Dear Family,

Tonight, as I stepped over the veritable mountain of dirty laundry that was lying next to the empty laundry basket in the middle of the dining room, I realized that it is time for me to point out very clearly what you all have been missing over the past few months:

Things around here are going to hell in a handbasket.

I am feeling so overwhelmed that, soon, if you want help finding your missing pajama bottoms/swim goggles/camera/musical instrument/shoes/ipod/backpack/favorite stuffed animal/LEGO micro figure/bike helmet, you will have to dig me out from underneath a huge pile of Cherry Garcia containers and Nut Goody wrappers--and you will probably have to rent a crane large enough to lift my ever-increasing fat ass off the couch--before I can even begin the search.

I can no longer keep up with all the empty toilet paper rolls and dental floss bits that are regularly left all over the bathroom floor. I cannot understand why it looks like someone spit all over the bathroom mirror each night, no one ever flushes the toilet or drains the tub, or why there is a large rock on the tile behind the door.

And why, if no one ever practices their instruments, are there music books, folders, cases and shoulder rests spread all over the living room?

No one but me seems to notice that the kitchen floor has not been scrubbed since 2007 (I have been too busy turning every single clothing item that goes through the wash right-side-out to find the time to undertake the arduous task of mopping) and that, ever since the dog died, dried up vegetables and crusty pasta bits have been accumulating on the rug underneath the dining room table. I don't know why the ants from the kitchen haven't discovered this cornucopia yet, but maybe I'm just not being patient enough.

The dust around here is so thick I don't even need to use a coaster on the antique table anymore--it's absorbent now, like a tablecloth. And instead of removing the cobwebs in the corners of every room, I pause to admire them, like works of art--it's far less work to accommodate the spiders than to haul out the vacuum.

We have three lawnmowers in the garage, yet the grass is higher than my ankles. There is a plastic table top lying in the back yard that we haven't used since Snacks' first birthday party...eight years ago. There are 3,000 orange Nerf darts strewn all over our property.

I know you're all Extremely Busy with all of your Important Activities, but I'm hoping that just maybe--before I am forced to start drinking heavily or act on my recurring impulse to get in the car and drive westward--you  might be persuaded to stop for a moment, look around, and start picking up all your shit. Put away all your toys/shoes/art supplies/mail/random accessories, do a load of laundry, throw away your used Kleenexes/gum wrappers/Haagen-Dazs lids, and wipe down a counter or two. Sweep the porch.

Otherwise, it won't be long before I'm thumbing for a ride in that handbasket.

I need therapy. Or a divorce. Or maybe just a very, very long vacation.

I love the idea of my life. But mostly I have set up my life so that it sucks. And I say that with the full realization that it could suck so much more--like if I were sick or homeless or (God forbid) had lost a child--but more than one therapist has told me that I have permission to want more for myself, and so I frequently find myself indulging in bouts of self pity which, of course, do nothing to improve my circumstances.

For the past nine years I have lived my life in fear of what my children will tell their therapists about how I ruined their lives (because, of course, I have lots of my own experience doing this) and running myself ragged trying to prevent them from even needing therapy in the first place. Because I imagine I have this kind of control. I imagine that, somehow, I have it in me to be the Perfect Mother--if only I'd try just a little bit harder.

And I have spent much of the past eleven years trying to be the Stepford Wife that my husband has always wanted. Not surprisingly, I have failed miserably at this too--though certainly not for lack of trying.

And so, at 41, I find myself at a crossroads: I have high blood pressure, 80 extra pounds, and a heavy heart. I don't write anymore, I don't sing, I don't laugh, and I love only desperately--out of fear, not joy. I have always worried that my children will be ashamed of me--or come to hate me for one reason or another because I am so much less than what they imagine I should be and wish that I were--but now I am terrified that I won't even be around to watch my children grow up at all.

And yet, I feel too exhausted and paralyzed to figure out how to take my life back, though I have visions of what it would look like...

