A Yule of Light and Dark

Today has been, well, a fair more hurried and a fair bit less serene.  But it has had its moments of beauty.  The babies are still all ill - Jenna has been feeling particularly rough.  She hates to be alone for even a moment, so tends to come sit as close as she can get or lie in the middle of the living room floor.  I quickly get touched out.  Yet I remember longing to be petted and comforted when I was ill, and I gently stroke her hair back from her face and rub her back just one more time.

But, celebrations are still little touches of glitter in a long haul hard work day.  Lighting candles, prayers, reminders of the turning year and the ever-faithful always-the-same love of God.  At bedtime tonight Jenna prayed that we be the light of love to each other, and remember how much more important people are than things.  What better a prayer could we pray, at this time of year?  :)


We put on sparkly gold nail polish, and had pizza for tea.  It was *that* kind of festival day.  A yes day.  A day of not putting undue musts and oughts on ourselves, and just sharing the light, wherever we found it.

I opened my beautiful swap gift from a Green Parent mama and we shared the chocolates.


Ash and Morgan helped me clear all of my work mess off the dining table, get some more laundry through, and put the food shop away.  And during the afternoon I first wound, skeined, and weighed 20 mini skeins for a sock yarn blanket, and then dyed most of them too.  Look at all those tiny baby twists!  :)


My darling babies took just *hours* to settle to sleep and I got pretty close to hysterics when Rowan started telling me a fourth round of those bizarre stories about "one time when Jenna said I could have the red sweetie..."  Just. stop. your. wiggling. and. talking. it. is. night. time!  "Don't cry, mama, I LOVE you," she says as she hugs my neck with her little crumpled face pressed to my hands.

I had to laugh.  Laughing and crying.

And so, finally, she sleeps, still and warm and heavy, holding my arm, and I slip away to get a drink and wash my face and remind myself how small she is and how much I really dearly love her.



The moon is particularly beautiful tonight.


Oh, welcome back, dear sun, and all of the deep-down-hidden precious life of the world.  The long dark is turning, turning, and we turn our faces to the coming light.

Yarn Along - peace, cotton, paper, and thrifted books

All is calm here.  Really calm.  Really spookily quiet actually, since three of my four little wild ones are sleepy and poorly this week.  Christmas knitting is done.  Christmas food shopping is just normal food shopping around here plus a veg box which is going to arrive when it usually does.  Advent activities are a soft sprinkling of glitter and baking and cutting out, and are not turning into the stressful pressure they did for a while last year.  Not even the Waldorf star lantern making ruffled me, even though it resulted in a mere single wonky offering.

This is the knit I'm working on: a lovely pair of cotton trousers for a friends' growing preschooler.  I've posted the tiniest peek, in sepia, so as not to spoil the surprise of the finished garment.  They're gorgeous and I'm having a lot of fun with them.  (Although my husband, coming across the cable chart, did ask me if it was super-advanced Minesweeper...)

Earlier in the week I read this (a thrifted gift from a wonderful friend): yet *more* distopian fiction.  Another interesting take.  I find myself reading older and newer books in a similar style alongside each other and wondering whether the newer author ever read this book, and if not, where the common threads come from that make them resonate so strongly.

Anyway.  That's my crafting and reading for this week.  Back to paper folding, being all calm about the festivities, snuggling blanket-wrapped miserable coughing children, and so on.  ;)

Joining in with Ginny and friends.

A little bit zen

It is a calm week here, a little centre of stillness.  I am feeling... slowed down and dreamy.  We have all been ill, and I have been feeling ready to really let go of some clutter and have space in my house.  Bit by bit, a little calm and order appear.  Tranquillity isn't all that easy to come by with many people in a small space and not a little conflict some days too (especially when we're all feeling out of sorts).

Every day, we light a candle that burns down to Christmas day.  This season of waiting has been such a low-pressure and contented one.  How many years, how many stresses and self-imposed perfectionisms, have to pass before I can really make space for just... waiting?

For my birthday I got a little packet of tiny beeswax meditation candles.  They are perfect.  Sweet and tiny, and best of all s.l.o.w me down - while the candle is lit I am still.  What a strange sensation after years of rushing and doing and being touched, to have this baby who actually lets me meditate and write and create because she has totally different inner reserves to my other babies.  What a gift.  While it lasts, I am filling up on stillness and being and prayer.

Last week I remembered how much the older ones loved little tabletop Zen gardens.  I made one for Rowan, and have made two more since.



Sand, salt, rice, flour, all different textures - different stones, a candle in the corner, a stick to draw patterns with, or a fork, or a little animal to make tracks.  She is so centred when she plays with something like this.  I could happily play like this too.



Of course, it did involve clearing up one lot of sand already, and another dusting of flour...  But still.  At the time my reaction was not so Zen.  Now I can smile.  And just breathe.

