A lot is going on right now and I’ve not had much time to write. I had a birthday this week and it got me ruminating. Here’s some of what I’ve learned in my 40 years. (Some of these say “you,” but they all mean “me.”)

1. clean something every day, even if it’s only your hands

2. read to your kids; it is food for life

3. mothering well is largely a matter of knowing what things to get excited about, and what not to

4. wine is wonderful

5. smiling makes you feel good and it’s free (sometimes I forget this one)

6. make a place for butterflies and birds in your world; you won’t be sorry

7. stuff is only stuff; it all wears out eventually

8. beware of modeling beeswax in the laundry

9. tell your story, but don’t get so caught up in telling it that you forget to live the next chapter

10. children are resilient; however, test this only with careful discrimination

11. make your own meaning, don’t swallow anyone else’s

12. read poetry; read everything

13. when you fuck up, breathe, and then start over

14. being married to your best friend is ideal

15. try new things every day

16. exercise is good for me even if I don’t like it

17. fashion is stupid—occasionally fun, but stupid

18. it feels good to help people

19. somehow, time can both fly and drag—at the same time

20. words can indeed hurt

21. onions and Brussels sprouts are actually delicious

22. sing more, dance more

23. be your own beautiful freaky self out loud; if you don’t you’re cheating everyone

24. avoid the pink aisle and boys need dolls

25. sometimes the best course of action is to set it on fire

26. vote

27. gardening is cheaper than therapy

28. feminism benefits everyone

29. art is important, and more important to make than to consume

30. boys are actually sweeter than they want you to think they are

31. love and kindness is all the religion I need

32. equality for only some is no equality at all

33. find your cause; better yet, find a dozen of them and get to work

34. miracles are everywhere and often go by the names of “humanity” and “nature,” “life” and “science”; as such, they are no less miraculous

35. making it often feels better than buying it

36. I cannot “do all the things”; nor should I try to

37. a whole lot of things that bother me today won’t matter a bit tomorrow, so I should just chill

38. I am still learning

39. friendship is as necessary to me as air

40. my ultimate career goal is still philanthropist

Are you hoping to make a special Mother’s Day gift for mother or grandma, or perhaps an end-of-year gift for a teacher? This yarn necklace is easily made by children who have a little finger knitting experience, in fact, my son made one for me when he was in the first grade and recently taught me how to make it. This kind of cord-making is called “finger knitting” and “finger weaving.” (Besides necklaces, you can make scarfs, braceletes, belts, or headbands in this way.)

Materials

• wool or cotton yarn in a pretty color

Start by placing the tail of your yarn in the crook between your thumb and forefinger so that the tail hangs down over the back of your hand. Use your thumb to pinch the tail and hold it in place. Take the ball end of your yarn under and over, under and over your four fingers, wrap it once around the pinkie finger.

Continue weaving the working yarn under and over, under and over, traveling back toward your index finger.

Wrap the yarn around your index finger and go under and over, under and over until you go around your pinkie again, and then weave it back toward your index finger in the same manner. Wrap the yarn one more time around your index finger and let the ball end rest across your palm. You should now have two loops (horizontal bands) of yarn on the front of each finger as you see in the photo below.

Now, beginning with your pinkie finger, grasp the lower loop with the fingers of your other hand and lift the lower loop over the upper loop …

… and completely off the pinkie finger as in the next photo below.

Now release the loop. Your hand should now look like this photo below, with two loops on the first three fingers and only one on the pinkie finger.

This action of moving the bottom loop over the top loop and off the finger is finger weaving. You will repeat this action with the remaining three fingers (ring finger, then middle finger, then index finger).

As before, with the ring finger, lift the bottom loop up and over the top loop, and then off the finger altogether. As you complete this procedure with each finger, you’ll see that you now have only one loop left on the finger.

When you reach the index finger, the yarn tail that your thumb has been holding in place acts as your bottom loop. Treat it as any other loop and lift it up and over the top loop and off the index finger.

The tail will now trail down between your index finger and your middle finger.

Now grasp your working yarn and wind it under and over your fingers as you did before, under and over, and around your pinkie finger so that your new loops are above the loops already on your fingers. Then continue winding the yarn under and over, under and over until you’re back to your index finger again. You should now have two loops on each finger again.

