First favorite day of 2013

Can you guess what this might be???  Don't ponder too long, my artwork is, well, my artwork.  I'll reveal in a bit, don't worry.  It has to do with one of my three favorite days of the year, the first of which occurred this past week.

As long as I can remember, I have believed in self improvement and practiced it regularly.  When I was younger it was things like trying to master a new skill in soccer or trying to overcome jealousy when a grade school friend spent time with another friend.  Once I hit college, which was my first real chance to be myself and self discover, the opportunities were endless.  But perhaps the biggest, most meaningful opportunity I have been blessed with in these 41+ years to really examine every thought, action and moment I create began at 9:43pm Saturday night, October 11, 2003.  The minute I gave birth to my first child.

I  had always wanted to have a family, initially for the same reasons most people do, because it's what you do when you are grown up and married and financially stable.  It took us nearly 4 years to get pregnant and carry to term which gave Tim and I plenty of time to think about the real reasons we were doing this.  For me, it came down to life's experience.  I wanted the opportunity to teach, to share, to experience what it was like to create life and nurture and guide that life into adulthood.  I wanted to experience what I had heard was a love like no other.  And lastly, when I leave this world behind, I wanted to leave in my place, a person that is better than me.  Not the first female President, not a Nobel Prize winner, a whole person who is kinder, more well rounded, a person capable of doing more good in the world than I, no matter how small the gesture.  This to me, in many ways, is how I will judge the success of my life. (should note at this point that any serial killer I may have given birth to will be considered Mr. Farm Hands contribution, not mine.)

So, in order to accomplish this, self improvement happens daily, if not hourly at times.  In parenting, you can't predict, EVER, when the next teaching moment will present itself.  This is what I have learned from 9 years of experience.  What I knew at 9:44pm that Saturday night, is that love like no other I mentioned before is the greatest motivator I will probably ever encounter.  That transformation happened immediately.  That very minute was the start of what internally I think of as the New Me.

That change was the best thing that has ever happened to me.  It has allowed me to live a fuller, happier life, to confront issues and flaws that I had happily been living with and ignoring for years.  It pushed me to finally take that final step in becoming the person I wanted to be.  And for that reason, the three days that mean the most to me in the calendar of 365 are my children's birthdays and of course, Mother's Day.

G experimenting with a birthday present

Now, back on track.  My Boy turned 8 last week.  Eight.Years.Old.  He looks like such a big kid and he himself has made so many changes this past year.  I am so proud of him.  He is a sensitive, old soul that feels deeply and in the eighth year of his life has made tremendous strides in learning how to control his emotions and not take life so seriously.  Yesterday we had 10 boys here, at our house, to celebrate.  And while I adore the actual anniversary day of my childrens' birth, I actually detest  throwing birthday parties.  They stress me out like not many events can.  I don't like the type of entertaining where there is a lot of planning or anything formal.  Having a bunch of kids at my house means a bunch of parents too, and I tend to be a bit shy (or antisocial, depending on who and when you ask).  Plus, I have enough problems keeping my own wild, creative kids under control...they don't need help or an audience.  Anyway, I digress.  I acquiesced this year and let G have a party here since we are in a new school, a new house and he really wanted to show off his farm.  Having just completed all 8 of the Harry Potter movies over holiday break, it was to have a HP theme.  You now know what the above is, huh!!  In the past I have referred to myself as the Ghetto Martha Stewart, but more accurately, I am probably the Slacker version. Turns out, we didn't even have to play 'Pin the Scar on Harry Potter' because all that the 10 boys needed were chopstick wands, a list of spells and 3+ acres.  It was fun watching and listening to them.  One boy found two eggs in the chicken coop and was beyond amazed and excited!  Once I told him he could save them and take those very eggs home he freaked out, putting them in the kitchen for safe keeping, but checking on them about every 20 minutes to make sure they were still there.

One of the party favors, note the excellence in cutting and stapling

The party was worth the hassle, I wasn't embarrassed with my art work, and most importantly, G had a blast.  I think I am very lucky that these 3 days I cherish so much are spread throughout the year.  It never allows me to get very far away from what I love or forget to appreciate each moment as it happens.

Getting my Zen back

The past few weeks, I have had a hard time not sweating the small stuff.  I get glimpses of reality where I realize my lack of housekeeping isn't really a big deal, or that what is meant to happen will happen and for the right reasons.  But in general, my anxiety levels have been high over things like finding a soccer team for G or learning how to sheer my goats perfectly the first time.  These two items in particular have struck a chord with me, because I have realized this weekend that it's a prime example of me creating a situation where if my kids are paying attention (which is not guaranteed) they can learn some really bad habits. I'm a perfectionist, I always have been.  I want to be perfect the first time.  Couple that with my need to be efficient and not waste resources, it's a dangerous combination.  My  kids have tendencies towards this already and I want them to LEARN to be more patient, to enjoy the experience of gaining experience, two things I am not good at doing.  Two things they can only learn by example.

