A Bit of Magic

Little Owl and I have less time together than we once did, and I no longer have the bit of time she used to spend at playschool to accomplish those boring things that grown-ups have to do.  So I have been crafting many little magical moments in our time together.  It’s not so hard to do.  She is my wise and wild child, and magic is everywhere if your heart and eyes are open.

This year, we went into a nearby woods to gather cedar boughs for a Solstice wreath. We spent time walking with the trees and visited a labyrinth, we even found a ‘possum jawbone which now has a place of honor on our nature tray (which remains completely out of hand). With nothing but those boughs and a bit of twine, we crafted a beautiful wreath that graced our doorway for the last few weeks. Over the last few days, we’ve both noticed that it’s lighter a bit later. Those tiny shifts have added up and now the Solstice season feels over to us. So we brought it down and burned it in our firepit, enjoying the scent of the dried cedar and sending our thanks up with the smoke.

We love having tea parties – usually Earl Grey for me and “Owl Tea” or maybe chamomile-lavender tea for Little Owl.  Grandma (my mama) gave me this tea set for Christmas and I love it so much.  And this time, at Little Owl’s request, we lit some lotus incense.  “I bless for you peace.  I bless for you happiness and heart and I love you,” she said, cupping her hand over the incense and holding it to my forehead.  Best tea party ever.

 

So much magic.

 

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Happy Halloween!

I love Halloween and Dia de los Muertos.  I love the pumpkins, I love the warm spicy biting scent of marigolds.  I love setting out pieces of my Pa and Grandma’s favorite candies.  I love the bats, I love the owls, I love the spiders.  I love the ghosts, I love the witches, no surprises there.  Did I mention that I love it?

I love that I can feel winter in the night air, in the little shifts happening around me, but that the impossible colors of summer are still with us. This is my time of renewal, my setting out, my beginnings. With relief from the heat suddenly comes my new year. Happy Samhain!

May your day be full of the wonder of the new year.

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Change is in the air

Lots of big changes have been going on around here, and one of the many balls I dropped was my poor innocent blog. But I’m back in the saddle again! Riding the range once more!

So one big change is that I’ve started a delightful job as a teaching guide at a Waldorf-inspired farm school. I have the toddler group every afternoon, and I am really enjoying it. Love the kids, love my coworkers. Little Owl is going to school there as well, and she really enjoys it.

Of course we’ve been having crafty fun the last few months, but honestly I just don’t have the will power to go back and do posts about everything. But here is one that is just too good to skip…

We made dreamcatchers! For this one we used wild grapevine from my mama’s farm, and some of the many dove feathers we find around our bird feeders. We made another using rattan, an owl feather, a cardinal feather, and a blue jay feather. It was such a fun, quick project. I can’t wait to go back up to the farm to get some more vine!

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Mama-isms.

I’ve been noticing lately how many outlandish things I say in the course of a perfectly ordinary day as the mama of my little wild child.

“If something gives you a wedgie, you should probably rethink it.”

“There is a big difference between resurrection and reincarnation.”

“It may sound like fun, but you could die, so stop it.”

“No you may not pat the fish.”

“If I say not to touch something, you should not then try to lick it.”

“Put on some underwear; it’s time for dinner!”

“When you are lying on the floor screaming, I know it’s time to go home.”

“Please make the choice not to hyperventilate.”

Ah, motherhood.

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Change

Every season, we keep a little nature tray of the treasures we find. And at the end of each season, we give these treasures back to Mother Earth, placing them in Little Owl’s secret place in the garden. We figure the fairies probably like that shaded and hidden space as much as she does, and that they appreciate the offering. The moment we realize a season has ended is always exciting. I especially love the shift to spring. During this season we honor birth and renewal with the spiraling snail shells and the feathers we find in our garden.

We’ve already started gathering little bits of beauty for our spring altar, and I’m looking forward to seeing what we will come across for the rest of this lovely season.

