shifting perspective

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baby steps :: making pizza

August 30, 2010 in at home, farms + food, living our dreams!, shifting perspective | 8 comments

While I’m resting up after hosting my first (amazingly fun!!!) Community Contra Dance (see my facebook page for photos) and helping my sweet girl settle in to her first week of kindergarten, I thought it would be fun to dip into the archives. This post comes from my old farm blog and was originally posted in August, 2008. I’ve shared a few notes from today at the end.

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Like just about everyone else in the world who read Barbara Kingsolver’s inspiring book, Animal Vegetable Miracle, I decided that we should start having once-a-week homemade pizza nights.

I ordered Ricki Carroll’s book from the library and started dreaming about the fresh mozzarella cheese we’d make and enjoy on our pizza.

But just like the canning kit I bought to make jam this summer, the cheese-making supplies remain on a shelf gathering dust.

As discouragement and frustration set in every time I popped another frozen pizza in the toaster, I decided to shift my perspective.

What if we started to consciously enjoy and appreciate our frozen pizzas and make eating them a special event (not just a default dinner)?

And then what if we switched from frozen pizzas to pizza shells that the kids could spread (store-bought) sauce and (store-bought) mozzarella on, so things could start to feel a little bit more homemade?

And then what if we shifted from pizza shells to store-bought dough that we could roll ourselves. And from shredded mozzarella to fresh (store-bought) mozzarella for us? (The kids prefer the shredded mozzarella.)

Eventually we’ll get to the cheese-making and homemade dough and our own canned tomato sauce, but for now we are really enjoying our own mostly-homemade, fun, toddler-friendly version of pizza night!

Here are some pictures from last night’s pizza-making fun…

Kneading the dough:

Rolling the dough:

Adding sauce:

Pesto pizza with tomatoes, caramelized onions, pine nuts, blue cheese and fresh mozzarella (for the adults):

We roasted corn on the grill:

The herb garden on the deck (basil, parsley and nasturtiums):

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August, 2010:  Despite the fact that I now have a package of rennet in the fridge and access to plenty of delicious, farm fresh milk, I have still yet to try my hand at making cheese! To be perfectly honest, we have gone in the opposite direction this summer — eating take-out pizza with the farm crew at least one night a week. (Not exactly where I want to be in terms of eating healthily, frugally, and sustainably — but a lovely weekly ritual nonetheless.) We have however been greatly enjoying one of Barbara Kingsolver’s recipes from the book — Zucchini Chocolate Chip Cookies! YUM!!!

a new community

August 18, 2010 in community, living + learning, shifting perspective | 21 comments

The kids and I have visited what will soon be Lily’s new school several times in the past few weeks to pick up and drop off paperwork.

Each time we visit we spend some time “hunting for evidence” that we are going to LOVE being part of this new community. 

As many of you know I am struggling quite a bit with this transition. (Huh. Would you look at that? There’s that darn “S” word again.)

I am having a hard time embracing the reality that my sweet girl is moving out of the gardens and open-ended creative play of her beautiful Waldorf-inspired nursery school, her home away from home for the past three years, and into the world of giant yellow buses, hot lunch lines and standardized tests.

I’m slowly making peace with the fact that the beautiful farm-based cottage school that I have been attempting to pull together for the past four years did not manifest in time for kindergarten. That private school tuition is simply not sustainable for our family. That charter school lotteries did not fall in our favor. That homeschooling is an absolutely beautiful option, but not the right one for the unique dynamics of our family.

And that – despite my own baggage and biases and fears – in just a few days our daughter will begin public school.

And yet every time we visit her new school I am reassured.

On our last visit we spotted birdfeeders outside every classroom window and a thriving vegetable garden next to the main entrance.

We were greeted by kind and outgoing staff members who made us feel most welcome.

We read about sweet community events that took place the previous year, through children’s words, on bulletin boards.

And we peeked into library, art and music rooms that made my girl (and her mama) swoon with excitement.

Of course it is going to be different than preschool. Of course. 

And I know there are going to be plenty of things about public school that are going to challenge the heck out of this highly creative, paradigm-shifting, think-out-of-the-box mama.