I want to write freely and go for walks outdoors and read endlessly in the back yard and eat only lovely, delicious homemade masterpieces that I cook myself. I want to practice yoga every day and learn to play beautiful, haunting ballads on the Irish tin whistle (and sing those same ballads with complete and total abandon), and I want to enjoy my children and I want to be adored by my husband and I want to have the energy to nurture my most important friendships.

But I don't know how to say "No" to my children and really follow through: No, I won't let our lives revolve entirely around the neighbors. No, I won't pay for and take you to music lessons that you don't practice for. No, I am not buying you that/taking you there/signing you up for that. No, you may not treat me that way!

Because then I have no hope of ever being their Perfect Mother.

And I don't know how to feel okay being me around my husband--not that I even know who I am anymore...

If I ever did.

I can see well enough to know that my life has so much amazing potential...

I just can't seem to stop spinning in the wind.

I see now that I've been in the dark for a very long time. Years it seems. I'm starting to unpack the dreams that most of the time I didn't remember I had...except when I'd catch a brief glimpse that would leave me almost doubled over with the pain in my heart--a sickening flash of longing now and then--before I would stuff it all back in the box and go on.

I want my body back. And my spirit. And my heart. I have given them all away over the years...over decades. I want them back so badly that I feel anxious and queasy and shaky.

So now I'm doing what I can.

I'm filling my shelves with the books that I haven't allowed myself to buy until now--borrowing them instead from the library over and over when I needed an old friend to lift me up. Now I'm making permanent homes for Byron Katie and Geneen Roth, Judith Lasater and Lucinda Bassett, and others who are helping me find my way back. I can see them and touch them and "hear" them now whenever I need to--they literally help me breathe.

I'm finding and protecting time for myself in the morning to read, meditate, do yoga, and increase my strength, even when it means I'm finishing up with a small audience.

I'm taking the time and spending money to care for my skin, my hair, my nails, and my overall appearance; something I haven't allowed myself to make a priority for years.

I'm saying NO. "No, that doesn't work for me." "No, he can't come over." "No, that doesn't fit into my schedule." "No, I can't help you right now."

I'm teaching myself to play the piano because I've always wanted to be able to play the piano and sing like Sarah McLachlan, Tori Amos, Bruce Hornsby, John Ondrasik...

I've signed up for a fall adult Irish step class because I've always wanted to dance.

And I think I'll come back here to write. Not for pay, not for my kids, not for my friends or for strangers...

Just for me.

We've been spending these fall days mostly exploring farms and river towns and chasing the changing colors as far as we can. We've seen cows and eagles and mansions and rising flood waters. We've learned about locks and dams, gin poles, and lumbering. We've dined on a deck over the St. Croix and picnicked next to the Mighty Mississippi.

But sometimes, some of the best homeschool moments happen when absolutely nothing is planned...

This morning we went over to Dowling for a clean up day to make up some volunteer hours. Though at first he groused at the idea of having to be there at all, Snacks ended up spending almost two hours on a gorgeous, sunny fall day working beside two grown-ups whom he had never met before. I proudly listened as he happily conversed intelligently and politely, and watched as he was able to help the older men with things his eyes, back, and fingers could do more easily than theirs.

And I'm pretty sure that during the course of the morning while working with those kind and patient men, he learned more than just a thing or two.

Birthday Girl

Sissy turned 4 today.

As I write this, my baby girl is fast asleep on the couch--too tired even to open her last two birthday gifts of the day.

At four, Sissy is tall and strong and smart and beautiful. She is sunshiny, feisty, and girly, and she knows what she likes. She sings lots of wonderful made up songs and loves to dance. She loves princesses and Hello Kitty and dolls and stuffed animals and all things sparkly.

Sissy easily keeps up with the older neighbor kids and begged Daddy to let her try out her purple bike without training wheels. She loves reading books and swimming and picking flowers for tiny vases and talking to Debbie next door. She loves grilled cheese and french fries and hardly ever eats dessert. She wants the first and the fullest smoothie but is always willing to share any of her treats.

Sissy has drawers upon drawers of fabulous clothes from Olivia and Louisa (more than she could ever possibly wear in a season!), yet she often declares she has "nothing to wear". Every day I keep my fingers crossed that she will just appear in an outfit so that we don't have to discuss what she will wear--mismatched separates and seasonally inappropriate combinations are the norm. (I always make sure to document as much as possible with the camera for posterity.)

