said, sucking his thumb and rubbing his ear as he sometimes still does in anxious situations.

“Do you feel sad when Mommy and Daddy get upset and mad at you?”

“Yeah” he says with emphatic feeling.

Distracted and wanting to finish watching, he un-pauses the laptop and sit back in his spot. I kiss his head with a tight and fervent hug from behind, a whispered I-love-you, and continue on with my crocheting, my mind all-a-whirring.

It is a terrible feeling to know that someone is upset with you for something you’ve done. To feel that you’ve disappointed someone, and that you have all kinds of emotions inside that you can’t quite figure out how to explain. As an adult I can generally avoid those instances much easier than my sweet children are able to do, considering that I’m supposed to be the one “in charge” around here.

Because they are doing the tough work of growing up and maturing, and I am doing the tough work of growing into the kind of parent for them that God is to me, sometimes our worlds collide in a crashing and grinding kind of way. It is so difficult to refrain from insinuating that he has disappointed me or made me upset. I want to own my feelings, and him to own his. 

He should not feel that he is inadequate and has disappointed me by his natural immaturities or sins. 

I want him to feel loved, encouraged, and accepted no matter what. Unconditional love. Unconditional grace. As my Heavenly Father washes over me. 

And it starts with remembering that our hearts are really not all that different after all.

His feelings mirror my own and as we dance our way toward understanding, we remember that God’s grace is sufficient for a nearly-thirty-year-old homemaking mama just as it is for a nearly-four-year-old little boy-soul with big brown eyes.

Growing. Learning. Understanding. Giving each other grace.

His heart and mine.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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You know how they say to keep your friends close, but your enemies closer? Well sometimes I think that applies perfectly to motherhood. Sometimes you feel like your children are The Enemy (I know they’re not really and yet in the moment there are some Big Feelings involved). They frustrate you and make you want to lock yourself in the bathroom crying with a large tub of ice cream and brownies and not emerge until they’re gone.

Sometimes I get so angry and worked up about things that I just want to (and sometimes do) yell. Loudly. I feel frustrated and helpless, and I feel like I should let them know how annoyed I am so that they don’t repeat the behaviour next time (no, I don’t actually advocate this technique, I’m just psycho-analyzing my own parenting failures). I think locking myself away with brownies would be a much better option for all involved, but for some reason it doesn’t ever actually happen.

Anyway, I digress. I wrote a while ago about praying for your enemies, and I realized that sometimes once we’ve hit that discipline stage it’s not just about prayer… forgiveness needs to be involved.

Part of gentle parenting is to respect your children as human beings with needs and wants, like adults. My children have the right to be spoken to respectfully, and the right to be restored to relationship. I often act foolishly and find myself in a position of needing to apologize and get over myself in order to have harmony in a relationship. For whatever reason I don’t particularly love the taste of humble pie, and I find this really hard.

The other day my kids were driving me nuts and I stomped away in a huff after raising my voice. I was rocking the bad mood like a grumpy emo rockstar when I realized that there’s this little (minor, really) commandment in Scripture about forgiving your enemies. Then it occurred to me (oh, you’ll thank me for this bit of brilliance) that it also applies the under 3-feet-tall crowd. Also? Those birthed from my very own loins. Yeah.

I swallowed my pride and came out of my funkiness, and rejoined my cute little family.

The 3-year-old’s eyes were big as he looked at me, wondering if Crazy Mom was gone yet.

I took a deep breath and smiled at him. I still felt grumpy and annoyed with him, but I knew I had a choice: I could choose to let go of the frustration (that he doesn’t even totally understand anyway – he’s a preschooler!), or I could hold on to it and ruin the rest of our day with grumpiness.

It felt unnatural at first, but after a second the smile reached my eyes and I said “Hi Sweetie, are you having fun with your trains?” (For the record, I often will apologize for my bad attitude and rude words as well).

He answered in the affirmative and smiled back. All forgiven (from both of us). A disastrous and unnecessarily bad day avoided, and more importantly a relationship restored.

Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. It’s better that way, I’ve learned.

So much better.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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32 weeks

So sorry about not announcing the Flourishing Spring give-away winner sooner! As chosen by random.org, the winner is Stephanie, commenter #12! Steph, Michele from Frugal Granola will be in touch shortly.

Here are a few links for you all to enjoy while I figure out what to write about next

***

The Myth of the Uninvolved Unschooler @ Simple Homeschool :: “But what exactly do unschoolers do all day? That varies as much as individual families vary–in other words, a lot! But as I’ve come to know more unschoolers, it seems to me that we often have in common the following six focuses…”

While I Nurse You to Sleep @ The Mule :: “While I nurse you to sleep… I...rest.  For the first time today, I am still. I am not lifting, carrying, holding, bending, reaching, stretching, scrubbing, wiping, hauling, or lugging. Here in this dark room I lie beside you and allow my body and mind to come to stillness after the chaos of our day.”

