If the conversation can be turned towards fish, it will be.

An interview with Rowan, age four, which was going to be about what she thinks about being home educated and ended up being mostly about sea creatures and birthdays.

Me: So, it's your birthday soon?
Rowan: Yep, four days!
Me: Are you going to be four?
Rowan: NOoo, FIVE! I'm four right now.
Me: What does that mean?
Rowan: It means, I don't know. It's just a counting-years thingy.
Me: Years since what?
Rowan: Since I was borned. I've been here for five nearly-five years.
Me: You've been round the sun almost five times on this earth.
Rowan: With you! Round and round with you, Mumma.
Me: Yup. What will you do when you're five?
Rowan: Have a birthday cake with sea pigs on. I love sea pigs. They're like funny little pink slugs. You're going to make a hundred of them for my birthday, won't you?
Me: Maybe.... Will you go to school when you're five?
Rowan: No. School is scary.
Me: Whaaat? Why is school scary?
Rowan: I don't know. Not scary *really* just weird for me. I like to just play and play and play.
Me: Oookay... What do you play?
Rowan: Everything. Scooby Doo, and ponies, and making houses in the garden with the big heavy stage [a pallet], and lots of running around games. Sometimes I play Poisson Rouge. I like painting and looking at books and being with you.
Me: What do you learn at home when you're playing?
Rowan: I don't know. I learned how to write Morgan's name now. It's good being big because I can do lots of words now. I like to hear stories and watch Spongebob and hear about sea creatures. I'm going to learn all the different starfish.
Me: You're going to *learn* them all?
Rowan: Yes, I'm going to know all the different kinds soon. I'm going to hold one, too, at the Sealife centre for my birthday.
Me: Oh are you? What else will be there?
Rowan: Sharks in the big tunnel, but sharks are scary, except if you put a bow on its head like a big pink frilly one, then it would just be silly and funny. I might see a Nemo too, a clown fish? I like clown fish.

Yarn Along - when exhausted from 2am wakings

Plodding on with the improvised shawl. So so tired. Remind me, toddlers do eventually sleep, right?

New books - always a highlight. The Book of Lost Things is brilliant, quirky dark fairytale, I seem to be working my way through a pretty similarly-themed list here.

*yawn* This too shall pass, this too shall pass. And in the meantime, I have books and knitting.

Joining in with Ginny and friends.

Good Enough

When I'm succeeding with my small business, I know about it. I get feedback from customers, and people want to stop by and tell me that my new uploads are gorgeous, or that the rainbows on my line made them smile. I have sales, I can point at the numbers and say, "See, I'm doing well!" I have a big stack of orders and assorted hand dyed yarn, and I can see where I am up to, and where all the hours went, and there is a provable amount of work "done".

Mothering isn't like that. Unschooling isn't like that. Being a stay at home parent isn't like that.

There's no set of easy-to-measure standards. Nothing I can point to as evidence that any work actually got done. Nothing is ever completed. Getting it right is an exactingly high hurdle which even on my best day I catch with a foot on the way over; if there *is* such a thing as a perfect parent I've never met one. I've met a lot of brilliant parents. A lot of people I would call my role models. A lot of people better than me in some areas, and worse in others (if it were a competition, which it isn't).

If I could only say for sure, at the end of each day, that I did enough. Something always gives. Is it better to shout and apologise once or twice, and yet make cupcakes and help with a science experiment and breastfeed on cue and patiently wait out an hour long screaming fit? Or is it better to sink into disengaged, get on with my own thing and not facilitate well but also not yell even once? Or is it better to have a "great day" then melt down the moment another adult comes into view, and potentially have a little one overhear me wail that I can't do it - am not good enough - not cut out for this?

Is there a scale, a degree of "good enough"?

This is where the rubber hits the road, in a life with ideals. When you are faced with choosing - which ideal is more important, what internal resources do you have left at eleven o'clock at night when someone isn't sleeping and someone else comes in to say they had a scary dream? When you want to know, am I done yet? Did I do enough today?

It isn't always like this. It isn't always an uphill climb.

Even when it's beautiful, and gloriously fun, and interesting, (and the light and the love and the peace are always there to be found, somehow) - there is still no end in sight, no way to say, "I KNOW I'm getting it right." Just, on those days, I don't usually ask the question. I can feel it, palpably, in the air, there is a flow - a sense of contentment.

