Yellow Ladybird

Today was another beautiful day. I felt the pull to be outside all day, as though I’ve been severely deprived of warm sunny days for a long time and am fearful they will disappear again. Hmm.

Also, I am becoming slightly obsessed with the space that can no longer be called “apple tree clutter”. The more I clear, the more the vision evolves; it now includes a “nature playground” with tree stumps, a log balance beam, a rope or tire swing, some sort of monkey bar thing from one tree to another, and most definitely a mud kitchen. I have to remember to pace myself… this should all happen over the space of years, not days.

But I wasn’t going to write about the apple tree clutter space, or even the garden, today. I was going to write about a rare moment of doing nothing.

In the late afternoon, pretty much as soon as Dave got home from work, the fatigue of having been outside and busy all day caught up with me. Or perhaps that is when I allowed myself to acknowledge it. So I decided to take a minute to myself in the hammock. It was blissful… slowly rocking, blue sky through the green pine branches, birds chirping their early evening songs. I would have fallen asleep, except that it really was only a minute because that is how long it took the kids to realize I had escaped, come find me, and climb into the hammock with (on top of) me.

Hanging out in the hammock with three kids squirming and kicking and trying to get comfortable is not relaxing – there are a lot of feet in the face – but it was pleasant. That time (the minute without the kids and the minutes with the kids) was a good reminder to slow down and enjoy the season… in addition to getting stuff done.

Today was one of those brilliantly sunny, magnificent spring days. The kind we have been waiting a very long time for. Plus it was a “stay-at-home” day for me, as opposed to a “work” or a “drive-kids-all-over-the-place” day. That meant as soon as we dropped the big kids off at school, and had our second breakfast (eggs for her, coffee for me), Alexandra and I spent all morning outside.

I was anxious to get to my list of weeding/clearing tasks. You saw the pictures of the half-weeded hoop house, the big old garden bed that I haven’t finished turning over, and the berry patches that need some tiding up since the chickens have been spreading the hay and leaves all over the place, right? Well, I didn't touch those. I made the mistake of wandering by the apple tree clutter, and once that was on my mind, the pull to work on it was too great to resist. I decided to treat myself to a little pruning before weeding. I figured I had all morning, so I’d still have time to get to the other stuff.

Of course I didn’t, though. My little pruning project turned into a vision of a shaded space among the trees, perfect for building forts and creating imaginary lands. This vision will take days of clipping, sawing, and hauling overgrown tree branches (Auntie M, don’t worry, I will save some for your next visit!), which means I barely made a dent in it this morning. By the time Clara was due home from school, I was completely worn out… and feeling a little guilty that I hadn’t even started on the higher priority tasks. 

Luckily, Dave likes my vision, and I’m pretty sure his nod of approval means I should continue to work on it tomorrow. 

Yikes! It's 11:30 pm and I haven't posted yet today… so in desperation, how about a little picture tour of the garden-to-be, à la SouleMama?

(Not sure why the captions are in all caps, but now it is 11:45 and too late to try to figure it out)

Night one of TV-free week was uneventful. I didn’t get anything extra done and, surprisingly, I didn’t feel like I gained extra time. I did go to bed a little earlier, but I wasn’t any less tired this morning. It’s only day one, though. There’s still hope for increased productivity.

On another note, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the concept of capability, and I’ve come to the conclusion that children are far more capable than we give them credit for – or allow them to be. 

Several weeks ago, Dave and I gave Katherine the weekly chore of waking up early on Sunday mornings to make pancake batter while Dave and I sleep in. We weren’t sure she’d be able to do it; it seemed like a lot to ask of a seven-year-old, but we figured we’d give it a try.

Well, she can do it, and it is by far her favorite chore, probably because we let her put chocolate chips in the batter, but also because it requires the most from her. Sweeping the kitchen floor is plain old work, but making pancakes for the whole family is a challenge and a big responsibility. She loves it. It is also an indication to us as parents that she is quite capable.

If she can make pancakes, then surely she can fill her own water bottle when she gets thirsty outside, and pour her own cereal and milk for breakfast, and put her clean clothes away, and the dozens of other things I tend to do for her without thinking about it because it is simply my habit to do so.

So now I’m starting to think twice when she (or Clara or Alexandra for that matter) makes a request or asks for my help. Is this really something she needs me to do for her? Surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly), the answer is usually no. Slowly, we are shifting the habit of her asking and me doing to one of her taking the initiative to do it herself.

The shift has been slight so far, but I think we're both feeling a greater sense of freedom from it. It is also trickling down to the little sisters. Just the other day, Clara refilled her own and Alexandra’s glass of milk at breakfast without any prompting. A huge improvement over the typical “Mom! More milk please!”

