Puppet show

Can you see the mist lying in the valley and the hills rising behind? It was a stunning journey to the home ed. group on Tuesday. When I pulled over to take this photo I stepped out of the car and it was pure silence, stinging cold air thorugh the nose, and brilliant sunshine.



Isaac and his friends put on a puppet show, Isaac was the lead man with the Wallace and Grommet puppets but he stole the show in accidental ways, like his head popping up to give the audience a thumbs up and laying down his puppet and peeking under the curtain to get a view of how his puppets looked! It was so funny.





Backstage was a riot of fun and better than the show! Here is Fe right at the front and Isaac at the back:



I asked the boys to 'pose' next to the tree for a photo but they had a different idea of 'posing' than I did :)

Felting...

Felting is tricky, I have been guessing how to do it because I lack instructions but was too impatient to look them up. Guess I could have online but I wanted to do it at 8pm last night, right there and then you know, so I felted something in a multi coloured sort of explosion which I am not sure what to do with now... I don't think I actually rubbed enough for long enough because the layers of wool are not exactly a whole... there are whisps which look like they might snag off (which is not how a felted item ought to look). So I ended up blanket stitching around the edge and now it's a sort of table mat or giant coaster of some sort...



So then I realise I could layer the fleece into a sort of picture, and I did with layers of green ant the bottom, blue at the top, bits of yellow for a sun and flowers and a couple of purple splodges (butterflies?). I have just been stitching around the 'shapes' andit looks fairly decent. I am thinking about turning it into a wall hanging. The photo here is not so great, it looks more vibrant and less see-through in the flesh, but you get the idea.



But now it looks different from the photo as Don looked at it and said oh no what happened? I was perplexed, like er what do you think has happened to it? It looks all skewed to one side he replies trailing off knowing it means to look that way.....

What he meant was that it was not a perfect shape, rather it was in it's original felted organic shape and so it a momnet of doubt I snipped the edges off to look more uniform, only it was a big mistake, it now looked just plain mishap and Item That Will Never Be Shown as it must be obvious blunder project. So then to rectify my previous painstaiking work I used a fine yellow thread to stitch around the edges. But no longer is it a gift, it is pasted to my kitchen wall where at least I can enjoy my first proper felting experiment.

Here is Isaac hammering his foot away at the wheel (it's not threaded up so it's ok to hammer like that).



Isaac has just asked me why I did not put up here his 'better photo' of him using his hands to manipulate the foot pedal - so here is that pic too:



And here is one of Felix just for fun. I peeked at him feeding his animal friends a little animal biscuit. The orange Popple, the big dog, it's baby golden puppy just under the dogs leg (see it?) and the puppy in it's shed. He was doing that classic child thing 'a bite for you, and you and you and you and then one for me'

Christmas crafts

So I have been busy trying to craft as many gifts as I know how for my family this Christmas. So far I have knit mittens, socks and a baby hood, and have another pair of baby booties to go. I have made several wheat and lavender packs from lovely organic plusch material, two of which I made for children in the shape of bunny rabbits (the adult ones were boring rectangles!). I made knitting needles from hazel wood twigs (sharpen one end with a pencil sharpener, sand the whole thing very smooth and glue or wedge a bead to the other end). My sons and I have made dozens of beeswax candles, rolled from sheets and I have made a little pouch doll in a carry bed. I still have a duplicate of the little doll to make for another child. I have bath salts to make up, granola to make and jar and some chocolate truffles to melt, set, roll and box. It is all good though, I am typing this down as I remember and it doesn't seem like much, I will do it at night and during those little lulls of time during the day when the boys are busy without me. We have been making lots and lots of decorations for our windows, Isaac make a fantastic tissue paper fish that I will photograph when it is light tomorrow. Here are some other pictures:








And the nature shelf (which is now moved and a bit different but hey this is mostly it)


I am going to pick up a spinning wheel on Friday! Ohh I am excited! It belongs to the Spinners and Weavers guild and is a spare wheel they lend out to interested folk. The lady I pick it up from is going to give me a quick lesson to get me started and some fleece. The boys and I will meet Don for swimming and then whilst they swim I'll go for the wheel.

Our days are fantastically busy - or could be. For some reason - probably that celebratory feeling, everyone is more sociable and are having get togethers. I am striving for more calm but really we are all having a good time after so long spent without friends at our last address. Every day we have invitations and phone calls and there are things planned by other home educators that we could take up. Last week we were out every day and by Friday I had to pull over at the side of the road (we went out to get a tree) just for five minutes rest. This week I have refused some offers and we have had two home days to one day out. That is much better for me. I could stay at home much more but I have sociable little children!

Photos

Isaac the circus swinger:



Floating chestnut shell 'boats' in the bird bath:



Carving arrow tips:



Isaac climbing the Spider Web :

The view form the hill:



Felix inside the House of Sticks:



House of Sticks found in woods:


That is our house at the end of the lane:


Our favourite blue tree!

I made....

... a hat for my friend's baby boy Angus. I did not knit it, I used a red and white striped piece of organic interlock cotton (from a pair of Felix's outgrown PJ's :) ) and for the inside lining I used some super thick organic cotton plush material that I have had sitting around and have not known what to use it for. It turned out nicer than I imagined since I am not the best seamstress, I get all irritated when the machine bungs up the thread underneath (because I am hasty and don't load it all properly to start with). But I am happy with it.