Little Owl’s newest prized possession is this vintage Japanese toy teapot we found at the antique mall. During the day it held these feathers – but by bedtime she had reclaimed it so that she could hold it while she slept.

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The years roll by

So, today is my birthday.  I’m kind of glad this last year is over.  I started it off with an emergency appendectomy, and that kind of set the tone for the whole year.  So I am setting intentions for a healthy and happy year, with adventures that are actually fun rather than requiring narcotics.  To which I tend to have a remarkably awful reaction so they definitely don’t fall under the fun category.

Of course I didn’t think about doing this until today.  So this might be a bit scattered.  But I don’t think anyone will be too surprised by that.

Here is my “I’m 31 and this is going to be an awesome year” list.

 

1) Rio Grande

2) 5 sweater patterns

3) macro lens

4) beach

5) canning parties

6) country wine

7) fiddle

8 ) double wedding rings

(That’s a quilt pattern, not an unconventional domestic arrangement.)

9) dancing

10) Scotland

11) spinning

(Yarn, obviously.)

12) yoga retreat

13) fiber festival

14) volunteer

15) teach knitting classes

16) learn to really actually draw

17) back yard fairy houses

18) 365 photo project

19) bake a good chunk of the bread we eat

20) Austin Marathon?!?!?!?!

 

Better get moving.

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Silly

We are struggling so much lately. There is so much push and pull, so much need for closeness and so strong an urge to grow away a bit. She longs to be held but then sobs not to look at her. Poor Little Owl, in a constant fight with herself. Tired but can’t sleep, hungry but won’t eat. Scared of she doesn’t know what, stretching for accomplishments but too frustrated to focus her effort. She’s like a snake shedding its skin; she can’t help but grow, but dang does it make her grumpy.

Tonight I was determined to get some giggles out of her. As much fun as we had in the nice weather, today just had too many sad moments.

We went upstairs for bed but instead of the usual angst, we played for a while. First I crawled around on the floor pretending to be a puppy dog trying to lick her toes. Funny stuff. Then she said, “You’re such a silly Mama.” I replied, “You can call me silly but you better not call me Englebert.” “You’re Englebert!” “You can call me Englebert, but you better not call me Snarglewop.” Hilarious. We kept that up for a while. Then I watched her fall over for a bit and pretended to be horrified by it. Uproariously funny. Then she started a game about a giant gross scary mean bug. She had to run away so it would eat me instead. But then she had to save me. “Shoo away from my mama, you darn bug!” So I pretended to be a mean bug, buzzing around the room looking for a little girl to eat for dinner. Except every time I would find one and try to eat her up, I would miss, fall over face first into the blanket right beside her, and try to take a big bite of it. Then pretend to be really mad that I had missed. This was the funniest thing in the history of time.

And then she went to sleep, happy as can be. Well, after a bit of fussing. “Whoo whoo! Whoo whoo! I’m Little Owl! I need to sleep in a tree.” And a bit of yoga nidra and some guided meditation, but that’s to be expected.

 

When all is said and done, I think probably the thing that might let me claim to be a good parent is the fact that I am completely silly.

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Unforeseen

Everyone knows that a parent’s job is to help their child become an adult and stop needing them.  We want them to grow up, move on, and rip our hearts out a little bit as they go.  This daughter of mine is only three, but there are already brief moments when I can see that for all angst, she is going to be a sparkling and independent adult.  And that will be sooner than seems possible.

To me, one of the most important things I can teach her on this path to independence is to respect her emotions, to govern her reactions but never to condemn herself for the depth of her feelings.  And this is a passionate little girl, with depths of emotion that not everyone can understand.  Her compassion and empathy are of the sort that can make the world better.  I’ve heard plenty of times that children don’t feel empathy until they are four, but I don’t buy it.  She was more empathetic at 18 months than plenty of adults I know. 

