Running Stitch

It’s so true these words. If you get lost, start over again. Tomorrow is a new day. Take a deep breath and try again.

the reality of their world, love amongst chaos

In my mind each day is a blissful realization of my dreams. Dreams of trauquil living space, sparsely furnished with just the items we need, complete with an outdoor wilderness for my children to frolic in. A peaceful routine of daily chores, and learning, spending time as a family exploring, everything around us. This is afterall a new adventure we are in the middle of.

The reality of my days is more a tightrope walk for me, of trying to balance my own needs of a schedule! and of nurturing the boys in an enviroment to explore around them. Something I desperately want, but am not often good at executing.

In my mind we wake up and pad sleepy eyed to the breakfast bar where we have nutritous warm breakfast of something, warm…and nutritous. The reality is I wake early with the alarm to try and get some work done before someone crawls into my lap and wraps arms around me, their little boy head getting between me and the quizzes I’m grading. The other little boy needs a pitchfork to pry him from his nest of books and pillows, and lately cameras.

Breakfast is usually cheerious at the breakfast bar when it isn’t pancakes, because try as I might my older, allergic to the world, is stubborn in his food choices. His younger brother holds true to little brother loyalty and also rarely waivers from the menu.

delicate little footprints we delighted in looking at for several hours before it began snowing again

In my idyllic brain, breakfast rolls delightfully into morning chores and then meeting at the table for schoolwork. The reality encompasses less delightful rolling and more rolling of eyes and exasperated sighs from me that often escalates to grumpy mama voice as I remind them that morning chores are THE.SAME.EVERY. DAY. Hello. Sweeping the floor takes me five minutes but he can drag it out for twenty.

And that is before we begin our assignments. In my mind I am happily answering questions of my offspring as I engage them in conversation about the world outside our apartment. I knit socks for refugees in Uganda while they work on multiplication tables.

But Really, I spend too much time reminding them that they are working on Math, while I am doing the morning dishes and emptying the cat litter my new least favorite thing about apartment life.

I read blogs that talk about unschooling, and living in the moment and the children as the teachers. And well I think that while those places and moments seem very idyllic, they are not my moments. They are not what works for our family.

I am barely cresting the hill of not inwardly cringing when the grocery store clerks ask the kids if it is a school holiday. My children are not embarrassed by homeschooling and I would hate to be the one that makes them realize that even I think we are weird somedays.

And other days I revel in the weirdness of deciding to bag it all and go sledding. Of the fact that even though I have had enough of their squabbling and sent them to their room while I rock in the corner, I find them minutes later, happily engaged in play. Building forts, working out stories, enjoying each other.

sunshine, on my son…makes me happy

At the end of the day it is easy for me to beat myself up for being too grumpy, for being too rigid, for insisting that THEY FOCUS! Or. I could calm the heck down, and realize that my kids are happy. They enjoy their days, I enjoy my days. Sure I get frustrated at having to spend time cleaning their rooms everyday, sure I get frustrated at repeating myself a gazillion times because underwear, just never goes on the floor, even if it is clean.

At the end of the day I have to remember that I have tomorrow to start all over. To do things better. To riff off of what was Great! today and to tweak the parts that could have been.

But mostly at the end of the day I will relish the exhausted six year old passed out in his bunk as his older brother continues to hatch plans for the future, well into the night (I’m sure) and I end the day with the man of my dreams. The one who says to me “I’m glad you are frustrated, I know that parenting is hard, I’m glad you aren’t just watching things happen, slack jawed and not caring”

And he’s right. I am also glad that I am not apathetic to my life, I”m glad that I want peace and harmony and book learning and fresh blueberries once in a while. If it was easy this journey would it be half as delicious?