But I also know that we will find support and love and beauty and community here. 

And these, my friends, are all very good things.

 

morning glory

July 7, 2010 in parenting, shifting perspective | 15 comments

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I hope you enjoy this entry that was originally posted on my old blog in July of 2008. It was a real treat for me to revisit it and I’ve added a few thoughts from today as a post script at the end.

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My son Quinn has always been an early riser but this summer he’s taken it to a new level — up for the day by 5 a.m.

For the past several weeks I have been starting my days being angry at him and anyone else who happened to cross my path because I just don’t want to be on toddler duty at 5 a.m.

It’s not even that I want to sleep in. It’s just that I like to start my day slowly and quietly — two concepts that my two-year-old just doesn’t seem to get!

In my perfect world I would wake up between five and six and slip downstairs alone for a walk or some yoga, followed by a cup of tea and time to write in my journal. Then I would get breakfast ready for my loving children who would wander downstairs (fully dressed and in pleasant moods!) around 7:30.

And I have a feeling we’ll get there someday! (If Quinn follows in his sleepy-head sister’s footsteps.)

But in the meantime Quinn has been wide awake and clambering into our bed at 5 a.m. for several weeks now and I have been growing increasingly more annoyed — at him for being awake so early, and at John for somehow managing to sleep through the onslaught of exuberance.

Over the weekend I decided that I’ve had enough.

I don’t like waking up angry. I don’t like resenting my beautiful son. And I really, really need to figure out a way to have my smooth, peaceful morning that I desire so I’m not walking around in an angry, foggy haze all morning.

So I decided that no matter what the time or how I am awoken, I am going to choose to wake up in a pleasant mood, filled with gratitude and excitement for the coming day.

On Monday morning when not just Quinn — but also Lily, who was SO excited for her first day of camp that she just couldn’t sleep! — arrived bedside at 4:45, I offered to take them on an “animal walk” (a walk in the double stroller to look for dawn-loving critters).

With a couple of pieces of toast to munch on, full sippy cups and a camera, we set off!

The only critters we saw were birds, but that was enough to entertain the kids and give me some time to mentally run through the coming day.

Since then Quinn and I have taken two more early morning walks and I’m not sure who is enjoying it more!

Here are some photos from our recent adventures…

We came up over the hill this morning and our neighbor’s horses were at the fence waiting to greet us!

Then two swans entertained us.

“The waterfall is amazing, Mama. Waterfall makes Kin (Quinn) feel happy!”

Thank you Quinn, for inspiring your Mama to stretch out of her comfort zone. I love this special time that we’ve created together!

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July, 2010 update: What a difference two years makes. This summer Quinn is the official ”sleepy head” of the family, often waking up a full hour (or more!) after the rest of us. True to form, he is still inspiring me to stretch out my comfort zone as we continue to explore ways to honor who he is and help him to express his boundless energy in ways that work for him and those around him. Looking back, I count this experience (of noticing and naming something that really was NOT working for me and finding one small way to bring it closer to alignment with what does work for all of us) as a major turning point in my mothering experience. And I hold these special morning walks with my son in a very special place in my Mama heart.

 

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{ breathing space } keepin’ it simple

June 28, 2010 in energy management, nurturing creativity, shifting perspective | 13 comments

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“I have found lately that the entire family is happier when the house is a bit messier, the meals are a bit simpler and the project table is totally covered with crafts and doings of all sorts.”

~ Liz, a.k.a. MamaBird

 

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I am so grateful for all of you and the wise words you share here that inspire and encourage me. (Truly. They are what keep me going with this whole, slightly-wacky blog-writing gig.)

Saturday morning as I was scurrying around the house attempting to get the post-vacation chaos under control, I found these words that Liz, a.k.a. Mama Bird, shared here last week running through my mind.

As my hungry, travel-weary children tromped among the clutter in the living room and I started to feel totally overwhelmed, I took a deep breath, smiled and announced “Cheese rice cakes for breakfast! And new art supplies!”

The art portfolio is one they received for Christmas that I’ve been intimidated to open (oil pastels, paints, glue – you name it, it’s in there!). But you know what? It all worked out beautifully!!