If I take the happiness of my children as my ultimate goal, and my measuring stick, what kind of a mother am I when they are not happy - when life throws them things they would rather not deal with, when they have difficulty coming to an agreement, when they are ill or tired? Am I a failure if they are not happy? What kind of ratio is still within the limits of acceptable mothering? Every other measurement comes with its own drawbacks, and many are even more ephemeral and inconsistent and indefineable than simple happiness.

I would love to finish this rambling with an answer; easy, comforting, maybe a little over-simplified. I would like to comfort myself. My children are bright and busy, curious and usually healthy, mostly happy, learning all the time. I like them. I love them. And some days leave me empty, poured out, spent. The more tired I am, the more low, the more I try to wrap words around this experience - the more I long to understand it, and be understood. The harder I try the more words fall short.

I want to be enough. I want to be enough.

Is that enough?

Seven Days - everyday adventures

1. Dandelion fluff
2. Sweet potato falafel
3. Sewing chest (made by my grandad for my grandma)
4. Baby snuggling (and goodbyes)
5. Adventuring
6. Cinema followed by a sleep-over
7. Games time with friends

Tenth Anniversary

A while ago we had concocted a crazy plan to go up to the stone circle on the moors and make fresh vows to each other on our tenth anniversary. Our church wedding was perfect and meaningful to us, and we didn't feel the need to have anything that looked or felt like a repeat of that, and we wanted to be outside somewhere in the cathedral of nature. So although not pagan ourselves, we fixed on a spot that has been spiritually significant for a very long time.

Yesterday, as we drove higher in to the wilds, a white blanket of fog rolled down upon us shrouding the moors in mystery. We couldn't even see the path. Hmm, we thought, maybe best not to go up to the Nine Ladies... There was no way our plans would be wise or safe in those conditions. Instead we took a little trail up into the birch woods until we reached a sheer cliff and a mossy stack of mill stones. It felt right.



Ten years; every possible up and down. Injury, illness, loss of family members, periods of depression and a child in hospital. The year when he almost walked away from our marriage - and the month when I almost let him. Four beautiful healthy happy children, so much learning and loving and living. The best of adventures. Travels and sunshine. We are still in love, and still best friends.



We renewed our vows to the sound track of Talia playing on the Poisson Rouge app (because she kept wanting to run towards the very steep drop nearby). We all got thoroughly muddy and cold and wet. The mist muffled every noise, eerily changing the familiar landscape. It was an exceptionally memorable day. And beautiful, in every way.

Yarn Along - light and dark

I'm working on a crescent shawl using some gradient hand dye that a small child accidentally marked. I'm improvising, and hoping that my maths works out further down the line.



Book-wise I just finished The Magicians and am halfway through The Magician King. These are dark, smart, interesting, twisted, adult books. Distopian fantasy; bitter and wry. Even the cover compares these novels to Harry Potter but really these are grown up Narnia, with more than a passing dig at the allegory and easy answers of that convention. I am thoroughly enjoying them, and I say this as someone who is still extremely attached to my C S Lewis. (Sex and drugs are mentioned more than in passing, so you might not wish to read these aloud to children. ;) )

Joining in with Ginny and friends for a round up of this week's knitting and reading.

Sunny Picnic Afternoon

The sun has been shining down from blue skies this weekend. We took our house guests to the park for a picnic, and Martin and Ashleigh and I all got significant baby-squishing time with little Violet. Talia calls all our visitors by each others' names, indiscriminately. She also pronounces "Leanne" rather like "Jane". Extra confusion - especially when I manage to call Cerys "Rowan" as I did this morning!


(Yup, my toddler has a bubble-mix-and-sand mustache in that picture!)



Rowan was removed from the very edge of the duck pond no less than seven times before she succeeded in her apparent aim, and fell in.

She also discovered that there is a nice echo in the toilet area.
"Mummy! It sounds like there are lots of you!"
"It does! What would you do with lots of mummies, Roo?"
"I'd find out which one was you and then I'd either kill or drown the rest."
O-kaayy. Adorable and rather creepy.



We didn't walk far, just around the science garden areas, and then back to the car. My dad came and picked up enough of us that we could get home easily in one run. Picnic salad left overs were turned in to stir fry for a late tea, as we settled our crowds of children down for the night.