I Wonder What Would Happen If… @ Parenting. Illustrated with Crappy Pictures :: a little bit of women/mom humour…

10 Easy Natural Household Switches @ Keeper of the Home :: “These are common and frequently-used household items that you can simply switch for a purchased or homemade alternative, depending on where you are in your journey or how brave you’re feeling.”

Coconut Flour Chocolate Chip Muffins @ Comfy Belly :: I came across this recipe on Pinterest and immediately wanted to try it because I had all the ingredients and didn’t need to substitute anything – a rarity for me with Pinterest recipes! These muffins are absolutely amazing and I love that they are so healthy (except the chocolate chips, which you can really minimize).

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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Michele at Frugal Granola has recently released her latest e-book, called “Flourishing Spring: Nourishing Activities for Rainy Days”, and today I am excited that I get to give away a copy to one lucky reader!

I’ve been reading Frugal Granola for a while now, and some of you may also know that I’ve been a monthly contributor since January, which has been a great privilege for me. This book is a fantastic resource full of a great variety of activities and ideas. I love that it has both simple things with an extra dose of inspiration, as well as ideas that are new-to-me altogether.

From the book’s description:

Over 25 ideas for creating intentional moments with children, with multiple variations, allergy-friendly recipes, and simple resources. This 33-page ebook is a compilation of boredom busters, homemade gift ideas, and nourishing meal suggestions for filling a rainy day!

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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A few of my newer readers who have checked out some of my older stuff have found those posts and have asked whatever happened to part three, so I’ve decided to rewrite the posts and publish them again.

***

Can any of us truly say that we are consistently doing the best that we can every single day? I have my doubts. I’ve learned recently that constantly trying to be enough (a good enough wife/mama/homemaker) is not only exhausting, it’s fruitless. There are just so many ways that I fail every single day.

Today we were barely through breakfast and I’d already clenched my fingers together and raised my voice because my toddler babe takes about a billion years to push through each and every tooth and OH.MY.GASH – the insanity. The ceaseless crying and whining murders me. It’s like a ghastly crime scene and the victim lying unceremoniously in a puddle of death is MY MIND.

There was some serious wailing and gnashing of teeth right there on the kitchen floor, and it wasn’t even 9am yet. Daddy was not due to come home for another 7-8 hours, by which point there surely would have been total and utter annihilation of all sanity.

Is this really my life? Trying not to yell at a teething toddler and a three-year-old acting like SUCH a child (sarcasm alert). What part of my childhood sunshiney plans for motherhood included this scenario? Who clued me in to the fact that my job would be a daily repetition of the most mundane and mind-numbing tasks one could imagine? Who warned me that the gritty day-to-day of motherhood would be a constant dying to self and trying to understand and shepherd the irrational minds of several precious creation-gifts from heaven who cannot even wipe their own butts?

This is the point at which I ask God if he’s sure I should remain in this whole mothering gig. Perhaps something went awry in the factory packaging, and I didn’t get a big enough portion of patience or sympathy or keep-it-togetherness.

These words from Kathleen Norris struck me deeply a year ago, and they remain as profound today:

“The fact that none of us can rise so far in status as to remove ourselves from the daily, bodily nature of life on this earth is not usually considered a cause for celebration, but rather the opposite. The daily routines that provide a modicum of discipline in our lives are perceived as a drag, a monotony that can occasion listlessness, apathy, and despair” (K. Norris, The Quotidian Mysteries: Laundry, Liturgy, and “Women’s Work”).

What if I stopped perceiving my daily mundane as a monotonous drag?

The laundry that never ends, the dirty dishes stacked, the toys scattered and the cluttered closets. The whining toddler, the disobeying preschooler, the constant touching and climbing all over me and never-a-moment’s-peace and why-can’t-I-go-pee-without-an-audience? The errands and grocery shopping and cooking and cleaning and scrubbing and oh yes, breathing and sleeping and sitting once in a while? The dirty boots and mud tracked in the house and crayon on the walls and orphaned lego pieces that I find underfoot.

Can I find peace and contentment in these mundane realities? Or do I have to find it in spite of them? Layered in between the popcorn crumbs and the dismantled couch cushions and the tantrums and the discouragement, there is joy. It’s not a rosy-all-is-well feeling and it’s not a satisfaction that finally I did everything right all day long. Waiting for that kind of a feeling will leave me waiting forever and ever. Instead, I have this crazy idea that if I lean a little deeper into the quotidian realities and the gritty spectrum of humanity that I find there that I will at last find peace. To believe wholeheartedly that this exact mundane moment is full of beauty and heart-pulsing life.