Thank you dear Liz, for reminding me, especially as we transition into summer, that a happy family is what matters most! 

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settling back in

March 29, 2010 in at home, shifting perspective | 8 comments

It’s Sunday afternoon. John is off with our friend cutting and hauling firewood. (It doesn’t matter that we are counting daffodils and coloring eggs this week, when free wood is offered, Papa, his chainsaw, and our generous friend with a pick-up truck hit the road.)

I’m attempting to sort through a blur of post-vacation clothes in piles throughout the house. What’s clean? What’s dirty? What’s not quite warm enough to wear now, but will be in a few weeks? What’s the priority for the laundry mat this week? 

Our dryer is still broken. And we have not yet replaced our water tank (despite the fact that the sounds coming out of the pipes when we wash, flush or shower are starting to scare us a bit!). Oh and apparently the washing machine couldn’t handle the appliance rebellion peer pressure because it too has ceased working.

I’m feeling a bit dizzy as I look around the house surveying the post-vacation chaos.

I’m hungry but cannot figure out what to eat. The fridge is all but empty. The situation in the pantry is not much better. I hear myself using that voice. Barking. Grumbling. Whining. Complaining.

Take a breath. Make a better choice. How many times a day do I say that to my little ones?

I pick up the phone and order a pizza.

Forty-five minutes. Okay. I can do 45 minutes.

I let the kids know what’s going on. I always try, as best I can, to verbalize my process to them. I was feeling kind of overwhelmed. And hungry. And tired. And I couldn’t think of what I wanted to eat. And I started feeling grumpy. But I just ordered pizza so we’ll have some food to eat in a bit.

As I’m speaking, Quinn is grabbing his apron and the step ladder. “We should make energy nuggets, Mama.”

We have been making energy nuggets almost weekly for the last couple of years. Stored in the fridge or freezer, these sweet-but-not-too-sweet, bite-size treats have saved us from countless I need protein now meltdowns.

For a long time, I consulted my old blog for the recipe, but at this point I just wing it. Some sort of nut butter. Some sort of natural sweetener. Some sort of chocolate chips or candy. And whatever healthy goodness (ground flax seeds, astragalus powder, dulse flakes…) I have on hand and can sneak in.

Just as we are licking the last drops of almond butter off our fingers, the pizza guy arrives. And a few minutes later Papa and our friend return with a giant truck-load of wood.

The house is still chaotic. The laundry piles are still daunting. But as we eat our pizza and energy nuggets I exhale and smile.

It’s good to be home.

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a (redefined) happy valentine

February 15, 2010 in community, shifting perspective | 17 comments

I have never fully embraced Valentine’s Day.

When I was single, the day and everything leading up to it, seemed to focus on what I lacked, and I found myself resenting the Hallmark-fueled mandatory expressions of romance.

When John and I met, he was equally ambivalent about Valentine’s Day, preferring to focus his attention on what he felt was a sorely-underrated holiday: Groundhog’s Day.

And so as our relationship unfolded we happily exchanged cards and small gifts on Groundhog’s Day, and then privately snickered as everyone else paid ridiculously inflated prices for flowers and chocolates two weeks later.

But then something happened.

Two beautiful little people came into our world, seemingly on a mission to teach us to see love and beauty everywhere.

Last week as my children made simple, handmade Valentines for their classmates and teachers, I felt my heart soften and embrace the sweetness of what this holiday was — long before it was Mylar balloons, and singing cards, and chocolates wrapped in plastic.

And then yesterday, at our UU church, as if the service was designed just for me, our minister invited us to re-image Valentine’s day while speaking of the power of love to heal our world.

While I was upstairs singing (I recently re-joined the choir after a 4+ year break  — yay!) and enjoying this inspiring service, John and the kids were downstairs in the RE classrooms making signs to express what love and peace and equality mean to them.

At the end of our service they paraded into the sanctuary carrying their signs and invited us all to join them by marching about a mile from our church to the center of town for a Standing on the Side of Love peace rally.

While we marched I asked Lily what the rally was all about.

“It’s about spreading love, Mama. And brightening people’s days. And being kind to each other. That’s what Valentine’s Day is all about.”