I also made two of those grain and lavender filled cushion pads that can be heated on the radiator and used for a sore tummy, shoulders etc. I bought some organic grain in the HFS and used the lavender that I cut and dried from last year's garden, with the above plush material. I can't believe how yummy they are, so heavy and scented and soft. I made two and have so much material left that I have decided to make loads more for Christmas gifts. The organic grain was only 50p a bag and I only needed two bags! I am on a roll now! Felix wanted to hug the one of them all afternoon, and carried it around like a baby! So I guess one is his now! They really are very tactile - and when heated ohhh the scent of lavender drifts right through the house. Here is Fe clutching his (it's the squishy cream coloured thing :)



Also craft wise, yesterday Isaac and I each took old clean glass jars, spread them with glue and then covered them with coloured torn-up tissue paper, green grass, blue night sky, white stars, little people, moons etc. It was very absorbing. Then we put tea lights inside and I used wire to tie around the top and make a carrying loop handle - lanterns! Very very beautiful. Felix didn't want to join in and was in another room and when he saw them he ohhed and ahhed and got all excited because Isaac's has two little brother figures on with curly hair. They are really pretty when lit up:



The Steiner school Christmas fair we visited was very cute, you know, the whole deep in a wooded valley, little buildings with grass roofs, clay outdoor bread oven, veg and fruit stalls, wood toy stalls... we watched a story telling of the Snow Queen in the Kindergarten and the room was decorated in white silk with little sheepskin cushions on the floor for the tiny children... at the end of the story each child received a little white wrapped gift from the snow Queen (dressed up K teacher). Both boys loved it, but best of all they loved the Kindergarten garden, sand pit, real boat to play in, ropes and all over looking a fast flowing river. It was a beautiful place. The downer for me was hearing some muppet guy who was making the pizza talking in this really spiritual way about creation myths and how his soul was being stretched in so many new ways... yada yada (I am thinking geesh get on with making the pizza already - look at this big queue!) then I realised he was a teacher and my heart sort of sank, because really the thought of this drippy guy teaching a bunch of kids was a bit much. So then we left and it was a dream of a place but I knew in my heart my boys would not go there, I could not imagine for the life of me Don conversing with all of the guys there with dreads.... I dunno. The whole set up is so contrived and the teaching seeming lacking in spontanity that is found at home. But I feel happy I figured it out and found my feelings about the Waldorf way, so that's another thing I made - or at least made my wandering mind up about.

catch up

It's been a while.... we are in Wales, we have been here since September, but I have been overwhelmed with rest and regaining strength from a taxing miscarriage. My body is weak from severe blood loss and I spent time at my mothers being cared for. But we are back in Wales now and living our lives! Our lives are very full with home schooling and the masses of families and meetings and activities available from them. It is full and good. I have my raw goat milk connection now (2 miles away - whoo hoo!) and my wool crafts and spinning session have been sourced and the ball is rolling with that. I started Astanga yoga but it is way to adventurous for me at the moment, hopefully after the New Year I will be stronger and can get back to my classes. The following are journal entries I wrote out and decided to slide in here as a new start to my blog. Lets see if I can keep it going this time! Photos of where we are in Wales and of things I mention are to follow.

Last Monday;

Having a rough day, it had to happen I know. The journey home yesterday was better than I expected, we were all in high enough spirits and stopped lots. We even stopped off at a ToysRUs store and bought Isaac a little hand held superman game for him to fiddle with - Felix wanted a teddy bear because all week my mum has been reading him this story about the Land of Lost Teddies and he wanted to act it out :) Isaac actually cried when we left my mum's house and started saying he wanted to go back, why could we all not stay and live with Nanny, that he loved her. It was pretty sad. He has spent a huge amount of intense time with her with me absent lately, poor little guy, I know that lump in the throat missing some one feeling so well.

I was totally shattered when we finally arrived home and had a bath and went to bed, but my heart was beating wildly and my chest was tight and I couldn't breathe properly. I wish I had pushed more for a transfusion. I was offered one because I lost about 3 pints of blood and my hb had dropped nearly five points but there was some tricky stuff happening about cross matching and getting a good selection and then they realised I'd just had a transfusion recently after Felix was born and they hit the hard sell on why not to have one, that I'd be increasing my chances of my body not accepting the blood, the big spiel on blood products being risky, that sometimes they missed the very things they tested for, that in years to come there would be diseases, new, that I might have contracted and not known about - they convinced Don easily but I remembered how lifeless I felt after Fe was born and how wonderful I felt as the blood dripped into me - sheer life bouncing me back up. But of course I was weak lying there this time and having a conversation left me unable to focus and bone tired. They said, no worries, two to three months and your body will make up the blood you have lost, take it easy in the meantime, eat iron rich take some iron supplements, rest, rest rest. Then after they left my room, as a kind of token of what was to come, I had chest pain (like last night) and couldn't find enough air to breathe so spent the rest of the day hooked to oxygen and also had an ECG due to low blood pressure and tacky, erratic pulse. So I know what to expect: Blood loss means iron loss, the body tries to nourish major organs and tissue the best way it can and uses other minerals (i.e. calcium leached from bone) to do this and help with the formation of new blood cells (my teeth have an unusual see-through look to them at the moment). That I can expect to have dizziness and nausea from lack of oxygen, so don't move to quickly (oh yeah, I forget I am looking after two small children, that'll be easy!) they say I might have kidney pain (check), lower back pain (check), aching joints (check) headaches and loss of memory (check)... plus some other 'symptoms' which of course - I've forgotten.

I could do with an oxygen tank. I wish I had had the transfusion, just for immediate effect.