An Ode to Ashleigh

She arrives bearing lovingly knitted beauties for my babies' birthdays.  She steps right into our chaotic, noisy, messy life.



Walking up the long hill to the shops for doughnut supplies during Hanukkah.  Cinema trips, and folding laundry together.  Companionable evening knitting, giggling and putting the world to rights.  Taking my big girl shopping for a party dress, leaving my hands that bit more free for a while today.  Kissing my sweet tiny toddler and soothing a fretful bigger one.  It's such a blessing to have Ashleigh here.

Week in Pictures - Hannukah

In honour of celebrations everywhere.  *love and light*















1. Dreidel
2.  Solidarity with all those making Latkes without a food processor
3.  Glorious garlands in nature
4.  Lights for the sixth night
5.  Melted wax
6.  Gathering
7.  Favourite Hanukkah story

Talia Willow's Day

A first birthday is such a bittersweet thing for me, and such a magical thing for a baby.  How could she have any idea what was going on yesterday?  Yet the whole day, wide eyed, she accepted our celebration and revelry - simply glowing.



The presents were simple and thoughtful.  Hand knits, a small wooden ball track, a dress.  Perfect. It was *very* hard for the sisters to resist opening things for her!



Cake for breakfast.  :)  Candles.  A day of favourite things, of mindfulness, and peace.





And feeding the ducks in a favourite place.  Crisp winter, incredible light, handfuls of seeds, warm layers, and a sort of reverence for this place and this moment.











Just like that, a birthday is celebrated, and tired small children are cuddled and bundled off to bed filled with wonder (and macaroni).  My beautiful tiny toddler, now one whole year old!

Journey Song - a letter for your first birthday

One magical precious year, barely long enough to breathe together and gaze at each other.  Enough time for so many firsts: to smile, laugh, crawl, stand, speak, sing, dance, hug, reach for a hand.  I already see myself reaching for you, so often, as you run free - laughing at my confining hands.  Oh crazy baby, how you run.

Headlong to a future I don't think I can imagine.  Your future, Talia.  All yours.

Such a very short part of this journey you were helpless and in arms.  Every time I pass through babyhood with one of you, I learn again how very fast you move up and away and beyond me.  I will never regret one moment in which I gave my time and attention to you, no moment for kissing and rocking and stroking your soft cheeks was time wasted.  I took *every second* of babyness with you.


Fuzzy tiny daughter, this morning is the first mirror of many I will hold up to our meeting.  I will look at you with brand new eyes, as if learning you anew.  One year ago I was kneeling rocked by the power of your birthing, as your eldest sister rubbed my back and told me how near I was to meeting you.  I sang you out - and when I silently cradled your soft wetness in our small blue world, my heart sang instead.  A sweet song of triumph and overwhelming love for you.


Listen, little one.  I'm singing still.

A Simple mid-Advent Daybook

Outside my window... everything is frosty and mist-wreathed, even at this time of the day.  The window transparencies are glowing.  The cat is sitting on the window sill staring in, sulking because I fed her a worming tablet a couple of days ago and she still hasn't forgiven me.

I am thinking... about dinner plans and birthdaying - wondering whether to put up different decorations for my sweet baby Talia, and deciding what ingredients we can use up tonight, and planning her birthday cake, abandoned in mid-preparation so that I could eat my lunch.

I am thankful... that when my dear dear husband was finally willing to admit that he has been struggling with depression and anxiety, he was heard by our doctor and has been given swift compassionate and meaningful help.  I am thankful for moments of quiet and seeing my children sitting together with a book, still and at peace with each other.

In the kitchen... the mixing bowl stands with dry ingredients for sugar-free chocolate cake measured out.  I can't resist the urge to make her birthday cake healthy-ish, even though this baby steals sugar at every possible opportunity!  There are still dishes piled up from Morgan's birthday yesterday: a plate with cake crumbs, the crusts of a supper honey sandwich, the baking dish from the fish pie Jenna made for her.  I must get around to dealing with those.

I am wearing...  the most comfortable little black dress ever, which I don't think I can give up even though it's well-worn now.  Purple leggings.  Comfortable ankle boots.  My beautiful birthday amber necklace; a flower with different colours of amber gleaming warmly from each pointed petal.

I am creating...  pink baby socks, lovely cabled cotton trousers, a vest cardigan...  I am making progress on all of them, but the next section of the cable trousers is tricksy and I'm putting it off until bedtime so I can concentrate.

I am going...  to feed the ducks with my baby tomorrow, and out for dinner with my grandma the following night.

I am wondering...  whether any of these little ones will nap during quiet time today after a busy morning!

I am reading...  the tricksy knitting pattern.  I haven't made time for any other reading for a few days.

