sunshine and stuff

Our small house seems especially so mid-winter.  We are spending more time in places with large plate glass windows.  The library, the coffee shop.

The home of the green sea beast is one particular place that I try not to frequent.  Even though we can spend a couple hours in the dark chairs, reading books and playing card games while soaking up sugar and sunshine, I usually have two handfuls of trash to drop in the bin on the way out the door.  It rankles me to be a 'stay-in' customer given 'take-out' containers. 



We are not the type of family to make new year's resolutions but, a few weeks belated, we've decided to set a one year goal.  Being in our small house and using the shops as a mini-holiday from it during the winter, the stuff has reached a maximum.  I define the absolute limit as the point when I start thinking I need to go buy some plastic boxes to store our stuff in.  This is the thought that sets off my internal alarm bells, letting me know that my thinking has become dysfunctional and it's time to take stock and reset my priorities. 

Our one year goal is to not bring home any stuff that is not consumable
(food and drink, garden seeds).  Exceptions are any materials we need for home repairs because, well, you've got to keep the eaves on the roof and the plumbing in good repair and necessary clothing for growing children and replacements for worn out items (we're talking undies and socks here).  I'm going to make some of the kids clothes, of course, but I'm not so good with the snow boots and that sort of necessary evil here in Canada.  Crafting and home school supplies for the children also, although I'm going to insist they use up what they have first.  I'm almost certain that will take an entire year, especially if they make an effort to reuse/fully utilize paper.

Another exception I haven't passed by The Man yet but I think is important is replacement items for the household, such as towels and whatnot.  I'm thinking about this because I break a dish nearly every week (mainly accidentally).  If I do not replace, we'll be bereft of plates by spring.  For these replacements, second hand shops have plenty for us, so nothing new or unnecessary.

Truthfully, I don't think I've ever stuck to a whole year challenge before but since we live like the privileged fools we are and feel as if we are nearly drowning in stuff, I think we should make a serious go of this.  Certainly it'll be easier than sticking to a diet or regimented exercise.  We frequently donate to the thrift stores, we have all that we need and much more; I can't foresee a logistic problem.  The obstacles I'm sure are mainly psychological.  Will I feel deprived?  I hope I'll feel like I have more time, space and money but, as I have learned in the past, the habit of consumption is a powerful master.  We've reduced, not-bought, made do, did without, and yet, we are still here, with too much.

Anyone here ever give this a go?  I'm wondering about birthday presents for other children (we give 'adventure gifts' to our own)?  Should be buy stuff for others?  What about if someone gives me a present?  Should I refuse?  I think The Man and I need to hammer out a few more details and fully articulate why we want to do this.  Plus there is at least one item I have promised the family and a shop to buy - the board game Blokus, if you must know - should we just do without and see if we still want it next January?  Since board games are part of our home school curriculum (I'm serious), should it count as an excepted home school supply?  Or is that a sneaky justification?

Just over thinking everything again.  Hey ho, we'll give it a go, though.  And let you know how it goes.  Input and shared experience is welcome!

p.s. I'm thinking of tagging on a refusal to buy one use containers.  Or limit them as much as possible.  Not just we all need to but also to close up that nasty loophole before the going gets tough and I start trying to explain to myself that it's okay to buy a book of paper dolls at the bookstore or get my buying fix down at the corner store getting snacks.  Plus, almost everything in a one use container is just not healthy.  Wait, bulk buying is suddenly complicated...

battling the tidy monster

I have a confession to make.

My last post was about the constant organizing and reorganizing that goes on at my house to try to accommodate our crafts, play, and basic living.  I began writing the post from a place of frustration, feeling like I was in a war with our usual household state of semi-chaos. 

But, by the end of the post, after talking about Smootch's craft area and all the creative acts she performs hundreds of times a day, I was almost feeling sentimental about the mess.  Still, I have persisted in trying to lower the frustration while still allowing as much access to creative materials as possible for the kids and have settled into a domestic schedule where I can take care of what needs to be done one thing at at time and let the rest all go hang.

Here's the thing: calling something a mess doesn't necessarily make it bad.

Perhaps not all would agree.  We live in the time of professional closet sorters and life coaches and most people would prefer to have their tea in a tidy room rather than one that recently had three poorly supervised toddlers and a wet dog visit with a bucket of paints.  But is a tidy room really better than a messy one?

I guess it depends on your perspective.  And energy level.

Messiness, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.

I once read a book that detailed the benefits of a mess and the downsides of tidy organization.  The basic message was that order looks fine and dandy, but takes a whole lot more energy to maintain (you can pick up the toys eights times in a day or just once - your pick) and lacks the serendipitous inspirations that come from having a bunch of seemingly unrelated stuff all squished up together. 

This thought keeps me feeling good about my one labelled box of craft supplies and ten boxes of 'random' things that the kids actually go through and build their fantastic creations with.  For anyone who has gone through introduction psychology or was playing attention during the '80s and '90s while everyone fretted about children having an 'enriched' environment for optimum brain growth, having more stuff lying about IS an environment more enriched.  More to explore, more stimulus, more connections between the synapses.  A mess develops the powers of observation as you search through the pile looking for the missing sock.  Plus, navigating a room where the actual floor only appears every three to four feet is good physical exercise.