In same work quoted above, Kathleen Norris writes this little bit of wisdom:

“But, like liturgy, the work of cleaning draws much of its meaning and value from repetition, from the fact that it is never completed, but only set aside until the next day. Both liturgy and what is euphemistically termed “domestic work” also have an intense relation with the present moment, a kind of faith in the present that fosters hope and makes life seem possible in the day-to-day.”

My desire, in my role at home (as home-maker – literally: making the home) is to be wholehearted (wholehearted: “undivided commitment or unreserved enthusiasm). I seek joy right smack dab in the middle of the daily grind, not in spite of it. Not during naptime. Not after the kids are finally in bed (though those times are certainly refreshing in their own way). I breathe deep in the reality that lives within our little prairie house and I see it. I really truly see it. And I whisper my thanks.

Every day I create as many messes with my stubborn ungrateful heart as I clean up from my precious and mischievous children. And yet, I am loved. I am growing. I am learning. If I were not a hot mess of humanity all broken and dry and weak, I would not know grace nor would I need a Saviour.

This is my mundane life full of beauty.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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I feel like I’m entering the home stretch now, being in “the 30′s”. It’s like the countdown at new year’s when they start with 10! 9! 8! etc. Except that this time each second (aka week) may or may not feel like an eternity, and there will probably not be an immediate party after we get to the last number. There will probably be great efforts to stay thankful! and happy! (while overdue!) even though I want to serve up an eviction notice and reclaim my body from the little alien within.

Oh well, the end is coming at some point, and each day is one day closer. I’m ever mindful of that fact now that the uncomfortableness is gearing up. The usual – pelvic pain, heartburn, fatigue, not sleeping well, and peeing every 5 seconds. I think I feel way worse (achey, etc) when I eat any sugar or wheat… so I’m being careful right now about those things.

By and large my biggest frustration is my rhinitis. I’ve been using a nasal spray because that’s the only thing that has allowed me to sleep. I’ve tried an herbal breathe-easy tea, tea tree oil treatment on my feet, saline sprays, having a humidifier in my room, steam from the shower, vicks rub, and a neti pot (doesn’t work for me). Nothing has worked well enough to allow me to actually sleep enough to function during the day, except the nasal spray. (It’s getting so bad that I can barely smell or taste things anymore, and it’s making me totally nuts.)

Uh, small problem: apparently the nasal spray, if used continuously, can actually make your symptoms worse and is potentially addictive. Ouch.

So, if anyone has any bright ideas about cleaning congestion while pregnant, I’m all ears. Also, natural heartburn remedies would be nice.

Gosh this was not really supposed to be such a negative post. I just get asked so often how I’m feeling, so I figure I may as well give you the low-down.

In other news – I’m pretty sure my milk dried up totally somewhere in the second trimester, and Aliza was just comfort nursing for the last while. However…

I don’t actually remember the exact day, but I believe it’s now been a full week since she nursed. I do believe that we can say that she has officially weaned (at nearly 21 months old). I have to be honest, I am relieved. I had no qualms about nursing longer in theory, but it was getting quite uncomfortable since I had no milk left. I was starting to resent it, so I decided to give it a go and see if she would mind terribly if we weaned. I had to tell her once or twice a day that “mama’s milk is all gone”. She cried some mournful tears several times that almost made me give in, but I was able to distract her successfully each time without too much fuss, so we stuck it out. I feel at peace about it and I think it was the right time.

I know this is a somewhat scattered update, but let’s just say that I did it on purpose to illustrate the scatter-brained-ness that is my reality right now.

My final thought in this post is this: watching Isaac and Aliza play together these days, laughing and giggling and enjoying each others’ company (usually) is making me way excited about this babe to come. Despite the crazy roller coaster of having 3 kids in less than 4 years, I am beyond thrilled to think and hope that they will be each others’ best friends growing up. What a gift!

***

In case you missed them, here are the other posts I’ve written reflecting on this pregnancy: The Big Announcement, 13 weeks, and 20 weeks (focusing on deciding between a hospital-birth or a B&B birth).

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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There is a lovely (so I’ve heard) little Christian preschool here in Tiny Town that is just a hop, skip, and a jump away from our front door. Handy, right? Except that we have chosen to not send our children to preschool at all.

It’s not that I think there’s anything terribly wrong with preschool (especially having heard such great things about this one). Nonetheless, we have chosen to do these preschool years at home.

I strongly believe that young children can learn everything they need to know simply from participating in life within a loving and caring  family. In fact, I believe that young children actually benefit more from staying at home to play than they do in a formalized learning environment. I would worry that sending my child to school (even part-time) might set up a dichotomy between “learning time” and “non-learning time”, which I believe would be a disservice to him.

Currently my firstborn is 3.5 years old. He could have started preschool last September, but instead he is at home. If you peeked into our lives on any given day, you would not find letter and number worksheets, nor educational toys or carefully researched lesson planning.