I have been miserable for the first time this afternoon and it's my first afternoon looking after the boys alone (Don took them out this morning but then had to go to uni). I felt anxious for some strange reason (like have I never looked after my children before!) and decided to (ambitiously) set out collage materials with dried beans and lentils and glue etc, but then had to climb chairs to hunt things out which I had not considered (but can't back out of now since waiting eyes are hopeful). Exhausted I flop into a chair to watch and help if needed but they need me constantly and I get ridiculous looking around the kitchen seeing the day's food stuff still out, dirty dishes mounting (bending to unload the dishwasher is just an enormous feat I have discovered), we have lots of laundry and still not unpacked from our time away - so I look around and it is chaos and instead of picking some easy thing (like a DVD) why did I now choose something which involves a liberal scattering of red lentils and sunflower seeds over the entire house (yes they seep out of the room on clothes and hands and now I am just waiting for an invasion of mice and rats because the thought of vacuuming is way beyond my strength. I snapped a bit about the volume of peas and seeds not on paper or glue and felt terrible because it suddenly was not fun for them. So I ply seeds from gluey fingers and coax limbs and extremities into outdoor warm wear and usher them outside for trampolining and bike riding in the yard. Oh, I could fall asleep, I am hungry but too tired to make anything, now they are in and watching cartoons and I know snacks are wanted and drinks... This is my sitting down, and rest at the kitchen table, laptop on top of a chickpea collage of a head (I think). Emailing my sister about flight times (only two days whoo oo!).

I need to chill out and relax I can't be super mum anymore and but it feels horrible. (See I am not quite as Zen about the near death experience changing my outlook)

Don is terrified to have sex with me. Is that understandable? I think probably. We are used to daily ness yk and it is strange this different sort of tenderness that is about me being so fragile.

I don't feel good today. Sorry to unburden here, I want my 'normal' back but it seems so far away. Everything has changed, everything. It is like someone shook up my life and dumped me back out.

But at least I have a life. How do women cope who have this happen to them and then have to walk seven miles a day to carry water to drink? How do they survive? Do they? I think about this all of the time, these faceless women who bleed away. The terror without saviour and I don't know what to do with these thoughts except ply them into a shape of gratefulness.

Today, Sunday:

Am having that one-step forward then two steps back experience happening. I have a day where I am not so tired and manage to play and do the odd bit of housework but then the next day can't get up or spend the day on the sofa. All of us, including my dear sister have a had a tummy bug which has wiped us out. Even Felix was throwing up yesterday and saying 'mummy I am gurgling again'. Then an hour later he was fine again, really fine and with my sister in bed and Don and Isaac out he wanted me outside using his bow and arrows (I also lugged out some wet laundry and pegged half up), then painting at the kitchen table where I began chopping veg for dinner. By 7pm I was so exhausted I had to go to bed. It is so humbling to be so dependant on others - literally my own bodily health and the care of my children. I want to say - I don't do it that way, or please don't feed them so much bread, or it's ok he can go out without his hat don't force it on him etc but then who wants a witch shouting down orders from her bed? So I button up and hunker down and wait it out, relaxing myself into knowing that we will all survive without my constant imput.

My days are full of the tiny things that assume a greater importance than I would normally ascribe to them. I can't formulate a shape for my day like I used to, involving us all, like swimming, then pottery class, dinner... the day is this big stretch of time where everyone else have plans and my day is little bits of time that I get to choose how to fill. It could be empty and lonely but I am turning it in to being time for the things I wouldn't normally have time for. Yesterday I decided to make my friend's four year old dd a doll for Christmas. I thought about that for a while and then decided it would be a female version of one of my son's dolls, so I knit a little pink and purple sweater and found some flannel flowered material to make a dress or nightgown with, since actual doll making was out with Don also being out and his strength needed for lugging the sewing machine. That bulked out my day between sleeping and the odd bits of time with the boys.

I am living a strange limbo living where I am only half myself living half my life and another woman – my sister – living out the other bits for me.

Twice I was moved to tears yesterday and the reasons were birds.

When we first moved here, the first very first day, I saw one magpie sitting on the wall and thought jokingly - ha! Great omen! Every day I saw this bird. It lives about two hundred metres from my bedroom window, in a hedge. Every day I came to dread opening my bedroom blind and seeing this black and white demon spreading it’s sorrowful invisible curse (which it had worked itself up in my mind to be).

And then yesterday, I opened the front door and sitting on the gravel not two metres away were two magpies, they stood staring at me for a second and then took off and flew away. And I laughed and cried at the same time. The one for sorrow turn to two for joy.

While waiting for my family to return to me I sat muffled up with a million scarves and hats on the bench outside the front door watching the vast sky and the fast moving clouds when from the north a gigantic flock of birds flew straight over my head. There were hundreds and hundreds of small birds, their wings humming a single sound together, like bees. It was magnificent and there I was, turning instinctively to someone to motion toward the sky but remembering simultaneously that I was alone. Still staring at these birds flying further south to startle someone else, perhaps alone in their gardens too, and my eyes squeezed with tears. The happy sort.

Reindeers wrecked our roof!

We hand fed some day old lambs today. They were all the third siblings and Peter (the farmer) remarked how the mothers would visably relax once he'd taken the third babe away. Awww. isn't that sort of sad? He said they get flustered and it seemed (to him) that they could not cope. That and only having two 'milkers' I suppose. We bottle fed them raw cow milk. Isaac and Fe climbed into the pen, and were overjoyed - Felix practically lay down in the straw and let them climb all over him! The mothers were only a couple of metres away in little fenced off bits and were content and lying snoozing or letting their other lambs nurse. The thin sounding 'maaa-ing' of their 'lost' infants didn't seem to concern them. Peter said he thought their sense of smell was much stronger than their hearing. Still, it was pretty wonderful to hold them and feed them. Peter talked about the powdered lamb formula, how he thought it just the biggest scam. How once it was watered down as suggested on the bags it was just a horrid 'milk' which didn't help the lambs put on weight - then the biggest test of all, once they were switched to solids (grass) their digestive systems couldn't cope at all and many died. Terrible terrible stuff. Like human milk substitutes then I said, basically indigestable. The raw cow milk, he reckoned, was great, they hardly ever lost a lamb and they all coped brilliantly when put to pasture. He thanked us for helping him feed the six little stragglers (ahhh, I was just about to thank him) and said, come again, come again! It's funny, we hardly see him. He is always off busy busy and not seen around the yard but at lambing, he always finds time to feed the little 'triplets' :) One year he said there were sixteen of them. All survived and were healthy as butter, wooly balls. Still 20-25 ewes to lamb so we'll have more to hand feed next time I think.

