It Takes Time

We'll ignore momentarily, the lapse of 10 months since my last post.  Or - perhaps - celebrate it in the vein of this post: it takes time (for my ideas to peculate?)  Although if I claim I've been thinking about writing this for ten months, that would be a lie....because I just went on a scavenger hunt for the photos and found them in my December folder.  December 2013.  I also can't claim that thinking about this topic for 4 1/2 years has made this post particularly eloquent or even coherent, but I've thought about writing it for that long, so let's just take this as a lesson in just how long things can linger on my mental to-do list, and move on.

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On to a topic of homemaking that I think is a frustration for many of us in the age of Pinterest, HGTV, and decor blogs.  We are inundated with images of homes full of perfect furniture, styled bookshelves, and picture frame vignettes - in short, picture perfection. 

And then, looking around our own homes, with the yard sale dining table, and the off-shade of paint in the kitchen, and that awkward corner we have no idea how to furnish, we feel defeated.  Or, we get trapped in an oscillating cycle of inspiration and desperation; seeing ALL of the possibilities and ALL of the projects and not knowing where or how to start, we throw up our hands at the lack of funds for a full kitchen renovation, and fail to take ten minutes to rearrange the cabinets so the ugly coffeemaker can move off the countertop.

I don't think the challenge is so much being exposed to these pictures of lovely homes, or that the problem is aspiring to having coordinating throw pillows and ideal furniture layouts.  The problem is wanting it all NOW.  Our instant gratification culture has us convinced that a makeover is a weekend project, and that you can go from "before" to "after" in the blink of a camera shutter.  We believe that the "after" is the "finished," the "final," the "perfect."

I am typing this up tonight in the midst of trying to find the magic bullet that will turn our large "back room" office/family room/play room into the cozy and stylish room I have in my head slash Pinterest board.  I want to be able to make a few quick changes and suddenly have it ready for a photo shoot.  More realistically, it will be a process of tweaks.  It has been a process of tweaks, if I remind myself that last fall the couch was still in the corner, or that two years ago I still had two tiny and mismatched area rugs, or that three years ago we hadn't yet drywalled the ceiling or painted the awful paneling.  Baby steps, each gradual improvement getting us closer to a room I love.

As a home rightfully grows over time, slowly improved with realizations about how spaces are best utilized and accented with collections opened on decades worth of Christmas mornings, a homemaker also develops.  Academic and corporate settings have a hierarchy that clearly reminds us how much we know or how much experience we have (and, most often, rewards commensurate responsibilities).  For better or worse, homemaking and motherhood carries a whole lot of (important) responsibilities that are heaped on all at once, and it's not a secret that young wives and mothers can feel overwhelmed under the pressure to do everything well. 

We perhaps tend to forget that there's a reason that grandma and the partner in the firm can perfectly juggle the timing of the turkey and all the sides, or the difficult client call (mutually exclusive examples, although probably there's some grandma out there who is somehow handling both).  Experience begets mastery.

Lack of mastery should not and can not be the cause for throwing in the towel.  It must be the motivation to continue trying, continue gaining experience.  To continue tweaking rooms, continue repainting when you hate the wall color.  To continue figuring out how to respond with charity and patience to tantruming children, continue trying new ways to structure the week's cleaning and laundry routines. 


The way to be satisfied in the current state is to recognize it as such - the current state, a path towards the ideal.  We are (or should be) in constant growth, becoming more and more of the people we want (and God wants!) us to be.  We can't expect to reach that state tomorrow, but we also can't stop trying.  Each day has to bring a step towards that ideal.  Better everyday, but not perfect yet.

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Pictural evidence of lovely spaces that grow over time, in my parent's beautiful home with my sister for reference.  (And - the room has continued to improve over the last 5 years since I snapped this shot and originally thought about writing this).

Mom's living room, circa early 2000s

2013

How I'm getting things done these days

For the last few weeks, I've been checking more than usual off both my daily chores and my house project lists.  A big part of this, of course, is that Peter has a regular nap and bedtime routine that gives me some free evenings (and free hands during the day) and that we've gone almost two months without anyone needing antibiotics (!).  So there are certainly circumstantial reasons why the clean clothes are all currently folded and not in a heap on my bedroom floor.  

But even though it's easier to get things done, it still requires effort on my part.  I'm still prone to all my crazy reasons of procrastination (more here), but I've been repeating two mantras to myself, and those shifts in mindset have seemed to be a big help.

1) Don't wait until it can be completed perfectly to start.

This applies to both upkeep chores and renovation/crafty projects.  I was out in the backyard last week with the kids and felt annoyed that our back porch was still painted bright red, that the furniture was haphazardly placed there, and that it was so far from my mental (and Pinterest) image.  I knew there was a lot to be done, some of which probably won't be done this season.  But I finally decided to just trim the bush.  One tangible step towards the space being tamed and beautiful.  I immediately felt better about the whole area and more committed to making it more like my vision.

Within a few hours of my first clip, we were at Lowe's buying porch paint.  Credit for that trip to Anna, who caught wind of the project (and her mother's improvement enthusiasm) and asked to go to Lowe's "right now, mommy!"

Fast forward to the pretty pictures, and the porch is a much prettier, happier space.  I enjoy looking out my kitchen window.  We have had lovely mornings with our breakfast and library books out there.  Sure, there is more to be done.  But it was an important lesson in taking the first step towards a goal, and in recognizing that a space that is halfway towards what you want it is far more enjoyable than a space that is 0% of the way there.  

I'm trying to train myself to look at everything else this way.  We are planning to do a major kitchen renovation in a few years.  I used to resign myself to being dissatisfied with its form and function until then, but I've recently identified a few small things I can do to make it prettier and more operational.  I haven't even done these projects yet, but just knowing I can already makes me like my current kitchen more.

I've also tried to remember this rule in the typical day-to-day jobs, too.  I don't have to wait for a block of time sufficient to iron all the shirts to do one or two.  And, bite by bite, the elephant is eaten.

