excite me, you won't have to try very hard

This is the third post I have written since my last one, but the others were still full of woe. And I'm not all like that. Some days I do actually smile. It wows me to read so many comments from women just like me. I feel better. Just knowing that. I have often had the odd weird comment, a bad egg, and sort of expected someone to anonymously post that I was just whining about nothing and didn't know how lucky I had it etc. That would have slumped me, because yk, I *know* that too, sometimes, I really do. It's nothing to do with not finding space to be appreciative, or about enjoying the little moments and marvelling in surprises and sweet kid moments. Nope, it's nothing to do with any of that at all, it's just a dulling of ones self, a dull grind against a chore-express-train you have no hope of ever stopping, with just you standing on the tracks. With a single hand up, hoping.



I found myself in a weird place the other day, having written another couple of articles, I was asked by The Green Parent magazine to write something about myself and submit a photo for the contributors page. Following guidelines, one of the questions I had to answer about myself was what was the most exciting thing that has ever happened to you?. Well. Of all the questions. Exciting? The meaning of that word and my daily life, they don't really go together all that well, you know? I was seriously stumped. I felt pretty sheepish. Should I make something up? Even more depressing. I wracked my brain (and life) seriously, and slightly depressingly. I have not climbed Kilimanjaro, or ridden in a Jeep across the African plains, I have not volunteered as a nurse in a war torn country, nor saved a life, or even sky dived from a plane. I have never been in a hot air balloon or had someone propose to me on a cliff top. I really really struggled to think of one particular amazing exciting thing I could write down.



Because the things that excite me? Well they are not big things at all. They are little things. Like on Friday when I was about to lay my head in my hands and weep, my dh came home (sensed hysteria) and took us all out to dinner. Just like that. And we blew a load of money and ate such fabulous food it was great. I had blood orange sorbet. And shin of beef. That kind of excited me. I get excited by my kid's birthdays. I like the preparation, the secret night before with the blowing up of balloons and hanging streamers, wrapping gifts. I LOVE the excitement of Christmas Eve, it thrums the air between my children and self. We dance around a bit. When it starts to snow the first time of the season (this morning!) I smile with joy and feel a little giddy. Like I am 7 again. I don't seem to remember that as an adult this means a cold house and carrying lots of wood. Who cares - it's snowing! I get excited when I bake something that turns out particularly well. And tastes even better. Sometimes I get excited when it's bed time, because I am in the middle of a fabulous book I want to snuggle up and read for a bit, and finally with sleeping children I'll get the chance. I was so excited when my first ever hen layed it's first ever egg. I get super excited every single Spring when the seeds I plant actually grow! They really turn into the plants on the seed packets! My god, this blows my mind every single time. I go out there every single chance I get and just stare at them. When my babies were born, it was amazing, overwhelming, but not 'exciting'.



See? How can I put any of that into 20 words? It just wasn't going to be possible. And now only a few days later, I can't even remember what I did write. I get excited daily over little things. I am a little person. I am not ashamed of that. I don't know how to measure excitement, or to scale it to fit. Maybe, just maybe I am even more blessed than I imagine. Rather than getting depressed or anxious that my life is so little I can't find a big thing to fit the box labelled 'major excitement'. Maybe I should be glad if seeing a little Wren up close is enough then it's enough. I am lucky in a way I didn't see. Didn't realise. So many people don't care about the little things, so they don't get thrilled by them. The world is a beautiful place, is my opinion, and we are not here awfully long.



I am only just in my 30's. Maybe I have time to get even more excited :) What would totally excite me (hint hint Man if you are reading this, you sometimes do) would be to go away with just you. Just you. And me. My head reels at the luxury in that idea. We have not done that since having children. Lets stop buying stuff and start buying time to have experiences is my wish for the two of us.


Felix's Viking writing is pretty thrilling

If only I could summon excitement over chores, I still can't in case you were wondering if I'd had some mind blowing revelation since my last post. If that ever happens I will be so excited I'd share it here immediately with great haste. Ha.

picking myself up off the floor, again

So, I had my mini meltdown of the week. Phew at least that one is over. You might know it. It *always* happens as soon as my poor dh walks through the door. 'Oh my god, I just can't do THIS any more!!' Gesticulating wildly around the room, trying to encapsulate my life, as I see it at that moment. He might not sigh out loud, but I assume he does internally. It gets to the point sometimes when I just cannot stand the sight of another floor to sweep, another load of laundry to sort, whether clean or dirty, another plate to wash, another meal to clean up or prepare (or hey, quite often, the fun of both! double treat). By the time I have also been chauffeur and dog walker and facilitator of fun fun fun for everyone else there really isn't much of the day left. To do the amazing fabulous things I imagine I could do if I only had a shit load more free time.