I have become the mother who takes her child out in public without having brushed her hair...for days. Sissy loves to wear her waist-length hair down but hates to have me touch it. It's usually a battle I choose not to pick, even though I swear sometimes she is just hours away from dreads. She always looks darling anyway. If I'm lucky, her dad will offer to do a blow-out for her after her shower--she loves that.

Sissy loves concerts and plays and dance performances and has even gotten to attend formal tea parties with Minna and Aunty Em. She loves to dress up and wear her patent leather Mary Janes...sometimes she just wears her Mary Janes barefoot with her shorts...or whatever. She takes ballet and Irish step classes and loves to show everyone what she has learned. She tries to get her dad to do the proper ballet positions, but he seems mostly hopeless in that regard.

Sissy loves "Girl Time", "Ladies' Lunches", and "Special Daddy Time". She (mostly) adores her older brother and he is (mostly) very patient and sweet with her. (Today, on her birthday, she went to spend her birthday $2 from our neighbor Ellie and Snacks gave her $1.05 of his own money to add to it. He also helped her put together her new doll carriage from Kiki while Daddy was out of town.)

This past year Sissy did away with most of the baby talk that makes my heart melt--no more "fwoodies" (smoothies) or "Forgetti" (spaghetti)--but she did just show me that she was wearing her new "tambourines" (capris) the other day, so my heart still holds hope that she'll be my Little Girl for awhile longer...

We are so in love with our precious Big Girl whose "turning 4 birthday" is today!

Happy Birthday, Sissy!

Growing Up

Put the last of the fire truck underwear in the rag pile today...

Feels a little bit sad.

The Good Life

Things are finally starting to settle down around here and we are getting to enjoy the "fruits of our labors" quite literally.

We have been harvesting bunches and bunches of herbs, rhubarb, strawberries, black raspberries, sugar snap peas, green beans, lettuce, and even a few red raspberries, blueberries, and black currants. A generous neighbor invited us to pick tart cherries from their tree, so we brought home a whole bagful of those too.

I love that the kids can just go out to the back yard to get food; they are learning where it comes from and even how to grow their own.

This morning we decided that since our small strawberry patch wasn't going to produce enough to get us through the rest of the year, we should go out to Apple Jack's to get enough to freeze. We spent most of the day picking berries, admiring all their "junk art", visiting with their flock of fancy chickens, and enjoying fresh strawberry sundaes.

I have felt so "in over my head" for the past two months that I have not been able to muster the enthusiasm to sit down and write. I have certainly bitten off more than I can chew this spring. We have dealt with chicks that didn't survive, seeds that didn't sprout, and an ever-tightening budget that, quite frankly, is now scaring the hell out of me like never before. I have felt overwhelmed to the point of tears and I have felt hopeless and desperate more than I have felt hopeful.

But tonight I caught a glimpse of what I hope my children will remember from this time in their life, and I realized that I truly couldn't wish for more.

Tonight we grilled grass-fed burgers and ate them in the back yard with strawberries and black raspberries that John and Sissy had picked from the garden just an hour before dinner. For dessert we had homemade banana cake made by Minna, and we're still fortunate enough to have been able to enjoy our cake with fresh milk from farmers we know and trust.

We watched the chickens forage around the yard while we ate, entertaining us with their silly chicken antics. Then Snacks went off to ride his bike with the neighbor boy, and Sissy and her dad rocked in the hammock with the dog nearby while she sang made-up songs about everything she loves.

A perfect summer evening...

It's times like these that I know we'll be okay.

While I am thrilled that spring is here (and quite early, at that), I am already feeling overwhelmed by all the projects we've planned to undertake this season.

The chicks arrive the week of May 10th. We have everything we need to care for them when they arrive except a giant cardboard box to hold them and the chick feed. I am debating about whether to buy commercial organic chick feed or make it myself.