(reminiscent of the "use the moments" observation from this old post)

2) Obedience to the circumstances of my life.

We were listening to a Catholic radio broadcast in the car the other day, and the host was talking about obedience in daily life.  Many of us are familiar with the vows of priests and sisters, to poverty, chastity, and obedience.  This broadcast was talking about how these virtues are not exclusive to those in religious life, but rather are a calling for all Christians.  These virtues are, of course, manifest in different ways depending on ones state in life (celibacy for the religious and exclusivity for the married), but are not to be ignored by the laity.

I am not called to obedient to a bishop or superior in the same way that a priest or sister would be, but I am reminded of the story of St. Therese, who would drop her pencil mid-sentence (not even pausing to dot an i) when the bell chimed for prayer.  She was obedient to her obligations and responded promptly, even to the schedule.

The radio host was talking about the weather, and how we can be cheerfully obedient to whatever comes our way, accepting it without grumble.  I've extended this to my daily chores.  There is work to be done, and it is my responsibility to do it.  I'm working on silencing my inner grumble and doing whatever needs done promptly and cheerfully.  

As I was making my way through my copious ironing back-log today, I realized I would typically dig through the basket, looking for the things I enjoy doing to do first, leaving a pile of polo shirts at the end.  It became a bit of a game today, picking up what was on top and doing that immediately.  The whole process today was both quicker and happier.  This of course, is a simple and silly way of practicing obedience, but I'm hopeful that in emptying the training potty without interior complaint, I will learn to be obedient and accepting of actual challenge or suffering.

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I think there's a Nike "Just Do It" hidden in both of these mindsets, and in both cases, it's requiring me to focus on the process and the progress over the end result.  I read last night that for effective goal setting, one should focus on the activity rather than the accomplishment (e.g., I will exercise everyday instead of I will lose 10 pounds).  I think that my most recent copy of my resume describes me as "results-oriented," but perhaps the new "progress oriented" version of myself will get me happily closer to those results than ever before.

Making a Home without Neglecting your Family {part 1}

A few days ago, a dear friend (fellow homemaker, and mother to three cute little boys ages 4 and under) sent me a message saying "Blog request: How does one create an orderly home for one's family without neglecting said family?"  I thought this was an excellent topic on the heels of my posts about creating a simple and intentional home environment.  Although blogging probably shouldn't be at the top of my list right now (we've got 5 rooms to strip of carpet, 6 to paint, and one drywall ceiling to finish before the carpet installers come next Monday), I'm allowing myself the opportunity to take a little mental break and spend a little time writing and share some of my thoughts on this topic.

(For those of you still holding out for the long-awaited painting post, I'm still working on it, I promise!  And, just think of how much more wisdom I'll have to offer after this week ;))

So, how DO you make a home for your family without neglecting said family?

I think the first - and very important - point to make is that making (or creating, as my friend put it)  home is much different than maintaining a home.  When you're in a state of disarray or a season of craziness, it's hard to imagine that you will ever reach a point of normalcy or stability, or that cleaning the playroom will ever be less than a two-hour archaeological dig.  It IS unrealistic in a messy and cluttered and overwhelming house (or construction site!) to think that you can do all of the necessary housework and simultaneously provide for all of the needs of the numerous tiny residents.  But don't throw in the towel yet.  Making a home can be a shorter, more intense period and a time of development of priorities, family routines, etc that can make way for an environment that is far more easily maintained.  I genuinely think it's possible to reach a state where at least the basic homemaking tasks can be completed without overwhelming yourself or neglecting any children.

For us, right now, that means that Justin and I are employing several mother's helpers and have strategically scheduled visits from both grandmas so that the girls are in good hands while we focus on the house.  I have also allowed a lot of other things to slide (the extent of home cooking I've done in the last 10 days was one omelet) so that we can focus right now on getting the house ready to move in.  It is essential for us that I play a period of Bob Vila so that I can be Betty Crocker this fall and beyond.

Of course, home"making" might not mean physically hanging ceilings for everyone ;)  I think it's totally reasonable, however, to spend some dedicated time doing some serious purging and organizing, or even just to spend some time making a list of what you want your home and family life to look like and writing some goals of how to reach that ideal.  A temporary neglecting of basic chores (or outsourcing of childcare) can be vital to reaching a place where you can maintain both house and family.

Once all possessions have a place and some basic routines are established, the actual cleaning is much easier - and possible with little kids.  If all you have to do to clean the sink is clean it (aka, spray it down and wipe) and not move 6 bath toys, a melted make-up sample, and the missing sippy cup off of the bathroom counter, that can be reasonably accomplished while you're waiting for the toddler to finish up on the potty.  Vacuuming is a quick job if there aren't toys in the way.  You can keep up with emptying the dishwasher every morning if putting things in cupboards doesn't start 4 different avalanches.

There will still be messes and spills and deviations from the daily plan (we're talking toddlers, after all), and with a bunch of littles underfoot it is still unlikely that you can ever reach a pristine or perfectly run household.  However, I've heard time and time again from friends and bloggers that the season of all littles (meaning, only having kids in preschool or younger) is very difficult but that there is a light at the end of the tunnel once one or two kids are able to reliably pick up their toys and help out with some basic chores, or at the very least wipe their own bottoms and put on their own shoes.  In that sense, too, I think that you can consider the season of young motherhood as a period of homemaking that is setting the foundation for the home and family life you want to have.  Cliche as it is, the days now are long, but the years are short.  Hard work now in creating routines and expectations will mean a lot for how your household will run when everyone is in elementary school or junior and high school.

I'm going to do the reasonable thing and pause here so that I can get some sleep, but I jotted down a list of 8 tips for maintaining a home without neglecting your family and I'll pop back in with that (and the painting post!) when I can.  Until then, I'd love to hear your thoughts - leave me some comments :)

Eyes on the prize

You know what makes my heart happy?

