Clean.

On the cusp of grown

Perhaps if I had kept having babies I wouldn't be so bittersweetly aware of how you have grown. 

Distracted with little ones, I might not notice how your body moves through space differently these days, how you nearly match me in height and strength and size.

But I'm certain that I would.

 

Perhaps if you went to school this transition into bigness would be more subtle.

Apart each day, I might not notice you exploring the edges where childhood and adulthood mingle. 

But I'm sure that with more time apart that awareness would only be stronger.

 

Or perhaps if I were more distracted with work and life it would be easier to miss this unfolding.

And I might not ache so deeply as I bear witness to your growing up. 

But with more time in different worlds I'd surely find even more reasons to grieve.

 

But grief is the wrong word, really. Isn't it? Because it's not grief at all at the heart of this longing. It is love that we find at it's core.

A love that I never knew existed until I became a mother those fourteen years ago. It changed me in ways I never expected. And for that I am always grateful.

It is a love that transformed me from woman into mother. A love so immense it's almost disorienting. A love that tears us down, then rebuilds us again with a new sense purpose, of our power to change the world, and a radically different sense of self. 

So mostly what I feel as I watch you become is love. So much love that my heart could burst, as I stand by watching the years spiral around us as you transform before my eyes.

And suddenly, today, you are fourteen.

So I will whisper a prayer that you linger a moment longer in this slow childhood of yours; the only childhood you have ever known. There's never been a reason for you to rush, and for that I am so grateful. I watch as you stand with one foot in each world, part boy and part man.

Linger here. 

And as you do I will continue doing the only thing I've ever really know how to do as a mother: love you, enjoy you, marvel at who you've become, savor the moments we still get to share.

And continue to be thankful for walking beside you along this beautiful path toward adulthood.

 

Happy Birthday, Sage. I'm honored and humbled to have you call me your mama. 

You have taught me more than you may ever know. 

 

Love,
Mama

 

Elimination Communication (or: the best crazy idea ever)

*This blog post is approximately 9 years overdue. My apologies.

When Sage was a toddler I heard about this crazy idea where people keep their babies "diaper-free".

Instead of checking for a wet or dirty diaper they put their babe over the toilet instead, made a silly "pssssh, psssh, psssh" sound and their baby pees. (Or poops.) In the toilet.

I was one part skeptical and one part awe-struck by the concept. 

I tried it half-heartedly with my walking, talking toddler who proceeded to look at me like I was nuts, then continue to pee and poop in his diaper with prefect predictability. 

He was too old. I had missed my window.

(Also, I had no idea what I was doing.)

 

Fast forward a few years and I was expecting my second child. A dear friend called me (one who had also half-heartedly plunked a toddler on a toilet with great hopes that went unrealized.) She insisted that I buy the diaper-free book we had both heard about so that I didn't miss my window again.

She was amazingly persistent and finally I caved. 

Pete and I devoured the book in a matter of days. We were awe-struck once more.

The concept was simple, natural, and rooted deep in our history as a species. That wasn't some newfangled baby-training technique. This was the way it was always done. We had just forgotten how to listen.

The concept is that all babies cue their needs - be it for sleep, to nurse, to be held, or to pee and poop not in their britches.

By observing our parents and friends and neighbors and siblings we learned early on the basics of baby speak. But the potty communication was lost along the way.

If we only re-learn how to listen we will revive this ancient wisdom and (get this) know when our babies need to visit the loo before they soil their pants.

Cool/crazy? I thought so. 

Elimination Communication breaks down to four simple tools:

1. Watching your baby for "I have to pee/poop" cues
2. Offering your baby a cue and an opportunity to use the potty ("psssh, psssh, psssh" while you hold them over the potty, for example)
3. Paying attention to timing (as in: hmm... he always pees when he wakes from his nap)
4. Listening to your intuition 

We were inspired. Pete said, "Now that we know about this we have to at least try. It's like knowing about the benefits of breastfeeding and not even giving it a shot." 

I agreed wholeheartedly.

So yes, we bought diapers for our baby, but we also stashed baby potties in several rooms in anticipation of ditching the diapers altogether. 

Game on.

After Lupine was born we decided to wait until she was a few of weeks old before we even tried, to get a feel for her communication around the subject. I spent a good deal of time looking at her face and body, then sticking my finger in her diaper to see if it was wet. (Be honest, ya'll. If you have kids you've stuck your finger in many a diaper.) 

Finally I was ready. 