Instead you’d probably see him running around in his underwear (he’s in an anti-pants stage…) imagining and acting out fairly elaborate scenarios with his trains, cars, and dump trucks. He’s a kid that builds an awesome block tower, covers every square inch of his paper with paint, and throughly enjoys digging in dirt and sand. He showed a small interest in drawing and colouring six months ago and recently he drew his first person, quickly followed by an airplane, a train, and now letters of the alphabet. He will sit still for as long as someone is willing to read to him, and loves books of all kinds. He is demonstrates empathy and care for others in his interactions with others.

I’ve written before about our attraction towards Interest-Led Learning (Unschooling), and I think that now is the perfect time to lay that foundation for my children. If you think about it – just in our daily life he is exposed to any academic subject that you can think of, including the following:

• Reading
• Art
• Music
• Mathematics
• Imaginative Play
• Physical Activity
• Life Skills
• Nature Studies
• Social Studies
• Science
• Writing & Story-Telling
• History
• Ethics & Philosophy
• Religion & Christian History

I plan to do a series of posts outlining some of the ways that he is learning these subjects intrinsically in the rhythm and flow of life. Some are more obvious than others, but I plan to also share some of my ideas for how I will expose him to these things in a variety of ways.

Do you send your kids to preschool? What kind of educational philosophy resonates most with you?

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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While browsing my Pinterest stream I often come across the best homey-type ideas that are awesome but that are more or less unattainable. Like built-in bunk beds with stairs going up, or cool loft spaces with indoor slides. If I ever get to build my dream home, it’s gonna be pretty dang amazing, that’s for sure.

However, for now (and indefinitely) we are renters. We live in a nice little house that works great for our needs, and we are so blessed to have it. There are tons of positives to outweigh the cracks and holes in the paint, the peeling baseboard, the rough spots on the old outdated cupboards, etc. There’s a basement playroom and a guest room and an office, there are lots of windows, and the amount of space is just right for us. Being renters does come with limitations though. No renovations (unless we wanted to pay for them ourselves, which would be dumb because we don’t plan to live here for more than a year or so). No fancy upgrades. Sometimes it’s easy to get depressed dreaming about all of those awesome house ideas that you can’t have.

So, we get creative.

I’ve seen lots of adorable photos of cozy little book corners (a dedicated cozy space for kids to read in) floating around on Pinterest, and while I loved the idea, I figured it would be too expensive to do properly. Until last weekend, that is, when inspiration struck.

I had the itch to rearrange our living room furniture, which was the catalyst for this whole thing. In our living room is the front door of the house, which we don’t actually use. (We use the back door where our driveway is.) Next to the front door is this weird opening in the wall that appears to have been intended as some sort of closet or coat hook area (although there’s no door on it). I decided to make this little area into our book nook, and with help from the hubby it came together quite effortlessly, all without spending a dime! I especially love that it can all be easily packed up and taken with us the next time we move! Here’s what we did:

:: The Book Nook ::

• The little book shelves are actually spice racks from IKEA, which we had picked up a long time ago (I think they cost around $5 each).

• The light on the wall is one we purchased in our last house to go over the stove because there was no range hood. We hung it sideways to fit better.

• The picture on the wall is a basic black IKEA frame that we already owned, with the awesome quote and patterned paper being from my scrapbooking supplies.

• The cushions on the floor are a random assortment from around the house that weren’t being used, and I added a couple of blankets and the sheepskin.

• And, the sign was hubby’s idea. I wanted to make a sign of some sort, and he suggested that I paint the words on a piece of wood. He went hunting downstairs for a piece of plywood, and came back with this – it’s actually a shelf minus the brackets – from IKEA (the cheapest kind they have – I think it was like $3) that we had bought while in a previous house and weren’t using currently. I freehand drew and painted the letters onto it, and voila! (black smudge on top of the first “o” is courtesy of the three-year-old).

Here’s a few more shots up close…

(Yes, that’s his “i’m-only-smiling-so-that-mom-gets-the-camera-out-of-my-face” look)

***

What about you?

Do you have a special space in your house for your little ones to curl up with a book?

(And if you haven’t already – why not take a second to “like” Red & Honey on Facebook, where I post awesome links and chat with readers!)

***

{Linked up with Jenny @ The Southern Institute…}

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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This poor babe has been pretty miserable since yesterday with all manner of snotty crusty goop, hacking cough, a warm forehead and a grumpy lack of sleep.

As evidenced by this photo, however, sometimes all it takes is a new hairdo and a warm washcloth to wipe away all the crusty snot in order to feel just a little bit better.