This afternoon we spent in the garden. Isaac with odd clothing!
Fe playing with the hastily made sandpit 'kitchen'

The results of my afternoon of 'homely' domesticity (folded pile of line dried night- nappies and spelt, maple and coconut cookies - what I left out of the picture, further over on the worktop was my chicken stock 17 hours of simmering)

We had a roofer around later this afternoon. Isaac ran in to tell me their was a man on our roof, yeah, daddy called him to fix the tiles. Isaac ran around and introduced himself and proceeded to shout up and tell 'Nick the roofer' that the missing and broken tiles were the result of Father Christma's visit. The reindeers were pretty messy up there!

The shining sun made me feel like taking some pics of the new greenery in my teeny tiny garden. Last yrs garden shoots up some forgotten garlic
The lavender, rosemary, sage, fennel, chives, lemon balm. The beautiful apple smelling chamomile is further over with the mint. You can see how dry (er... 'well drained') the soil is, I don't water it at all but still the green :)

Embodying Space

I keep having these flitting fleeting thoughts. I stand on the sawn off trunk of a gigantic old tree. I stand there and think how a year ago standing here would have been impossible, the very space my body is occupying was occupied by the tree. I stand for a moment and before I know it I am in a loose and dreamy trancy state and I get so peaceful and strong feeling. Standing there my feet begin to buzz, unlike standing on the grassy earth or on concrete. Softer. I had this same feeling last summer leaning up against an old oak, time stood still and the droning sound of bees filled my head space and I felt I might tip into the tree, I was so relaxed and soft, loose, my mind totally unfocused and drifting. Such awareness of the tree and its awesome huge, still, strengthening life force. It sounds so hippy dippy and really I don't mean it to at all. So, I have been having these whisper like thoughts that seem to go as soon as they arrive. That the space something living embodied for such a long time period (compared to our brief human lives anyway) can have a vibrational quality, almost - leave a feeling in the air of it having been. Like the creepy spine straightening feeling of being in a place where something horrid happened (or you feel it did). The atmosphere in a room where two people have argued and spoke bitterness -they have left but still the air is tinged with unease. I have often rolled my eyes at the notion of folk talking about 'cleansing' their new homes of those who have left; walking around clapping loudly to banish old 'ghosts' of feeling, ringing bells, wafting burning sage, tying ribbons and herbs and leaving out salt. But now it seems like it might be a good thing (my children would certainly like to walk around ringing bells and clapping into every dark corner!) for one to be able to embody the space for themselves and rid the past. For surely if we stand and feel and listen for long enough in any particular spot we could perhaps get a feeling for what once was.

'....months would pass and a bee would alight near the spot where the lotus had blossomed, and its essence was released again, momentary but undeniable.'

Boxes

I am comfort re-reading The Red Tent. It becomes a twice yearly event I think. The desire to steep myself in women. Driving this morning into the dreaded supermarket car park all I could see were boxes. Little cubes of prison. Cars, houses and the invisible boxes people walk around in -managing to keep themselves locked away, eyes glazed, defying one to smile. How did we get so fast from the communities of past, the communal living of extended family and kin to living in such isolation behind our 'civilised' walls...? I read about Dianh and her mother's tents, the self sufficiency of their lives. It seems idyllic. Of course I am the women with hands and feet that are soft with leisure (actually my hands are raw and chafted from dish washing) but really I am a lady of leisure with water running luxuriously from my taps, food aplenty; keeping chilled in my fridge. I don't yearn for this to disappear, I would be quite sad without long hot baths and electricity for night time-light reading. I think a part of me misses the women I might have had around me, day to day, to lighten the load of being so often alone.

Our box. Our ahem, home, is going to be re-painted this long Easter weekend. Our estate agent pointed out that not everyone might like a hot-pink kitchen. Our bright green sitting room walls need to be 'toned down'. How dull. Well, I picked our a lemony zesty primrose colour for the kitchen. Neutral is supposed to be the key word for selling houses. The rest of the downstairs including major task hallway is going to be painted in that pale pinky peach of the Waldorf kindergarten. But much lighter. My choice of course. It will all look very plain and neutral. But Don reminded me that it will not look like our home, no, but that is just it -we don't want it to be our home anymore.! True, true, true. Silly to get sad over my hot-pink walls being blanded over. I can always take that trusty tin of pink with me :)

Competition -comparison (Part II)

Thinking more about competition, or more specifically, comparing oneself or ones situation with another - imagined or real. This is really depressing. Really I can't see how it can lead to helpful thoughts and ideas on how to get where you want to be, or achieve what you desire if you are hampered by the dragging self-pitying thoughts of - look at X doing Y! Oh, I wish I was doing Y, or even I wish I were X, she's got life so sorted... blah blah. Does this comparison help anyone? Does it make you feel better about where you are right now? Do you feel appreciating of all you have now and can you be fully aware of what life is offering? Does this sort of thinking close you off to possibility and creativity or crank you open wide - ready to see and experience...? Well. Obviously the narrow and self doubting thoughts of comparison would close off even Buddha. The other day I found myself in this particular situation, and although it makes me look ridiculous and judgmental I will put it here, just to highlight what I am saying.

Isaac had fallen and hurt his head. I carried him into the kitchen and was soothing him with hugs (and the Mr Bump cool gel pack). But still the sorrow and tears and wails of pain. Don comes in carrying Felix and proceeds to dangle Felix upside down. Now, Felix likes this and laughs out loud, but I get the feeling Don is doing this to 'jolly' Isaac along. Suddenly I am in this whirlwind type of headspace remembering all of those times I was told as a child 'Oh come on! It can't have hurt THAT much!' and other unhelpful things; it's just a scratch, you're not bleeding to death, pull yourself together girl!' I remember the jollying along, the attempted distractions, here have this cookie, come on now, stop crying!'

