Clean.

Home in its Many Forms.

Home.

It means different things at different times, doesn't it? Home. Where I grew up in the suburbs. Where I spent 18 years with my mom and dad and sister. Home. More generally it is Wisconsin. Or the United States. Or, abstractly, Earth. And now home is the quiet street in Viroqua where we've lived for the past five years. Home. It matters more than any other place I could name, yet it changes through time.

And now, I'm back home after six days at, well, "home". Back to the most recent one from the one I've always knows.

I spent six days in my childhood home mostly with my mom and my kids, sometimes with my dad, his brother, Pete, and my sister. I visited with my best friend from high school and spent a day rearranging her furniture. (Which, if you must know, is absolute bliss for me. I'm not sure why, but I love moving furniture.) There was an afternoon spent in my childhood haunt of "the field" - acres and acres of wetlands and woods stretching out behind my parent's house - playing with Lupine and our puppy. That hour or two might just be the sweet spot in the whole week. And there was the usual city business of thritfing and errands and exploration.

And now, we're home.

Back in this wee town that I love so much. Back under the big stars and the quiet and the darkness. Home. With a capital H. My home is messier than my mom's. Much messier. There are homeschooling projects everywhere and dishes that need to be washed and frankly a mop wouldnt' be a bad idea for these floors. But I think I'm okay with that.

Because it's our home. And nothing beats that.

 

Thankful.

Thankful for...

The cacophony of my life and the unexpected moments of quiet;

Sweet wiggly snuggles and the space to stretch out alone;

The satisfaction of a full pantry and the promise of next year in our empty backyard garden;

Casting on and casting off;

The sparkle of those playful eyes by day and the rosy glow of those cheeks at night;

and finding balance. In all things.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends. I am grateful for each of you. You show up here and read my words and create a new layer of meaning in this quiet little life of mine. And you share your own inspiration as well. Friends. All around the world. Just by typing away here at my screen. And for that I am so grateful.

In love, light, and gratitude,

Rachel

xoxo

P.S. We'll be making another Gratitude Tree tomorrow. I hope some of you will join me!

 

Repeat After Me: "Money Flows Effortlessly Into My Life."

 

I didn't grow up learning the Law of Attraction. I didn't grow up hearing - or believing - that the things I most desire will come easily to me. To be honest, I heard my wonderful father say "Life isn't fair!" more times than I care to count and "The universe will provide." exactly zero times. But someone I ended up here, believing that we can manifest whatever we want.

Sage likes to save money. He likes the experience of earning and putting away money, knowing that someday he will be able to buy a horse (or a 4-wheeler. Ahem.). So he keeps tucking away money. A couple of weeks ago he asked me if I had any ideas for how he could earn some cash. We threw around a few ideas, but this brainstorming session went like many of the others with him wanting to build a small foundry in our backyard. We paused.

Fast-forward to Lupine's birthday. We dyed silks. We had a blast. Especially Sage. He loved it, getting artsy and wanting to do more and more and more. That night in bed he and I talked about how cool it would be if he sold silks. Fun to make, and you earn money! He loved it. By the next morning he was back on the foundary idea ("I could make marbles!") by the time I reminded him of the silks. Hmmm... The silks. He pondered it.

I wrote a quick Facebook post seeing if there was adequate interest and between my personal page and my blog page we had almost a dozen potential customers. Sage was ready. He named his business ("Magical" Play Silks, and as he dictated the name he raised two fingers on each of his hands making dramatic quotation marks in the air for "Magical" - not wanting to mislead anyone), he looked into cost-of-goods, chose colors to offer and set prices. He and I wrote a little ad that went onto the two Facebook pages again, and within two hours he pre-sold over $200 worth of silks.

He was exstatic.

"This is SO fun," he exclaimed! "And I haven't even gotten any money yet!"

Today we spent a good bit of the afternoon dying silks in the basement then rinsing them and hanging them to dry on the line. His hands are blue, and his cheeks hurt from smiling. Tomorrow he's gearing up for folding 30 silks, then doing some math and writing (two of his more challenging homeschooling subjects) as he determines amout due on each order and addresses the many packages. But he's amped. He's ready to give it a go.