The loops are now high up on your fingers. Push the loops down to the base of your fingers. Then, as you did before and starting with your pinkie finger, pull the bottom loop up and over the top loop and let it go. Repeat for all four fingers exactly as you did before.

Push your stitches down again. Weave your yarn again, under and over, under and over, around, under and over, under and over above the loops already on your fingers, until you have two loops on each finger again.

As you repeat this process of pulling bottom loops over top loops again and again, row after row, you will begin to see the woven cord coming off the back of your middle and ring fingers, as in the photo below.

The woven cord looks kind of flat at first, but when you’re done and you tug it gently a few times, it will become a round cord for your necklace.

When your cord is long enough, it’s time to cast off. (Experiment with the length by putting it around your own neck while it’s still on your fingers. If you can see the necklace when you look down, chances are good the cord is long enough and stretchy enough to easily fit over a head.)

To cast off, begin with only one row of loops and don’t weave new loops above them.

Instead, lift the loop on the pinkie finger off the finger and place it on your ring finger. Your ring finger now has two loops and your pinkie has none, as in the photo below.

Lift the bottom loop over the top loop and release. Now your ring finger has only one loop. Pick up that loop and move it off your ring finger and place it on your middle finger, which now has two loops. Lift the bottom loop up and over and release. Now move the remaining loop on the middle finger to your index finger. Lift the bottom loop over the top loop and release. Now your index finger has only one loop and your other fingers are bare. You may now remove the final loop from your hand, cut your yarn, pull the working yarn through it, and pull it tight. Now pull the tail on the other end of your cord tight.

Now gently tug on your cord so that it becomes round rather than flat. Tie the two ends together, making a circle necklace.

The necklace should be stretchy enough that it can easily go over head of the lucky person you give it to. She will treasure it more than she would any chain of gold.

Happy Mother’s Day!

(This tutorial was originally published in the Little Acorn Learning May Enrichment Guide. Check out all their many wonderful offerings at Little Acorn Learning.

Good Morning, Mistress and Master,

I wish you a happy day;

Please to smell my garland

‘Cause it’s the First of May.

A branch of May I have brought you,

And at your door I stand;

It is but a sprout, but it’s well budded out,

The work of Nature’s hand.

—from A Child’s Seasonal Treasury

Happy May Day! Today is one of my favorite days of the year because May Day celebrations are so beautiful and full of flowers and because it is my older son’s birthday. This year feels extra special because Lucas is turning 10. A decade of our lives has been spent loving and raising this beautiful boy.

He is magnificent and I love him so!

While I try to refrain from complaining here most of the time, I also know that I appreciate a little reality check once in a while. As a blog reader, I like to see writers reveal a human face. I like to see that people—even blogland-perfect-seeming people—make mistakes, struggle with decisions, have a messy house or a scattered mind. Truth. I like it.

Truth is, things are kind of a shambles around here these days. Asher got the flu last Thursday. Ian got it on Saturday. Both were quite ill through Easter. While Asher has recovered some of his bounce, both he and Ian are still a wreck, with terrible coughing. Asher is emotionally all over the place. I got the sick yesterday, complete with 101 degree fever and chills. When I woke up this morning, it was clear that Lucas finally had the flu, too.

We’ve been stuck at home now for the better part of the last five days. I got out for a bit last Saturday to see friends at a garden birthday party, which was fun. Easter Sunday was subdued. I met with some colleagues on Monday night.

Yesterday I somehow edited a 4,400 word chapter with a fever. I have no idea how well I did that work. But a rush editing job is rush, whether I am sick or not.

It’s not all rotten. Just mostly rotten. We have watched more videos in the last four days than in the last several months put together. Today we finally managed to get the dishwasher and the clothes washer going. Together, like a shamble of zombies, we folded four loads of clean laundry that were stacked up and beginning to topple over, so that it was getting hard to tell clean from dirty on the floor. We are keeping the chickens and the dogs and ourselves fed. Last night’s rain meant that I didn’t have to try to water today, which is something I doubt I could have done. Lucas has practiced his piano.

I missed painting class. I have taken no photos since Easter. We’re eating ramen and egg salad sandwiches and fish sticks.