(On a side note, as typing, I am reminded of another sort of comparison and children - how children live so bodily In The Moment - they are quite unable to compare this particular hurt to another imagined greater one, or a previous one. And so we are confronted with the raw emotion of life being lived without comparison, just total feeling)

So, I was starting to get irritated at Don and was wondering what to say to put an end to this (my) unbearable feeling of 'forced joviality'. When, Isaac bursts out laughing and smiles and says, 'Claire, Don is making me feel so cheerful now!' I am suddenly so ashamed of my irritation. It was all MY comparison! My comparing what Don was doing to what I remembered happening to myself. I had transplanted Don into the position of my own father - which he is totally unlike in every possible way - and not liking what I was seeing/remembering. Of course, I had forgotten in that whirlwind moment that Isaac has never been made to feel that his hurts should be pressed down and ignored, trivialised so as to make everyone else feel better. So he never for one moment felt the resentment towards his daddy for 'jollying him along'. And it is VERY true, Don does make us all feel cheerful. Which I pointed out, right then, in all truth. So we had a happy/smoochy family moment instead of a horrid one.

The more I think about it, I feel that competition and comparison in every sense are truly to be avoided. Often it is the unconscious source of much mis-communication and subsequent anger.

-----------------------

Side note II - I mentioned to Don about my dislike of competition and it's use in sports. He said, yes that's all very well, but what about the individual who LOVES competitive sport? You would attempt to stop them/dissuade them from playing/seeking to play because of your ideals? Hmmmm.... I'll have to think about that one. But perhaps the non-competitive nature of life from a young age might counteract the desire for competition?

Ta-da! My first sock :)

The heel was sooo tricky - but it was a very satisfactory piece of knitting. Now on to the next one....

Competition

A while ago I woke from a dream in the dark of the night and the dream was so fresh in my head I sat and wrote it out then slipped back to bed and fell prompty asleep again. It was a dream of words and was exactly the follwing. (I just want to say that it is very one -sided and although I have given it much thought, I can't think of many reasons why being competative would be a good thing... so if you can think of any, please say so!)

To compare oneself with another
: To be Competitive

Are human beings intrinsically competitive? Or is it a learned behaviour? I am proposing here that it is a learned behaviour, and also to wonder if being competitive/comparing oneself with others, is a good way of being. I am realising that this is something I have thought about for a long time. Primarily this has been due to witnessing my children and their lack of desire (instinct?) to pitch themselves against each other (or anyone else). In fact I truly see the opposite to be true of young children; their social willingness and bodily gestures imitating and seeking to fit and be part of the larger environment to which they find themselves part of. I hear adults exclaiming, ‘Oh look! Children enjoy being competitive! See how they are enjoying their game of football (cricket/rugby etc)!’ But is that what they are really enjoying when we adults see them playing? Or might they simply be glad to be outdoors, moving their bodies and being with friends? Or, more negatively perhaps, are they seeking our approval, feeling our desire for them to enjoy (and win!) at sports of our choosing? When we strive to instil in children the notion of a ‘winner’ and a ‘looser’ – it is with a great injustice to them. If this model of self-regard is held by the child (or any individual) does it bring about happiness, a sense of satisfaction, pleasure, and achievement…? (Perhaps only if the child is the ‘winner’) Or insecurity, anxiety over approval and self worth…?

Imagine for one moment the young child who has no notion of this yet – the confusion he must momentarily feel when the adult exclaims; ‘Go on! I’ll race you!’ They both run, they both stretch their legs and bodies together and reach the side of the field. ‘You’re the winner! Yeah!’ Shouts the adult. Really. What has been ‘won’? What has been ‘lost’? I wonder this, really. Does the young child wonder too at how this ‘word’ spoken marks him out differently and in what peculiar way?

Of all the human beings in the world, to only have one ‘winner’ generally means that there are a LOT of ‘losers’. Masses more. Chances are that mostly, any given individual by this reckoning will be a ‘loser’ more often than the prized ‘winner’. Does it feel good to loose? (Sadness, disappointment, humiliation, anxiety, insecurity?) Might it spur thoughts of envy and jealousy instead? The young child who does not yet see how being a ‘winner’ is any better than being a ‘looser’ it is a real joy to behold. The joy for him lies in the exertion, the running, the happiness of the adult who runs alongside him. The marvelling at his body’s ability to transport him to his destination. Could we not learn from the young child and celebrate this instead! Celebrate how wonderful it feels that our legs can run fast, hold hands with a child and say; ‘Wow our legs are strong! I love doing that with you!’ That is surely all the well-meaning adult is trying to convey after all: Their pleasure in being with this child and their desire for fun and laughter with them. Unfortunately most of us were conditioned to hold back our truer feelings of – oh I loved doing that with you! – It leaves us vulnerable to be so open and truthful with our emotions, especially after so many of us have been hurt, humiliated one way or another in the past. Instead we cloak this in the playing of games, which, co-operatively (working together to achieve an end result) would be wonderful! Rather though, we inject this ‘fun’ with our own learned model of game/play behaviour: competition. So instead of expressing our joy we either pretend to lag behind and then shout – Oh! You’re the winner! Or for the overly competitive adults (I have really seen this!) they like to make sure the child knows that he is smaller/weaker and ‘wins’ the running race every time (thus ensuring in the long run that the child doesn’t enjoy running at all – thinking himself to be slow).


I feel sad that in truth we might be setting our children up to see themselves as ‘loosers’ (statistically if we hold this model of winning and loosing up as our ideal they surely will be) rather than celebrating and enjoying uniqueness – the diversity in their bodies and abilities. To run races with a child competitively whilst neglecting to notice the other aspects of games may on appearance seem harmless fun but it might also be the start of a lifelong of feelings of inadequacy and failure.