To look out my kitchen window and see this:

I often take laundry to hang out at the new house when we're working there all day since I don't have the luxury (or a normally functioning dryer...) here at the house-sitting house.  And when I look up from peeling wallpaper or sanding spackle or (finally!) rolling on paint, to see the laundry billowing in the breeze (and my family picnicking on the porch), I get such a sense of joy welling up inside of me, and a gratitude that so very soon the simple pleasures of life in this charming little house will be mine everyday. 

Despite having known since February that this will be our house, my heart is still catching up to my brain, and I've been increasingly finding myself sobbing tears of joy (totally unhelpful when I'm trying to paint something) at the realization that we're actually going to live at the new house, that we actually will have our dishes in the cupboards and clothes in the closets, and at the end of the day we don't have to turn out the lights and drive away.  

There's a palpable longing from all four of us to just be home.  

I don't want to sound ungrateful for the blessing it has been to house sit this year.  It was a wonderful situation for us having moved to a new area, and in retrospect, I'd still chose this again - but more in the way that you chose going to the dentist than you chose spending time with friends.  I've learned a lot and grown a lot, but I'll be completely honest and say that I'm very glad it's almost over.

There have been a lot of little (first world!) annoyances, like the aforementioned dryer that needs three cycles to dry anything, and the size of the house that makes it impossible to find anything the toddler has touched, and the dog hair.  Oh, the dog hair.  It's an amazing house (and dog), really, and perfect for the family who lives here normally.  We're just not that family, and learning our own wants and needs in our living space has been very instructive.  

Most of all, the challenge of this year has been feeling perpetually in transition.  I looked back in my blog archives tonight and realized that one year ago, I had already put a significant portion of my belongings in boxes (many of which are still in box purgatory in the basement).  It's weary-ing to think that we have a long month of renovations to juggle, another packing of the truck, another unloading of the truck.  And - *duh* moment - I realized today that nothing will magically get into drawers or closets once we arrive.

These days have been physically and emotionally and mentally tiring - I've been doing more physical labor than normal, plus juggling a whole lot of details about floor colors and prices and the latest plan for the family room ceiling, all while worrying that this (necessary) month of craziness will permanently ruin the girls, or at least their nap schedules.

I crave normal, routine, home.

It seems impossibly far, and yet delightfully close.

And isn't that the human condition, really?  Our hearts were built yearning for something more, restless always until they rest in Him.  We instinctively know and desire that there is something - some place - beyond this messy, imperfect world where we long to be home.

If there's anything that Justin and I have learned in this year, it's that longing for a place of comfort and familiarity - and the realization that it will never entirely be fulfilled in this life, no matter how perfect the paint colors or how plushy the carpet (and, believe me, it's plushy, we ordered it today!)  There will always be (metaphoric and literal) stink bugs and dog hair and annoying dryers because life isn't perfect and because we have lessons to learn as we muddle through.  But someday, someday God willing, the brilliant beauty of Heaven will fulfill us at last.

Eyes on the prize.  Eyes on the prize.

Fewer decisions, fuller joy {5 Favorite books for simple & intentional living}

So, as we're moving merrily along with our selections in flooring for the new house (we've successfully narrowed it down to a very manageable number of decisions, mostly minor, like which of the 50 shades of gray tan we'd like out of the brand of carpet we selected).

Sorry, Julia, that's about as much of that one as we could afford...

But, even with those (major) decisions under our belts, I've still found with a discernible undercurrent of feeling overwhelmed.  Overall, (thanks be to God) life is very good.  I really have no reason to complain but yet I have this nagging sense of stress.  As I sat and reflected last night, I came to realize that I just feel so cluttered - both homes, all of our possessions, and even mentally.  So many things to think, to do, to see, to deal with, to clean, to move, and to keep out of the baby's increasingly accurate roll & reach pattern.

Clutter.  Ultimately, so much stuff (physical and otherwise) is clamoring for our attention that we find ourselves spinning as the roads diverge in the yellow wood - but here, not two roads, but a seemingly infinite number of choices of what to do, where to put things, what to eat, what to wear, and what to read.  I'm using the royal "we" because I know I'm not the only one feeling lost in the sea of daily choices.

My situation is amplified right now because of the renovations and the juggling of the two houses, but I know even in "normal" times, modern life has an exceptional number of choices.  And so many choices - embodied by the 10 housekeeping chores (only one of which can be reasonably completed in a nap time), by the carpet strewn with toys (most of which you're not exactly sure where to keep), and the exploding Pinterest boards (many of which you'll never complete, even though you just keep pinning) - make the day seem almost claustrophobic.  And the necessity of too many decisions short-circuits our brain and we end up doing nothing.  We turn to the Internet as a distraction from the disorder, feeding our mental clutter and inhibiting our ability to control the physical mess that's encroaching from all sides.

I know I've been harping on this simplicity thing, but I'm becoming increasingly convinced that our culture is building a world that is quickly becoming suffocating, and if we don't stop the madness, well, no one will.  The craziness of the world is intruding in our homes, stealing peace and joy from the place that should be our family haven.

I think that if we can find a way to put some of ordinary life on autopilot, we can be fully present in the extraordinary.

The extraordinary here, of course, isn't a trip to Paris, but the belly laugh from the toddler and the chunky rolls on the baby's leg and the fuzzy caterpillar crawling across the porch while you sit and read for a quiet minute.

Fewer decisions about when and how to do things, where to store things, and less to think about in general: less physical clutter, less schedule clutter, less mental clutter means that our days can be more intentional, more productive, and more joyful.  A simpler lifestyle means that we have room to breathe - room to enjoy the extraordinary, even the beauty of the mundane.

If you, like me, want to make a change and need some wisdom on where to start, I highly recommend the following books:

(1) Simplicity Parenting: Using the Extraordinary Power of Less to Raise Calmer, Happier, and More Secure Kids  (Kim John Payne & Lisa M. Ross)

I am only one chapter in to this book, but am so incredibly impressed by the observations and suggestions (just in the introduction!) that I am confident that I should recommend it for all parents.  I list it first because I think it's the most important reminder - this simple living thing isn't just for pretty pictures of all-white kitchens.  It's the foundation for our children's understanding of the world, and if they grow up in cluttered chaos, that can't bode well for their emotional health as they grow.

