When Wildflower was small, we showed her every opportunity to believe in magic.
We crept through wooded areas and dreamed of tiny faeries who lived amongst the cedar grove. We told her elaborate tales of dragons and little mouse families and of Santa’s elves, with hopes that these stories, would help her to weave belief and depth into her world, to save her from slipping into cynicism and sadness as she awoke from her childhood.
These stories always included her own insights and imagination.
As she grows older, we’ve begun to notice that she is simply transitioning into playing along with our game, and helping us share the tales with her younger siblings. These stories connect us.
We’ve never felt that this was considered lying to our children.
For as long as people have been able to communicate, story has been the singular most valuable way to teach children about life. Indigenous people are famous for their beautiful legends while fables and folklore colour the history of the Celts. Even the oldest books are filled with stories for the purpose of teaching.
We, all people, learn best when we are connected with the purpose of the teaching, when it paints a vivid picture for us, and as a body of relatively educated humans, we eventually can choose for ourselves what is tangible and what is for the purpose of entertainment (hence why you can’t remember much about quadratic equations, unless you were passionate about that stuff).
Now, as my baby girl is no longer such, I’ve begun to realize that she brought back the magic to my own eyes. A world that once felt dreary, as though there could be no more Christmases, were coloured a new hue as we shared in this journey together.
Though I’m fortunate enough to have two more souls to share stories of elves and dragons and magical flowers with, I know that this, too, shall pass.
Someday, I’ll take a walk in the woods, and I’ll spy a special knothole where a tiny faerie resides. I’ll turn to share the story with my smaller companion only to realize that the dog isn’t interested. And then I’ll remind myself that magic doesn’t just exist through the eyes of children.
Words of wisdom shared with me this summer have been echoing through my mind reminding me to keep ahold of my own sense of wonder, and I hope to do just that.
January’s bleak and cold days are upon us. We’ve found a gentle daily rhythm, while we’ve allowed the holiday routines to slip into the past along with the tree which performed its final disappearing act last night, thanks to Big Brother. These days have been great days, but we’re ready to let go of very full bellies and too much tv. Even the kids can feel it.
Our deep-winter learning typically involves immersing ourselves in a couple of novels read aloud together with warm drinks in hand. Often we’ll use an online platform for some math studies, and we’ll attempt to get outside daily. These are the predictable factors, while there’s plenty of space for ebb and flow, for endeavours undertaken by small humans with big ideas.
In the past, we’ve stayed home for much of January, but this year, I aspire to get out a couple of times each week, to remind us of how lucky we are to have this coziness to return to, rather than feeling as though our home is a place where we feel stuck because of the cold. After all, we are Canadian, and we choose to continue living where the cold hurts our face, so we may as well make the best of it.
After all of this is said and done, winter is made for open play and for quiet snuggles.
What I’ve learned over the years is that our free time develops a premium, if we have some kind of framework to our days. When we have a rhythm to follow rather than a strict schedule and a loose plan rather than entirely open schedules…beauty ensues
Until next time
There was a time when I believed it was my job to do everything, and I probably don’t need to tell you that I failed miserably at it.
Most mornings I awoke with a fresh attitude, ready to slay the day’s to-do list. By night fall, I’d likely have accomplished a couple of things on the list, not including the day’s work, meals from scratch, caring for myself, and providing connected learning time with the kids, and as ridiculous as it sounds to me now, I’d feel like a failure.
I failed again…I’d tell my masochistic self…. and then I’d write an impossible list for tomorrow, hop into bed way too late, and do it all again the next day.
Obviously, I wouldn’t be writing this piece, in this tone, if I were still spending the majority of my time stuck in the same trap. So what have I done to accomplish more and feel more …peace-full?
I gave up the unreasonable goal. Yep. That’s it. I let my ego take a hike, and I asked for (explained why) and accepted help, and I let things go.
I love to nurture and care for my family, which somewhere, got lost in translation and turned into, let me pick up your smelly socks everyday, and sure I’ll scrub the toilet. But also, my partner goes to work and then works when he comes home on a growing list of to-dos and our kids are kids, so shouldn’t this be my job? To some degree, yes, I believe this is true, but somewhere around the decision to take this homeschool thing seriously, and when the third kid was born, I began to think maybe I was ripping myself off.
It wasn’t until I believed that making time for meaningful connection / learning with our children was the single most important part of our day, that I could close the door on the rest of the to-do list and simply let it be.
This is my work.
It wasn’t until I believed that this is meaningful-enough work for a woman in today’s world, that I could stop trying to rock at everything else. And then I asked for help with the other things. Now don’t get me wrong, I still prepare healthy meals and fold laundry and wash dishes, but on Sunday nights, we clean the house together, as a family….toilets, floors, kitchen, everything. It’s so much easier to care for during the week, and everyone feels a sense of responsibility because they know that sock won’t be just cleaned up by someone else.
… and then, we eat a yummy, comfort-food supper while watching a movie. It’s about balance, right?
xo Hay Mama
There have been Christmases that haven’t been easy. I’d be lying if I didn’t ever speak about the hard times. It was never because of a lack of work on either of our parts, it was simply that making ends meet involved a lot of stretching with very little wiggle room.
Lucky for us, we have both been blessed with the gift of creativity, and we’ve learned through our own experiences that “necessity is the mother of invention”. So in the past we’ve stitched and sewn, welded and painted many treasures to gift to hopeful faces. And here’s what gets me…
Those gifts were the most well-loved, happily taken care of things we’ve ever given to our children. They didn’t leave them laying around, letting them be swept up to be discarded. They didn’t lose the pieces or forget about them when they were kicked under the couch.