When Lupine was just three weeks old I saw something in her body language that told me she had to go to the bathroom. I nervously removed her diaper and awkwardly held her over the little red potty we had at the ready by our bedside so that she could (maybe? possibly? probably not.) pee.

I held her gently by the thighs, her back against my sternum, hoping all the while that she didn't faceplant on the mattress mid-pee.

Psssh, psssh, psssh.

And? She peed. I caught my first pee! (Weirdly thrilling, I must admit.)

And then - just a second later - she pooped. 

She pooped like she'd been waiting for me to put her over that potty for the better part of the morning. Epic, dramatic baby poop. Right into the potty. 

And then, not missing a beat, she looked over he tiny little pink shoulder at me, looked me square in the eyes and smiled. A huge mouth-open, sparkly-eyed "you finally caught on!" smile. 

My mind was blown.  

Aside from a couple of accidents, she never pooped in a diaper again. Three weeks old, ya'll. 

Three weeks.

We still missed plenty of pees and she wore cloth diapers (without a cover) most days. (Technically "diaper-free", but dang close enough in my book.) But she was done with poop in her diaper after that first time on the potty. After the first go! I'd call that an epic win.

And I sold her yet-to-be-pooped-in cloth diapers long before her second birthday - without every having to deal with a single blow-out, without washing a single load of poopy diapers, and yes, without the stress of potty training.

 

Elimination Communication is simply listening to your baby in a new (old) way.

Just as you can tell the difference between a tired cry and a hungry cry, there are also cues that babies consistently give for needing to pee or needing to poop. It's just as a culture we have forgotten how to read them.

Practicing EC means re-learing these lost skills.

And once you learn them you can never unlearn them.

Just like your milk lets down when you hear a stranger's baby crying at the grocery store, once you've done EC you can see babies cueing everywhere.

I was at the park with my mom when Lupine was five. I saw a toddler who was cuing. ("She has to poop." I whispered to my mom.) Five minutes later her grandmother scooped her up and gave her butt as sniff. "You need a clean diaper, little one!" she said. My mom chuckled. 

Another time Pete and I were watching a home movie of (then baby) Sage. He was sitting in front of our refrigerator, moving magnets around.

Without even turning toward the camera, we saw his body language shift.

Pete and I (watching the video) both cried out, "He has to pee!"

Me in the video: "Blah, blah, blah, you're playing with the magnets! Blah, blah, blah." (Oblivious.)

Sage continued to play with the magnets, then stopped and turned to face us. Poop face. Full on. 

Me in the video: "Are you pooping?" (Day late and a dollar short, lady.) 

Pete and I, watching the video couldn't stop laughing. We caught a poop, just six years behind schedule. 

 

Once you see it you can't stop seeing it. That's what I'm talking about.

Even my mom got in on it, despite initially thinking we were nuts for trying. We were at a gathering and she was holding Lupine, then just a few months old. Lupine cued and my mom noticed (I did not). She quietly stood up and walked outside. When she returned she was beaming. "I caught my first pee!". 

And it wouldn't be the last.

While EC looks like a bit more work in the moment, for us it wasn't. Because slipping a diaper off of a baby to help them use the potty doesn't take more time that cleaning up a poopy bum.

And the satisfaction of this degree of communication with our baby was an unexpected, rewarding bonus. 

As weird as that might seem.

 

Interested in learning more?

While EC is not for everyone, for us it was a game-changer. You can learn more at Diaper Free Baby and from the book we used, Diaper Free. 

 

The gift of a meal wheel

 

I recently organized a meal wheel for a faraway friend in need. A difficult birth and some time in the hospital, she really needed some love. 

A "meal wheel" is simply a succession of friends and neighbors bringing meals to a family in need. It took me only five minutes to set up online, then I shared it with her family and friends.

Within a couple of days she had 2 1/2 weeks worth of meals lined up to ease their transition. 

What a small, simple gift to provide for a new family that can change so much. 

When Lupine was born we were strangers to nearly everyone in our small town.

We had lived here for just six weeks, and knew only a handful of people. And then the phone rang. It was the one acquaintance we knew here from before our move. (A woman who had moved here less than a year before us.)

"Is anyone doing your meal wheel yet?" she asked.

Our what?

"Your meal wheel. I'll organize it for you," she offered. 

 

While we didn't really know what it was all about, we got the gist: people would be bringing us dinner every evening after our baby arrived. Never mind the fact that we really didn't know anyone here yet. That didn't seem to matter.

And it didn't.

 

Night after night strangers arrived at our door, carrying meals. Not just main-dish entrees. Meals.