I am so hoping for more sun this week, for the back door to be perpetually open for garden games and outdoor meals. There are six children and three adults in this little house right now, and it's wonderful, but we all prefer to not be cooped up for long!

Much like the chickens... Talia is daily setting them free to range unsupervised, and I am daily chasing them and rounding them up. I think the fuss and chaos is the most entertaining thing my monkey toddler can imagine!

Seven Days - Rainbows and Visits

1. Rainbow
2. Gymnastics
3. Lots of eggs!
4. Sister-wearing
5. Roo writing notes
6. Cerys meeting the chickens
7. Rainbow visitors

Yarn Along - some solid coloured merino knits, for a change

So, on an otherwise pretty stressful day earlier in the week (grumpy toddler induced), I finished the black garter stitch slouchy. :)


And then cast on chevrons (fingerless mittens, without much of a plan except to enjoy using some bright solids, and to evade the horribly delayed second Low Tide which I'm still procrastinating over):


I am also desperately looking forwards to a peaceful few minutes when I can finally make a start on my new book! So far this week I haven't been getting much reading time (but in the evenings Martin and I have managed to watch a couple of the Avengers movies since we're SO behind). We're starting to get some evening time together, and Talia is sleeping longer - but still getting up crazily early of course. *yawn*

Joining in with Ginny and friends again (early, for tomorrow!), for a weekly round up of our knitting and reading. :)

Seven Days - Springing!

1. Daffodil love
2. Hueys and odd socks
3. Fierce debate over Minecraft
4. Grandma to the rescue with tiffin!
5. More dye days
6. Carcassonne
7. Community gathering fun

(Yes, I am indeed going to bed very late. Again. Talia is still waking up very early and then grumping/clinging a lot of the day. So I am mostly staying up until midnight to get work done and just sit knitting WITHOUT being needed and touched and talked at by the crowd of lovely small people. And then when Talia wakes me, I curse the staying-up-late-ness and vow to go to bed earlier. Like, earlier, when she does. Yeah. Watch me do this craziness again...)

Simple Daybook

Outside my window - the sun is shining brightly on a garden strewn with the children's loose building supplies, laid out in their usual configuration of something between an obstacle course, magical creative play structure, and warehouse yard. Earlier they were playing pirates, and the pallets connected by boards were boats sailing on a distant ocean. Telescopes in hand, the wild daughters sighted enemy vessels and evaded capture, and pulled the drying bedding from the line for goodness knows what nefarious purposes. (I suppose that latter is my fault, as I seem to have misplaced ALL of the pegs again, so everything was merely draped rather than firmly pegged down!)

The sky is such a blue. Changeable and often chilly English Spring still comes in the most perfect colours. The blue of this sky is saying, "Summer is not so very far away, you know."

I am thinking - of dye combinations and colour and the sheen of silk. My mind is full of plans and lists, orders and inspirations. It is a day for doing, for turning the kitchen upside down with dye pots and mixing colours and a sink full of steaming-hot yarn.

I am thankful - for my dad buying chicken feed for us and my mum offering a box of cereal for snacks. For always having an abundance, even when we have so struggled with lack. For healthy happy children, and all the time I get to spend with them - for the friendship between us, for being so comfortable with each other. For the strength in my arms.

In the kitchen - there is yarn drying everywhere. I dare not hang it outside when the children are so liberally spreading dirt everywhere they go! There is a sweet potato curry made and ready to warm through for lunch, and the table is stacked with piles of packaged-up books I am clearing out. Challah is rising in a large ceramic bowl, in the sunshine.

I am wearing - a turquoise flowery tunic which Ashleigh bought me when she was treating my children to hooded jackets and new shoes just before we went to London. Brown trousers. Comfy battered boots. My yellow amber and rainbow glass beads. Unruly unthethered brown hair damp and wavy from the shower.

I am creating - a slouchy black garter stitch hat is still in its ribbing stages, and I have almost finished making leaves for an enormous turnip (which comes with its own - also completed - brown textured knitted "dirt" drawstring bag). I have rainbow silks and some yarns drying, and more yarn in to soak. Lots more rainbows to do this afternoon! :)

I am going - to a community gathering on Saturday after Jenna heads off to Comicon and Morgan goes for a sleepover with her friend, E. Next week the friendly little AP group is meeting. We are hoping to see the new Muppet movie at the cinema after Martin gets paid.

