Today I....

Today I....

- drove girls to school
- took car in to have a new radiator replaced (ouch!)
- went to bank
- Great Harvest Bread Co. for bread for my honey
- attended preschool auction meeting
- taught handwork class for Esther's class
- picked up car in Clackamas
- baked loaf of bread
- made dinner
-paid bills

Now off to bed.

March was a busy month. I spent most of it with my head down. This week is crazier than ever. I am helping organize our preschool auction on Saturday, while trying to get ready for a week-long trip to my sister's ranch next week. My head is spinning.

Follow-up: My February Grateful Project fell short. Though, I did spend every day thinking about what I have to be grateful for. While we snuggle in bed, just before sleep, the girls and I now tell each other what we are thankful for that day. I love that new, sweet ritual.

I made something!

I haven't felt very brave about starting new craft projects for a while. Nor have I been working much on my knitting. My February Lady is not simple enough to knit while chatting and I just haven't been feeling inspired. And it takes energy to tackle a new project.

I took a beginner's quilting class series this fall at my local quilt shop (love it!), hoping to make a quilt for Caroline for her birthday. I didn't realize that the class would only cover cutting and piecing the quilt top, plus I had to miss a class and didn't have much time to work on the quilt because I was teaching my first childbirth education class. Quilting Class #2 was to cover borders, bindings and quilting, but the classes felt rushed and I feel like I needed more instruction. I think I qualify as a relatively beginning sewer. Yes, I can sew a straight seam, and follow a simple pattern, but there is so much I don't know. Plus my perfectionist nature limits my ability to just jump in and try things because I really don't like being frustrated. I have two doll quilts that need to be quilted and bound, and I just have not had the energy to tackle them since January. I have been having trouble with the machine quilting, the back puckering and everything shifting. Do you know how many seams I have had to rip on just one of those silly things? Too many to count. I am sure that there are some tricks that would make it all easier and I know I could go in to the quilt shop to ask, but I just feel kind of stupid about it all. All this adds up to the fact that I lost my sewing mojo for a while.

Well, today I tackled a new project, a quick and easy one. It didn't turn out perfect, but it is satisfactory. When I saw the price of the cute red deer strap, I knew I needed to figure something else out. I thought about trying to make my own using the hardware from the factory strap, but then I saw a camera strap slip cover, though I can't remember which blog, darn it. Using this tutorial, it took me a couple of hours, but only because I am slow and methodical, and oh yeah, still feel puny and then those kids running around. Here it is. And you get a look at my new baby. And my real baby.

Sick

Thursday, in the wee hours of the morning, I awoke feeling not quite right. Pulse pounding and then a twinge in my belly. Both Esther and Mike had a stomach virus, lasting about 24 hours, but brutal with cramping, nausea and vomiting. Esther was so stoic, thanking me over and over for taking care of her as I held her head and wiped her face. So, I had a good idea what lay in store for me. Sure enough, I was hit with the bug, and it was intense and laid me out. Mike took the day off to care for the children, thank goodness. I am better today, but wiped out, and stomach still queasy. Now I am hoping that wee C escapes this virus. It breaks my heart to see my wee babes with a stomach virus. They just look at you with surprise and puzzlement in their eyes and I can't make it go away.

Ash Wednesday

I had never been to an Ash Wednesday service before. Neither of the churches I grew up in had them or anything like it. Truly, I haven't known much about the Lenten season, just that it is a time of fasting and repentance during the time between Ash Wednesday and Easter, symbolic of the 40 days that Jesus spent in the desert fasting and being tempted by Satan. Our friends grew up Catholic, and though they are not practicing now, they give up something for Lent each year. I have given up something for the past couple of years like chocolate, without really knowing the purpose of the sacrifice. This year I decided to give up sugar and sweeteners and baked goods. And when my girls knit-night was canceled, Mike and I decided to go to the Ash Wednesday service at our church. The small crowd was hushed and contemplative. We recited a few scriptures and sang a few hymns. And we wrote down a sin we repent of that hurts others. We lined up to place them in a copper bowl to burn and then our heads were smudged with Ash. Very moving and symbolic. I hope that being mindful of this small sacrifice that I make every day, and remembering the vice that I hope to release, will in some way help me be a better person, the person I want to be, and remind me of the sacrifice Christ made for me.

Blog Anonymity

This blog is a pretty private place for me. My audience has been a few close friends and a sibling or two. Until recently. I sort-of decided to be brave and put it out for a few more folks in the effort to let people see who I really am. Scary, but freeing, really. Now all of my siblings know where this blog is, and a few others. Today, I was talking to a friend at church who asked me about my flickr account. I was surprised he had found me. We started talking about facebook and blogs and when he asked me if I had one, I told him I would send him my blog address. But I am worried that some information will be read about someone I have written about who, although are unnamed on this blog, will be recognized. So, what to do? Do I censor my posts here to accomodate possible readers? What would you do?

Oh, well.

So much for posting every day this month. Such is life, eh?

I have been playing around with my new camera today- a Nikon D60. My first digital SLR. My hope is to be able to take better portraits and life shots of my family. So far, I have noticed a huge difference in the photos I have taken. It is fast and pretty easy to use. I have a lot to learn and plan to have fun learning it. I took a photography class in college, but have forgotten all about aperture settings and what the heck is an f-stop? This is going to be going places with me. Now I just need a split-yarn camera strap. Isn't that red one with the deer, adorable?