(2) The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up  (Marie Kondo)

This Japanese cleaning consultant has some very poignant observations and an extremely useful process for purging - I had to wade through some ideology with which I didn't quite agree, but overall her ideas and tips are well worth the read.  (And you will be SHOCKED by how many items you find yourself dropping off at the Goodwill).

(3) A Mother's Rule of Life: How to Bring Order to Your Home and Peace to Your Soul (Holly Pierlot) 

This has more to do with the simplicity and intentionality of schedule and time, but I think that reducing that type of clutter is just as important as physical clutter.

(4) Organized Simplicity: The Clutter-Free Approach to Intentional Living (Tsh Oxenrider)

This is equal parts "why" and "how" in terms of intentional, simple living.  More in my post HERE.

(5) Anything written before (or written about times before) the Internet.

I think our modern age is such an anomaly in terms of information overload that it can be really inspiring and didactic to read something written about/during times that were - by default - less cluttered (at least in terms of mental clutter, and often in terms of physical clutter, as well).

As a bonus, I'll give a nod again to my friend Rachel's book Minimize the Mess: A Mother's Guide to Simplifying Your Home  and I'm linking up with her today for 5 Favorites!


What are your favorite resources for simplifying?  I'd love to hear what you think about these books...and others that you have to recommend!

A Simple Home: Have Your Cake and Eat it Too {with giveaway!}

Maybe you've heard the catchy little phrase:

"Good moms have sticky floors, dirty ovens, and happy kids"

Maybe you're remembering hearing when I quoted it in a post two years ago.

At first glance, it's a pat on the back and an encouragement for those incredibly hard days when you somehow find yourself with 5 minutes before dinner and choose to damn the mess and sit down to eat the plastic food so lovingly prepared by the 2 year old "restaurant lady."  At the heart, it is a reminder about our priorities as mothers.  And, just to be clear, I'd rather have happy kids in a mess than screams and sobs amidst a page from a decor magazine.

But here's the thing (I always have a thing in these posts, you know?): all of the kids in Better Homes and Gardens are smiling.  What about having the cake and eating it, too?

I know, I know, that's so trite.  They probably took hundreds of photos for the magazine, and there's a chance that the one that made the page is the only one where little Johnny isn't pulling little Susie's hair.  I don't actually think that those picture-perfect rooms make for angelic smiling children (but then again, it might make me smile for a few minutes to walk into a space like that, huh?)

However, there is something about that sticky floors quote that just doesn't sit right with me.  It just seems so flippant to dismiss all of home management for the happiness of kids.  I start to get visions of a spoiled Veruca Salt (ala Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) riding a magical carousel over a garbage dump that was once the living room.

Ultimately, I think the quote is true for small moments but not for the big picture.  In the instant when you're in the middle of scrubbing the bathroom floor but the baby starts screaming in her crib, having woken early from her nap, yes, chose the baby over the spotless floor.  And abandon the laundry folding for the toddler who has stubbed her toe.  Or the vacuuming for a sick child who just wants to be held.

You're probably thinking (because I am also thinking) that, therefore, in the course of a day, nothing will get done but loving and comforting and, well, making happy.  There are days (and seasons of survival mode) when that is true.  But we cannot lose sight of the forest for the trees (how many cliche's can she fit in one post?!) and focus exclusively on the short-term, emergency type needs of our families.

I really do think that our environment affects our moods and our outlook.  Think about a spa - a cluttered reception area would turn away a lot of clients who came in for their relaxing and peaceful afternoon.

I literally breathe easier looking at the second picture than the first (and this is just a tiny example of a 5 minute tidy in the kitchen!):

It affects us as adults to be living in a constant state of clutter and mess.  We are more overwhelmed - by the mountain of obvious undone tasks, by the panic of not knowing where the water bill is that is probably due this week, and by the unpleasantness of not having a clear space to rest our eyes.  I think it is foolish to assume that this same stress doesn't affect our children.  If nothing else - if, say, they're personally unaffected by the clutter and not being able to find their favorite toys - it affects them in that the adults in their lives are constantly responding to them from a place of stress.

So we've established that you can't do it all, and yet you need to do it all.  Where does that leave us besides despair?

The key is - we can't do it all the way things are now.  We can't keep up with everything with over-packed closets and overflowing cabinets.  We can't win against the clutter monster, the verifiable beast threatening to permanently overtake any surface the second after we turn our backs.

But it IS possible to reach a state where things are more manageable, and where the whole family is happier - both in the moment when you're able to abandon the tidying to give a cuddle - and in the long term from having an environment that exudes peace instead of stress.  Yes, it will never be perfect.  And there will be stages when it is impossible to do anything but sit on the couch with a nursing baby and watch the dishes pile up.  Maybe the oven will always be dirty.  But the point is that the baseline of your home can be better than it is now.

And that is why today I'd like to introduce you to my friend Rachel from Efficient Momma.  She has two young children (very close in age to each of mine), so she is no stranger to the frustrations of young motherhood or the speed at which toddlers can make a mess.  However, she has discovered some key successes in simplifying her home and possessions, and has written an ebook to share all of her secrets with us!

Minimize the Mess: A Mother's Guide to Simplifying Your Home

I have to admit that when Rachel first asked me to review her book, I was skeptical that it would have that much to offer for me, given that I'm in the midst of a big organization/simplification kick.  Was there anything new about purging unnecessary belongings that wasn't covered in the New York Times Best-seller that I just read?  

It turns out that Rachel had me hooked in the introduction.  It was refreshing to hear the voice of a mother in my shoes, rather than a fancy organizational guru.  Rachel is honest and real (see again, no promises that everything will be perfect, just that they'll be refreshingly better than they are now), and her ideas and tips are practical and do-able.  She offers poignant questions to ask yourself as you consider keeping or donating items, as well as ideas for ways to make improvements on a small budget.  And, perhaps best of all, she has prepared a master checklist that you can download to help guide you through the process.