On the other hand, the depths of her fury on a bad day are amazing – it’s a good thing she has me as a mother, because I know what it is to be that angry.  When I feel her heart pounding in her chest and see her breath catching, it’s my heartbeat and my breath.  She is oh so very my daughter and I can only hope to teach her how to ride that wild spirit to success and happiness without ever thinking she needs to tame it.  That’s a lesson I have yet to teach myself. 

What I never would have guessed is just how brutal it can be to have a child who is thoughtful and considerate, attuned to her emotions and those of others, and able to address them.  The other night, after about four hours of “bedtime” by which of course I mean NOT LYING DOWN, I was beginning to get a little testy.  I will admit that I have little patience for the statement, “Mama, I’m having a hard time sleeping,” when she is bouncing up and down and spinning like a nitrous oxide-powered whirling dervish.  But I was keeping it together, talking her through things, keeping the limits, doing it right.  Perhaps my Pollyanna on Valium voice was slipping a bit, but certainly no fits were being pitched.  Well, at one point I went out of the room for a little break, having let her know that I was going to come back shortly.  Upon which she proceeded to freak the heck out and spit on the carpet bigger than Dallas.  There was an incident at school that she’s working on processing, so it’s not like it just came from out of the blue.  But I only found out about that afterwards.  The Pollyanna on Valium voice definitely left the building at that point.  She said, “Mama, I’m sorry I did something mean that made you angry and sad.  Sometimes when you’re angry, I feel sad that I made you angry.  And when you use an angry voice, I feel worried.”

Oh, well, let me just pour some lemon juice on that.  It’s what I want her to be able to do.  I just want to be Mother Theresa, Gandhi, and Mary Poppins all rolled into one so she never has to address anything with me but how she loves me with all her chicken.  It could happen.

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Memory

Watching this child play with her dolls, I sometimes wonder what she will remember about me from her childhood.  Baby give her so much grief sometimes.  She spends hours every day telling that doll, “I know you are having a hard time, but you need to not yell.  I know you’re sad.  I want to help.”  And so on until she gets fed up with Baby’s shenanigans and says, somewhat more firmly, something to the effect of, “It’s not my fault.  Put on your pajamas.”

She made dinner for all three of us the other day with her Giant Play Kitchen of Doom, a muffin tin and some hot pads, and some colored pasta from a playdate a ways back.  It was just all she could do to keep us organized, get the dinner on the table without us messing things up, and keep us from burning ourselves.  She could barely cook for the constant instructions needed to keep us out of trouble.  And we were just sitting there.  Unlike some small children I know.

Poor kid, I must just drive her up the wall.

But then I notice the bigger picture.  Maybe what I should be paying attention to is that her game is almost always some variation on Take Care of Those You Love.  And when it’s not that, it’s Make Something.  Those are pretty good games.  If that is what she sees when she watches me, if that is how she remembers me, I don’t think I could ask for anything more.

There are so many little things I remember from my childhood.  It’s not the big events that stand out so much, although of course they made an impression.  It’s things like Papa chopping firewood for Mama’s parents, who didn’t have a heater in their house.  Mama putting up the chickens at night.  The bread Papa made for us so often.  The smell of the stew Mama made, which may be the one recipe I never try to duplicate.  I just can’t imagine that it would ever be the same.  Those aren’t big things but they are part of what define them to me. 

Tonight my little girl fell asleep as I sat at the end of her bed, knitting and singing to her.  I wonder if the sound of bamboo needles clicking will be something that always reminds her of me.

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Happy Thanksful Day

The family has been talking about what we’re thankful for at dinner lately.  Very casual, no big projects or anything, just talking about it.  This morning the tot declared, “It’s Thanksful Day!”  Yes indeed it is.

Here is my thanksful list.  I shouldn’t need  a push to do this, but I’ll admit to being inspired by Karen’s lovely list at Chookooloonks.