And this is how on a cold, February day, as I stood on the side of the road with my children and more than 80 members of our beautiful spiritual community, smiling and waving our signs as passerbys honked and cheered for equal rights and equal marriage and world peace, I came to know and love and joyfully celebrate the true spirit of Valentine’s Day.

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{ See more photos from the rally on flickr. }

small farm dreams

January 27, 2010 in farms + food, living our dreams!, shifting perspective | 22 comments

We’re in the midst of a January thaw here in Southern New England.

Yesterday was beautiful - sunny and warm, which for my children and their classmates meant extra time playing and running outside. (With spare sets of clothes tucked into their backpacks for the inevitable mud-sloshing that is just too fun to resist.) And for me it meant putting writing and other projects aside and tending to long-neglected barn chores.

Remember the chicken pen I started in November? 

Yeah. It’s still not finished. 

This wire fencing has been used to contain sheep, small children, and soon (fingers crossed) will help to keep the chickens safe and secure in their new pen.

It was this project that ignited the spark of anger between me and John on Thanksgiving.

Helping his wife stretch and staple wire was not his idea of a relaxing holiday. Sleeping in, surfing the Net, and watching a little football was.

I’ll let you use your imagination as to how well that went over with me as I was nursing dozens of tiny nicks and scrapes from the sharp wire, while trying to keep an eye on the kids who were allegedly “helping me” with this project I wanted desperately to finish before the winter in hopes of avoiding another mass chicken tragedy like we had last winter.

Yeah. It wasn’t pretty.

And it was this project that brought tears rolling down my face as snow poured out of the sky and piled up around our house on Solstice weekend, frustrated yet again with my inability to get anything I start around here done. 

But yesterday as I did my own mud-sloshing along with my neighbor, who was out walking his dog when I recruited him to “come help me for just a minute,” it was this project that filled me with feelings of contentment and peace.

It’s much bigger than making progress on the chicken pen (though trust me, I will be very happy when they are secured and we are no longer stepping in chicken poop).

What feels so good is how things are shifting in our home and in our family.

John and I are talking — more frequently and much more softly — about how things are working and about our shared goals for our family. We’re focusing more on the places where we are in alignment and less on the places where we do not see eye-to-eye.

Pigs are out. Indefinitely.

Milking goats. Maybe in a couple of years. But not now.

Rabbits are doable. Later this year. Maybe. 

In the whirlwind of cleaning and decluttering that has been happening in our home (inspired by One Small Change), the kids found this photo of Lily (about 18 mos. old) with her first flock of chickens and one of our Shetland sheep, George.

George and his sister Gracie left us the following fall. Both sheep were fond of jumping out of their pen, and chasing them down on a near-daily basis (with a toddler on my back and a baby strapped to my chest) was more than this sleep-deprived, aspiring farmer-mama could handle.

The other day, when the kids handed me the photo, I mindlessly grabbed a magnet and stuck it the fridge.

Yesterday as I walked through the kitchen I was struck by the beauty of the photo and the words on the magnet, a gift I received a decade ago from a wise friend.

 Having it all does not necessarily mean all at once.

 

where do you want to go from here?

August 17, 2009 in parenting, shifting perspective | 13 comments

It’s Sunday. 11:30 a.m. We’ve been at the county fair for an hour and a half. It’s crowded. The sun is beating down on the asphalt. I am hot and tired. The kids are hot and tired. John is hot and tired.

 

Lily has her heart set on getting two small stuffed alpacas from a vendor. John and I have $11 between us. Spending eight dollars and change on more stuffed toys for Lily’s collection that is already quite unruly, is just not an option.

 

I try as best I can to appreciate with Lily the beauty of the alpacas and the deep connection she feels with all animals. I offer to take a photograph of them so that we can ask Nana to make one for her for Christmas. John suggests that we could even get real alpaca fleece from our friends’ farm to make it.

 

She’s not hearing a word we’re saying. She’s five years old. She wants the alpacas. She is absolutely exhausted and over-stimulated. And she goes into a full meltdown right there on the Midway.

 

Due to a recent injury (from which he is recovering nicely) John is unable to carry either of our children. We’re at least a mile from our car. Seeing his sister lose it, Quinn realizes just how hot and tired he is, and begins to whine.