And I'm beaming for him. The first time Sage set out to make money he was four. He borrowed a cheese grater and a few scrap bars of my soap. He made "sachets" and sold them at farmer's market. He had $24 in his pocket in two hours. At four. Knowing that money flows effortlessly into our hands is a gift. Sage has that gift. And I feel honored to learn this lesson right along side him.

To be paid to do what we love. Isn't this what we all desire, and what some have joyfully achieved?

Life is fair. Life is magical. What are you manifesting?

The Meditation of Making.

Sometimes the busier things get the more I need to nudge myself into the quiet space of handcrafting. I love to make things. It quiets my mind fully, in a way that others find through yoga or meditation. Knitting. Sewing. Doll-making... it is my meditation.

I opened myself up to a few custom orders for my Waldorf toddler dolls last week on my Facebook page, so this week each evening I find myself with needle and thread, bringing dolls to life. Six sweet babies, being made for six sweet children for holiday gifts.

Such fun.

Oh yes, I love the simple work of making something magical form from fabric and thread.

What about you? What is your meditation these days?

 

Will you Vote for LuSa?

We just discovered that we are in a final run-off for Best of Mothering 2012 Baby Care for our Booty Balm. Would you take a moment to vote for us? As a very small company this award would be a huge blessing.

You can vote here and you can also add product reviews as a bonus. (Reviews are important as they tip the final outcome.) You will need to Mothering log-in to vote, using either a Mothering.com log-in or a Facebook account, but setting up a new account is fast. I promise.

Thank you so much for taking the time to do this. It means a lot to me.

Love,
Rachel

 

Safe Co-sleeping is Good for You and Your Baby.

Last night as I lay down to sleep I placed my hand on the hot belly of my five-year-old, beside me in our big bed. She has a fever. At bedtime I had tucked her in bed beside me without even considering laying her elsewhere. Put her down the hall to sleep alone through the ups-and-downs of a feverish sleep? No way. She's by my side. I can't imagine it any other way.

We've co-slept since the first night with our first child. We did it safely and I can't imagine mothering any other way. It's like breastfeeding and baby-wearing. I can't comprehend how we could have parented with as much grace, ease, and connection as we did without these simple tools.

Co-sleeping can be done safely. Let me say that again: co-sleeping can be done safely. In fact, when done properly your bed can be a safer place to sleep than a crib according to some studies. Dr. Sears notes, "...one independent researcher examined the CPSC's data and came to the...conclusion that sleeping with your baby is actually SAFER than not sleeping with your baby (see Mothering Magazine Sept/Oct 2002)."

Yes, despite what you have heard, co-sleeping offers many benefits both mother and child.

My point is this: educate yourself, and then find what works for your family. Fear is no replacement for education, so do some reading and then make your own educated choice. Both you and your baby deserve as much.

There are two wonderful websites I encourage you to visit as you embark on bed-sharing for the first time. Dr. Sears lays out the guidelines (as well as the facts about how safe it really is to co-sleep) in this fabulous post (note that the co-sleeper is optional). Also Dr. McKenna at Notre Dame has years of data as to how mother and child share sleep to the benefit of both on this site as well as the basics of doing it safely. No, falling asleep together on the couch is not co-sleeping. Nor is it safe. But tucking in beside your child in an appropriate bed is, if you do it right. And it's easy to do it right.

Indeed, mothers (and fathers) have bed-shared with their infants and children since the beginning of time. It's only natural. You are not an inherient danger to your baby. Learn the basics of safe sleep-sharing.

Below is a reflection on co-sleeping that I wrote last year. Enjoy.

Love,
Rachel

We co-slept with both of our kids until they decided they were each ready to move out into their own room. Now most evenings Pete and I enjoy having our own bed to stretch out in. That space feels luxurious to us these days. By morning we are sometimes still two, often three, and occasionally four (or even just one), depending on what if any night-time parenting was required before sunrise. There is flex and flow in our sleeping world.