You see, when you make something for someone else, you gift your loved one your own energy. Throughout the creation of that lifeless thing, you become the energy source, budding with ideas and your finger tips your conduit. And then, when a child tears open the wrapping to find a special doll, made for her by her very own Mama, that doll takes on a life of her own. She is carried to picnics and parks. She travels to the coast and she climbs trees and bakes cookies. She becomes part of the family.
Now, here I sit, years later, with just a little more money than we had during those hard Christmases, not a lot by anyone else’s standards, but enough, in our eyes, for things to be easier. As I count the purchases I’ve made through clicks or debit card swipes, I can’t help but notice they don’t fill the hole that’s inside of me.
What I’ve learned is this…Christmas magic comes from the story that carries it. It comes from how hard you’ve worked to save up to buy that special toy, or how you searched until you found it in your price range. Maybe you’ve been holding onto it since March.
The magic comes from the things that arn’t so easy.
The hard Christmases taught me the most about these things, and although I wouldn’t want to go back to that kind of uncertainty, I wouldn’t trade those years and lessons for riches either because they taught me about generosity and patience, love, friendship and peace. These are lessons that many people will, never understand. They taught me to see beauty in the smallest of places and to love bigger and bolder than I ever have because that is the truest gift I have to offer.
Angry Christmas Tree Day is a tradition that began over 10 years ago when we, just a small family of three, would venture into the woods, the way I did as a child, to harvest and bring home a beautiful tree. This loving family who welcomed me in, Papa Bear and Big Brother, had already established a tradition of an artificial tree, or a store bought tree, but neither of them were partial to any tree-ventures the way I was, and so I knew I was lucky when they agreed to a winter’s tree-gathering hike.
A lovely idea isn’t it? A small family, a snowy December day, birds singing a jolly tune, and a fragrant woodsmoke enticing our noses. Together we’d hold hands and frolic. We’d agree, exactly on THE tree, cut it down with a few magical saw strokes, drag it home like a feather, and decorate it. Just like that.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…You must have known I was joking when I said hold hands and frolic?!
We have argued for 9 out of 11 tree adventures. Sometimes in the beginning, sometimes while setting up the tree (NO! I SAID TO THE LEFT!!!), and always when it comes time to decorate. There have been arguments over how big the tree should be. We’ve fought over who should carry the tree and how to best set it up…where to set it up…who was supposed to water it, and always, always who strings the lights and exactly how much of the decorating are grownups allowed/expected to partake in. Sometimes Big Brother had already set up a tree with his mom, so he wasn’t interested in taking part twice, and I can hardly say I blame him.
After all of this, somehow we’ve persevered. Unlike so many things in our lives that we’ve shed, simply because they weren’t working, we’ve held onto this one….
Perhaps because even though the struggle is real, so are all the good feels that do make their appearances…
So without any more stories …. photos from our 2 year streak, non-angry Yuletree adventure….
More to come…
I’m really beginning to feel the power of a lack of light. I’m drawn to our wood stove the way I’m drawn to the morning sun on the back deck in the summer time. It seems my motivation left with summer’s sun. The warmth and light of the fire feed whatever strength I have left during this season of darkness, and I feel hungry for change
I’m ready for new information, for books and for studies. I feel excited about digging into my birth educator course and for the stack of reading that accompanies it. I’m looking forward to changing our rhythm here at home. There will be new activities in the winter for our kids outside of home. They’ll be choosing new jobs to help out with around our home and I’m looking at a novel to enjoy together during the weeks of January. Plenty awaits us…
But for now, the holiday season is approaching, and I can’t imagine this break coming at a better time. I anxiously await the restoration and inspiration I hope it brings. I couldn’t be more ready.
The first good day after being sick is the BEST DAY EVER! The sickness that made its way through our home was minor in the grand scheme of things, but it served a much larger purpose in seeing how wonderful my life is everyday. It’s busier than I suspect I’ll ever be, there is more laundry than any sane person should tackle in a week, and I don’t always enjoy cooking meals and tidying the kitchen, but these things are the trade off for the opportunity to play with our children on a daily basis, for walks in the woods and for tea shared while listening to stories aloud. Sometimes a few days spent horizontally on the couch is all it takes to remember the beauty of the little things.
So what are we up to on the BEST DAY EVER you ask? Cleaning?
After all, we’re a whole week behind now! So we are…
Wintery mornings, when many in our home are unwell, look a lot like anticipation….
Anticipation for when we’ll feel well enough to become a team again, to join in together in our usual daily tasks.
Anticipation for workshops and get togethers postponed.
Anticipation for the return of our holiday spirit…
We’ve jumped right into our own version of chocolate advent calendars these past few days. In the past, we’ve dabbled in many variations of holiday countdown fads…we’ve added a new book each day, we’ve eaten a small treat, and we’ve opened a small gift. We’ve even used a downloadable story series with one story for each day leading up to the big HoHo’s arrival. All were great, but many of them were not repeatable (how many holiday books does one family need?), some were expensive (a small gift costing 2$ on average for 4 kids times 24 days…yikes!), and some were wonderful but limited in availability, like the downloadable stories.
Though, I think we’ve found our staple.
Each morning, the kids awake, knowing that there is an envelope hidden in our home. There are mornings where it’s discovered right away, and sometimes, Mama uses her intricate hiding places to ensure it isn’t found right away 😉 .Inside awaits a small note, explaining a Yuletide activity for us to complete together.
Sometimes we’ve made cards, cookies, or enjoyed warm mugs of cocoa, and other times we watch our favourite holiday films, meet Santa at the mall, or build our list of holiday plans together.
Some days are fancier than others, and that’s ok.
Thus far, after 2 years, we’ve had incredible success. It’s been a lovely way to create moments of togetherness each day, while making sure we tackle all of the holiday milestones that we’ve all deemed traditional.
How do you countdown to the holiday season?