I do not wish my children to feel like failures simply because they hold this ridiculous notion of ‘winning’ as being the ultimate in titles. That is all it really is anyway; a name, a title. Too many people want to ‘win’ at any cost. Really I feel the true cost is to one’s own sense of self worth and to the kinship one feels with others.

The wrongs and ails of our social fabric can not be mended as a whole – with us working together as a whole group - if we are constantly endorsing the comparing of individuals. If we endorse and promote competitive behaviour with our children how can we reasonably hope for them to ever be united for any particular common cause? It is not possible. We can see all around us evidence of one man’s gain to the detriment of the masses.

Children try so very hard to please us, to be like us, to uphold the values of the society they are born into. While they are young and at home, it is we their family who are their society, their world. They can absorb so much from the casual language we use, for example, they may hear us asking, did you enjoy your game of basketball/cricket?’ and hear us reply, ‘no, we lost’. No mention of how we ran at such a fast speed or the joy we momentarily felt at being outdoors on such a beautiful day. Rather the listening child hears the reinforced message of the importance the adults around them place upon ‘winning’: that it is the only good option. Losing is failure. Even worse if a person only ever asks; ‘Did you win?’ Ugh! I cringe when I hear that. Do you remember the nauseating nervousness of sports day races with parents watching? Or the parent who likes to pretend, ‘oh it is just the playing that counts!’ while you sense from them something different: disappointment, however small. Children are marvellous at picking up how we really feel. It is no good announcing such a token gesture if with every other action you are really saying otherwise.

So what is the solution? Co-operation. Celebrating Uniqueness (Hey, his little legs are not fast but look at how long he can balance on one leg/do beautifully executed cartwheels!). We need to remind ourselves and our children about how different and beautiful we all are from each other. Talk and comment on this. So many areas of our lives can be enhanced by this and our willingness to co-operate rather than compete. I read something wonderful a while ago about a birthday party game of pass the parcel where instead of there being one winner at the last wrapping, each layer revealed a clue and put together at the end lead all of the children to the washing machine where a box of cookies and stack of stickers were shared around. All it takes is a little imagination and inventiveness on our adult part. I find mainstream school culture highly competitive (what really is grading all about anyway? How does it affect such young souls?). There are other schools available for our young children. Gentle, interestingly invigorating alternatives (Steiner for example, or 'Free' schools which are more child led). We can also choose to have a home-based education; the ultimate in freedom and self expression (and of course - of non competition :) )

Socks!

I am knitting socks! I finally decided I should just try. Using the four needles at once is so less tricky than I imagined. I am excited; what a geek I am! I have this multi coloured German sock wool which looks so nice knitted up. I'll post pics when I have one made. Don was baffled when I showed him how it worked. But he wants me to knit him a hat (Mianh I am going to use that lushous sheeny black wool you sent me - it looks like heaven to knit with) - which is a breakthrough as he is weary of my knits. However he recently buzzed his own hair off short. A little bit too short as it happens! So he needs one now :)

Edited to add pic:

Also, these are the first aluminium needles I have used, I am a bamboo freak. So I am comparing and of course it's probably no suprise to hear that I think the bamboo are tops. They are just so smooth and warm to hold. The metal ones are kinda squeaky and the wool does not slide so easily. So onto my shopping list are bamboo double pointed needles (3.5mm) :)

Plastic vs. Wood

I have recently had a Mango Mama marathon reading session after feeling interested in her and wondering about where/how she is. If anyone reading this has read Mango Mama's book then you'll soon see that most of the next bit is regurgitated from her book :) I don't mind doing this a) because it really does resonate with me and b) because I feel positive that topics such as this she would want continuing in circulation.

What's wrong with plastic toys?

Two things, specifically. Firstly- many plastic toys contain a potentially harmful chemical called phythalate which has been found to cause liver and kidney damage in animals after repeat exposure. This chemical is found in bath toys and teethers, squeeze toys. There is no way that this chemical would ever be allowed as food additive yet they make up 20-50% of plastic toys that children chew on every day (measured by weight). Supposedly toxins in plastic toys are not sufficiently bonded (and can thus be released to the surface of the toy as it ages). Most European countries have banned vinyl plastic toys and have asked for PVC toys for young children to be withdrawn from the market. They are all still widely available in the UK though. Also, these sorts of plastic toys (lets also remember that plastic toys break easily and are difficult if not impossible to repair satisfactorily) can be tricky to recycle (some depots don't accept coloured plastic) and during the recycling process emit toxins. Dioxin is one of the leading environmental toxins (related to breast cancer and other major diseases).

Ok, the nice bit! The alternatives: Natural toys! The ultimate in natural toys are those found freely in nature, sticks (that can be transformed into wands and swords and spears) stones, pebbles, for building and 'cooking' as cookies. Rocks, coral, shells, wooden tree stumps, blankets and towels for den building. My boys love their wooden 'kitchen' with pots and pans, wood eggs, conkers, pine cones to cook, crystals for their wood diggers to move around, hand made dolls, sheepskins that transform into boats and islands, a cozy nest. Wood castle, pure dyed silk for tying into dressing up clothes, or lying down into fields, rivers..... felt and hand knitted finger puppets, wood balls, bean bags I have sewed with cotton. Wood smells lovely. It is warm and alive. It has natural patterns and interesting bark ridges. A wooden truck, when lifted is as heavy in the hand as the eye perceives it to be. A large plastic truck though, when lifted is light! How confusing might that be for a young child? I utterly believe that it is with the very young infants and children that the most beautiful and natural toys should be made available. Their senses are so brand new, so alive. Their hands, eyes, ears, noses, mouths all play a part in exploring their environment. Learning about the world. Do we find the harsh ugly colours of plastic toys in nature? Beautiful hand made, nature - the outside - brought indoors in soft muted colours (why do parents often paint their children's bedrooms in such garish bright primary colours anyway? - I know I could never sleep in such a harsh light - imagine the delicate and new gaze of the newborn!) and live textures are what are real. (Also, bacteria does not breed on untreated wood, unlike plastic which is a prime breeding ground. I once wrote this in my Dr's surgery on the 'suggestions' notes after seeing the mound of coloured plastic in the corner - with sick children surely wood would be so much more hygenic).