Rachel's book is a great resource for anyone who wants to declutter and reclaim a manageable home, but I especially recommend it if you're feeling overwhelmed and just don't know where to start.

You can buy the ebook on Amazon or on Rachel's blog HERE.  It's only $2.99 and you can get 25% off on sales through her blog until May 22 with the code launch .  And, *drumroll*, she's offering a free copy to one of my readers!  Use the Rafflecopter below for your chance to win a PDF copy of Minimize the Mess by Rachel Kratz.  Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

I received a free copy of Minimize the Mess in return for my review, but all opinions are my own.

Coming soon....

So I've been keeping pretty mum on our latest news around here...but I can't contain my excitement anymore!  Here's a little teaser of the announcement and updates that are coming soon....

Note, I realized that Anna's beloved baby doll could insinuate the wrong type of announcement - it's not that!  Focus on those white walls and that blue carpet and my exploding pinterest boards ;)

{pretty, happy, funny, real} volume 1

You probably know I read a lot of blogs.  Many of them, I do so for the feeling of "yeah, sister, it's not just you" from the comrades in the trenches of motherhood.  And then there's others where it's a depiction of the noble goal, proof and reminders that this is not just possible, but so very worth it (and beautiful along the way!)  There is no better in this second category than Like Mother Like Daughter {written by the author of this book I shared a few months ago}, and Auntie Leila has so much to recommend and demonstrate about having achieved the "former glory" of homemaking.

So you know their weekly link-up titled "{pretty, happy, funny, real}" is right up my alley, especially since the subtitle is about "capturing the contentment in everyday life."

I had a very {real} night last night - perhaps Julia's worst to date (whaddya think, correlated with it being her first night sans swaddle?) - and woke up (the time I had to stay up, that is) feeling really, really tired and really, really grumpy.

That probably wasn't the context that most people would chose to introduce tempera paint, but having been buoyed by my two cups of decaf coffee (yes, I'm sensitive enough to caffeine that decaf does it for me in the wake-up category) and needing something to distract myself from...well, myself and my grumpiness, we went for it.  And pretty/happy/funny/real contentment commenced, including a mini photo shoot of the kitchen while my little artist worked.

{pretty}

Makes me miss my old kitchen and how pretty it looked in the fall.  Makes me excited for having "my" home again sometime and all of my things can come out of storage.  Makes me realize that "home" can still be wherever we make it.  

(I'm probably the only one who thinks this much about the corner by the microwave).

{happy}

Buy your stock in Crayola now.

Also in Bounty.

{funny}

I should have predicted that was coming after this...

{real}

I guess I wasn't the only one tired from last night.

Awake at night, sleeping during craft time...

and content now only snuggled up next to Mama in the Ergo, which is why I'm blogging and not sleeping myself.  Or doing the very real pile of dishes (not my favorite task with the carrier on!)

Check out more {p,h,f,r} here.

4 weeks in: an update

4 weeks ago, I sat at a table in a lawyer's office, making a blubbering fool of myself as I (unsuccessfully) tried to hold back the tears at giving up my "first baby."  (No, not Anna; other people have been confused by my silly reference to the house, too).  If it were any secret before, the whole process of leaving our house showed me just how much that old structure meant to me.  Thankfully, the leaving was much harder than the having left, so I haven't done nearly as much I-miss-home crying in the last few weeks as I expected (only once, I think, since the tearful hotel-room post I left you with way back when).

The last few weeks have been - perhaps surprisingly so - calm, happy, and joyful.  As we were discerning our move last fall, it basically felt like God had done all but put the flashing red arrow above this town and this job, and if it was evident then that this was where we were meant to be, that sense has only grown in actually being here.  There have been several such moments, but one memory stands clear in my mind: only hours after arriving, our large crew of unloading helpers (all who sought Justin out and offered to help) made up of other University families paused for a pizza dinner.  A large group of kids, adults, and hungry teens suddenly paused and offered a loud chorus of a prayer.  Something about that moment, about a community so willing to live its faith (in lifting up prayer, and in lifting a whole lot of heavy boxes for people they'd just met) gave me chills and made me think "this."  This is what we came for. 

And so for all who have been patiently waiting, asking, and praying about our transition, I offer the following updates.  I apologize for how long I've put this off from both pure busyness and also a loss for how to think about such big changes and what exactly to say.  This post is a mix of practical updates (look - pictures of where we're living!) and philosophical musings on the ideas of home and homemaking in a scenario when our traditional concept of "home" has been turned on its head.  As a reward for making it through this wordiness, I'll post some Anna at the zoo pictures later this weekend.  :)

(1) Living Arrangements

As most of you know, we have the opportunity to house-sit for another family who will be abroad for the coming academic year.  They will leave later in August, at which point we will move upstairs to their bedrooms.  For now, we're happily tucked away into the basement bedroom.  The basement is divided into two rooms, one of which has our bed, two extra twin beds, Anna's crib, two couches, and a half-bath.  The other, larger, room is a big playroom (Anna LOVES it) where I've set up my sewing machine table and a card table for a desk.  As much as I loved our house, I have to admit that in some ways, our basement accommodations are more comfortable, or I guess I should say more practical in letting us spread out and have space for different activities (rather than me spreading papers or crafts all over our old kitchen table, or Anna's play space being limited to the space where Justin was also trying to do some work).  I'd probably change my mind after months down here, but for now it's a pretty sweet arrangement.  Given that it's temporary, we haven't really set things up (Anna's entire wardrobe is on top of a dresser, our "linen closet" is folded piles on the extra bed, and we're still using our toiletries out of our travel bags), so I think all three of us are looking forward to having some more organization and permanent storage solutions once we move upstairs, but other than that I really have no complaints.

I may have neglected to mention that in addition to one twin bed being our "linen closet," one is also our dirty laundry pile.  That's what happens when your laundry boxes are all full of miscellaneous toiletries and cleaning supplies!