Last night Sage decided to fall asleep in the "Big Bed". (The Big Bed is Pete's and my bed. We casually decided not to call it "our" bed because all of us are welcome there and we want the kids to know that just because they have their own rooms doesn't mean that aren't welcome in ours.) When I crawled in to go to sleep, there was my little boy, all legs and arms sprawled out across the covers.

In the darkness I snuggled in beside him and was stunned by how far his legs reached out from his torso; how grown-up the tempo of his breathing; how Big he has become. In that moment I traveled in time to a yellow house in Baraboo to a tiny boy just hours old (born one floor below) asleep beside me in the moonlight. That night my eyes were wide-open and awe-filled as I watched this tiny person sleep. Perfection in physical form. Smiles flickering across his baby face, eyes darting beneath sleeping lids.

As those early weeks and months of parenthood unfolded, night was not the sanctuary of peace I had anticipated. Sleep was broken, and tears were shed nightly by one or more of us. It was hard. Harder than anything I had imagined. But I held him and danced him and nursed him and did countless deep-knee-bends throughout the night. And he would fall back to sleep, over and over and each morning we would wake together and begin our day.

He was so small. So open. So dialed in to my every vibration and emotion and to those of our house, our community, our planet. I know - heavy, right? But Sage is an tapped-in child. And he feels everything. So many of the children being born today are. And because of that I saw no other option than to keep him by my side, close and safe. His crib down the hall stayed empty and unused until we packed it up and gave it back to its original owner. He told me (as best as he could) to keep him close. So I did.

All babies wake at night.

As parents how we respond to these wakings (or don't) determines if our babies will trust us to be present for them in the night. Our action or inaction determines if they will continue to reach out to us when they are in need. If not they aren't sleeping through - they just know not to ask us to help them.

I chose to have both of my kids know that I was there and I was their mama, no matter what the clock said.

And now? He sleeps. She sleeps. We all sleep. For those of you who read this through bleary sleep-deprived eyes, up throughout the long, tear-filled nights, know that this too shall pass. Hold them and kiss them and nurse them and comfort them. And then - like magic - one day you'll wake to discover that it's morning and you've done nothing but sleep since you laid your head down in the sweet darkness.

And while you won't likely miss all of those wakings, you might just miss the sight of their tiny perfectness lying in the moonlight beside you, peacefully dreaming.

Welcome, Olive.

Could anything be sweeter? Introducing our new addition. She's a three months old springer spaniel. And her name is Olive. Or, if you ask Lupine her name is Olive Mariposa Bella Lily Wolf. And we are absolutely-head-over-heels-crazy-full-on-in-love with this girl.

Pete brought her home late Monday night. She was nervous, unsure of what to think of this first trip away from her old family. But by mid-morning yesterday she had adjusted and her little tail has hardly stopped wagging.

Welcome, little Olive. We love you so.

A Lantern Walk.

November. Where I live it's dark out long before we've cleared the dinner dishes. And we've still another month to go before the days are at their shortest and the light slowly returns. This season most evenings are quietly spent indoors - with books, toys, knitting, and conversation. This shift feels natural to me. Healthy even.

But we still do venture out.

Last night the we enjoyed a fall lantern walk with dear friends. The children enjoyed the freedom and responsibility of carrying the lanterns with lit candles, and we explored a bit in the darkness of November.

I shared how we made the lanterns here with a variation using glass jars over here. (Just add a wire loop for a handle in the second post.) Or use what you have on hand in your candle collection. Just be sure to have something that blocks the wind, and pop a box of matches and a few extra votives in your pocket, just in case.

I hope you are inspired and make some to take out with your little ones. This is an activity that is much bigger than its parts. It borders on magical in my eyes. So go out and shine your lanters into the November Night. You are, after all, a glimmering spark in the darkness.

P.S. If you are looking for more lantern walk inspiration, Google "Martinmas Waldorf Festival" and you should find some good leads.

How We Celebrated.