I usually wail a bit about how my whole life feels like I embody the job of a maid without actually being paid a penny. There have been many times even I have cursed my absent-at-work dh during the day, when things get really bad in my head - for leaving stuff for me to pick up of his on purpose. This is the man who is out of the house for about 12 hours, who has a stressful job with (too much I think) responsibility and who rarely ever ever moans at all. He's a much better person than I and far less selfish. In fact when I tell him thank you for his efforts in looking after us all and keeping us well. He tells me my pleasure. And he is not being sarcastic. I might be tempted. In his shoes.

And you know what. I know his day can be shit too, what I hate most are these times when it all turns into a competetion, sometimes I am aware that my moaning sounds rather a lot like blame. That's when it all goes sour.

But I really need someone to moan at. I know it's a rubbish thing to do. I'd like to swallow it down and not. But then I might explode. On all of that bad feeling. Someone who isn't going to try and fix it all by suggesting I get a house cleaner (um, yeah, show me the money... and I'd still spend it one something else first). I hate that cheery, well lets problem solve! attitude. Or at least I do when I am in this particular head space. The more I hear suggestions, the more I feel worse and worse and worse. I guess because the suggestions don't acknowledge the shit that today has been. They are already trying to move me on. Before I am ready.

In different situations when I am not in this mad place or woe I have literally have told my dh what to say to me when I am in these funks. Something sympathetic, something emphatic. A hug. An offer to make me a cup of tea. I have found I need to do this, because otherwise he takes my sad crying anger at life as an insult.

Sympathy is it takes. Women are really good at this. They really are. And they know just what to say and do to make it better, mostly. I'd like to live with other women sometimes. I really would. A three year old 'woman' doesn't count. She doesn't know sympathy, only how to give orders. Or advice. She's the worst sort of woman right now, kind of like a mother. Who doesn't know much.

Sunday morning was one of those days. Having another adult around at the weekends, as great as it is for other reasons, really adds to the mess and chaos and dirt (there really is a reason why I put the dog in it's pen after a muddy wet walk rather than let it luxuriate on the Turkish handwoven rug and it isn't because I like cleaning). Cleaning. Again. God it sounds so boring. And it is. Yet how come it takes up so much of my life and head space? It really does. And I struggle and fight against it, constantly. Life is messy, and while that can be lovely and freeing and fabulous, it generally is oh so much more so for those who don't have to clean up five people's crap every single day. It's very freeing and wonderful for those who disappear to do their thing after being so free and easy. I am a facilitator of free and easy whilst damming the aftermath.

And so on Sunday I sat on the sofa (after having resurrected this said bit of furniture from the ruins of previous person's fun on there. And after I straighten the coffee table, open curtains and tidy a bit). Who can actually relax in a room so topsy turvy and messy it's like an acid trip? Or an art exhibition you walk away from because it's not funny or ironic when you see it every day. Well my dh can actually plonk himself down oblivious to this, but not me. So I sit down and just feel like crying. I think after a Saturday at work, on my feet all day, I need the following day not to have to contain being on my feet all day, generally doing similar service to others. So I am on the verge of tears, and feeling cross and grumpy And hoping everyone might freeze into statues just so they don't turn the house into a further fun exhibition. And actually kind sympathetic words aren't even going to cut it. Wow. Just typing this I am boring my control-freakish sounding self a bit.

I like to think of myself as a radical homemaker. A women, not especially unintelligent, a woman capable of other things (should I ever have opportunity to do them). Someone who embraces and chooses the art of home making. And enjoys it. For sure. There are moments when this is true. When I am making jam, vegetable gardening, baking, sewing a throw for a chair, or knitting clothes for my kids. When I embrace the crafts of long gone and stir them back to life I feel good. The first time I made kimchi or kombucha, or kefir, or sourdough bread; they were all good hearty cozy times. Collecting eggs and rearing my own chicks. I was reclaiming skills I was never past down. But mopping floors? Cleaning toilets? Scrubbing mould from walls? Washing a fox crap covered dog? These are things that make me weep. Really. But these are the things that make the world go round. Literally. The millions of women (lets be super honest, it's mostly the women) that wipe their toddlers butts and potties and vomit from carpets and sweep the floors endlessly, endlessly, like that cat licking an open tin forever and ever never realising it was licking up it's own blood. I feel like that cat. Only I suppose I realise I am licking my own blood and still need to carry on doing so.