Ian plucked up his courage yesterday and did a couple of errands. He went out to buy me a new nebulizer because mine is broken, in anticipation of some bad wheezing brought on by this illness. That’s true love, man.

Did I mention this is Ian’s and the kids’ spring vacation? Yeah. Sucks. In the midst all of this, we’re wrestling with a pretty big decision. Tempers are short. And yet, we carry on.

Well, it’s Friday evening. Good Friday, in fact. It has been a good Friday, if I look at it from the right sort of angle. Life doesn’t always (read: almost never) follow according to plan, you see. So when it doesn’t go just how I expect and I manage to roll with it, I consider that a win.

We had some dear friends over for a sleepover. Alas, poor Asher fell ill right at dinnertime. The party went on around him, and he tried his best to stay cheerful throughout. A touchy tummy and a mild fever can weigh a boy down, though.

And while I don’t like exposing other people’s children to our germs, and tend toward feeling really guilty about this sort of thing when it happens, their sweet mama said, “I’m not worried. It’s too late to save them from germs, so they might as well have some fun.” So, although Asher had a couched and run-down kind of day today, Lucas was able to carry on playing and enjoying himself and his friends.

We visited and made some Easter cookies—at least, we got some baked before our friends had to go home. The boys and Ian and I carried on decorating them ourselves. As you can see, we pulled out all the stops.

We have plans for the holiday weekend, but we’ll just have to see what happens. Poor Asher has just been sick all over.

{This letter was started on January 31, worked on again February 24, and finished today, February 28.}

Dear Asher,

Happy birthday, my love! You are 5-years-old! You are so very excited to be 5 now. Every day for the last week I had to tell you how many sleeps until your birthday.

So let me paint a little picture about you and your life right now. You are the most precocious child, always chatting and singing through nearly every moment. You tell wonderful and hair-raising stories to anyone who will listen, especially about Earthland and your adventures there, your pet dragons of various breeds, the battles you engage in to save the world, and your wife Jennifer, who is having a baby with you. (This development is very recent.) The baby is a boy and his name is Morlassus. I hope to hear more about Jennifer and Morlassus.

You are very much at home in the Red Rose Kindergarten at our Waldorf school. Your teachers both adore you and you seem rather popular. Yesterday you told me that there are two girls who are in love with you, but since you were being discreet, you only told me the first sound of their names. What a gentleman you are. Lucas promptly guessed the girls’ names, and you eagerly confirmed he was right.  It seems that you have many friends that you run around with on the playground. I hear a lot about Elijah, Lilly, Enzo, Landon, and of course, Noah, and many others. It’s fun to watch your world expanding to include new people. When I’ve had the privilege of watching your class during circle time, I’ve been delighted to see that you enjoy the songs and movements so much. You pay attention and participate with joy. You love to clown with your buddies.

I hear more about battling from you than I remember hearing from your brother when he was your age. I don’t know if that’s part of being a younger sibling, for your interests tend toward the more mature things your brother likes.