I think it’s the same with myself, in these busy mothering-of-littles days. Sometimes I get overwhelmed with it all, and just want to dramatically fall onto the floor and weep with that toddler-like freedom that she fiercely claims as her own. I forget how to shake myself out of my funk and start over and just breathe. Reflecting on this today in between wiping noses and administering saline solution and comforting owies (they’re always worse when you’re sick, you know) and offering the third snack distraction of the morning, I figured perhaps I should be a little better prepared for Those Kinds of Days (including the ones where grouchiness is the only illness to speak of).

So, here is a list of my top five ways to snap out of a funky day. How to press the restart button on a gnarly day. It’s never too late until the day is done, and although it sometimes feel absolutely dramatically hopeless, it’s really truly not. It’s never too late to adjust your attitude, expectations, and heart.

I think I shall print this list out and put it on my fridge. You know, for those times of Dire Straights. Perhaps they could help you too.

5 Ways to Restart a Bad Day

1. Music. The funkier the better. We have a station on Pandora called Jump Around Radio. This morning so far it has played the Fresh Prince of Bellair theme song, the “Everybody Dance Now” song, and that one where the chorus is all “I’ve Got the Power!” (you know the one?). Whatever works for you – maybe lullabies are better for your particular situation. Either way, music has magical powers for mood changing – use wisely (fair warning – if you desire to continue in your wallowing misery – DON’T play that Everybody Dance Now one. Its powers are unexpectedly insidious, and may cause mirth in even the grumpiest of family members. You’re singing it in your head right now, aren’t you?).
2. A little bit of pampering. Is it TMI to admit that sometimes pampering includes changing out of my jammies before 11am? Getting dressed, washing your face with a steaming hot washcloth (ahh, so nice!), brushing your teeth and flossing, doing your hair, putting on earrings, maybe makeup. The whole shebang. I realize that some people do these things every single day, but I know many stay-at-home mamas just don’t get to these things, especially when you’re in survival mode. The same goes for the littles – hair brushing, teeth brushing, and hand lotion (coconut oil) with a little massage are totally soothing to them.
3. Let go of plans for the day. Ask what the pressing need is, and address it. If sitting on the couch and reading stories all day and having pancakes for dinner is what it’s gonna take to avoid Meltdown Mayhem, then just do it. Just do it. Seriously.
4. Treats. If the clinging is at a lull and you have a spare moment, consider making a treat to distract and lift spirits. I remember being sick and having a popsicle working miraculous wonders for my health. While I try to stay away from sugar and artificial colours these days, there are lots of healthy treats that soothe a sad and grumpy spirit. This recipe for homemade chocolate pudding is one of my faves. Sometimes a tea party (with real tea, of course) does wonders. A blanket fort in which to eat the treat and sip the tea is a total bonus.
5. Change of pace! Sometimes on One of Those Days all I feel like doing is crawling into a hole of grumpiness and not emerging until reinforcements arrive (poor Daddy!), but if we make the effort to get out of the house and go somewhere (anywhere, really, provided they aren’t sick and going to infect everyone in a 10-meter-radius) it really helps keep the whining to a minimum, and can make a potentially disastrous day become, dare I say it – enjoyable?

Hpo now I’m off to nurse my grumpy snotty toddler and read some (more) stories. Hoping your day is lovely!

What’s your reset button?

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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I have been trying so hard lately. To be “good enough”. I add quotation marks with irritation because I don’t even understand what that really means, let alone find success at it, and it’s all just a bit heavy and burdensome after a while.

Patient enough. Healthy enough. Spiritual enough. For my kids, for my husband, for myself. For Him. And always failure. Hot shameful failure that courses through my veins with a rhythmic beat that tears me up inside and leaves me desperate for a do-over. And when it’s only 9:15am.

It’s an out-of-body experience as I watch myself yelling and slamming doors and indulging in my hot-tempered mess of humanity. And all over a pair of boots which are a thin veil for the gritty reality which is that in that moment I lacked gratitude. It’s a cosmic battle waging in the inmost parts of me, and I snap to myself to get a grip but I don’t and I pout and rant and give in to weakness. I think that the problems are happening to me and I ignore the fact that the problem is me. I lose perspective and I am not enough.

I’m not enough on my own. And in that, inexplicably, I find… grace? Yes – and joy. And thanksgiving…

In the first chapter of One Thousand Gifts, Ann writes “I wonder too… if the rent in the canvas of our own life backdrop, the losses that puncture our world, our own emptiness, might actually become places to see. To see through to God. That that which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond. To Him. To the God whom we endlessly crave… But how? How do we choose to allow the holes to become seeing-through-to-God places?”.

And now I realize that this is exactly the problem: my pathetic attempts to rid myself of the “thin, open places”. To try harder and be better at it all and to finally overcome my struggles. My own emptiness is uncomfortable to me because it is such a precise demonstration of my weakness. My flesh struggles with all its might to resist and yet somehow, strangely, I am drawn to embrace the emptiness, that I might be filled with something other-worldly, something beautiful and poetic and so much more than what the flesh can offer. Because it’s obvious that my way isn’t working and so why not try the crazy upside-down way?