I am hoping...  that my darling other half will swiftly regain his usual self.  It's hard to see him suffer, and to have things be so hard for us all, especially after so many years of battling depression myself.

I am looking forward to...  every little thing about the rest of this month!  There is SO much to look forwards to.  I am looking forwards to seeing Talia in her birthday crown tomorrow, and helping her blow out her birthday candles.  I am looking forwards to a frosty night time walk tonight (the activity from the girls' advent calendar today).  I am looking forwards to catching up with family and friends.  I am looking forwards to warming my friend's lovely new home.  I am looking forwards to the eighth night of Hannukah and making more latkes.

I am learning...  how walking the dark times grows us.

Around the house...  the chair in my living room is piled high with laundry - my task for this afternoon is to put that away.  Morgan has new blessings bunting hanging above her bed, a rainbow of wishes for a precious quirky daughter.  The marks of sticky fingers and a splotch of errant orange nail polish on my bedroom wall are prompting a desire to redecorate.  The children have hung bits of assorted ribbon on the Christmas tree.  Tiny grains of glitter and white sand are evidence of Rowan spending some quiet time with a sensory tub that ended with me being obliged to sweep the floor!

One of my favourite things...  is being able to dress my baby in garments I knit and crocheted for her big sister.  I love getting things down from the attic as they grow, having much-loved things used and loved over again.

A peek into my day...  

Morgan

How do these days creep up on me so easily?  These markers on our whirling dance around the sun, I can almost forget how quickly they approach from beyond the far horizon to grasp us by the hands and spin us onwards.  And you, how can you be six?


Steady little dreamer.  Firmly practical and yet content in your own little bubble.  Dear gentle heart.  Six years to know you, six years to hold you, six years to let your own sweet voice become strong and to protect your stillness and solitude.  Still I wish I could see into your head, my darling beloved stranger.

You are a blessing to me, and I pray that I may be a blessing to you.  My solemn, peaceable, sunshine daughter.


Today, we are birthdaying.

Colour on a grey day

Today has been one of the *worst* days.  I have felt hopeless and exhausted and hurt.  I have also been surrounded by the loving prayers and thoughts of some incredible friends, and blessed by all of the beauty in life and the simple joy of childhood.  I had said that we would have a screen-free Hannukah, but hey ho, life sometimes has other plans and I have such a need of these spaces when life is trying.

The bad: please pray for my husband, all is not well with him right now.

The good:




Putting pebbles from our holiday into the display box at the museum.




A beautiful shawl pin bought with my birthday money.




Hannukah lights for the first night (oh, and donuts too).


Just... enough... light.

Knitting - and panicking!

Oh goodness how many things there are on my to-do list right now...  This morning I woke up feeling that sudden lurch of panic at getting something, *anything* ticked off the list today.  At least I've finished the last of the Christmas knitting!


This is the Lavender Lace beanie from One Skein Wonders.  It's a little on the small side... needs a good block.  I'll add that to the list of things I want to get done...

As for reading, well, unless you count craft blogs for ideas to busy the excited little ones...!

Joining in with Ginny and friends again.  :)

Calke Abbey and Window Transparencies

We visited Calke Abbey today in the sleet and the mud and the rain.  It was cold enough for us to head straight into the cafe to have some very expensive (but very welcome) cups of tea.


When we got out, the rain and sleet had stopped, and we grabbed a towel from a car to dry off the swings and slides for a good long outdoor play time until everyone was muddy and wet and cold!


Talia was fascinated with the wet slimy leaves, but didn't like them sticking to her fingers.


Hmm, so, this week...  Well the girls have seen a lot of their friends.  The activities advent is such a fun daily event.  We are *already* behind on the Jesse tree (!) and although I'm (almost) caught up with the laundry, the living room is an explosion of toys and teeeny bits of paper and crumbs and half crayons.  Jenna and Morgan have been working on maths stuff every day, in one of those fits of obsession that overtakes an unschooler seemingly at random.





I've dyed some more yarn for commissions, and Jenna painted the wooden angel for me from Waldorf Mouse.  I've reorganised and started labelling my stock.  Life is generally warm and creative and comfortable.



We made tissue transparencies inspired by Crafty by Nurture.  Jenna made a nativity scene.  Rowan made the sky behind a travelling Mary and Joseph (she was *not* impressed by my cutting skills - she told me that she thought they were a cow and a blob)...  Morgan made Jesus and three wise men in bright cheerful colours.  On the insistence of all three verbal children, I made Father Christmas.  Nobody was allowed to touch my cutting out.  I turn into OCD mama when my work in progress is being breathed on.





If I could only juggle enough plates (please excuse the mixed metaphor) perhaps I would also be managing to eat proper meals and have clean floors.  But hey, crafts, stories, work, friends and outdoor time are not-to-be-sniffed-at achievements for this week.  :)