At home, you and Lucas spend a lot of your free time together. Usually you get along pretty well, although now that you are older, the two of you fight more often. When you do, there’s all kind of shouting and often tears. I think you work very hard to get your point across and, in the long run, I think this is good for you. You stick up for yourself well; you push back when he’s trying to control or manipulate you. You are possessive of your things and sometimes don’t like being told how to play with them, which Lucas often does. At other times, you are happy to let him lead your games and imagination play. When the two of you work together, and allow each other space to create, you can be so agreeable and amazing—magical things happen in your minds. That part is fun to watch quietly, out of the corner of my eye so you don’t catch me. Together you are making up your own language, which as far as I can tell involves both of you making up words and Lucas correcting yours. You both enjoy hatching and training creatures and playing with your pet dragons.

~~~~

February 24

Asher, I can’t believe how much time has passed since your birthday. Here it is almost a month later and I still haven’t finished this letter. I’ll continue to try to paint a picture of who you are now.

At 5, you are formidable. You are confident and brave. You seem to know what you want and what you’re about most of the time. Although you often happily follow in your brother’s footsteps, you also sometimes pursue your own path with a kind of determination and certainty that I deeply admire.

You talk constantly. When you’re not talking, you are singing or jibber-jabbering in a steady stream-of-consciousness narrative.  I love to hear you singing, and I think you have a beautiful voice. Sometimes you and Lucas will sing together; he takes the low parts and you take the high and you weave your music together in a spontaneous and exciting way. You seem to have an instinct for it. I confess I sometimes find it hard to think in the midst of all your music-making. But I know you are processing your world, changing it through the power of your words, figuring out how things work, and joyfully plucking from it all the wacky humor and opportunities for fun as possible.

You also tell lots of stories. You enjoy tricking people, so you now tell stories that aren’t true in the hopes that people will believe you and you can have a giggle. And sometimes, I think you believe your stories yourself. The line between reality and fantasy is, well, rarely observed and certainly never hard and fast. You have been known to doorbell ditch, both from the outside and the inside of the house, by which I mean that you will knock on a hard surface until an adult goes to answer the door, only to find no one there.

For fun, you love to play with LEGOs and building spaceships is your specialty. You also enjoy blocks, but choose them less frequently nowadays. Once in a while you pick up a stuffed animal or your little Waldorf house elf Miko and play and play. When Lucas is home, you two enjoy “fighting” or “training” in martial arts. Lucas has convinced you that he is in fact a martial arts ninja master, and you are his willing and obedient student. He’s even got you calling him Master within the context of your game. Sometimes this play is relaxed and groovy, and you both enjoy it a lot. Other times, the sparring can lead to hurts. You were both given lightsabers for Christmas, and you love to battle each other in the evening, when the lightsabers glow beautifully in the darkness. Basically, you and Lucas are best friends and brothers, which is something special, I think—you compete, fight, and play with each other; you stick up for and cover for each other; and you learn from each other constantly. I often watch with wonder at how you interact, knowing that you’re both learning so much and gaining so much by being brothers. It’s marvelous.

We’re at the cabin in Tahoe for a family vacation now. Today, I watched you playing in the snow with great vigor and enthusiasm—never mind that it’s been two years since we came to play in the snow. You rambled through the woods near the cabin, enjoying your freedom and time to explore. You threw snowballs at your brother and didn’t mind when you got hit yourself. You never got too cold or out of sorts. I love to let you and your brother roam. Opportunities to do so safely are fewer than I would wish. To see you tromping through the woods, following your nose or the fairies or whatever it is that pulls you onward is a wonderful thing.

~~~~

February 28

Your latest obsession is Dungeons and Dragons. You now talk about it constantly. We probably should have held off on this for a few years, but as your brother is the perfect age for this kind of role playing and you absolutely will not be left out, we have compromised. Daddy is a wonderful DM. He has painted miniatures for your characters according to your descriptions of them and he is creating quests for you and Lucas that are good for you, requiring that your characters work together as friends and companions. I like this, for it’s a way of exercising your imaginations in cooperative ways instead of competitive ones. Once, many years ago, a friend told me how to raise brothers, for he himself was raising two boys in a way quite opposite how his own parents raised him and his brother. He said, “You must find ways to make your boys work together, even if that means they strive against you, the parent, as a team. Avoid all situations where your boys are striving against each other. That is how to foster brotherhood and closeness in your sons.” I’ll never forget that, and my heart tells me he is right.

Anyway, you are currently playing D&D as a “dorf” named Shortbow, which may be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. You are beardless, because you don’t care for beards, and you are an adult. Not a child. Not a teenager. You like to inject all sorts of things into the story Daddy is telling during a game.

You have great new skills now. You can snap your fingers. You can throw a mean snowball. You recently braved the two-wheel bike (with training wheels) and Lucas gave you his old bike for your birthday. You ride it often on our street now, while Lucas rides his bike or his scooter. You seem to like the speed you can achieve now. You also can hop on one foot quite a distance and you can count pretty well up to 30, missing a few numbers along the way. Same with your alphabet, but we’re not worrying about that. I think it is rather funny that your interest in letters has come mainly from the kids on the playground. (Take that, Doubters. Waldorf kids not pushed will learn their letters and numbers in their own time, probably in Kindergarten.) And of course, you pay attention to your brother writing and practicing his spelling words. One of my favorite sights is seeing you both absorbed in a book or writing away in your own blank notebooks. A few days ago you wrote an entire page of “spells” in crisp, neat, blocky, made-up scribble letters. I love them.