Amazing, magical, delicious meals. Like baked salmon. Fresh salads. Pasta with bacon, spinach, and cream sauce. Kombucha, wine and beer. Dessert. And cards with phone numbers and welcome notes drawing us into this new community.

They just kept coming, night after night. For nearly a month.

Three and a half weeks later we were ready to start cooking for ourselves and our meal wheel had run its course. It was the most amazing welcome I have ever experienced.

If we were having a baby today, most of those same people would be on our meal wheel again. Next week we are bringing a meal to a neighbor who just welcomed their new little one into their arms. And recently a meal wheel organized for an older woman in town who was navigating some health issues.

Just today I received an email from a friend-of-a-friend who participated in a meal wheel I organized a month ago and now has started one of her own to help an injured loved one.

Below is an email I recently sent out as I organized a Meal Wheel in a community where it is not a familiar concept. I made a few edits to make it more universal. Feel free to copy and paste this into your own email:

What is a Meal Wheel?
A meal wheel is a rotation of friends and family delivering a complete dinner, hot and ready to eat to a family who needs a little extra help. When a new baby comes, the Meal Wheel really allows the family to focus on the important work of getting to know their new little one, get into the nursing and napping groove, and relax. As a longtime friend of <my friend's name> I wanted to share this priceless gift with her and her growing family. It was the most valuable gift we received when or last child was born.

How it Works
Participants sign up for a specific night. You arrive with a complete, hot meal at their door around 5:30, stealth into their kitchen, and leave it on the table. <This is one way to do it. Other families will not be comfortable with this and will prefer a traditional ring-the-doorbell approach.>This is not your "meet the baby" visit unless the new parents are inspired. It is really just a quick, quiet delivery and fast exit. This is their time to snuggle in and meet their new little one rather than socialize. That will come later!

Who Can Do It
Friends, neighbors, family, coworkers, colleagues, acquaintances, friends-of-friends... anyone. You get the idea (tell everyone!). Please pass this email onto others who you think would consider participating. We'd love to fill up three to four weeks of dinners for them.

Sign Up!
To sign up for to bring a meal, simply visit this website and add your name to the calendar! [There are some wonderful websites that make organizing a meal wheel simple as can be. I use Meal Train.]

The Meal
Deliver your dinner between <family's preference times, ex: 5:15 and 5:30 pm> ready to eat at <address here>. Enter the house quietly and leave the meal on the kitchen table. Especially in the first few days, Mama and baby will likely be resting. Label your dishes with your name and phone number to make returns easier.

That's it! Many thanks for participating and passing this invitation along. Thanks so much!
<Your Name>

Growing up LuSa

Somewhere in my barn is a big plastic tub of full of Sage's baby pictures.

And buried toward the bottom is a picture of a two-year old "Baby Sage" (as we called him). In the photograph he is sitting in a dishpan full of water in the kitchen sink - sparkling eyes, a beaming smile, and blonde curls winging wildly off his head in all directions.

It's the picture that I carefully packed in an envelope and sent to an illustrator when I needed a logo for a small business I was dreaming of. That picture is my LüSa Organics Baby and Kids logo.

(It's enough of a spot-on rendering that Pete once found that dishpan photo and not knowing I had sent it to the artist years before said, "This looks exactly like our baby label!")

And I wonder sometimes what it's like growing up LüSa. Not just in the bathroom or the diaper bag but everyday - in every way.

The scent memories of being wrapped in this world from birth to adulthood must be profound.

Sage, the boy for whom I invented Booty Balm. Lupine, the one whose (late) labor I brought on by hauling bags of organic sugar around the soap studio, making scrubs.

Both of their lives tangled up in the scent of lavender, peppermint, and patchouli from the start. 

I remember growing up in the Bee Man, my dad's home-based business.

I remember the phone ringing during dinnertime. We'd all look at mom, and she'd give him the "don't you dare answer that - it's dinner time" face.

I remember my first job, standing beside a chest freezer in the garage, tearing open frozen bald faced hornets nests and using tweezers to extract the insects. (Really.) I'd drop them into a bag, then back into the freezer, working fast to keep them from thawing. (My dad shipped them off to a medical laboratory that used their venom to make medicine.) 

But my life growing up was more compartmentalized. 

Work, school, home.

For my kids it's all a jumble.

Our life defies compartments.