In the meantime, I have almost 100 tiny basil plants, 12 pickle cucumber plants, and hundreds of Snacks' snap dragons sitting in my kitchen window next to a pile of at least a dozen vegetable and flower seed packets that haven't even been started yet.

We haven't procured the materials for the raised beds yet and I have a lot of rearranging to do in the herb garden that I can't seem to work up the enthusiasm for. I have a worm bin to deal with that should have been turned over last fall, and I am not sure what to do about getting water to the early spring greens I want to plant over at Dowling right now.

I'm already sure I've bitten off much more than I can chew, but if I can get it all right, it sure is going to taste good.

Birthday Boy

Today Snacks turns 7.

Truthfully, I have been thinking of him as being seven for quite some time now--six seems much too babyish for the boy that he has become.

His feet are almost as big as mine and yesterday we bought him his very first tennis shoes with laces instead of Velcro. They look like man shoes. The top of his head is up to my collar bone and he's lost every bit of his baby face. John and I look at him so often in complete admiration...marveling at how tall and handsome he is already becoming. He hasn't seemed six for so long.

So he's starting out seven with all his permanent front teeth, size 10-12 undershirts that are way too small, and brand new shoes size 3 1/2.

Snacks' favorite color is blue and his favorite clothes have Minnesota Vikings logos on them...though he refuses to wear them unless it's actually football season. His favorite foods are cheeseburgers and cheesecake--neither of which he gets very often--and he complains about most everything else. (I am missing the days when he used to eat squash and avocado and salmon and all kinds of different wonderful things, but he assures me that he'll try them again when he's older.) His favorite band is The Black Eyed Peas; his favorite song Imma Bee. (We have to keep checking all the radio stations for that song while we are driving in the car. If we get to our destination and the song comes on, we wait in the car until it's over.)

We moved past Transformers and Bakugan this year and, thankfully, have not replaced them with anything similarly trendy. Snacks spends lots of time reading books about all kinds of tropical fish and building things out of LEGOs and Magna Tiles. He loves to play board games. He is very interested in how things work and impressed Grampy this week with his understanding of electronic circuits. He is always one of the first to raise his hand and give an answer in any kind of workshop or program setting. Snacks is never shy about his broad range of knowledge.

At seven, we are three months into homeschooling, and "unschooling" seems to suit all of us very well. Snacks has much more time to pursue the things that he loves to do like reading books on subjects of his own choosing (and there are lots of them), playing basketball, taking a ceramics class, taking science classes, doing Cub Scout activities, hanging out with his grandparents, going to concerts and plays, and playing with all of his new friends. He also enjoys (though he would be loathe to admit it) spending time with Sissy whom he considers to be his favorite chess companion...because "she only ever moves her pawns".

We regularly have lengthy, truthful, and (I hope) meaningful conversations about history, government, politics, world events, society, pop culture, and so many things that I never would have thought to ask about when I was just seven years old. He always has lots and lots of questions.

Snacks seems much more eager to participate in gardening this year and has asked for snap dragons and a butterfly garden, both of which he will be starting from seed very soon. He also helped me choose the chicken breeds we ordered and is anxiously looking forward to the arrival of our first chicks in about six weeks. He tags along when we meet up with our farmers in parking lots and alleys, and especially enjoys going out to the farms themselves. We talk all the time about where our food comes from and why we procure and prepare it the way we do, as opposed to buying processed foods from a regular grocery store. We recently talked about how his generation is not expected to have lifespans as long as their parents, and why we are doing things differently so that he and his sister have the very best chance we can give them to be strong, healthy, and long-lived.

As part of growing up, this year Snacks decided that, in fact, our back yard is too small for him to build a house to live in when it's time for him to be out on his own. John and I are disappointed, of course, but we said maybe we could work something out if and when we ever build a new garage. :-)

We are so proud of our sweet, considerate, thoughtful, loving boy who turns seven today. Snacks still loves hugs and kisses and snuggling and makes me cards and valentines that say "I love you" on them. John still carries all sixty plus pounds of him up to bed each night, he loves to have me lay his clothes out for him each morning, and, thankfully, he still hasn't figured out that parents are Totally Embarrassing...yet.