So I sit on the sofa and in order not to have to look around I open my laptop and the first thing I see is a left open page with a photo of a beach. I want to go the beach. Or something!!! I blurt out. Dh must sense hysteria. So he tells me this is a good idea and about how we can be up and out in no time. I turn all low and broody oh no, it's too late already to get any where like that..... he is already in the shower.

But we did it, we made it out. And it was good. And needed. Even if we spent too much money and were very late home. Sometimes just driving in the car together, is the most we get to be all together, with no one dashing off, or needing to be somewhere.

The most magnificent thing of all (bar battling the refreshingly frigid wind on a buffeted beach) was returning home and there were no additions, at least, to the mess of the house. I really really felt that as a blessing. When you feel cheered by coming home to no one having been there, you feel a bit insane. But also that going out more is the way to go. Then one feels less like a plodding home maker and more like one is choosing to be at home. When it happens that you are there. It makes the world of difference. It's quite radical to decide things. Yes I shall clean the bathroom floor because if I don't I will feel sick when I next walk in here, and mad at the person who did this. And I don't want to. And I talk to myself in my head this way (or some times out loud and then my kids shout 'what did you say?' and I wonder who they are talking too). Yes I shall stay at home today! No I shall not. I shall take myself and children off and out, even if it's just with bags of crisps and fruit off into the hills to tramp about in the rain.

Thanks for deciding to read this, you radical home makers. I have a chocolate and blueberry cake in the oven smelling ready. Have a virtual piece on me. Just make sure you clean your own plate. My sink is way too full.

treasured

Isaac went shopping all on his own and bought me this for Christmas. I remember doing that when I was 10, it's so good to have money in your pocket and be able to walk the shops and browse and pick just what you think someone would like. Only he didn't buy for anyone else, only me, he used up all of his money! I love it. Really, I will always treasure this little gem stone tree as the gift he bought and picked out himself.



We have a very bolshy hen. Just sayin. She runs up and pecks at my hands, like they are a big bunch of tasty worms and I have to force her away from me. With my foot. She is so bossy and naughty. And scary. She got right in my face while I took this pic, she wanted to smash the lens, I know it.





We have not made bread for eons. You just don't when you are gluten free. I just don't suggest it, you know. All of that flour, achewwww! But they really do like the kneading. And sticking currants in for hedgehog eyes. Esmé had a massive hissy fit just after I took the nice picture of her kneading. I can't even remember why. She is very stormy.



Luckily her screams didn't ruin the bread. Although I am sure the singing of a sweet song instead might have helped it rise faster.





This is Neville II. We woke him up to take a photo, since he is a late night party animal and sleeps through the day. He responded in kind and bit Felix, blood pearled up on his finger. Felix said through his tears, don't worry I still love you Neville! The ten minute news reports on Neville's state of health and position in the cage have gradually dwindled. Thank goodness. There's only so many times I can get really enthusiastic about him chewing on a bit of cucumber. Again. But goodness knows I am a great actress. He is cute though, teeth aside.



After reading Eddie's Toolbox (for the zillionth time) Esmé and I made more bird food for the garden birds, and an additional tray for the mad hens.





Also enjoyed right now are these Usborne dolly style sticker books. We have gone through quite a lot, this is the second since Christmas, and the very favourite of all. It was pretty interesting, and the stickers are placed just so. Although Esmé never quite knows the purpose of handbags/purses and they tend to end up as hats. Luckily they look pretty good that way too. I might try it... or I would, if I had a fancy handbag. I don't. I use a big wicker-ish basket. Which is why she probably doesn't know their real purpose. I also often find I am sporting a dog lead slung around my neck. This is not a great look for me, but probably adds to some sort of neglected looking charm.... I hope.



My hand was utterly forced into making a flourless chocolate torte by Heather. I improvised on the original recipe in the The French Kitchen cookbook by Joanne Harris. I used home made goat ghee and melted coconut oil whisked together with a smidgen of maple syrup. To this I added three egg yolks and my own ground up brazil, almond and walnut meal (not quite fine enough either - future note). After blending this I added one bar of melted Green and Blacks dark cooking chocolate (minus the pieces Esmé ate) and then finally the egg whites, whipped stiff-ish, and folded in gently, cloud like. I measured nothing at all, just looked, guessed and hoped. It turned out sort of brownie like, and sweet enough. Everyone here liked it so much. I think I used only about 3-4 table spoons of maple, I counted on the bitter-sweet chocolate providing enough. It did. It made a very delicious breakfast.