And how, I ask? How can this be that I could dare to hope for more? That I might dare to say yes to embracing my torn-open holes and weak spots, and break bread and drink the wine in thanksgiving for those very weaknesses. Believing that they lead me to the One who is strong and who loves with an unquenchable desire for my heart, and gives unspeakable joy…

Dare I believe that I can revel in that joy? Really and honestly that I can live with such thanksgiving in my heart?

My heart is pounding and I fear hitting the publish button. My gut is wrenching me in that uncomfortable-God-speaking kind of way and my eyes are tired but alive with hope and dare I say containing a hint of joy.

Oh! That I may stop trying to be enough and start living in gratitude for what I am today! Gratitude for all of it. The growing pains, the desires, the hard and mundane. The God who is there in all of it, real and raw and close. Oh so close.

Lord, let it be so.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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Since I live in the cold Canadian Prairies, I’ve loved this quote since I first laid eyes on it. This has been a milder than usual winter here in Tiny Town, but we’ve had a recent dumping of fresh sparkling snow, and enough days with sub-zero temperatures to make me long for warm summer days.

The thing about winter here is that it’s kind of like a survivor situation. People band together and commiserate about their housebound days when it’s minus forty, taking twenty minutes to bundle the kids into their snowsuits every.single.time.they.leave.the.house, and how we all just can’t wait for spring. We learn much about ourselves, and our ability to handle less than desirable situations. Some ride out these months with ease, always looking for the joy and gratitude in each situation. Others handle themselves with slightly less grace, finding reason to complain behind every snowy and windy corner. I see a little of each in myself on most days.

But, at the end of the day, I sense a wild and untameable hope poking up. An invincible summer, as it were. I knew this to be true when my honey went away for nine loooooonnnng days to sunny California, leaving me, the kiddos, and my pregnant belly behind in our arctic-ish surroundings, it was certainly a winter of our own. Both literally and figuratively.

My goal was to not just survive, but to thrive. Strangely enough, I did. It was nine days of peaceful interactions, fun planned activities, and more patience than I ever knew I had. I grew as a mama in those days. I learned that when necessary, I can be more of the mom I want to be. Even for my roughest day running on little sleep I found a way to intentionally get through without melting down or checking out (ok, unless you count the two hours of American Idol we watched on the laptop).

It seems that I learned an important lesson in those days: that even in my darkest winter days, the times tempting me to react in an ugly and fleshly way, I still possess that invincible summer within. So often in the rhythm of life and days when Daddy is coming home at supper-time as per usual I find myself tempted to check out mid-afternoon, and just quit trying so hard. He’ll be home soon and can take over when I finally give in to Meltdown Mama, says my subconscious. This is not a helpful way of life, nor does it do anyone any favours. Grumpy mama always begets grumpy children, which always results in one very unenjoyable whirling cycle of grumpiness. When hubby was away and I was the only adult left, I simply could not afford to melt down. I knew what that would lead to, and I was afraid of what could happen with no “back-up” coming my way. So, I picked myself up by my bootstraps and got ‘er done.

The question is: why don’t I do that every day?

Perhaps I could plan to start supper earlier, so that when 4pm hits and the kids are cranky, I can sit down on the floor and play with them. Or maybe making sure to respond to any typical toddler messes (“on purpose” or otherwise) with an extra dose of grace and calm so that I don’t allow the day to escalate into the Grumpy Zone. Or just being sure to have fun things to pass our days, like special art projects, chores or baking that we can do together.

Two young kids and a pregnant belly is my life right now. If I want to be That Mom everyday, and not just as a once-a-year survival effort, then I need to be intentional about it. By this summer I will have birthed three kiddos in less than four years. When I say it like that it seems crazy that I wouldn’t always have my game face on and ready to go. I know that I am capable. How badly do I want it? Well, as they say, the proof is in the pudding. {mmm, pudding…}.

There is an invincible summer in all of us. Shall we set it free?

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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Isaac is a 3.5-year-old that loves his trains and cars. He drives them around, making up stories and narratives for hours on end, having a grand time. (“Help! Thomas is stuck in the mud! I’m coming, said Percy, here I am! Pullll! Ughh! You’re free! Let’s go to the station to get a wash-down…”)

I had seen the idea on Pinterest for making masking tape roads on your carpet for the kids to drive cars on. But the idea didn’t quite appeal to me, knowing that I’d have to take all that tape and hard work apart and throw it away eventually. Thus, this little idea was born. Off to the dollar store I went, in search of a cheap shower curtain liner. The shower curtain liners at our “dollar” store were priced at $9.50, so I grabbed this tablecloth liner for $1.50 instead. I taped it down to the dining room floor on the four corners, and drew with a thick black permanent marker a bunch of roads and train tracks, plus a few extras. It’s nothing fancy, artistically speaking, since I had a 19-month-old climbing all over me while drawing. But he loves it.