Happy Birthday, Baby Boy! We love you.

Every once in a while I have the fleeting thought that maybe Snacks is missing out on something by not being in school. When that happens, I quickly try to run through a typical day in my mind and I instantly feel better. Today was a perfect example.

This morning Snacks sat in the kitchen poring over the chicken hatchery catalog looking at all the different breeds while Sissy and I were baking bread. He learned about the standard characteristics of each breed, its history and origin, and what it's best known for (gentle demeanor, cold-hardy, good layer...).

Later we went to meet our milk farmer for the first time this spring. We were early so one of the adults showed the kids how to make wreaths out of the downed willow switches and they all worked diligently while we waited.

After lunch we went to a homeschool presentation on reptiles and amphibians. We ran into two of Snacks' playgroup friends there. We got to see turtles, lizards, snakes, salamanders, tree frogs, and toads, and all the kids got to touch a tortoise and a huge albino Bermuda python.

John was home early this afternoon so he took the kids to play basketball outside at the park across the street and then they dug dirt in the sunshine in the back yard.

This evening Snacks and John watched a program on PBS about the Civil War.

Throughout each day the kids ask all kinds of questions about the world and about life in general. We talk about all kinds of things like why someone might destroy someone else's property, how drugs and alcohol can make you do bad things, why some kids have two moms, how people get to be on professional sports teams, how Elvis died, evolution vs. creationism, how honey bees are declining in population, how to make a lemon meringue pie, and so much more.

We read books and directions and signs. We do math when we pay for things, get gas, figure out how long it will take us to get somewhere, work with the fish tank, and when we bake and cook. And, of course, our life is one big science project!

We participate in Cub Scouts and play sports and take art classes and dance classes and hang out with our friends at the zoo and the History Center and Como Conservatory and Orchestra Hall and the Children's Theater and the Science Museum and in parks.

All of this is why my doubts are so fleeting. Our life is so much richer now...because we feel like we're living it.

Spring Fever

We are on the home stretch in preparing for the arrival of our chicks in early April.

We passed our coop inspection a week ago Thursday, and yesterday the kids and I ran around town gathering things like bedding for the brooder box, a metal trash can for the chicken feed, and other important chicken-related items. I am already wishing we would have gotten a permit for more than 6 hens!

Tomorrow we are meeting a friendly neighbor who offered to let us come see what kinds of chickens they keep. I discovered that he and his wife are doing the coolest project ever--trying to grow one ton of food on their urban lot in a one year period.

I'm even more inspired!

Refreshed

While I am more than ready for spring, I really needed this fresh coating of snow. Two days of pure, fluffy flakes have covered up the brown, crusty disappointment that February had become.

We have spent the last two days snuggled up inside relaxing and watching the snow fall outside, going out only when we wanted to.

I'm starting to think about getting out the gardening books to see what needs to be started inside and when. I'm wondering where all those tiny planters are going to go since we only have one tiny area with a counter and good light at this point. It's time to turn in the contract for the community garden plot for the 2010 growing season, and I'm trying to figure out how to make the best use of the sunny spots in our yard this year.

If the city inspector ever shows up and we get our small animal permit, we will go pick up our chicks at the end of March. There are all kinds of preparations and much learning to be done before then.

So we are looking forward to what is to come, and trying hard to appreciate the wintry doldrums now. With all that we've got planned, I suspect we'll be looking back and longing for this quiet downtime before we know it.

The Ride

We are still trying to find our stride.

We're trying out all kinds of new adventures, having lots of fun experiences, running all over town, and meeting lots of cool new people who love to do what we do. We are excited and busy and tired...but most of all we're feeling free.

Free to lie in bed reading or making forts under the covers until we feel like getting up. Free to eat our meals whenever we want to. Free to stay up late watching football games or music award shows if we feel like it. Free to drop everything to run outside to taste the softly falling snow.

We're starting to realize that maybe we've overextended ourselves a little bit this past month...

but we're loving this crazy wild life.

Changing Course

I have not abandonded this blog, but have, in fact, been utterly consumed with turning my life completely upside down. On purpose.