*Food chain-Eric Hutchinson

Life is different here. After running various errands yesterday (some trial runs to make sure we could get were we were going today, because dang it, those buildings they move I’m sure of it.) We arrived home with some freshly done errands, and extra energy. So at the suggestion of the neighbors we headed to the sledding hill. I have to admit I’m partially drawn to this sledding hill because last week I lost my keys there. I know. My secret if revealed, it’s not that I enjoy my children’s joy. It’s that I lost my keys, and am in vain searching through new snow for them. (I am unrealistic at times)

But the boys had a great time. And sledding is such an excellent energy expenditure. I mean WHAT A GREAT IDEA! Someone how you get your kids to run up a hill multiple time?! It’s amazing. The world works in mysterious ways. I’m all for mysterious ways myself. Of course I’d be more prone to do some running up and down the hills if I had proper attire, but I’m only good for few rounds up Snow down my pants before I want to head in. It’s true. I’m a wimp, and I don’t have the appropriate snow gear yet, which may potentially have led to the loss of my keys. I did put them in my zippered pocket which was full of snow when I got home. Possibly due to the adventure sledding. I’m almost over it.

I’m not over the snow yet, and neither are the boys, I know some people find it old hat, but the fact that our sleds still have snow frozen to them from the day before when we go to use them is just cool.

*Walking in Winter Wonderland.

Today we managed to not have to go to the store for butter, flour, rice or any of the things I suddenly don’t have in my pantry, because My pantry, it moved. We didn’t have to go to the bank for checks, or to buy crickets for the dragon. I didn’t get lost trying to find the elusive Library (it moves) that I still don’t have a card for because I’m not on any of the bills that come to my new place in the world. I’m that freeloading woman that my husband claims. He who has a driver’s license because, well he is on all the bills.

I didn’t even lose another pair of sunglasses today (tally 3) because this Pacific Northwest girl just can’t seem to remember to wear, or pick up, or track her sunglasses. Instead we had an ordinary day, school work and a walk. We wandered down to the river trail, and there was rolling, and throwing and merriment. The likes that boys and snow seem to always stir. Even boys that maybe dragged their feet a little on the way out the door, because WAAALLLKING…..is so booooring.

There was probably less walking on this walk then ever before. There was much rolling, and lollygagging and pushing each other down in to snowdrifts. And giggling. The giggling of little boys…silly. We still are somewhat taken aback that the snow is still there. That the white stuff we dreamed of all winter in our old lives, not only is here, but doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. We have learned alot. We need lots of mittens and hats, because those never dry. We need boots with inserts (those dry faster) and face masks. Much to their joy, the boys are both proud owners of ‘robber masks’. Which they have been very careful not to wear in any stores. “We just don’t want any want to think we are real robbers”. Probably for the best.

*Avert Brothers-Live and Die

We returned to our schedule yesterday. A day full of math and reading and some crying for good measure. Getting back on track can be hard. For the holidays we flew to Washington and saw friends, and participated in Christmas traditions that have been a part of us for as long as our Children have been a live. And then we flew home, to a new State and a new place to really start our new life.

A life without boxes and bubble wrap and trying to find that one thing…where is it? A chilly life, surrounded by snow and adventures waiting around every corner. We made news friends on the first day of the year (statistically not hard to do when you only know five people but still!).

We are settling into this new place in this new year. I even ran my sewing machine to finish up one of only two handmade gifts this year. Pajamas for my boys because I simply couldn’t let it go and ended up sewing those two pairs of pajamas on three separate machines thanks to all my friends!. Things are slowing down and returning to our new normal.

*It’s in everyone of us-The Muppets

The view from my window has changed a bit. Although it still contains the same two faces. We have officially been here a week and much to all our joy it snowed. Snow, snow, snow. I’m sure it may someday get old, the snow. But for now, it’s pretty awesome. It adds a certain festivity to our exploring.

Exploring on foot anyway, because I may be a tad bit wimpy when it comes to driving in the snow. And by snow I mean completely clear and not snowy roads that they plow immediately and salt. That is the extent of my wimpiness some flakes and I”m all BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES!.