Today I really want to make some avocado chips. Like these. They look good and I am sure I can make a spicy gluten free version.

Also today we are keen to paint some stream rocks and try and make houses like this lovely one.

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edited: I *did* make those avocado fries. They were soooooo good! Really! The softness of the avocado and the crunch and spice of the crumb... yum. I used rice flour to dip the slices, then egg, then finally I made my crumb with scrunched up gluten free oatcakes mixed with salt, pepper, chilli, coriander, cumin and paprika. I am looking into my future and seeing these on my plate again later tonight :)

indefinitely

Indoors:

~Made dahl from my new cookbook. Christmas is just not Christmas without a new cookbook. This one was given to me by Esmé. I am never sure about legume consumption, but I like red lentils a lot. I add them generously to nearly every soup/stew I make, just to give that nice thick consistency. This is the first thing I made from the book and it was good (and shhhh, the first dahl I ever made without throwing in a save-the-day stock cube). A scoop on the side of scrambled eggs and bacon was just lovely. But it needed salad too. A quick run to the green house with scissors and it was all ready to go (no I didn't wash the leaves, I live dangerously).



~I am also still going strong with my water kefir. It's been sitting on my worktop now for over six months. Not the same batch, obviously. But the same grains. I let it sit with a chopped lemon for about 3 days. It's good them. Any earlier and I find it too sweet. My kids all fight over it, I never seem to have enough! I need to get more grains and a bigger jar, they seem to grow really quite slowly compared to the regular kefir grains which multiply like gremlins.



~Knitting is moving briskly on and I will soon be out of wool. I think I have knit these in the size bigger than I thought, yes.... I am looking at the instructions and see that the little pants are for an older babe. That is what happens when you sit watching three episodes in a row of the BBC adaptation of Great Expectations and hence knit mindlessly. Gillian Anderson made a very good Miss Havisham. Splendidly decadent viewing. I am very proud of myself for actually watching thee entire episodes. I am a fair-weather tv/film viewer and often feebly trot off to bed after ten minutes of something to get back to my book. Of half way through a film I will wander off through to the kitchen suddenly having decided to bake scones. With Gruyere. And a batch of tahini fridge fudge, on the side... I forget I am supposed to be watching something. I was so tired though that this time I stayed put. I sat, knitted away and let The Man sort everyone out for bed.



~This is Boo-boo's new doll, the first Barbie type to enter the house. And it has scented hair! Scented frickin hair. It is so gross. I already washed it (on Christmas day) and it still stinks. I keep hiding it from us all, trying to keep the toilet cleaner smell away. Why scent doll's hair?? How bizarre and unnecessary! I will be sure to read labels very carefully from now on and try to escape the lunacies of doll manufacturing.

Outdoors:



~It's wild and windy here. Downpours followed by scouring winds mean the ground dries quickly but flooding is always an issue. The flood plains look beautifully like the secret flower meadow world in Howls Moving Castle (minus the flowers tho, this is after all the UK in January). See, how I manage to sit through children films tho? Hmmm. To make that comparison. I do indeed watch more children's films that grown-up ones. Which is good. As long as I keep Disney at a long arm reach. Esmé is IN LOVE with Totoro. Me too! Snap! I tell her. Every three year old should have a copy. There's no danger, no crisis, just relaxing music and weirdness. The hallmark of a Ghibli Studio film. The Man thinks they were all written by some geek tripped out on acid. Which no doubt they were. Which makes them no less good I say. Better than sugar coated and boring princessified Disney. I'd rather have a child-witch delivering bread rolls than a sappy Cinderella wearing cute clothes.







~Outdoors though, the wind makes it possible for us to fly like witches and watch out we don't snag waist length hair in the manner of wandering sheep.



~Isaac is back at school, his second term as a a school-going child. It's weird. He's nearly 11 and really seems to want to go, but still, I prefer him at home. I miss him. His absence changes the dynamics of the day and how Felix and Esmé live theirs.



~We still have our tree up and are all reluctant (minus The Man) to see it come down. It smells good still and is a cosy twinkling bright beacon when the rest of the world is grey and dull. But, I suppose one can't keep a tree up indefinitely, or else seem really bonkers. Plus it does take up a LOT of space It's pretty much the 12 days after now, I think... well tomorrow then :)

new year yarn along

In truth these pants are the third item on my needles this year. Which makes it a super knitting year already. Thought I'd join the years first yarn along. I am using some Rowan merino 4 ply that was gifted to me. I really don't like 4ply all that much. I am a dk girl. So I am holding two strands together, one chocolate, one deep dust pink. It's interesting knitting with two strands. But I might miss out the moss stitch sections and do something else on these Kanoko Pants. I love the look of moss stitch, just not the making of. Sometimes it's worth it.