I can go on and on, of course, for you are endlessly fascinating to me. I love you completely and I’m so proud of you.

Love,

Mama

Today is the first day of Lent. At 39, I’m still negotiating my way through and around the beliefs and rites of my childhood. I think I’m not alone in this. One thing I do know is that I enjoy examining the whys and wherefores of traditional holidays, taking what I like and incorporating it into my family life, and leaving the rest behind.

The forty-day period of Lent begins with Ash Wednesday and ends at Easter. Lent is observed in the Roman Catholic Church and some Protestant churches, and is a generally a period of fasting, as it recalls Christ’s forty day fast in the wilderness. It is traditional for people to fast during Lent, giving up rich foods such as meats on Fridays, or other special favorites. Lent provides an opportunity for self-denial, simplicity, and penitence—a kind of spiritual “spring cleaning.” The very name Lent is derived from the Germanic word for springtime.

Giving up something you love for a period of time is a kind of sacrifice, a discipline that you can choose to impose upon your life out of religious conviction and a desire to become closer to Christ through deprivation. For people who aren’t Christian, Lent offers a means of meditating on the differences between needs and wants, separating out those things that are nonessential to your life and true happiness.

Sacrifice is both comfortable and odious to many parents and teachers of children. We often must place the needs of others ahead of our own needs in caring for children and people in need. We are often aware we have sacrificed small things on the altar of our family ideals, such as late-night movies or fancy vacations. Our lives, whatever they were before, were immeasurably changed the moment we became parents. We gave up things we were, and gave up things we did. We may even feel we have sacrificed in big ways, perhaps our own personal goals or dreams, on behalf of the family we are blessed to have. Realizing what we have given up or put on hold “for now” or indefinitely can be a slap in the face; it can bring up feelings of dismay or discouragement. It can make us feel resentful.

Contemplating our own sacrifices in life may be uncomfortable. It is, however, a worthwhile endeavor. It can lead to clarity about ourselves, our values, and our life’s goals. It can lead to a greater appreciation for what we do have. We can ask ourselves, what have we gained in return for our sacrifice? What paths are we now walking that were closed to us before? What lessons have we been given, by virtue of our self-denial?

Lent is a perfect time for this kind of contemplation, whether your purpose is to become closer to God, or to accomplish a little “spring cleaning” of your psyche. Lent is usually observed in three ways: fasting, almsgiving (charity), and prayer.

Fasting: Imposing a small restriction on yourself, whether it is literally or figuratively a fast, can sharpen your awareness, making you more mindful of your thoughts and actions and whether they are in line with your values. Here are some ideas for fasting; you can decide if they are appropriate for yourself only or for your whole family:

• Give up meat on Fridays during Lent, and on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday
• Give up drinking alcohol or eating foods containing sugar for the whole period of Lent
• Give up smoking for good and forever
• Give up drinking coffee or tea
• Give up your favorite other food
• Give up watching TV and/or movies during Lent
• Give away items you don’t really need, such as clothing, toys, and housewares

Almsgiving: Another way of observing Lent is to do something positive in the world. Finding ways to help others, donating time or money to charity, and cultivating an attitude of kindness and generosity toward people who are both intimates and strangers are other good ways to explore the idea of sacrifice. Give of yourself. You already know how to do this, but put some extra effort into it. The obvious place to start is in the home, so use your heightened Lenten awareness to practice acts of kindness and gentle words. You will gain more than you lose.

• Donate money to a charity that helps people who have less than you do
• Volunteer time to help an organization you respect
• Help your neighbors in some way, perhaps with carpooling or yard work
• Dedicate an hour or two of special one-on-one time with each member of your family
• Prepare a meal or bake a cake together as a family, then give it away to someone who needs it more than you

Prayer: Lent can be an opportunity to develop a habit of daily prayer, and there are numerous liturgies used for this purpose. Set aside some time every day to pray, think, or meditate. Not everyone is comfortable praying, but one form of praying that may work for you is called “contemplative prayer.” It is a kind of quiet meditation in which one listens for God, or Source, or one’s own heart to speak in the stillness. Pay attention to that voice.