We hand milk our goat together, then lug the milk to LüSa for goat milk soap. We drive to Madison to meet my parents, but rendezvous with a grassfed beef farmer in the parking lot along the way to source sustainably raised tallow. We stop at a friend's organic farm on the way home from lessons to check on the calendula we'll be infusing for balms. We forage goldenrod and violet leaf in the morning together before I head to work to make infusions.

Lupine delights in helping. Foraging plants, blending scents, dreaming up new products. It's her playground. 

Sage earns money for projects by helping at LüSa as well. Labeling, cleaning up, helping me engineer solutions to problems like "how can we drill out twenty mason jar lids (or essential oil diffuser ornaments) with consistent hole placement all at one time?"

At least once a week the kids go with me to work. And even when they don't I bound to return home with sweetly scented treasures in my pockets and bag, products for them to test out and give me their feedback. 

And when we do go to work together the scent of our life and our livelihood greets us at the door.

And I wonder... when I am old and gone and my children are grown with lives of their own, will they catch the scent of lavender in the air and be transported back to this moment?

I hope so.

It's a fine place to be.

Just for fun, please enjoy a free gift with every LüSa Organics order you place this weekend. Just add a comment to your order of "good Clean fun" and I'll add a little something extra. 

Our Autumn Treasure Box is nearly sold out, so if that's what you're after don't wait! There are only two dozen left and they ship out next week. (And it's a good one. I promise!) Get a free tote bag with every annual Treasure Box Subscription by adding a note of "ATB=Tote" to your order.

Oh, and "Kindness is Contagious" t-shirts are full on restocked. Grab them in any size you need. We love these. I'll add a free 2 oz (travel-sized) soap sample with every shirt you order this week.

Seven (August) things

This week I'm feeling spread so thin.

August is like that.

It's filled to capacity with things that demand our attention, then it spills out onto the floor and makes a mess of things. 

When I zoom in close and study the minutia (which I am prone to) it constantly feels like things are falling apart. Sick animals, down fences, too much rain, a to-do list longer than my forearm. Etc., etc.

It's only when I zoom out do I realize how fortunate we truly are. Fed, safe, and together. Day after day after day.

No, it's not constant bliss. But I don't think it's not meant to be.

It's meant to be real and juicy and messy. It's meant to constantly challenge you to rearrange your priorities and rethink the path you are on. The truth is in the big picture we're 90% happy. Life is 90% on track. We're 90% love, not 90% chaos. 

That's our greater truth. The other stuff is just the day-to-day of August. A bump along the road to Autumn. 

 

So I'm focusing on all that is falling into place, despite things that feel like they are coming apart.

And I'm revisiting that fine habit of taking stock of what's good, instead of only seeing what's a mess.

 

Here's what I'm grateful for this morning: 

1. A child who, on the cusp of 14, has rolled with a complete gutting of his birthday celebration plans on account of some farm troubles that were beyond our control. This kid is demonstrating more grace that I thought possible. And I am so grateful.

2. Waking early every day this week and carving out a bit of space to write and to find myself again, alone in the quiet of the morning.

3. Launching the sixth LüSa Treasure Box and submitting my third Taproot article next week, and feeling so thankful to get to spend my days doing what I love. 

4. Loading up Nellie (our old camper) for a few days on the road with my peeps. It's just what we need right now, and despite the change in plans we're so ready.

5. Foraging dyestuffs and dying my own wool. It's a small, quiet pleasure that I'm getting such satisfaction from these days. I'm not sure how many skeins of yellow wool one person actually needs, but I'll find out soon.

6. The sounds of sandhill cranes that I woke to this morning as they flew up the valley in the mist.

7. 60 F. (The temperature when I woke this morning.) Autumn is coming! I am so ready.

 

What's on your short list today, friends?  

 

How to spot a flash flood in the Driftless

Wanting to determine if there's been a flash flood while you were sleeping?

Follow these five easy steps to know for sure.  

 

1. Check sheep pastures for trout.

2. Look along the creekside high water or any subtle signs of high water the night before. (Look for a few blades of grass bent down along the water's edge.)

3. Walk fence lines looking for any small sticks, bit of grass, or debris. 

4. Walk along the creek. Are you swimming (or at the very least wading through muck)?

5. Look for more fish in the grass.

If you answered "yes" to three or more of these questions, you've had a flood! 

And with that, we're off to mend some fences and count some sheep. Who probably could use a shampooing.

 

Stay dry, friends!

Love,
Rachel

 

(All of this said playfully of course, and with our hearts in Louisiana. Yes, we had a flood last night, but it's nothing compared to the destruction our friends to the south are navigating. Stay safe, everyone.)