I wonder what else they are capable of…

This week is screen-free week. I've heard people chatting about it here and there, and it is the topic of discussion at this month’s parent evening at the kids’ school. But other than that, it doesn’t really affect us since our kids don’t get any screen time as it is. 

Dave and I, however, love watching TV. Yep, we make a point of depriving our children of any sort of electronic technology, and then we ourselves spend a good hour every evening zoning out in front of whatever pop culture has to offer – with teen dramas ranking among our (my) favorites. We may even qualify as binge-watchers when we stumble on a particularly riveting show. And by riveting, I mean the main character has long straight hair and a love interest. I can’t explain it, but watching someone with the hair I have always longer for fall in love with some near-perfect guy in a near-perfect world in which no one has to make grocery lists or sweep the floor is utterly relaxing.

But it is also a big old, mind-numbing waste of time.

So when Dave and I were going over one of our to-do lists today, we realized we’d never get to all of it… unless we cut down on our TV watching this week. As soon as the words were out, it occurred to us: screen-free week. Well, at least TV-free week since we both use our computers for work.

I’m not exactly excited about it. I look forward to this down time every evening. It is time to just sit still with Dave and take a break from reality, it pushes away the stresses of life, and it is easy, especially after a long day when we are both physically and mentally exhausted. I admit, I’ll miss it.

But I am curious to see how it affects our productivity. Will I get more done? Or will the usual amount of work just expand to fill up the time because I won’t actually have the energy to do more, even given an extra hour or two?  Will Dave feel less overwhelmed by his to-do list? Will his office finally get cleaned and organized?

I guess we’ll find out. 

I've never really been interested in gardening. I like the idea of growing food and I love a vase full of fresh flowers, but gardening has never been my thing. It is, however, Dave's thing. He carries our garden vision, and he has the knowledge and experience to actually make it happen. He says he'll need my help, though. 

We've been making lists for months - long lists - of the work that needs to be done in order to prepare the garden. Order seeds. Prune the raspberry and blueberry bushes and the apple trees. Start seedlings. Trim the lilac bushes down to get our bedroom view of the marsh back. Turn over the soil. Dig in the mulch, leaves, and compost. Weed. Build trellises. Clean up the green house. Expand and close in the outdoor chicken coop. Transfer and plant seeds. 

Over the winter, as Dave talked about the garden and the list grew, I wondered what my role in all of this would be. I discovered last fall that I love pruning trees. I mean, I really love it. In the same way that I get great satisfaction out of clearing clutter out of the house, I love clearing the tangle of excess branches and twigs off trees. So I volunteered to take on the raspberry and blueberry bushes, thinking that would be right up my alley. And it was. Well, I think it was - I guess we'll know for sure when we see how many berries we get.

Then, I took on the lilac bushes and the apple trees. I went into full-on pruning mode, climbing up high - one foot on the ladder, one foot balanced on a branch - perhaps going a bit overboard, until Dave gently suggested that maybe pruning is no longer the number one priority… and could I maybe get my "clearing" high from weeding, starting with the greenhouse? His seedlings are coming along and are just about ready to be transferred.

So yesterday I tackled the greenhouse. With Alexandra and Clara's "help", we cleared out the overgrowth of pansies, clovers, and dandelions. We pulled up the web of stubborn roots, turned over the soil, and raked it all smooth.

Turns out I love weeding as much as I love pruning, and I have found my role in this whole gardening thing. I am the clearer-outer. Maybe with time I'll grow to love the planting and growing part of gardening, but for now, I'm quite content keeping the space clear, tidy and clutter free.

The semester is this close to being done, which means my creative energy will soon be freed up and I can return to this neglected blog. I have a slightly unrealistic goal (challenge?) in mind… what if I were to write here every day for a month to try to get back into the swing of things. My friend Elaine does it every November for NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) and it's been in the back of my mind for a long time that I would like to try that too. November isn't a great month for me to commit to writing every day, but May just might be. It will be tricky to find time for it since the semester isn't actually over yet. But it is May 1st, and starting one month of writing every day should start on the first of the month, right? 

Also, I've always been a write-and-revise and then let it sit for a few days kind of writer, so this write-every-day idea would mean I'd have to write and hit publish. I'm not quite sure what that will look like. I'll probably end up boring you with the mundane details of life with three (bickering) children, and there will surely be many posts on gardening as I throw myself into our first attempt to grow a garden full of food. But here goes.  

Write and hit publish.