We made the decision to homeschool Snacks several weeks ago and, ever since, have been trying to figure out what that means for our lifestyle going forward. This has meant saying goodbye to some well-loved familiar places and some dear friends, while scrambling to find new friends, support systems, and activities.

We don't really know what we're doing, but we know this feels right and good for us. We know that three schools in three years and endless frustration, anger, tears, and ill-will hasn't made for a happy and healthy family. We know that we can trust our strong, brilliant, creative, determined 6-year-old to learn, and learn some more, and never stop learning if we give him enough space and freedom and promise not to crush his spirit.

We know that this is going to be one crazy ride...

and we think it's gonna be freaking awesome.

Sweet Autumn

Fall is my very favorite season. Snacks had three days off of school, so I decided to make the most of it.

Wednesday the kids and I went to pick apples. Since it was allowed, we tasted our way through the orchard in order to decide what we like best. Snacks knew about all kinds of apples from his recent trip to an orchard with school and decided on Sweet Tango apples which, he said, taste like a banana split...and I have to agree.

I chose Haralsons to take home for both eating and baking and, of course, who could leave an orchard without at least a few Honeycrisps?

We visited the goats and chickens, ate apple cinnamon donuts, and picked out a pumpkin, some gourds, and some Indian corn to take home along with our apples.

Thursday we went to Heritage Village for the Harvest Festival where the kids got to visit a museum for old tractors and farm equipment, ride on a horse-drawn trolley, pick an ear of corn right from the field, make corn husk dolls and wooden boats, and do some old-fashioned print-making.

Friday John took the day off and took the kids to Cherokee Park to hunt for fossils where they climbed around in a clay pit and came home soaking wet, filthy, and happy with their pockets full of treasures. (And because John typically refuses to travel with a camera, we will just have to imagine what their fun looked like.)

Saturday the big chicken coop project began with John pulling out the old lilac bushes with his old truck and a big chain--a project which included taking apart the back fence and repeatedly running over my poor peony bushes (you can't see them in this picture because, in fact, they are under the truck).


Today the kids and I put our Dowling plot "to bed" for the season while John continued work on the coop. Sissy insisted on driving her car all the way to the garden. Thankfully, it was a gorgeous fall day so Snacks and I didn't mind that the walk had to be leisurely.

We ended the perfect weekend with pastured brats on the grill, chips with homemade salsa, and homemade pumpkin pie the kids and I baked this afternoon.


Life here is good.

Keepsakes

I often think I should be following my kids around with a camera and a tape recorder all the time. They say and do so many precious things so many times a day; things I want to remember always, but know I'll forget before long.

Today I'm thinking about the smattering of freckles across the bridge of Snacks' nose that you can only see when you are close enough to kiss him, and the way Sissy's hair curls into perfect flaxen corkscrews when it's warm. And I'm remembering Sissy's giant smile in the early morning light each morning after she has climbed over me and tucked herself in to snuggle up to her still-sleeping dad, and the way Snacks offered to give me $9 from his piggy bank when I was searching high and low for some misplaced cash saying, "You can have it, Mom, I don't care when I get my fish tank."

I know I can't record and keep it all...

but I'm sure going to try my best.

Today is John's 38th birthday. Since I have known him, John has not been on good terms with this particular day of the year.

But this morning he got to snuggle in the dark with his best girl (the little one), and after an hour in bed alone enjoying his coffee in peace, Snacks brought his dad breakfast in bed on the red plate that says, "You Are Special Today," and a fancy birthday card that he made himself.

The kids "kept Daddy company" while he ate, and then John went for a run and worked on his truck.

After several naps and an afternoon to himself at home, John and I went to the Birchwood for an evening out while Grandma Ruth and Bob stayed with the kids.

There's a full moon tonight--a perfect ending to the best birthday John's had in years.

A Perfect Fall Evening

Cold, dark, blustery and rainy.

Homemade potato leek soup made with my own chicken stock and herbs and CSA veggies.

A glass of organic wine.

A cozy living room.

A soft, bulky sweater.

Kids tucked safely in warm beds...


It doesn't get better than this.