(2) Building up vs. tearing down

In one of my last posts before we left our house, I lamented the fact that the process of packing our house was antithetical to my life's vocation.  I take great pride in working to create a home for our family and visitors that is a lovely and comfortable place to be, and one that provides for their needs, whether that be clean clothes, good food, or a peaceful place to rest.  Putting everything (essentially, my tools for the job) into boxes was incredibly stressful because limited my ability to provide for any of these needs, and was a direct un-doing of what I generally focus on doing.  I've found that setting things up here (even a very primitive and temporary card-table desk/sewing area) has left me feeling much more positive than taking things down at the house.  Taking apart the house and packing created disorder, and restoring order, I've learned, is very important both for my own sanity and for the greater good of our household/family.

More crafting/work space than I had at home!
It still can use some work, but it's pretty well organized for the time being :)

(3) Possessions

I had an internal debate, you may remember, during packing about whether I was a minimalist or overly materialistic.  I worried about having placed too strong a value on mere things.  Now that everything is boxed, I find myself primarily in an "out of sight, out of mind" mentality where I don't feel particularly attached or in need of our things.  Granted, our essentials (clothing, toiletries, and even our own bed) have been unpacked and are in use.  Also, we're living in a fully-furnished home that is fully equipped and decorated for a family much larger than our own, so our needs are met.  However, I worried that I would miss our dinnerware (those of you who know Justin and I know the ridiculous saga about plates that preceded our marriage!*) or things like that.  It turns out that I've missed practical things, like less common but useful kitchen tools (my food processor, for one), in a utilitarian sense.  As long as we have plates - and a way for me to serve our family dinner - it hasn't seemed to matter what they look like.  Of course, once we set up our own home again I'll be happy to have the ones that I chose, but it's freeing to know that I'm not as overly attached to them as I feared I might be.  I think the practical appreciation of things for their usefulness (including their beauty) is the healthy approach to possessions, so I'm hopeful that I'm at least somewhat in line with that ideal.

My little sewing area is to the right of this picture (if you walked past the futon and turned right), and the door to our bedroom space is to the left.

(4) Vocation of motherhood & homemaking

If the move has confirmed one thing for me, it is that I truly do have a vocation to motherhood and homemaking.  I don't say this to preclude work that I have or will do outside of the home over the course of my lifetime, but I have reconfirmed the value that I find in making a home, providing for our family's basic needs, etc.  As I've mentioned before, it was so difficult to take things apart, but to rebuild and reestablish (even temporarily) here has felt so right.  The first night we arrived, I was loading the dishwasher and wiping up the kitchen counters here at our hosts' home, and they asked me why I was worrying about the work (given that this was after a long drive and unpacking the full U-Haul(s)).  I hadn't thought about it until asked, but the process of restoring order and of doing normal, everyday work was so comforting.  After weeks of emptying drawers, packing boxes, eating take-out meals, it made me happy to be able to put silverware in its drawer and dishes in their place.  I suspect this feeling will wear off and I'll find myself often in a messy kitchen without a sense of joy in the cleaning tasks at hand; but perhaps this lesson will remain quietly inside as a reminder of the value and joy in the daily work of one's vocation.

In retrospect, I guess it's not news that I like the whole housewife thing (throwback photo to making our first Valentine's Day fancy dinner in our not-so-fancy pre-renovation kitchen!)

(5) Loneliness and community

In Ithaca, I had a wonderful group of friends - many of whom were also stay-at-home moms with young families - and yet moving here has made me realize how terribly lonely I was.  Those friendships were wonderful, but we didn't see each other nearly often enough - in most cases, there was at least a 15 minute drive between us, and that sort of distance requires pre-planning for play dates, not a quick call over the backyard fence if you've run out of a cup of sugar.  Our street in Ithaca was busy with traffic (we lived next to a bank) but people scurried in and out with their deposit slips, probably not even knowing that Anna and I were home in the house next door.  It has been refreshing to work alongside with our host, making dinner with her, chatting about recipes, and hearing stories of their interesting past trips abroad.  I've found myself less drawn to blogs and an unhealthy amount of computer time because I don't need to seek an artificial community when I'm beginning to find one here.  We met another family and visited their recent yard sale, which stretched along the block of Catholic families.  Everyone was outside, their kids playing together, the moms chatting about the blenders they were trying to sell.  It felt to me like the neighborhood where I grew up, and one that I know I want to find to fight the loneliness that can otherwise plague the modern homemaking mom.  [See my post from November: Working Alone]

(6) Siblings

I know part of my loneliness in Ithaca was that it was just me and Anna.  Her vocabulary and communication has exploded recently, and it's becoming a lot more fun (and far less isolating) by the day to spend time with her.  Don't get me wrong, I've always loved to be with her, but I know I'm not the only one who realizes that 8 hours with someone non-verbal gets to be a little tiring.  Our hosts have 5 kids in the house (ranging from 4 to 18) and while the activity level is certainly more than I was used to in our quiet little Ithaca existence, it's a very positive and lively environment that has made both Justin and I excited for the years that are to come with Anna and Julia and (God-wiling) their future siblings.  I've enjoyed interacting with the kids in ways that Anna's not yet ready for - baking a cake together, answering questions, telling each other knock-knock jokes.  It has given me a glimpse into the future, a future that some veteran mom bloggers have talked about, a future that's not quite as difficult (or perhaps just difficult in different ways) as having only very little kids.  It's more fun to make a picnic for Anna AND her 4 and 7 year old "siblings" than to get everything out just to make one lunch, not to mention how nice it is that she can sit at the picnic table outside the kitchen door with them while I make the sandwiches.  I have no delusions that my hard days are over (in October I'll have a newborn and a 2 year old and a husband with a very busy new job), but I think I'll be buoyed in that time knowing that there are less overwhelming years (we hope) to come.

This picture doesn't adequately capture how much fun all three kids were having (Anna's in the wagon), nor how comfortable I was watching with my feet propped up on a lounge chair and being thankful for big kids who are happy to pull a wagon around...and around...and around.