Fatty Patty needs a trim

Two of my pygora goats could use shearing.  They are off schedule, so it's too cold, but if I leave it on then it could ruin their one and only kid fleece. What do I do?  How do I process the fleece? How do I maintain the lock structure?  Will it be too coarse if I don't have the guard hairs removed?  Will I waste length if I use hand shears versus trying my hand at electric shears?  Should I dye it? Should I put it in a mixed batt or spin alone?  I suck at spinning!!  I need lessons!! I need help and I hate asking for help!! I'm going to fail!! and last but not least...I suck!!  That old negative, circular argument that keeps me paralyzed from even starting something has returned.  There will be more fiber and more shearing opportunities, obviously.  But I'm not enjoying the EXPERIENCE of gaining experience.  I'm putting pressure on myself to be perfect at something I've never even done before.

Saturday I tried to work on finding my Zen through a rough workout, outdoor time and dinner with good friends.  Sunday I tried to find it through family time, football watching and knitting.  Monday, it was back to the gym for boxing which very therapeutic for me.  Beating on something helps.  But what made me turn the corner was a conversation with a friend about a memorial service for an 8 year old boy.

I knew this boy, his parents are friends of good friends and I have spent time with them over dinner and at parties many times over the past 7 years.  Max was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor at age 4.  For 4 years we have heard stories of experimental treatments, unthinkable side effects; we have participated in fund raisers and silent auctions.  As an outsider, it is easier to ignore or stay ignorant to the trials and heartbreak of caring for a child with a terminal illness, I think.  You don't know the details of what they are going through and it is harder to imagine something so hard and tragic and obscure.  But now that Max's journey in this life has gone and he has moved into something free of pain and limitation, that is easier as a parent to imagine, I think.  Death is permanent, there is no ambiguity for those of us left here.

I was recounting my conversations with my friend to Tim last night.  We were trying to put ourselves in the shoes of the parents who had just lost their only child, who was only weeks younger in age than our oldest.  Yes, we would be heavily medicated.  Yes, we would be going through the motions.  But what....what event would cause you to change from that state?  How do you recover from that and live your life?  In our case I would think that still having one child would help pull us through.  But losing your only child after knowing what that experience is like and fighting for it for so long.  How cataclysmic does that event have to be to pull you back into living a life that is a constant reminder of what you have lost?   I just don't know.

One thing that Tim and I both realized though, was that the small stuff has to step aside.  We've been guilty lately of being tense with each other, not engaging enough with the kids, worrying about things like money and a messy house. We have forgotten how very fortunate we are, and how perhaps, we need to be more appreciative and grateful of the people and things that cross our paths, however long we might travel this journey together with any of them.  What these two situations that I have described have illustrated to me is the importance of understanding one thing.....Control.

I like to view life in the lens of one of my favorite outdoor activities, hiking.  I picture myself on this beautiful path through untouched landscape.  Sometimes the path is a single track, sometimes it is wider.  There are many forks in the path, there are hairpin curves and steep rocky sections as well.  One thing about being out in nature that is a given for me, it is always beautiful.  There is always something of wonder in your field of vision whether that is a emerging mushroom on the forest floor, the bubbling breath of a sand crab coming through the sand as the waves retreat or a wide, expansive vista at a mountain top.  There is always beauty.  We have the opportunity to see beauty every day if we chose it, whether it is rare glimpse of a bluebird in your yard, the gentle sloping curl of your child's hair right behind her ear, or the way your dog takes ultimate care in choosing his spot in the sun making sure to tuck in each and every pug toe to keep them warm.  When I am hiking and I see a steep, hairpin curve up ahead, I don't stop in fear of whats beyond it, I feel excitement at what might be on the other side.  When I come across a spot that is rocky and requires the use of hands and maybe even knees to get over, I don't stop and cry because it's going to be hard and I might fail.  I don't get paralyzed by fear, I look around for a more practical option to reach the same outcome and if none present themselves, I press on without hesitating. I just do it.  These are the two aspects that I need to remember to bring back my Zen.  Picture the trail.  Enjoy the experience.  Enjoy the journey.  You don't have control of the trail, but you have total control of the decisions you make on it, and how you greet it each day. See the beauty in life, it is there, everywhere, you just have to pick you nose up and not allow your vision to be obscured by the things that are less important, like money or clean houses.

New Year, New adventure.....

The idea of a keeping a blog has been in my mind for several years and has always been accompanied with excuses as to why not to start it.  The main one, I have accepted recently, is that I want to hit the ground perfect.  Anyone who knows me isn't surprised, and those who have been on this journey with me the past few years aren't surprised that I'm just foraging ahead anyway, none the wiser.

What will this blog be about? How often will I write? Will I remember to spellcheck?  Will it ever be interesting?  Well, I have no idea to be honest.  But what I do know is that I've reached a point in my life where I am happy, I am confident in what I am doing for the first time in a long time, and I want to capture it in writing.  There will be lots of tales from the farm, some funny, some which might be funny in years to come, some which might be sad.  I have big plans for this little homestead and the queasy pit in my stomach tells me I'm afraid to fail, so I must be on the right track. There will undoubtedly be tales of parenthood, which has guided so much of my journey these past few years.  There might be knitting and spinning as I try to push my fiber hobby and affection into something more accomplished, despite my lack of clear talent.  You will just have to tune in to see. What I can promise you, is that it will be from the heart.  And it is my hope that I can impart some laughs, some comfort, some useful information to those of you who choose to read.

And with that.....let's begin....

Petey the goat.  Our latest addition.