A Tale of Two Mornings

5:30: Wake up without the aid of an alarm clock because I naturally wake up at this time every morning

5:35: Hit the "brew" button on the fancy espresso maker

5:40: Settle in at my desk with a hot latte, complete with steamed milk. Catch up on email as I gaze out the dormer window, enjoying the view of the meadow as the first rays of sunlight hit the hills in the distance

6:00- 7:00: Go for a nice long run and then shower without children barging in and out of the bathroom

7:00: Wake kids and start the morning routine, refreshed from a full hour to myself

 In reality, I curse the alarm clock as it bleeps relentlessly at 6:30am, hit snooze and hide under the covers until I absolutely have to get up at 7:00am. Then I painfully drag myself out of bed, dreading the cold—although, I feel just as grumpy about mornings in summertime. Also, there is no fancy espresso machine or dormer overlooking the meadow. 

I wish I were a morning person, but I’m drawn to the night hours. I take advantage of the late, quiet hours to write, bake, organize, read, sip tea, and generally enjoy time to myself; all of the things that are hard to do during the day.  I happily – and easily – stay up past midnight, undeterred by the impending misery of morning. The open-endedness of night offers a great sense of freedom. The knowledge that the time spanning out in front of me will surely outlast my productivity is a big advantage over the morning hours, when I am all too aware that a kid could (and often does) wake up at any moment, interrupting whatever I had hoped to do.

I can get up early. I’ve done it before. In high school I eagerly bounced out of bed at 5:30am in order to play tennis. It was all I cared about and I would have done anything for an extra hour on the court. The other time was the final six months of grad school, when I worked frantically to finish my dissertation. I’m not sure I really slept at all during those months, so getting out of bed to get back to my computer was more of a relief than lying in bed in the permanent state of anxiety I seemed to be in when I wasn’t working.

These two experiences triggered a super-human – but unsustainable – energy. Unfortunately, unlike a sports passion or graduation deadline, taking care of three small children seems to suck energy rather than inspire it. As much as I love my kids, the thought of waking, dressing and feeding them every morning does not drive me out of bed.

Nevertheless, I want to try to change. Our family is in the midst of a major schedule shift due to two new jobs having started, and it would be very convenient for everyone, particularly my husband, Dave, if I could magically become a morning person. Of course if I did get up at 5:30am, I would not be sipping my coffee as the sun popped up over the hills (or playing tennis or sitting down at my computer to write). Instead I would be emptying the ashes from the woodstove and restarting the fire, feeding and watering the chickens, scraping the ice off the car, making school lunches, and preparing breakfast.

But still, it would be nice if I got up earlier and less cranky to help ease the morning madness. In order to do this, I will have to go to bed earlier.

It will be a challenge to let go of my late night quiet time. I look forward to those hours all day. However chaotic and difficult the day of juggling work and three children may be, the prospect of sitting down alone at my computer while brownies bake gets me through. I need that time, perhaps not every night, but at least on a regular basis.

Therefore, if I do make this move to become a morning person, I’ll have to replace my late-night freedom. As long as I’m getting up early, I could carve out a chunk of time on weekend mornings. It wouldn’t be the peaceful quiet of night hours, but with Dave home, I could sit down alone at my computer, or go for a nice long run, and maybe even shower without children barging in and out of the bathroom. I could start the week feeling refreshed from having had time to myself.

Come summer, when school is out and the morning madness eases up, I can resort back to my natural schedule. Until then, to face early mornings, which will be difficult regardless of an earlier bedtime, maybe we should get that fancy espresso machine.

We have finally made it beyond slipping around the icy patch of driveway on bitter cold days. Sunshine + a (hopefully) temporary lake in the yard + leftover snow + thawed ground in a warm greenhouse = hours of afternoon fun for all three kids together. We are done with the late afternoon bickering that has nearly driven me out of my mind. I can open the door and out they go - with the ability to move around the yard and play. Today they enjoyed mud cupcakes, decorated with white snow icing and pansies. 

Winter is over. And guess what? All three kids fell asleep quickly and easily!  

A few months ago I griped about the Fall-back time change. The early afternoon darkness exacerbated the witching hour and it took us many weeks to readjust our routine. Today, I am going to gripe about Spring-forward… yes, we are still feeling the effects of the time change.

The wonderful, early bedtime that we finally achieved in order to cope with Fall-back has been compromised. When it was dark at 5pm, it could be whatever time Dave and I said it was. 5:57? Bedtime! With the darkness backing us up, the kids had no way to prove us wrong (especially since they can't tell time). But now Katherine and Clara eye us suspiciously as we try to convince them at 6:30 that it is already past their bedtime, and Alexandra pulls up the window shade as if to show us it is clearly not bedtime. It’s fun to listen to them chatter away and sing each other lullabies until their room is dark enough that they’re able to give in to their exhaustion, but by then it really is past their bedtime.