I haven't even mentioned how great it's been for Anna to have playmates and companions.  All of the kids have been wonderful with her, and I'm sure their example (and constant "Anna, say....") has contributed greatly to her recent verbal developments.

(7) Missing the house & finding a new home

If there's one theme you've gathered from my writing over the last 6 months, it certainly would be about my emotional process of leaving our home.  In moving, I thought the rough days were still ahead, and I pictured myself lying awake in bed crying about wanting to go home.  Short of a few dreams, I haven't thought of it that much, unless I look at our recent pictures.  We were starting to outgrow that home in some ways and feel frustrated about some of the things about the layout, so we were honest with ourselves that we would have had to look for a new place even if we were staying in Ithaca.  I'll always love that house, always feel very attached to all of the work that we did to make it our home, but the thing I miss more than the house is the sense of home.  We are incredibly comfortable here and the hosts have been incredibly gracious (and incredibly fun) during our time together.  But despite all that, there is a sense of being in your own space where your things have a designated place and you have your family routines and your family pictures and decorations that hasn't entirely been fulfilled in staying in someone's basement.  Thankfully, that sense of home can be recreated, to a decent extent here over the next year, but eventually in our future home.  Justin and I are excited about searching for that home and have both memorized most of the new listings that have come on the local real estate website over the past few months.  We frequently drive through new areas, seeking out new neighborhoods and areas we want to target for our search.  We're both anxious for the time to come for us to be in that (hopefully "forever") house, but we are both very thankful for this year to assess our needs, get to know the area, and do a thorough search for the best future home.

(8) The future of the blog

I was asked recently if I'd continue blogging now that we've moved and the renovations are done.  I dare say that we found the former glory in our old house, and in that sense my mission has been complete.  However, if you've read my updated "About this blog" section, you'll see that my search has expanded beyond just renovating that house.  I'm looking for former glory in the ideals of home and family in our society that has begun to devalue both.  I'm seeking the former glory of a lifestyle/career choice that is no longer popular or particularly respected for a college-educated woman.  I've even begun to convince Justin of my crazy ideas that an old, tired house is far more fun to buy than a beautifully renovated "turn-key" one, so we'll hopefully have plenty more renovation projects to share as well.  We'll still be searching for former glory, and I hope you'll still be following along as I document the journey on all of those fronts...


*Side note for anyone who knows the "dishes" back story, my editor Justin would like me to share that this family happens to have some of the exact Corelleware dishes that he had in his bachelor apartment.  And I'm enjoying using them.

The long good-bye

From the very first time I opened our front door,

June 18, 2010

I knew I'd one day be closing it, too.

Justin is a graduate student, and he'll be graduating in May.  I will update more later about our future plans, but suffice it to say that he has been offered his dream job, and it's an amazing opportunity for our family.  We're grateful for that opportunity, so excited for the new community, looking forward to finding our new home.  But none of that makes this any easier.

We met with our realtor yesterday.  We've started saying the long good-bye to our house.

You may think I'm just overly sappy.  Especially if you've just been reading in the past few months when I've gone all mom-blog and philosophical, you might not understand why I call this house my "first baby."  We have seen this house through from a neglected, broken building.  We have put thousands of hours into making it our home.  This transformation came with our literal blood, sweat, and tears.  We have refinished (or in many cases, completely replaced) every wall, floor, and ceiling in the house.  We chose every color, every finish, every faucet, every everything.

We hold the ideal of home in high esteem, and consider this our sanctuary from the world.  But to sell a house, you have to open it up.  Let strangers traipse through, let them look in your closets and wander through your basement.  Convert it from a place where we live (and sometimes leave our laundry on the floor) to an exhibit, a pristine showplace.  We must let them in - with all of their opinions - to judge all the work we've done and the choices we've made.

But they can never know, as they wonder about whether or not they want an orange kitchen,

that seeing that kitchen was literally my dream come true after I spent more than a year cooking like this:

and then more than a month looking something like this:

And walking upstairs to the bedrooms will never feel the same as it did for someone who lived in the kitchen:

or who did "carpet angels" the first time we could go upstairs to do anything but hard physical work:

They'll wonder if they like the amount of storage, but they won't know that the closet was a Christmas gift or how many times I had to go to work with paint spots on my arms before the bathroom closet was finished and the special primer finally washed off after multiple days worth of showers.

They won't know which floor tile I was laying when one of my best friends called to say she was engaged.

They'll see a house that looks decent these days, but won't know that by comparison it looks amazing.  They'll find things to criticize, I'm sure.  I find things I wish looked better, but most of the time they have some happy memory.  I see the things we learned, the pride of accomplishment, the friends who helped with each room, the things that were happening in our lives as each thing was done, not the imperfect drywall or the slightly crooked tiles.

You leave any space with memories.  Last night as I was falling asleep, I felt like a sappy commercial as images flashed by of all the happy times we've had in our house - parties, dinners, quiet evenings as a family.  I hope and pray that someone decides to buy our house who will be as happy here as we were.  Someone who will love this place - despite its faults - just as much as we have.

And as we prepare for it to be their home and not ours, we start the long goodbye.  As we start to pack up some of our personal decorations and move things from the basement to storage, it slowly becomes less ours.  Slowly becomes less "home" and more "house," until we hand over the keys this summer and we have to say our final goodbye to all but our memories.

I could add all sorts of caveats about knowing of all the "hellos" that are to come, about knowing that it's just a house, not a person who's died.  About knowing of all the other people who move all the time, and have loved their houses just as much.

But I don't need to write about all that today.  I know it's all true.  But goodbye is never easy, and we've started the long goodbye.


P.S. Some more "before" and "after" (although it hasn't been updated in a while) here.