The 'real' aspect of wooden and natural toys is contrasted with the artificialness of plastic. What is plastic? Is it 'real'? Does it grow? Does it smell? Does it change, die? We hear around us 'it doesn't matter, it is just plastic'. What does that mean? What can we learn from plastic? We learn that we can be decieved by outer apperances, that we have very little effect on them, that natural laws do not effect them. It tells us nothing about the interactions in the world - it is there and does not change. We don't need to care for it. What we do does not matter. The plastic bottle is dropped on the floor, it doesn't break, it doesn't matter. Plastic glass is dropped by the child - doesn't matter, won't break. 'What he does doesn't matter. He doesn't need to be careful. But the truth is that people need to matter and we also need to develop the feelings of caring for things. The world needs caring people.' If our children live with us in an environment that doesn't matter - he learns not to care for things. Children absorb the environment they live in.

Plastic is cheap and doesn't need to be cared for. This is actually the most important consideration for some people when buying toys for their children! Other people feel that man-made, natural and wooden toys resonate with a feeling of specialness... the doll made with love by the mama for her child, the father who carves wood pegs for his son, the grandmother who knits finger puppets, the grandfather who builds a wood sand pit or brings home some sawn tree stumps to jump around with, roll in the garden.

One thing I have taken from the Steiner/Waldorf children's books I have read is the dedication children put into their play ('work') when given the raw materials. The imagination can run free with natural, unfinished toys. The wooden log that becomes the train that rolls into a bridge for little wood trucks to cross the 'river'. The log is flexable, becomes what the child imagines. Then later it becomes a 'log' again to chop for the bonfire. Plastic toys are too often 'finished'. There is very little for the child to do. Lots of parents end up with a heap of coloured-never-played with plastcic. Wooden toys never require batteries either. A real plus. Wooden toys are definatly more expensive. But quality is formost over quantity with toys. Get relations to club together for the one lovely bag of wooden percussion instruments. Or ask a crafty friends and relations to make a toy. What about the plastic toys recieved despite your wishes? Return the toy in packaging to shop for something else? Or get a refund? We do have some plastic in this house. We have a box of lego. A couple of plastic wands. The odd thing here and there. My son just yesterday bought a plastic 'workman' truck with some birthday money. I explained to him that I don't think plastic is very strong. That when it is made, there can be 'smoke' and gas which is nasty to breathe. He still wanted the toy, so that was ok (I don't much like it, but I trust that this can be a learning expereince for him in some way). He knows about it which is the main thing. Plastic is a novelty to him right now, he has hardly played with it! It is good that he gets the chance to compare, explore what this plastic toy can do. Before Christmas he happily helped me sort out such toys of his for a charity shop box. We usually end up tossing out the junk. Less is SO much more!

Five Years Earthside

Five years for Isaac! Five years I have been his Mama. An honour!

Little birthday boy:

Dr. Isaac

Birthday Farm visit
With Aunty Helen

Sheep 'Mama' and Baby 'Isaac' lamb, newborn and basking in Spring sun!
Newly born

Isaac's asked for Birthday Tea - Tacos, veg chips, salad and a Castle cake!

On being social/a social being

I walked four miles with Felix in the sling today. I have not done that for ages but today was just the most beautiful day of the year so far. Blue skies and white clouds and glorious sun, sun, sun! I feel sun deprived like I've been some mama bear asleep in a cave all winter. The air was cool enough to whoosh thrillingly up my nose and lift the air from the back of my neck, but the sun walmed my back so deliciously. I stood against a tree wondering what type it was, Fe and I picking at the ground until we had unearthed some brown chestnut shells and and so my wondering was over. Snug in a nook of trunk was a whole 'conker'. Fe was so excited by it, he held it in his fist for the rest of the walk. Later he might solemnly place it on the nature shelf. Or hurl it there too (or into an entirely different place), there is always that.

Now, people are still always asking me the dull questions pertaining to Isaac's lack of formal (institutional) schooling. (Because how on earth could he receive any type of an education without a teacher telling him what he needs to know?) The main question which folk seem to think is the biggie, that they get stuck on is the 'Oh my god, what about socialisation?' Isn't he going to be a social misfit, an anti-social freak who won't be able to hold a conversation with the 'mainstreamer' ? I suppose, I sometimes answer (very slowly -and in a very friendly way- although that gets trickier depending on how many times I have to say it and to whom, yk?) that it all depends on what you think socialisation means. For me it means the ability to get along with a wide variety of people; different ages, different backgrounds etc. And, I really don't see how this could be achieved in a classroom setting where 20-30 four year olds are herded each day. What variety! My teacher friend tells me that the social aspect of schools would be the one thing above any that would be her driving force to homeschool. That as soon as kids are ushered in to the classroom - like any other mammal they establish a pecking order, the best (conventionally speaking) looking kids and wealthiest at the top, the rest falling away behind. Those poor and ugly kids (this teacher tells me) get the least attention from everyone, even the teachers who are supposed not to be biased on such things, but the others take up more of their time and then when it is time for streaming and the seperating into academic sets these stragglers get put at the bottom (where she speculates they probably stay for the rest of their schooling). These kids are those most likely to be bullied. This does not mean the pretty and rich kids are spared the daily torments of bullying either though, anyone remember how it was a cyclic thing? How it was one girl one week and then another the next, clothes, hair, eyes - anything could be subject to ridicule. In this classroom setting. Where boredom and inactivity and bouts of ridicule induce frustration. Anyone remember coming home from school and taking out the daily pent up emotions on siblings, parents? My teacher friend also tells me that the social interactions going on amongst the children in her classes were all involved with who went to who's party and what toys which person had and who wore what... She said the triviality and pettiness often stunned her. Why were these children interested in such things? Lots of reasons of course, down to parenting attitudes and commercial advertising etc but she said these kids whom she got to know all, crowded as they were (rather unnaturally for any mammal, especially a highly sensitive mammal such as a human being) into one room, were constantly competing with each other (and for her, their only teacher's) attention. In such subtle ways, never truly trusting each other, but only ever having each others opinions and favours. The classroom was their life and not a very good one. Did she have time to answer their questions? (Personally I hardly have time (would a teacher even have the constant inclination?) to answer one four year olds constant questions never mind another 25 children's!). If it is indeed true that children learn through imitation then the social niceties that we hold so important can hardly be imitated through imitating another four year old! I just read an article from another teacher who talked of the daily violence children carry out and receive, all of which is regarded as 'normal' by student and teacher alike. This teacher speculated that this unacceptable level of physical violence totally desensitised children. Their own pain was never taken seriously, they never regarded anyone else's as being important or significant either. Teachers regarded it as general 'messing around' and it was so widespread as to receive little attention. I am nodding and remembering myself a boy with his legs stretched open and hammed against a tree, some boys pulling his legs, the other behind him pushing, laughing all the way. This boys could not walk or came back to school for days. But everyone still laughed about it. Teachers included.