We added the essentials – a train station, a library, a grocery store, and our house. There are spots for the car to park and for the trains to rest. Plenty of winding roads and a few trees and flowers.

I had hoped to be able to fold it up when they were finished playing, and save it for another day, but it turned out the plastic was too thin and ripped in several places from some of the crazier drivers I plan to find a cheap vinyl shower curtain liner (I’ll get that one I first saw if I have to), and make a more permanent version of the same thing.

Come back and let me know if you make one, and if your kids love it as much as mine do!

Have a happy long weekend (it’s Family Day on Monday for us).

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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I sit here sipping my morning cup of tea (decaf while I’m pregnant), basking in the warm glow. The sun pokes above the tree-line and dances its way through my half-opened curtains through which I saw a gorgeous sunrise. The living room lamps are still on and we are in the in-between of darkness and light. The day has arrived, I’ve been up several hours (though not quite as long as my love, who got up first with the little one and let me sleep a bit extra).

The little one and the big one are downstairs in the playroom. The sounds of giggling and happy playing are intermingled with the brief bouts of shouting and whine-crying. They learn and grow together as siblings and playmates, and at the end of the day he leans over to her highchair (which he insists on sitting beside at supper) and asks tenderly “Are we friends, Ally? Are we friends?”

She is 19 months old (and I am nearing 24 weeks pregnant), and she is still nursing. Mostly it’s just once a day, first thing in the morning. It has been a very important thing to her, and she has shown no signs of wanting to stop yet. We sit and cuddle, she and I, first thing in the morning. She nurses, while curled around my growing belly. She sometimes will stop and look at me with a goofy smile on her face, giving a sweet sigh of contentment, and continue on, gazing into my eyes with a piercing and tender love. Our special time brings comfort and peace to our relationship and starts us off with a good dose of oxytocin – lovey-dovey hormones.

I wonder sometimes – when will it happen? It will end, inevitably, and one day she will no longer be interested in being comforted and connecting in this way. She will outgrow the desire and need for it, and she will take a significant step toward independence from me.

I sit here sipping my tea, listening to my babes playing downstairs, and wonder. Is today the day? Is this it? The beginning of the end of a beautiful and tender nursing relationship? She didn’t ask to nurse this morning when I walked out of my room (normally she’s quite insistent about wanting it). She didn’t ask to nurse moments ago when she came upstairs pouting and crying because her big brother had taken a toy away.

At the beginning of this pregnancy she was still nursing three times a day, which was fairly physically taxing on my first-trimester body. Then as we worked on gently encouraging her to nurse a bit less (using distraction, etc), she willingly moved into this groove of once of day, first thing in the morning. It’s a natural part of our day with which we are both content.

There so many emotions running through my mind. Sadness mixed with anticipation, and regret (that I weaned my youngest so early at 12 months and never had this kind of beautiful experience with him). Most of all though I feel at peace. Whether she continues to nurse throughout my pregnancy and beyond, vaulting me into the unknown territory that is tandem nursing, or if today really is the beginning of the end – I am at peace.

***

Today I’ve guest posted over at my lovely friend’s space, on “10 Ways to Make Art at Home”. Please pop over and leave a comment!

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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I am a big fan of introspecting. I suppose it’s my INFP-ishness coming through. (“They are idealists and perfectionists, who drive themselves hard in their quest for achieving the goals they have identified for themselves”). I am constantly thinking of ways that I could be a better person, and critiquing myself when I fail to do so. (“INFPs have very high standards and are perfectionists. Consequently, they are usually hard on themselves, and don’t give themselves enough credit… The INFP needs to work on balancing their high ideals with the requirements of every day living”).

(Seriously – this INFP thing is just so me, it’s ridiculous…)

All of the sweet women in my Wednesday Mom’s Group are familiar with my declaring that I am such a terrible housekeeper. I secretly suspect that I’m actually fairly average among my peers, but compared to PERFECT, well, I’m pretty bad! I have a tough time keeping perspective in these things, and balancing my high ideals with the nitty-gritty realities of life with pregnancy/toddler/preschooler etc.

One thing that I think would be helpful is to perhaps write down a list of “self-improvement” goals. Things like being more patient with the kids, keeping on top of laundry a bit better, and quitting using certain phrases and words (I’m not talking about curse words – since that’s not really my issue – but rather things like “hurry up!!” or “I’m tired/busy/just a sec/etc). I want to pray more for my kids and hubby, I want to be disciplined a bit more in my spiritual practices. I want to be more consistently healthy in my eating habits, not to mention more frugal.

Then, I was thinking that most of these things just kinda float there on the back burner, never really getting done and receiving a fair effort, since they seem so ridiculously impossible to achieve. But what if I just started with a day? Or even just an hour, if that’s more realistic?