• Find a few moments every day to sit quietly and listen to whatever rises within you; be kind to yourself even if what rises doesn’t seem “prayerful”
• Read from scripture; there are many prayers specific to Lent
• Read a poem in praise of nature or humanity; perhaps read the same poem every day or find a book of inspiring poems and read one each day
• Meditate on Rudolf Steiner’s Calendar of the Soul verses
• Choose a historical figure that you deeply admire and read a biography about that person’s life; notice his or her struggles and sacrifices
• Incorporate a morning or evening verse into your family’s daily rhythm; one that invokes our highest selves and our sense of wonder is appropriate

Finally, you can draw on examples and symbols of sacrifice from myth, religion, and human history to inspire you. Consider adding such symbols to your nature table, home altar, or place of prayer/meditation. Such visual symbols might include:

• Jesus or Buddha
• Mohandas Ghandi, Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King, Jr., Nelson Mandela, or other such historical figure
• A favorite saint; many were martyred and made the ultimate sacrifice for their faith
• An ancestor who serves as a role model and/or who made sacrifices on behalf of your family
• Purple cloth (purple is a traditional color of Lent)
• A portion of a meal set aside as a sacrifice (as is practiced in Buddhism and Hinduism)
• An image of Persephone, Greek goddess of the springtime, who sacrifices herself for a portion of the year to live in the underworld and minister to the dead
• Flowers, incense, grains, or seeds
• A lamb (Christ is often called the “Lamb of God”); lambs are symbols of innocence and often served as sacrifices in the ancient world
• A pelican; a medieval myth about the pelican made the bird a symbol of sacrifice (when mother pelicans returned to the nest to find their hatchlings slain, they pierced their own breasts with their beaks, and the blood of their wounds revived their offspring)
• Personal symbols of something you have freely given up for the sake of someone else

Whatever you choose, place these symbols intentionally and spend a moment or two each day looking at them. They will speak to you as you move through the season of Lent.

Feel free to leave a comment and tell me if and how you observe Lent. Are your observations traditional or ones you’ve invented for yourself? How do they help or serve you? I love to hear from you.

* This article was originally published in the Little Acorn Learning March Enrichment Guide.

Oh, the colors! This was the gorgeous sunset that foretold the rain that we are currently enjoying. My garden is soaking in all the sweet, long overdue raindrops.

It is Friday and my little one is napping. Soon, we’ll go get his brother from school and then I hope to pull them close, build a fire in our fireplace, and force them to drink hot cocoa with me and Solstice in a big pile of blankets.

Happy Family Days, everyone! Drop me a line and let me know how you’ll be staying warm this weekend.

These days are drifting by me. My children still have a few days of winter break left, and we are in a sleepy sort of stillness here. There are arguments, of course, and normal life chores to do, but we are also lounging more, playing more, reading more. Although the weather doesn’t feel all that wintery, we’re still deep in the quiet stream of short days and long nights.

Now that the excitement of the holidays is passed, we can just be. So far, I’ve been able to relax into this period of rest. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been sick, and so sleeping in late or spending time on the couch with a book seems good and justified. NOVA programs are my good friends right now.

There are walks and visits, overnights with friends, and, just a few days ago, we enjoyed an epic New Year’s weekend of homemade roller disco and hours upon hours of delicious social time. We play with new toys and eat together and find moments to sift through belongings, then let items go to others who need them more than we do. The boys’ scooter and trike have had extra workouts this week. These activities are comfortable and easy to me, despite the child-made sound effects and the bickering. I don’t know if my expectations for this time are higher or lower than normal, but whatever it is, it’s working. I feel rather like I’m mentally hibernating.

Today I felt the first inkling of the What-If Harpies, which arrived with some news. They started in with their usual doomsaying. I told them to go away. I’m too busy resting to worry right now.

This afternoon I watched a fat, robust squirrel drink from my birdbath. He approached boldly as though he does this every afternoon, which he may very well do. I’ve just never seen it before. I watched him drink his fill, then hop down, rip a bit off a nearby garden plant and then sit atop a rock and eat it as his salad course.

I have a new, light-brown shadow. It seems as though this little foundling dog is staying with us. We have had not a single nibble, despite our efforts to find his family. Not even a mistaken call from a worried pet-owner hoping we have found her pet. Ian went back to work yesterday and in his absence the little dog stayed by my side all day long. He likes to cuddle or sleep beside me; if I move, he’s up and ready to go along. He does not wish to be left behind. I have so much to learn about having a dog. And yet this tethered feeling is very familiar.