1) the garden

2) living in Austin

3) the friends I’ve found

4) the friends I’ve kept

5) my camera and what I see through it

6) yarn and the ability to make things from it

7) the Austin local/sustainable food scene

8 ) cool weather

9) the dozens, sometimes hundreds, of butterflies and bees in my flowerbeds

10) my daughter’s preschool and her teaching guides there

11) kitchen appliances

12) family members who will help if they can

13) people whose craziness gives me the opportunity to cultivate patience and understanding

14) windchimes

15) my pet cobweb spiders who help keep the indoor bug populations under control

16) cooking and the appreciation my family feels when I do it

17) the beautiful things I’ve bought from fair trade sources

18) my daughter’s laughter

19) the dog

20) the ability to feel a sense of wonder

21) friends who laugh at my nerdy jokes about things like the Sisyphean nature of laundry

22) Jane Austen

23) Douglas Adams

24) the volunteer oaks that are growing so beautifully in the back yard

25) coffee

26) beer

27) tea parties on the floor

28) my cookbooks, especially the spiral-bound ones from churches and similar groups

29) peacock feathers from my mom

30) the lake condo a friend makes so available to us – and the friend

31) the many blogs that inspire me and the women who create them

32) rain

33) jigs

34) a husband who wants me to do what I want even when if it’s not what would make the most money

35) the confidence to use alternative medicine, and its availability to me and my family

36) sidewalk chalk

37) the nature tray full of treasures that we keep on the kitchen counter

38) the many books I saved from college

39) knowing so much of my family history

40) Wild Birds Unlimited

41) rosemary

42) the opportunity to travel

43) the number of parks near our home

44) locally brewed kombucha

45) friends at the farmers’ markets

46) the fact that my husband never disputes the money I spend on feeding our family a certain way

47) grass-fed beef from my parents’ farm

48) sitting down for dinner as a family almost every night

49) friends and family who encourage me to sell my crafts

50) online yarn sources; especially the small business ones

51) thrift store creations

52) my daughter’s loving ways

53) okra and how my family loves when I fry it just as much as I love when my mom fries it

54) our favorite restaurant, where they know our favorite beers and also what the little one likes to eat

55) friends with whom I can discuss chakras and kitchen magic without reservation

56) rotary cutters

57) my fabric and yarn stash

58) the fact that my daugher asked from a card and a Christmas tree for her presents this year

59) garden-fresh tomatoes in November

60) a husband who enters wholeheartedly into my unconventional holiday celebrations

61) festivals

62) Etsy

63) Ravelry

64) Flickr

65) my moms group

66) Book People

67) the ability to buy so much organic or otherwise sustainably produced clothing

68) my cast iron collection

69) yoga

70) the owls who live nearby

71) the way my dad calls me up when he’s wearing something I knit for him to thank me and to report the compliments he’s received

72) talking to my mom on the phone

73) pecan pie

74) the way the dryer vent blows out on a bed of lantana and keeps it blooming all year

75) goldfinches

76) my education

77) my travels through Europe and the knowledge that I’ll go back

78) when my daugher says, “I’ll eat you up I love you so.”

79) Mercer Mayer

80) passersby who are interested in my knitting

81) sweet potatoes

82) the way my daughter really loves animals, even the “gross” ones

83) a niece who calls me “Auntie M”

84) the way my husband thinks it’s kind of hot that I like Mythbusters

85) my old quilts

86) the nice silver

87) the slow realization of who I might want to be when I grow up

88) cooking the things that my mom cooked and that her mom cooked before her

89) the things I have in common with the women of my family from generations ago

90) cheese

91) really good whisky – or whiskey

92) the ability to wear sandals almost year-round

93) dried lavendar sachets

94) the Texas Hill Country

95) the beach

96) spicy food

97) the fact that I’m starting to write more

98) the support I get from my husband in my plan to unschool our daughter

99) the fact that I get readers on this small blog

100) the moment I realized that I could make my life what I wanted, even if that was completely different from what I had spend years thinking it should be

Happy Thanksful Day, and happy Love Thursday!

 

Found at the beach on our vacation

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