For just one day, I could make a concerted effort to be more patient. Whenever the kids do something that starts my blood boiling, I take a breath, I talk myself out of it, and I employ whatever strategy I’ve prepared. Just one day. Seems do-able.

Then when it’s done, and I’ve succeeded (or seem some improvement), I know it’s possible. It kind of sounds silly, but I really think this could be revolutionary. To know that your goals have a starting point, and that they can start now, today, in the midst of your messy life and many imperfections. To experience the rush of reaching a goal, even if it was as simple as avoiding sugar for one single day.

The first day is always the hardest. But really, I can do anything. For just one day.

Just for one day I will be a more patient mom – not yelling/raising my voice/getting unrighteously angry/annoyed/etc. My strategies to achieve this goal will be to get a good night’s sleep the night before, to give the kids lots of attention when they ask (verbally or otherwise) for it, and to make sure I spend a bit of time reading my Bible. And, of course, heaps and heaps of deep breaths and biting my tongue!

(Please know that I don’t expect to become a perfect mother who is always patient and never gets angry. I do hope that my little experiment will cause me to be much more conscientious about it. I hope for it to be a catalyst towards personal growth in this area).

So, what one thing would you choose to change in your life, for just one day? Do you think this kind of experiment would resonate with you?

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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Pilot Man has been away for a full week now, and still three more days to go (he comes home late Tuesday evening). Today he’s flying one of these, and he’s totally excited about it because it’s apparently a big deal. My goal while he was away was to not just survive, but to really thrive and have a good time with my kiddos. I didn’t want each day to drag and be horrible and stressful. So, we employed a few strategies to make it happen. I was extra-patient and attentive to the kiddos, who ask every day if Daddy’s coming home yet. I planned lots of extra fun stuff in our schedule (I signed them up for swimming lessons on a bit of a whim, and the first one was on Thursday!), and I allowed a few treats that wouldn’t otherwise have happened.

Yesterday, though was “special”. Aliza was up at 4:50am for the day, and I had not gone to bed early enough to deal with that. So, it was a zombie-like-survival day, and while I may not have been very patient, I definitely think we made it through ok, all things considered. I took a few photos to document the passing of the day, and since my brain is still fairly mush-like, I think a photo post is a grand idea.

early (EARLY) morning green smoothie

illegal (I usually avoid caffeine in pregnancy) caffeinated tea + organic dark chocolate...

how could i possibly have had a bad day with this face looking at me all day?

and this silly one, too...

sometimes it's all about just letting go and embracing the chaos...

a (short) library visit passed the time this morning (aliza was not impressed that I wouldn't give her a rice cake while in the library, so we got approximately 1.5 stories read, and took the rest home)

yum. easy snack time.

23 weeks. yup. my babies like their in utero accommodations to be spacious, and I feel I have no choice in the matter.

my hair was getting ridiculously long. i mean, I liked how it looked... but it was a bit of a pain - always getting pulled by the kids, takes forever in the shower to wash, and generally feeling heavy and blah. plus? hello, split ends! so... the hair cutting scissors in our bathroom and I had a little rendezvous...

I think I like it. this isn't my best photo by a long shot (do you know how hard it is to take a picture of your own hair? dude. it's hard). however, i think i'm going to take a few more inches off later today. i'm feeling adventurous, and i do have a habit of making drastic hair changes while pregnant (I've chopped at least 8-10 inches each time, although this is the first time I've done it myself!)... and never regretted it. hurray for refreshing change! (it grows back anyway, what's the big deal?!)

just as i was finishing my hair escapades, there was a knock at the door with a lovely delivery.

dang, he's good

a little bit of a guilty pleasure with American Idol. I haven't seen every season, and right now I'm just catching up on auditions, but so far so good. They're not really showing the nuts much - just a lot of really talented people.

the beauty of the setting sun reminded me of two things - 1) the beauty in each day if we have eyes to see it 2) the hope of a hard day coming to a close and a new one to come.

um yes, I did feed my children french fries and hotdogs for supper. what?! the hogs were nitrate-free, the ketchup was organic, and there were green beans, too! #motheroftheyearawardrighthere

i snuck bites from this little beauty all day long, and finished it before breakfast this morning. it was massive, and usually I share it with my honey, so this was quite the feat. i think i'm done with sweets for a while (give me 24 hours, at least, haha)

So, now it’s Sunday, we’re headed off to church, and we have just two more sleeps ’til we see Daddy (three for the kids because he’ll get in after they’re in bed). Onward and upward!

***

{from the rising of the sun
to the going down of the same
the name of the Lord is to be praised.
praise ye, the Lord,
praise ye, the Lord,
from rising of the sun
to the going down of the same
the name of the Lord is to be praised.}

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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