This is not an environment which I would want anyone I know to be a part of, never mind the beings I love and cherish most in the world.

Socially - I have one of the most social people I have ever met in my life living with me right now! He is not afraid to talk to anyone, regardless of age, he see's himself as being able to have interesting conversations with adults and honestly he is amazing company. I can think of many many anti-social adults I know - they all went to school. The socialisation 'issue' for me is just a non-issue. I see and converse with school children I know and there is a hesitancy there in talking to me - I am the 'other', the adult, the one who is known to withhold and punish and who tells them what they 'need' to know. That barrier was still there for me until I five years ago when I became a mother! I met Don's parents still feeling this way and hardly wanted to speak to them, they were 'the other' and asked, asked, asked me questions..... Now I realise the only barrier there is one created by the teacher. The parent. So I am trying, that socially me and my sons can experience life together as equals. This is an ongoing challenge for me. I have not experienced life this way. Until now. So I am born anew with each of my children and try to discard the older skin of 'the other'.

Thinking Mullabanda

Walking with small people means that the exercise is so minimal for me (due to their slower walking style) that I sometimes feel I may just as well be lying down. That is I used to feel that I may as well be lying down.

Now I think Mullabanda.

According to my yoga teacher, mullbanda is this: the pulling inwards and upwards of the fingers of muscle in the lower abdomen and pelvic floor. Once we do this, we start to automatically lengthen the spine upwards from the back of the neck (think shimmery silver thread pulling up the back of the head toward the sky). When I start to feel my feet drag at the impossibly slow pace my children set, I think Mullbanda and click! - I feel my body working and tightening and straightening it's self out. It is fantastic. I think mullabanda at the oddest times; sitting right here, lying in the bath, pegging wet clothes to the line, chopping veg... Seriously. I am finding that this it is a good workout and mindset (*feels* happier too) for anytime.

But particularly for these slow walks of ours. Rather a nice word to roll out of the mouth too. Kinda chantlike.

A House of Straw

Ever since buying a copy of The Straw Bale House and another UK book designed around building a straw home in a temperate climate such as here, just like the foolish first little pig, I have been dreaming about building my own house of straw. Something like this:

Or simpler, on one level like this:

I love how they are new, but look rather timelss and classically human dwellings. That the walls can be curved and rounded with interesting ledges and niches, how they can spread out downwards to the ground, gently grounded -planted. The Nant-y-Cwm Steiner school in Wales is lushious with walls that flare out to meet the ground, a live mossy grass roof.... of course I'd like one of those too:

A composting toilet and a spring or well for our water. Now all I need to do is find the land with such planning persission as we would require, and also keep it to the budget which we have. Also with living costs for one year. Seems rather daunting. Don is keen to spread this out but if we rent somewhere for a year then our money will be gobbled up with the paying of rent. I am so disatisfied with the prospect of continuing my existence as it is currently. This eating up of every resource on earth, the living here -where I am right now: everything is dead - the people, the land. There is no vibrancy here, no joy, no community and no spirit. It deadens me, slowly. I do look for beauty in a single tree or blade or shoot, after a while the larger whole of living here swamps the tiny bits of joy I can cultivate or sow or observe. I want to live lightly. A sustainable living. I want to leave my children with a piece of land and the hope of being able to provide for themselves in totality, to share with them the skills I learn in order to be able to do this: organic vegetable growing, animal husbandry, the building of a compostable toilet, a clay oven, how to trap and skin a rabbit. In my bones I can feel a world where my children or grandchildren will be working to stay alive with so little (since we, this generation, are sucking Gaia dry so quickly) and I sometimes feel desperate to learn so much! Not in ten years but right now.

I need to cultivate more patience I know, otherwise I will itch with wanting and honestly I am trying to learn to give up the desire for more, more more.... in all of it's forms.

I can read at least. That I can do right now :) My sanity often resides within pages of books where I can find measures of comfort that is surely unworldy.

So we did not change our lives today very dramaticallly - but we did change our Nature/Seasonal shelf. First day of Spring, so happy to pull off the winter pictures and clay statues for sprightly lambs and hopeful nests! All Felix wanted on there was a 'nest like the one in the book' (Gerda Muller, Spring) and Isaac was keen for us to make little wool lambs since he saw some new ones at the farm the other day with his Nanny.

With Felix:

And without (note - the blackbird has only one leg - as pointed out by Isaac. Felix chimed in - no it is in his mouth... ugh! What strange boys :lol )