She wanted to see sharks for her birthday. To go to an aquarium. So we packed up and headed to the Twin Cities for three days of swimming, adventuring, and city exploring. I hung her birthday banner across our hotel room and cooked her favorite breakfast in a slow cooker by the sink. We went to the zoo, had Ethiopian food, and enjoyed the contrast that the city provides to our quiet everyday. We had a blast.

The day after we returned home three of her "fanciest" friends came over for a small, simple party. We dyed playsilks together and for party favors the children took them home along with glass jars of homemade play dough, the recipe to make more, and the thrift-store fancy tea cups that Lupine had picked out for each girl.

It was lovely. (And I can't say enough about the small guest list. Three is a great number of guests - for a four-year-old or a forty-year-old.)

As for my bold and straghtforward gift requests (talked about here), I'm so happy I mustered the courage to ask. The things she received were perfect and will be enjoyed for a long time. Glitter, sequins, and ribbons from one friend, a handmade bracelet from another, and the girl who brought Lupine a Barbie doll last year (when I did not muster the courage to ask for specific gifts) brought her a bag of crafty treasures from her own collections - feathers, pipe cleaners, glitter glue, stickers, and all kinds of other magic. Perfect.

And today? We will rest. It's been a joy-filled and busy week.

Happy Birthday, Baby Bluebird.

When I was pregnant we called her "Baby Bluebird". Lupine Bluebird. My second born. My girl. Born at the right time to reap the rewards of all that we learned so far. Born at home, like her brother, but into a much different world.

Born to a more confident mother.

A more experienced mother. 

A mother free of the worry that had clouded and haunted her first steps into motherhood.

Born to a mom and dad who were ready to embrace life as four, rather than worried that they might get it wrong.

During my pregnancy Lupine was a glowing, swirling, ball of light in my belly. Happiness incarnate, shining out from inside of me. Magical in every way. Pure joy! Reflecting back, I remember that time so clearly now...

We had just moved. I was very pregnant and our house was very... wallpapered. We stripped paper and painted and stripped paper and painted some more. My due date came and went. A week. Still painting. Just a few. More. Rooms.

We had taken on a house-mate for the season, the brother of a friend. Caleb, in need of a place to stay and us, new to Viroqua feeling very open and full of community spirit. So we took him in. The fact that I was planning a homebirth with someone else living in my house didn't phase me a bit for some reason. He was (and is) a great cook and was a welcome addition for the time (and he made the best peanut butter cookies I had ever tasted).

Caleb said to Pete one night (long after my due date had quietly passed), "It's time to put away the to-do list. It will never be done, so call it done enough. Let this baby come."

I took his words to heart. We finished painting one more room while I mulled over the wisdom of what he had said. And then on November 9th I put Sage to bed, still thinking over what he had told us. "Okay," I thought. "It's done enough."

And into the darkness of Sage's bedroom I said softly aloud, "Okay, Baby Bluebird. We're ready for you now. You can come when ever you're ready."

A moment later I added in my head, "And Caleb, I could really use some peanut butter cookies."

Sage was asleep. I extracted 9 month-and-ten-days pregnant body from his bed and headed towards the kitchen. As I walked into the room Caleb, standing at the counter, turned to face me. "I'm making peanut butter cookies," he said. "Want some?"

I smiled. "Of course you are and of yes I do. And if you heard that request shot out into the universe, I think I'm having a baby tonight."

Two hours later my labor began.

As the first light broke the following morning and the first snowfall of the year began to fall, Lupine was ready. She was born before the warm fire in our family room into the warm and welcoming waters of our birth pool and the warm and loving arms of Family. As we birthed I felt all the stars in the universe streaming in through my crown, down through my core, and into her. Like a endless wide river. Her soul came in as she came out. It was peaceful, magical, and unforgettable.

Five years ago. Five magical years.

I love you Lupine Bluebird Wolf. You are magic. You are determination. You are joy and laughter and stardust. You are my girl. Thank you for choosing me to be your mama. Happy birthday, Baby Bluebird.

P.S. Thanks you to Gretchen, Erin, Pete, and Ina for the blessing you brought that snowing day. And to Caleb for the perfectly timed cookies and good advice. Love to all.