Clean.

The best projects come without instructions.

Sometimes the best days are spent without guidance, instructions, or a destination. With just a fist-full of craft supplies, an open mind, and a glad heart.

This is where creativity blossoms.

Sunday was spent with markers, craft sticks, and a batch of homemade playdough in some of the most creative work we've done in a while. "Popsicle Town" was born. Every one of us ended up joining in the fun. (Yes, in our pajamas until noon.)

Oh, I do love days like this.

More Peaceful Parenting Step 7. Play!

Thank you for receiving my flaws with open arms yesterday. Because, yes, I'm human. Just like you. And yes, sometimes I'm too serious. Sometimes I get all bound up in the minutia of this-very-minute and suck the joy out of our entire day.

And you saw me and you accepted me with my flaws. For that I am so grateful.

It all leads so perfectly into Step 7 today. Play. Are you ready? I am.

I want to start by reminding you to revisit step 1 in this journey every day.

It is the foundation that the other steps are built upon, and without it the rest of these steps will fall apart. Put on your oxygen mask first, if you will. Take care of you to make space to take care of the rest of your crew.

It is also worth stating this: you will never get there. That may be discouraging, but it isn't meant to be. It's meant to free you for the expectation to "arrive". To get it right every day, every time.

As I shared yesterday, it will never be perfect. It will never be "done".

You will never be perfect and neither will they.

Every moment of every day will not be seamless. There will be tears. There will be shouting. (Ahem.) There will be tantrums. There will be those hell-in-a-hand-basket parenting moments where we reflect with disbelief that we really actually said that or did that.

We are flawed. And we always will be. And now you know. (But I suspect you already did.)

That being said, perfect is not the destination. Joy is the destination.

Joy. Fun. Laughter. Play.

Together.

See how much you can enjoy this journey. Because that's really the point. Because once we get there it's over.

So with that, today I am simply reminding you to be playful. To put aside your to-do list sometimes and roll around in the leaves with your kids. To crank the Beastie Boys and have a dance party in your kitchen with your family. To stick a slice of pepperoni to your cheek and pretend you don't know why your kids are laughing/grossing out.

That kind of business. You have your own style, so run with it.

With that in mind, I'm out of here. We're leaving the laundry on the couch (half-folded) and going letterboxing in the rain. Because, why not? Today is all we've got.

Love,
Rachel

P.S. Here is are the other steps in the series, in case you missed one.

More Peaceful Parenting Step 1. Forgive, Accept, and Love Yourself.

More Peaceful Parenting Step 2. Identify the Need.

More Peaceful Parenting Step 3. Validate.

More Peaceful Parenting Step 4. Creating a Yes Environment.

More Peaceful Parenting Step 5. Your Mission Statement.

More Peaceful parenting Step 6. Just Listen.

 

Joyful work.

 

Confession:

Despite my best intentions, I sometimes lose my cool when it comes to getting my children to participate in the running of our home.

Our journey to end entitlement with peaceful parenting strategies is off to a solid start, but sometimes I misplace my peaceful mojo.

I've gotten frustrated on more than one occasion with the grumbles that inevitably come when it's time to dig in and do the work of our life. Sometimes I'm just done with all of the complaining. It's true. And sometimes I freak out about it a little bit. A mama tantrum.

This was the case a few days ago.

There was the obligatory grumble when I announced it was time to get some work done. I lost it a little. I yelled. (Or I passionately expressed my need, you could say.) And then I cooled off and apologized. We regrouped.

The kids (the one who was complaining included) ended up getting jazzed about the jobs they had to complete and did the work beautifully. They took pride in their work and even accomplished the task above and beyond my expectations.

The next day followed a similar pattern. Time for chores leads to grumbling, minor mama-tantrum, hard-working kids, mama apology, pride in work and taking it above and beyond the request.

It's interesting.

Now I want to figure out how to consistently skip the part where I freak out. (It isn't my norm, but I've been feeling frusterated this week. It's just where I'm at in this moment.)

And then, despite my best efforts at sucking the joy out of work, a magical thing happened.

Two nights ago the kids fell asleep formulating a "secret plan". The plan involved me taking them to the coop in the morning, and also Pete and I being banished from the kitchen for most of the day. By morning the kids were (in secret) laying in bed with "How to Cook Everything" and my tattered copy of "The Joy of Cooking". They asked for a bit of help modifying recipes for how we eat, and then they ran with it.

They chose a menu.

They made a list.

They did the shopping.

And then I was shut out of the kitchen, silks suspended across the doorways and blindfolds ready in case I needed to come in.

With Sage at the helm they cooked all day. They set a beautiful table with a vintage cloth and some place mats, there was a centerpiece and fancy serving bowls. Candles were lit. Even dishes were washed. (All the prep dishes. Washed before dinner. I don't think I've even ever pulled that off.)

The menu included paleo/grain free biscuits and gravy, seasoned sauteed green beans with sage and oregano, and strawberry ice cream with fresh whipped cream.