The truth is Solstice is a joy for us all. I’m hoping hoping hoping that my illness is illness and not a bad reaction to him. The doctor gave me meds today for a sinus infection, so I guess if I start to feel better, that’s a good sign that my condition isn’t being caused by the dog.

I’ve faked my way through knitting about a quarter of my first sweater. I’ve flubbed a bunch of things, but also used a number of techniques for the first time. I consider that progress. I wonder what my mother will say when she sees it. She is both my cheerleader and teacher in this sort of thing. I’ve arrived at the body portion with too many stitches and a hole where I clearly dropped one, and yet I press on. I like the colors a lot and I am kind of astonished at the beautiful stripes that are appearing as I work. This sweater is for Asher. I figure there’s about a 20 percent chance I’ll finish it and a 2 percent chance he’ll wear it. But … if I did … and if he did … wouldn’t that be wonderful?

I’ll leave you with this sweet and insightful post by Team Studer: 25 Rules for Mothers with Sons because it made me feel nostalgic and appreciative of everything my sons are and are becoming. And now a walk I think, and then perhaps some tea …

This is my mantel for Christmas. Although I don’t buy new decorations every year, I do try to think of new ways to display them. I’m pretty happy with this one; it’s simple and sweet and repurposes some old items in a new way. In front of this hearth is where my children draw and play with Legos nearly every day.

I used an old store-bought (plastic?) garland of “greenery” and added our collection of Waldorf woolen angels. I think we’ve received one wool angel per year for the last six years or so. They didn’t go up on our tree this year because our tree is smaller than usual. But I couldn’t not put them out. I think they look terrific in a group this way.

I indulged in buying one new Christmas decoration this year: a box of 15 straw star ornaments for $7.99. I adore them. They are so intricate and pretty, and look just right here.

The truth is I have materials for making such straw star ornaments, which are a traditional German Christmas decoration, but I haven’t had time to sit down and try to figure out how. I have a package of natural color straw and red straw. I have gold thread and red thread for tying off intersections in the stars. I secretly hope to have a few free hours to play with this, however, I admit I’m doubting I will. It looks really hard to me.

This is the nativity scene that my grandmother bought me about ten years ago. It’s porcelain and fancy and very colorful and, although I never would have bought it,  I love it. Each year when I unwrap it, I say a silent prayer and hope that we don’t accidentally break it. After Christmas I carefully pack it back into the original box in the hopes that it will be safe another year. It is sitting on a cloth I wove myself.

These are my “Waldorf” resin angels. I bought them at a craft fair a few years back for $6 each. I call them Waldorf because they are faceless. In the vase are dried daylily stems from my garden. I collect them as they dry out because they’re interesting to me and I’m always trying to use found natural items in my crafting. Ian thinks I’m nuts because I save these, especially as I usually don’t have any idea how I’m going to use them. The group on the right is still merely rubberbanded together. I like that they are so tall and so bleached out.

Today I saw a blog with the most amazing Christmas decorations I have ever seen. The home that was featured was so exquisitely beautiful it looked like a whole team of stylists were on staff full-time and that no one lived there at all. There wasn’t a single item out of place or bit of evidence that a child even walked through. It was glitzy and glamorous and completely soulless. It also looked like entire villages of people could be fed for months on what was spent to decorate that home, and that realization made me feel rather ill. Frankly, it was obscene—a word I don’t use lightly. That display of wealth and glitter made me feel so weird and conflicted that I almost didn’t write this post about my nifty mantel that I hodgepodged together. I mean, isn’t this the same kind of thing on a “poor-girl” scale?

Aesthetics are highly individual. Surrounding ourselves with art and beauty is one of the pleasures of life. Doing so lifts my spirits and helps me to feel like I’m raising children in a happy, intentional home. The creation of and appreciation for art is a celebration of our humanness, one of the crowning jewels of humanity. I don’t need or desire to be judgmental about the way that other people express themselves. I just know that if I had that kind of money, I wouldn’t be using it that way. I’d be feeding people.