Another great thing about a mess is that the worst, so to speak, has already happened.  Okay, much worse can happen (my Sharpie markers and utility knives are locked away, thanks), but when I've just scrubbed the floor I'm much more prone to say 'no' to almost any activity the kids can dream up in fear of undoing my hard work.  When the floor is already confettied with sequins and toast crumbs, well, there's really no harm in throwing in a bit of sand from collages and dirt from planting some kitchen sill basil.  Where would you rather be?  In the 'no' house or the 'yes' house? 

I know where Smootch wants to be.

When I see the children playing away, felt pens running off the paper onto the table, pulling clean clothes out of the drawers in order to play pirate while ignoring the dress up trunk, the cushions from the couch dragged into the kitchen where they've made a wild animal den, I can't help but be impressed with their minds and energy, and know that as long as they can continue to engage creatively with the world I am doing o.k. as a parent.

Plus, there are few things more beautiful than a child covered with paint.

My most poignant thought is that this disordered, cluttered time is only temporary.  The children will grow, they will become more tidy, their pursuits will take them out of the house and away from me.  One day I will be able to clean up the kitchen and no one will track mud across the floor, leave the cupboard door open and the tap dripping.  It will be still, unchanged.  Lonely.

So, I will try not to go overboard, to organize my home into suffocation.  I know I will err, but let it be on the side of too much - stuff, activity, attention, love - instead of not enough.

Besides, after so much chaos, so stimulus, noise and movement, getting it all clean and ordered is just that much sweeter.  When the house is usually in shambles, even a quick tidy can bring a deeper satisfaction than deep cleaning a house that is always HGTV worthy. 

Clean has its place.  It's after the party ends.

all is calm, all is bright

I have been busy and distracted. Don't tell me you haven't been either. I remember reading somewhere that the busiest and most stressful age of a lifetime is the time when a person's children are young. No kidding. Add holidays, visitors, and winter weather and you've got the makings of a berserker melt down.

Or maybe it's just me.



Last weekend I skated my very first ever roller derby bout. I can't begin to tell you how nerve racking it is to go out and do something so decidedly odd yet passionate in front of hundreds of strangers, and how much worse it is to know that your friends and family are watching you too.  It was a blast, but I know that no matter how hard I worked over the past year to go from a non-skater to actually playing derby and not getting killed, it is just the beginning still. I have so much sweat and many bruises ahead of me, not to mention the development of grit and tenacity, before my second bout will be played in February.

This time in my life, with my babies so young, my passions still new, my relationships with my man and family, feels like a ball of steel wool in my chest. This time is precious, so fleeting and excruciatingly fragile, I know I am living in golden times that I will look back on in longing. Yet - of course, there is a yet - I can't manage to give the time and attention to any of it to do it sufficient justice. There is cracks all over the place and things are slipping away.

The kids grow and I can't remember clearly what Smootch looked like when she was Birdie's age. Was Birdie ever a baby? I don't think there was a time when he didn't tell me 'no' eighty times a day. How wonderful would it be to fill their holiday season with a warm kitchen, scented with gingerbread and mint, to fill their stockings with mama made dolls and hand carved wooden trains, to walk every day with them out in the snow, watching the deep, under-appreciated beauty of winter unfold with icy, alien landscapes and pondering the mysterious lives of animals who leave us only with snowy tracks to indicate their existence. To have a never ending pot of cocoa on the stove to warm us from our frequent ice skating and sledding.

How much I'd like to present my husband with a handmade shirt or a handknitted scarf and toque. How wonderful would it be to have pieced together a quilt for my mother and have posed for a family portrait to give out to the grandparents. I want to sit in the kitchens of my friends, while we chat over wine glasses, our hands busy cutting out cookies. I want to have the lights, the garland, the feeling of sanctuary sitting in a room lit up for the celebration of all that is cherished.

Hmmmm... my desires are suspicious.  Must try to remember I don't live in a greeting card. 

So, here is is again.  Holidays.  Stress. For me. For you. For the lady I saw quietly weeping the grocery store last night, holding her unhappy toddler as she picked through the discount bread shelf.

Now, normally, like to get into the holidays a bit with some crafting and baking, but it's all fairly minor league. The few gifts I give are usually either handmade or second hand. My husband is famous for giving everyone junk for Christmas a couple years ago, so you can see how we are actually fairly relaxed about the holidays, despite my inner monologue about icy beauty and handmade quilts.   I work hard at trying to keep a sense of humor and perspective.

Still, this year, even the bare minimum is feeling overwrought. The mere thought of having a go at some festive decorations or sewing up a party dress sends me into this funk where I end up hiding in the kitchen, no, not cooking, but sitting feet up with a block of chocolate and some pleasant distraction.



I am going to take this as a sign. Instead of fighting my zone out response, I've decided to take it on as a mission. This is a terrible month to get things done, so I'm going to not do things. The holiday madness seems the right sort of time to schedule a break from the everyday grind to sit back and mull things over a bit. To question and reaffirm my values instead of full out participation in the glittery illusions and semi-hysterical sugar high Christmas usually ends with.

No holiday hangover for this gal, thank you.

This next month I am going to focus on reducing. Reducing stress, reducing stuff, and reducing the demand on my, and your, precious attention. I will do my best to make this a guilt and madness free blog for the duration of the holidays. Here there will be no count down, no last minute ideas, no clever tricks to fit even more in.    Maybe with a bit less to do, there will be more time for a couple of winter strolls and a trip through the photo archives to remind myself of Smootch's two year old face.

Join me or ignore me, I wish you a truly peaceful holiday.