I made this little bag, because my older knitting bag, the lovely yellow Harris Tweed one, was just too small for hefting around my current knits. Or really what happened was this: Esmé needed a bag for her dolly clothes, so I pooped upstairs meaning to hunt one out and instead sat and sewed her a quickie from the lovely purple Harris Tweed sent to me by the even lovelier Jacqui. I brought it down and gave it to her and she stuffed it and then promptly forgot about it. I looked long and hard at it, dumped out the doll clothes and re filled it with my knitting. Whoops. Today then, on my to-do list, is the making of a new doll clothes bag.

I just finished reading The Time Travellers Wife (again) and started We need to talk about Kevin, by Lionel someone. It's really too bad there is a picture of Tilda Swinton on the cover, it's wrecked my idea on what the character might have looked like, had it not already been made into a film. Tilda Swinton scares me. I'd be really nervous around her, she always plays such icy chilling roles. I just read the very quick Books vs Cigarettes by George Orwell too (just to yk, stretch my mind away from modern lit). It was interesting, but I was glad to nose dive back into story-land.

We seem to be playing a LOT of the card game BLINK at the moment. It was a stocking filler and a good purchase, only The Beauty can't stand loosing and she looses every time. Then she insists on swapping places with the other player, sure that over that at that side of the table must be wear the winning streak lies. Then she looses and screams that she is NEVER playing again! Did you CHEAT Felix? She bellows. Again? In a tiny voice not four or five seconds later she is asking who will play next with her. It's sort of torturous really. We see her dealing and edge out of the room.

all change (accidentally)

The garden is still providing oriental salad greens and kale. Oh kale. I am still finding ways to eat kale. And I know that come spring I will plant just as much up as ever. I am at the stage now of snapping off new heads in their entirety which means there will be no new growth, between me and the chickens I am down to a few plants. Still, it's been good, I bow low to kale.





We had a power cut for a few hours last night, just our little lonely house. This means it takes the power company a whole lot longer to fix us back up than if a whole street were down. But I quite liked it. And I dug out the masses and masses of paper lanterns I made a couple of years back. We played cards, read, knitted and ate eggs, because the Aga always keeps it's precious heat for a least a day after it's switched off. Also we had our wood burner, which gives off so much heat and light. It was good, we were part way through the Witches movie and everyone had the 'scares'. So it was good to have a change of pace, and um, have no pace to meet. Just candles and quiet. And everyone *was* a lot quieter. Esmé cried and moaned for the first twenty minutes, and then when the lights came back on she moaned again a great deal. She is not someone who copes well with the unexpected (or you know, um just the normal or regular stuff either, lest be honest). She really likes people to know her suprise. In all things.





The tree is still up and I am enjoying it, usually by now in the season I am ready for it to be down and tossed into the woods, but this year, it seems it's hardly been up. Hardly any needles dropped (which pays homage to the low temperatures in our house, generally) and it's hardiness, also, it still smells wonderful. Oh Christmas tree oh Christmas tree, you are so fair and lovely. Last year Isaac cried when it came down, this year I might stand and weep (oh, and Esmé of course). I feel emotional. About pretty much everything right now. Maybe I am more like The Beauty (or vice versa) than I'd like to admit...





We have been busier, mostly than we all needed this holiday time. And now I am aiming for a great January chill. I will sit and knit and read and surf the net and cook and bake and potter and re organise, walk my dog (with and without children) and maybe turn over and manure some of the veg garden. I don't know, perhaps I might not get into anything that strenuous. I am taking my New Year resolutions monthly. And the month of January is just to relax. I resolve to do that.





I knit a tiny thing, for a tiny wee someone watching two films this week. The purple yarn is merino and silk with a touch of alpaca, so I sort if didn't want it to end. Now I will use the remaining to make myself a hat I think. Mine is slack and baggy, like a tam-o-shanter or something. I love purple. I really do, not lilac, but rich and deep.

Happy New Year! And sorry about the weird blog changes, I didn't mean to change the whole template, but now my little brain can't figure out how to switch it back, because I think my old template is no longer an option. I'll work something out that I like, eventually. I am certainly liking the way photos can be BIG. It's FUN. And capitals look super awesome big too. Maybe it needed a change anyway (just don't tell Esmé if you value your hearing).