In my defense my exposure to snow usually means 2-3 days of not leaving the house because they haven’t plowed our road and we live by a creek. Only we don’t live there anymore. It’s hard to wrap my mind around it, that we don’t live at The Burrow anymore, soon we won’t even own The Burrow.

Our new life is full of school (much to the children’s chagrin. What!!? I thought we were on Holiday!) and unpacking, finding the store, finding our way back home, and snowball fights. Of course.

Luckily last week I found the small boys snowsuits store so the small boys are all snowsuited up, Mama needs a jacket but for now my raincoat is doing okay. It won’t work for the slopes ( we have big plans for the slopes) but it works for tromping up and down the trails around the apartment.

The lack of outdoor space has been an adjustment for us all. Particularly Mama who is used to sending small boys into the woods without worrying too much about anything other than wet socks.

Now we share a ‘yard’ with at least 24 families, maybe 48. And we no longer live on a road that the boys grew upon where everyone driving by knows them. No one knows them, and I don’t know them. I am completely out of element. It is strange.

Probably there aren’t many cougars here though, real ones I mean.

On Saturday night we went in to Salt Lake City with some friends who moved to town three months before us and saw the lights at Temple Square, a little bit of Utah history and a little bit of New beginning for the Stitch family.

*Silver Bells

For lack of a better title. It’s not really that cold, yet, but it’s coming. We’ve been out exploring and finding our way around our new home.

It’s different for sure.
8 year old: I grew up in the country, but now we live in a city.

Neither statement is quite true. But it feels true.

And then we took this show on the road.

*Hey Duckbills

Much like Santa, I’m a list maker and I’ve been checking mine twice and marking things off. Like this North Star quilt that I not only finished before I left but also mailed! Thus the pictures Dragon Island Mama sent me of Dragon Island baby all passed out on Thanksgiving on his new quilt. I was inspired to make this quilt before Sarah even asked if I would. I was so thrilled to be asked to make a quilt for someone who really wanted one. It was a pleasure. And big brother’s quilt is darn close to being finished. I did have to relegate it to the mailed from Utah pile because the time it runneth out.

Meanwhile Hobbes has done very little packing. Slacker.

*Every Sunday-Footloose

Today we said goodbye to the girls. Goldie, Will, Bill and Blackhole. The end of the chicken era, they headed off to whence they came, bopping down the road in Ama’s pick up. Home to roost as it were. And who better to take care of them than your grandmother. Even, if as my eight year old pointed out, she is not related to you by DNA.

Sometimes those Grandma’s and Mama’s are the best kind. One of the most poignant moments of my husband’s grandmother’s funeral was the realization that his Grandmother worked hard to meld a diverse family together. My own MIL was 19 when she first met the woman who would marry her father, and give her a sister. My husband never met his biological grandmother she died when my MIL was 18 and yet his grandmother, the only one he knew, melded five diverse children into one fierce clan. They produced Eight Grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. Most of whom filled the Church this past Monday.

As we drove home the boys and I talked about what family was, my budding scientist talking about DNA and being corrected by his not so scientific (but I do know a thing or two about DNA) mother. Just like their father’s grandma was not related to him by DNA, I said, Ama is not still their grandmother, even though she is not my biological mother.

She calls me the daughter of her heart and it is one of the most important names I have ever been given. Even though she didn’t have a responsibility to me, she has been like a mother to me through many life changing events, and sorrow I didn’t know I could feel. She was at the birth of both of my children, quietly standing in the corner patting my head. She moves quietly though many people’s lives and is often taken for granted. Yet, she is one of the smartest women I have ever met, and she has the biggest heart.

I think we often take our mother’s for granted, it is only when we look back that we see how they held us up through the hard times and were the happiest for us during the good times. They are happy for you even when they are sad you are leaving them. Now I am a mother and I understand this, and dread the day the boys will leave me and take a little piece of my heart with them.

And it is the mother of my heart who I will miss the most when I leave this place, and that is the way it should be.

*take another piece of my heart-Janis Joplin

Time to Move on-Tom Petty