On top of the too-late bedtime problem, the extra hour of evening light also means we’ve lost our morning light. I rely on morning light to get them out of bed. Like me, they are not morning people, except on Sundays and school holidays, when they consistently wake up on their own at 6:30am. On school days, if it is dark out, they don’t want to get up – even with a 5:57pm bedtime.  During the winter months, I have to drag them out of bed. We were just getting to the point of enough morning light that 7am wasn’t torture for them. Now Spring-forward has set us back again.

I know this problem will resolve itself as the days get longer and the weather gets better. Kids who spend hours outside running free, climbing trees, and riding bikes are exhausted by 5:57pm no matter how bright it is; kids who are sick and tired of slipping around on an icy driveway and sinking into three feet of old, dirty snow in 12-degree weather are not. But for these weeks in between Spring Forward and better weather, the time change is brutal. 

Unemployment

This has been the year of transition, most of it good, but some of it downright difficult. For many years my husband, Dave, and I shared the role of working-parent and stay-at-home parent. Looking back, I realize what a privileged set-up that was. Dave worked three longs days, I worked two long days, and we each had full days at home with the kids. We also worked evenings and weekends to keep up with our respective workloads, which meant we barely had time for each other. But we agreed it was worth it in exchange for the time we had with our young children and the money we saved on childcare expenses.

When we decided to leave D.C. in order to raise our kids in rural Vermont, Dave left his job to stay home with the kids and I began telecommuting full-time. Being the sole working parent was challenging for me, but we gained a much more balanced family life. We no longer had to constantly juggle schedules based on whose meetings were deemed more important on a given day. Weekends were open for gardening, long walks, or just lazing around, and Dave and I had evenings to ourselves.

Then my job ended. Suddenly, we were two unemployed parents. Of course the main concern was financial. How long could we last on savings? What would we do without health insurance? Would we have to move again, or even worse, move in with one of our parents? It took a lot of energy to keep the panic at bay. But most of the time, we were able to maintain our faith that we would find a way to make it work. The real challenge was that we were both at home. All day. Every day.

The first several weeks of our unemployment were great as we focused on the silver lining. We reveled in our free time and made list after list of projects we could accomplish around the house while we regrouped. But as reality set in, free time was devoted to job hunting and we went into a budget freeze; there would be no home improvement without any income. We felt aimless and unproductive. Not knowing how long our unemployment would last, we hesitated to make long-term plans or take on new commitments. We struggled to create a daily routine that worked for both of us.

While Dave and I are extremely compatible, we discovered during those months of unemployment that without purpose or structure (beyond feeding, clothing and transporting small children), we get in each other’s way. My typical afternoon at home with the kids involves getting everyone settled for their quiet time as quickly as possible after lunch, and then jumping right into prepping for dinner, checking email, and finally, if time allows, sitting down with a cup of tea to read my favorite blogs before the baby wakes up.

When Dave is also home, however, he has a habit of emerging from the office as soon as I start in on my rest-time routine. He wanders into the kitchen to get milk out of the refrigerator just as I need to get to the cheese. Then he moves over to the counter to lean against the silverware drawer, waiting for coffee to brew… and blocking my access to the spatula. Even after he returns to his desk, he’ll wander back to the kitchen minutes later to run his latest Amazon order by me, unaware of the fact that I am desperately trying to focus on the next step of the recipe before the sautéing onions burn. My frustration spikes and I snap, “I don’t care about a bulk order of laundry detergent and peanut butter - I just want to get dinner made. BY MYSELF!” Turns out I need my quiet time as much as the kids do.

Under normal circumstances – such as one or both of us working – Dave’s calm demeanor is a perfect match for my more intense energy. He keeps me grounded and gives me perspective. I welcome the change of pace on weekend afternoons when we relax with our coffee by the woodstove. But when Dave wanders in and out of my routine every day, our natural balance feels more like a clash.

Perhaps we would have eventually found our groove, though I imagine the stress of long-term unemployment would have made that difficult. Fortunately, jobs did turn up and we are both working again. The balance has been restored. I get to power through making dinner - uninterrupted - on my afternoons at home and Dave can enjoy his coffee break in peace. We discuss Amazon orders in the evenings. The silver lining of unemployment definitely wasn’t the freedom of both of us at home. Instead, it was gaining an appreciation for having work – not just for the obvious financial component – but for the structure and independence it allows both of us each day.