It was amazing.

As we lingered in by candlelight around the table, Sage announced "Oh, my feet hurt from all that standing in the kitchen!"

And then he smiled a big, proud, satisfied smile.

And I thought to myself, hm. Maybe I just need to get out of their way.

xo
Rachel

The lesson of enough.

We spent much of last weekend in the basement, sifting through the detritus of the past six years of our life.

Before this house, we had this odd habit of moving to a new place every three years. (I can't explain it.) Pete and I have lived together since 1995 and like clockwork, every three years we moved.

But we've been here since before Lupine was born. And despite my best efforts at simplicity, there are pockets of chaos we've never quite dug to the bottom of. 

So this weekend we had at it.

We dumped out boxes of junk that we've had stashed in the back of closets. We said goodbye to games, books, toys, clothes, shoes, coats, and treasures. We simplified. In a big way. In a big heaping pickup truck full sort of way.

And then we paused.

We all caught our breath, and the four of us scattered to different quiet corners of our home.

Pete headed out to the garage and got to work on a hand-hewn hunting bow he's making.

Sage went to the work table and completed a model airplane that he began earlier this year.

Lupine sat beside me in the sewing room cutting and stitching gifts for her friends.

And I started a quilt.

A quilt for Sage.

After all of that letting go each of us gravitated to the work of creating. I think there is safety in the making when you've just let go of so much.

Ironically, before I began the quilt (and after all of that purging) I found myself on-line, shopping.

For fabric.

My fabric stash is not huge and I wanted this quilt to be just right. So I decided to buy yards of white cotton and dye them the loveliest shades of green, brown, grey, and eggplant (for Sage). Then I thought I'd eventually make one for Lupine using the grey as well, but with blue, lavender, and sage green.

I had this vision in my head as I filled an on-line cart with supplies for my projects. I was stoked.

And then I saw the total ($356 before shipping and without batting). I choked, shook my head, and woke up (so to speak). I realized that - of course - I had all that I needed. I'm glad I came to before I brought more stuff into our world.

I think we sometimes paint a picture of perfection that is not only unnecessary but also feeds our desire for more, better, newer. Because - in the spirit of the generations before us - if we just look around and take stock of what we have, we probably have what we were going to buy already. It might not be perfect, but it will serve us. Often better than buying new simply for the economy and ethics of using what we've got.

And quilting of course was created to use of those odd small bits of fabric. The concept of buying new (perfect! matching!) fabric to quilt with is a modern one. So I decided to quilt like my great-grandmother did. With what I had.

I'm using the method outlined in this book and not being fussy with measuring anything. (I'm a wonky girl.) It's off to a solid start and Sage is beside himself about it.

The desire for more or new or better is what gets us buried under these mountains of things anyway. And here I was, recreating that story once more. 

Lesson learned.

P.S. At the risk of growing even wordier, there is one special fabric I'm using for the quilt. See that brown and green and golden fabric on the bottom? Yeah. That's Sage's baby sling. (Seen in the last photo here.) I choked up a little when I included the first piece. Oh, my. We had a good run of years together in that sling. <3

Viroqua Harvest Parade.

Even rain couldn't dampen this day.

Thank you, Viroqua. For being so freaking fabulous.

I can't imagine being anywhere else.

Simple sewing.

I have been neglecting my sewing machine lately.

It lives in my basement these days, so it's not the most inspiring place to visit when the leaves are turning and there's something warm simmering away in the kitchen.

Also I dug into a project that is a bit more than I can handle. (Okay, it's not. I'm just ignoring the shear scope of the task.) I decided to sew new box cushions for our camper. Our camper which - when we move to the country - will serve as an adorable little guest house. But only if I sew the darn cushions. So for now the cushions and loads of laminated cotton are strewn about my sewing room.

(Did you hear that? I said something about moving to the country. The dream is alive, dear friends!) Edited to say: don't get too excited. Nothing concrete, just dreaming and working and manifesting in that direction. I'll surely keep you posted...

So in the midst of all of my people falling to the flu of one sort or another for the whole of this week, I carved out time to throw together a new purse for myself while Sage and Lupine were reading and Pete was sleeping off this bug.

I love this pattern.

It takes longer to cut out than it does to sew, and it doesn't take long to cut out. Seven pieces plus a zipper if you wish. Fabric-wise it takes a single fat quarter plus less for the lining.

Just like the last ones I made (oh! here's another one!), I assemble the whole thing like my zip bag tutorial. Ideally I would have added topstitching on the zipper like I did last time, but I was hustling and forgot. I did add a bit of iron-on interfacing to the handle this time because after a year of daily use the yellow one got pretty gnarly.

As for inspiring other girlie sewing, I am contemplating this book. Hoping it has some solid boy patterns in it too.

Have any of you sewed from this? Intrigued by the mad ruffles and such.

Love,

Rachel