I am wondering - where all my laundry pegs went to. Seriously, now.

I am reading - Winning Parent, Winning Child by Jan Fortune Wood. More Mysterious Benedict Society with Jenna. Fantastic Mister Fox with Morgan (AGAIN)!

I am hoping - the living room stays relatively tidy this morning so that a small crawling visitor has space to baby around... and that Martin is home nice and early tonight. And that the challah rises a little better this week!

I am looking forward to - seeing the sea again (so soon)!

One of my favourite things - is the glowing golden shafts of light that fall through windows and doorways on bright afternoons.

A peek into my day -

Simple Woman's Daybook

Yarn Along - rainbow chevrons, and Jan Fortune Wood

So, this week I made this awesomeness from my spun-for-the-purpose rainbow art yarn.


I've still not carved out for myself much reading time, but I've made a start on Winning Parent, Winning Child - so far I'm enjoying it a great deal. As we've been working towards non-coercion for a couple of years now, I'm finding it very pleasing to read something like this and feel comfortable. The ideas are familiar, and fit how we generally live right now. I remember feeling very threatened by writing that suggested parental control wasn't the ideal, once upon a time. I think I still have a way to go, but our lives are getting more peaceful and more cooperative all the time.

Joining in with Ginny and friends. :)

A Garden/Chicken Post

It's that time of year again already - my willow tree is fuzzy around the edges with softest green budding leaves. :)


Our garden flock is very happy and settled, there is less squabbling already, and they are laying around three eggs a day on average between the five of them in this warmer spell. June lays almost every day, as does Cinnamon. The youngest two Legbars seem to take it in turns. Bluebell lays about twice a week. We just started on our second bag of chicken feed (already). So our home-produced eggs were costing £2.60 per dozen at first, now down to more like £2.10 per dozen as the laying picks up (and as we have moved the feed bag to the top of the cupboards, so that the children can't keep sprinkling it all over the garden)!

(The pastel blue-green eggs are from the Legbars, Cinnamon's are usually slightly pointier and greener in colour. The huge pink one top left is from Bluebell!)

They've very soothing, and amusing, to watch. I only seem to get pictures of them in the run, and then half of my shots are always of June trying to peck the camera. They go a bit crazy when I let them out to free range, but they run back in here when something frightens them (like their rain canopy flapping too much, or a dog barking a couple of houses away).


Talia watches the chickens from as close as she can get, often with her nose poking through the bars. She comes back in saying, "Duck, nose, me!" and giggling, clutching her nose. I thought she'd soon figure out that it was better NOT to get pecked in the face, but alas. We learned by the end of the first week that we have to cable tie the large easy-access door closed, because it's just too tempting for the youngest three to let the chickens roam, and I'm determined to protect my vegetable garden!


Between the nutty children and the nutty chickens, there are daily cries of "help! help!" from the garden, and it's always a toss-up between it being a child stuck in the willow tree, one sibling chasing another with assorted toy weaponry, or a chicken loose. It's always when I'm right in the middle of something - like the housing inspection (which went really well, and they're now officially leaving us alone again for another year), or when I'm up to my elbows in washing up, or lifting a huge batch of yarn out of the dye vat. I need to replace my bench so I can sit outside with my knitting a bit more, I guess! (Such a hard life, haha.)



Maybe this year will be the year I manage to grow vegetables for more than one season. Maybe this year I will not kill half of everything I plant. Maybe this year I will finally buy a new bench. Maybe this year I will succeed in saving seeds from my veggie plants instead of buying more every year. I am nothing if not ambitious. So far at least is IS the year that I order from Real Seeds, and start off my first batch of seedlings in time. And it IS the year we finally get chickens again. And it IS the year that I plant some more soft fruit bushes.

Yeah, we'll get there. :)

Seven Days

1. My kitchen window
2. Dancing people!
3. Morgan's lego (and yes, she's allergic to the sun screen I used on her this week *sobs*)
4. Browsing the dinner menu...
5. Natural History Museum
6. Looking at the frog spawn in the woodland pond
7. Spiky mutant aloe babies