 

I think immediately of the beautiful reflection Jamie Martin shared on her blog recently: What do you do when everyone is watching?

 

I think also of the powerful mantra Amanda Soule shared on her blog this week.

 

I take a long deep breath and offer a question I have asked my children hundreds of time, but this time I ask it of myself…

 

Where do you want to go from here?

 

The answers come quickly:

 

I want to get out of the sun.

I want to get back to our car.

I don’t want to carry both of my children all the distance to get there.

I want Lily to stop screaming and Quinn to stop whining.

I want us to regroup. To rest. To breathe. To get back to a good feeling place.

I need some relief – and fast!

 

I remind Polly Perfect, my hyper-critical alter-ego, that now is not the time to “teach a lesson” or get hung up in old ideas about “rewarding bad behavior.”

 

I carry my sobbing, screaming, whining children to a picnic table in the shade and give them water to drink. I take another deep breath.

 

“Here’s what I see, guys. It’s very hot. We are all very tired. We need to walk a long distance to get to our car. I think we need to rest and cool down.”

 

They are listening, but I can see that Lily is still focused back at the vendor’s booth.

 

“I think our best option at this point, is to have some ice cream.”

 

Four bright eyes and two wide smiles are now fully focused on my words.

 

“We can eat some healthy growing food when we get home, but for now I think ice cream will really help us.”

 

Oh yes, Mama…Yes, Mama…Yes, Mama!

 

 

It wasn’t entirely smooth sailing from this point. There were still tears when it was time to go. And I did have to carry each of the kids part of the way to our car. But while they ate their ice cream, John and I were able to rest and mentally regroup so that we didn’t escalate this situation into something much bigger than it was.

 

And we made the next plan: Use our remaining few dollars for a trip to the carwash - an absolute favorite adventure for our children.

 

Oh my! I wish you could have heard the squeals of delight coming from the back seat as Papa whirled around our car with the sprayer!

I’m sure even Polly would agree that it was a perfect end to our less-than-perfect outing…and that ice cream was an excellent way to get from where we were to where we wanted to be.

in the kitchen with kids

July 12, 2009 in community, parenting, shifting perspective | 7 comments

Friday night after picking up our veggies from our CSA, I decided to make dinner for my parents at their house.

While my parents were at the store getting a missing ingredient, and I was cooking (or trying to cook) dinner, the kids started running circles around the house. I was attempting a new recipe, in a kitchen that has been reorganized a few times since I moved out 15 years ago, and could feel my blood pressure rising every time the kids came barreling through the kitchen.

As I paused for a few deep breaths, I suddenly I realized I had the perfect job for them – washing lettuce for our salad!

Without saying a word, I set up two chairs at the sink. (This alone was enough to get their attention.) As they washed their hands, I assigned them each a job: Quinn’s was to peel the lettuce leaves off the head and swish them in water and Lily’s was to tear the lettuce into bite-sized pieces and then dry them in the salad spinner.

It never ceases to amaze me how laser focused children can become when they have an important job to do (especially one that involves water and standing on chairs!). The whole energy in the kitchen shifted as we worked side-by-side, me at the stove, and them at the sink, happily chatting as we worked. And the calmness and cooperation extended beyond the lettuce-washing to setting the table and taking orders for drinks.

There are definitely times when efficiency is my priority or when I just don’t have the patience or emotional centering I need to enjoy having them help, but there are also times like these, when I realize just how little effort it takes to get them involved and how great it feels to share in the making of a meal.

rain & restlessness

June 21, 2009 in nature, shifting perspective, the contrast | 2 comments

chaos continues…

 

no place to sit

tripping over toys

laundry everywhere (except in drawers).

 

compost fermenting on the counter

a tower of dishes in the sink.

 

writing beckons –

but is quickly interrupted (again).

 

wanting to go with the flow

but noticing…

 

feelings of restlessness building.

 

another week of rain they say.

 

really?

 

and then we spot her –

a hummingbird

outside our window

building her nest

 

collecting…building…leaving…returning…

 

without rest.

 

in the rain.

 

she exudes peace.

 

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