(How not to be) Desperate Housewives

As a disclaimer, I've never seen the show Desperate Housewives (nor do I care to), so I could be totally off on my analysis, but I think the bigger picture is still true, even if I've got the show wrong.  Anyway, when Anna and I accompanied Justin to his conference last week, I was living a life of luxury at the hotel - any semblance of work was being done for me, down to making the bed.  (Confession: I did make it, but then the hotel staff came in and made it even nicer than I had).  The only responsibility I had all day long was to take care of Anna.  We found new playgrounds, we walked around the hotel lobby and looked at the fountain, we read lots of books, we had leisurely meals.  I also got to meet up with a few friends from college who live in the area for lunch and for coffee.  By the world's standard, I should have been really happy.  And I was happy to spend a vacation day with my girl.  But I couldn't help but notice that the day felt somewhat unfulfilling.

I get the sense that the Desperate Housewives have a similar sort of life - glamorous stay-at-home mom types without any of the hard work traditionally associated with being an actual housewife.  Restaurant meals, professional cleaning services, and a closet of dry-clean-only clothes can allow someone to get away with that lifestyle provided that they can afford to sustain it beyond a three-day conference.  I understand that the show is a reflection of the societal trend in general to buck the system of the 1950's June Cleaver.  And there are things about the 1950's women's role in society that deserved to be bucked, but I've noticed that change nearly always comes as a pendulum swing that overcompensates rather than effectively correcting a problem.

It's rare to hear someone define their role as a "housewife" these days.  Usually, it's a "stay-at-home mom" - when I'm asked by a new acquaintance what I do, I always answer "I'm at home with Anna" in an almost sheepish way, as if I exclusively chase Anna around the house, in the same way that I was "in the hotel with Anna" last week.  To be clear, Anna's needs are my first priority, but I'm learning to serve those needs in a more holistic home-making type way.

Our self definition of "stay-at-home-moms" instead of "homemakers" likely stems from the fact that almost all of us were previously professional women who did the homemaking chores (cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc) in the evenings or on weekends.  The only change in life that warranted no longer working out of the home was the arrival of baby, and so I think there's a lingering mentality that the homemaking is just a side job that should be squeezed in around the edges.  I've realized it in myself - and it may be true for others - that I haven't completely embrace the housekeeping responsibilities as part of my "job" persay, but just as annoying things that happened to fall to my plate since I happened to be home all day with Anna (and society certainly hasn't accepted that there's more to do than childcare, given the (yes, real-life and totally off-base) comments like, "oh, Anna, I bet your Mommy gets to take a nap every day when you do!").

Our society also pressures us to be constantly on the go with kids and giving them untiring stimulation, education, and enrichment.  I've long held that elementary school kids are over-scheduled and over-committed to activities (particularly sports), but I didn't realize until I became a mom that the trend also holds for babies!  You could - I and think people do - go from music class to story hour to the playground to baby yoga, followed by a trip to the grocery store and three other errands.  All of this is in the name of educating, developing, and nurturing the babies - which I'm sure it accomplishes, at least before diminishing returns sets in.  But besides trying to be super mom with kids in lots and lots of activities, I think modern moms on the go are also running away from home.  Particularly in Anna's early months, I often wanted to go out.  I wanted to be out running errands or meeting friends or otherwise getting out of the house.  But beyond the healthy need to get out a bit and to have some additional adult interaction (and stimulation for Anna), I think that part of me wanted an escape.  Thinking that your next 6 or 8 or maybe even 10 hours will be filled exclusively with keeping a temperamental and non-verbal tiny little human happy can make you want to run away, too, especially if this is to be done in a place that is supposed to be your refuge but is, in reality, a perpetually messy place filled with reminders of what you "should" be able to fit in the cracks of your day.  And so, off I'd go to Target, returning to a still-messy house and feeling still overwhelmed, if not slightly placated by whatever purchase I had made.

As I spend more time giving analytical thought to my role and reading books on the subject, I've realized that thinking of myself as a "stay-at-home-mom" isn't only inaccurate, but self-defeating, particularly when juxtaposed socially with a "working mom."  I'm coming to embrace that title I once hated - homemaker.  In making a home - and giving proper place to the tasks it requires, I am effectively nurturing, educating, and loving Anna, but in a broader spectrum.  The tendency is to think that cooking or cleaning or doing laundry (in essence, providing for the family's basic needs) comes at the expense of being a good mom (ironically) because of the drive to maximize the amount of quality time reviewing the colors and the alphabet in hopes of raising a child who doesn't enter kindergarten woefully behind.  It really hit me though, when I realized - at the end of the day at the hotel - that I hadn't spent any more quality time with her during a day of leisure than I would have at home.  I had expected that I would have felt like I got the chance to teach her more, cuddle her more, and in effect be a better mom in that day, but in reality I did not.

At home,I tell her about the colors of shirts while I fold them (and she unfolds them).  We sing and dance together while I cook (and she empties the kitchen cabinets).  I give her a dry rag and she loves to wipe things while I clean, and we pause every few minutes for some tickles and kisses.  And in this way, she's learning by the things I tell her, but also by the things I show her - that home is comfortable and a place we want to be, that cleanliness and order are valuable, that hard work in important, and that loving someone requires action.  These lessons are ones that prevail, and ones she wouldn't necessarily learn if I didn't view my job in the broad spectrum of homemaking rather than with the narrow lens of just being a mom.

Of course, all that I've described is on a good day.  There are certainly days with a toddler (and I can't even imagine with multiple kids) that it is literally impossible to get basic things accomplished, even if I want to do them and value them as vitally important.  But, my overall outlook has improved greatly in light of these realizations.  As I spend more time organizing, cleaning, and making nice meals (and learning how to juggle these responsibilities as complimentary tasks to caring for Anna, rather than as opposing ones), our home becomes a place that makes me want to be here all the more, and when I'm spending less time running off to Target, I'm finding more time both to enjoy the home and to keep it up.  Even trips out of the home (like our Friday story-hours) are more fulfilling because I can enjoy them with Anna without the nagging feeling of chores undone.  And (I hope and pray) this approach will also lead Anna to grow up simultaneously less spoiled, yet more cared for and loved.

Perhaps its in losing sight of what being a housewife is all about that those poor TV ladies feel so desperate.