Thankful for:
:: a Valentine date with my sweetie
:: Valentine's and heart-shaped cookies made with my girlies
:: hot-tubbing in the neighbor's hot tub while they are away
:: a walk all by myself in the beautiful weather
:: my new camera!

Grampa Jim

My maternal grandfather died this morning, peacefully in his sleep. He was in the end stages of Alzheimer's and I am grateful that he was able to die at home. Through the care of my mother (his second daughter) and my aunt, he was home until his passing.

No one who knew him would describe him as kind or generous or warm or loving, quite the opposite, actually. Kind of an s.o.b., many would say. But I know that he loved his family and did the best he could at loving us all.

I remember him as a strong, tall, handsome man with a thick head of grey hair swept back from his forehead. Dressed in flannel shirts and jeans and boots, with a pair of pliers always hanging on his belt and a pocket-knife in his pocket to cut the strings -snap!-on the bales of hay. He spent many hours in the workshop at the upper barn. He lost a couple of the ends of his fingers and the nails curved all the way over the tips- I liked to rub them. We kids worked in the barn with him, feeding the cows hay and grain with molasses poured over the top, filling water buckets. I still love the smell of cows and hay and the barn. I loved waking up to the sound of the cows lowing in the morning after staying overnight. Jumping into my grandparents bed after waking, grama in her pajamas, grampa in pj pants and a white t-shirt. We sipped russian-tea while sitting on their bed. Ju-ju bees always in a bowl in the headboard, turning hard and stale, perfect little sweets to pocket and suck on throughout the day. Homemade oatmeal cookies with raisins- his favorite cookie- I made them for him many times. His birthday was June 21, the summer equinox and 2 days before my own birthday. We had many joint celebrations with me sitting on his lap helping him blow out the candles on our cake. I can't remember his favorite kind of cake. Was it angel food with 7 minute-frosting and dark chocolate drizzled over?

I loved him and will miss him. He has been gone a long time- a shell of the strong man he once was. I am glad he is free now. I look into my children's blue eyes and see a part of him. I love my whole rambling family beyond measure- descendants of James Whitmore Gilbert. Rest in peace now, Grampa Jim.

Mountain Respite

It has been a good few days. Saturday and Sunday I spent in the mountains with a dear, dear friend and no bambinos allowed. We hiked in the beautiful, spring-like weather, soaking up the sun and the beautiful mountains, clear and crisp against the sunny skies. Then, movies- none very good, but perfect for chatting and knitting on the couch by the crackling fire. The chocolate was dark, studded with exotic flavors- mint or cranberries and almonds or ginger. Pizza was divine with sweet, carmelized onions, fig jam, prosciutto, chevre- as we sipped a favorite zinfandel, but not too much. Lots of laughter and conversation with my dear friend, one of my soul-sisters.

Today was mellow, spent with my favorite littlest nephew and his sweet-as-pie-i-love-her-so-much mama. Belly-pleasing warm, coconut pudding with bacon on the side for breakfast and snuggles with my cuddly Snowberry while we watched the flakes fall, as big as white rose petals.

Now girls are sleeping, on the mend, finally. It has been a long couple of weeks with the coughing and fevers.

Health

Last night, Caroline's fever came back (100.5) and she had a hot, restless night of coughing. I tried everything in my arsenal- homeopathic cough syrups, herbal chest rub, vaporizer, magic socks- so soothe her cough, to no avail. This morning, exhausted and looking toward the weekend with no medical advice available, I made an appointment at our family's naturopathic clinic to take her in and get her checked out. Of course, once she was up and running around, though she still had a low fever, she was bright-eyed and chipper. It is the night-time that is lonely and scary as I lay there listening to her accelerated fever-breathing and coughing. But she is healthy, just fighting a virus, her immune system doing what it is made to do, and doing it well. We now have an herbal cough tincture, probably more for the mama than the babe.

I am grateful for....
:: Caroline's amazing, strong immune system
:: the fact that I have not caught this virus
:: a peaceful day in spite of sick kiddos
:: a trip to the toy store with Esther to spend some Christmas money
:: Caroline's delight with an inexpensive fairy figurine, she has said thank you so many times

Chicken soup for my soul

I like moving through my day with thoughtfulness, searching for those moments of joy that would otherwise pass me by. This peek into my days of gratitude and the recording of them here, feels like a gift to myself and I see the effect on my family, too.

Today I am grateful for.....
:: homemade chicken soup, seasoned just right this time
:: hot biscuits with butter and honey that bring smiles to my sweeties faces
:: giggling and giggling and giggling girls
:: sweet pictures from 3yr. old- 'a clown for you, mama, with a ballet dress with lots of stripes'
:: girls who are well enough for me to go visit my dear friend for the weekend, sans kiddos
:: hugs and kisses from my 15 yr. old son. yep, he still loves me

Sick Days

Today I am grateful for....

:: despite being sick, the girls are in good spirits
:: knitting at the local coffee shop with a girlfriend for 2 hours
:: my husband who supports me getting a break by hanging out with the sick girls
:: not being sick myself, knock-on-wood

Housebound

With two sick girls. Both with low grade fevers and colds

I am grateful for:
:: a fairly peaceful night despite being sandwiched between two girls
:: Esther's cough lessening
:: sharing a Cara Cara orange with Caroline and the delightful conversation that followed
:: the library which provided new books and a Stellaluna DVD for the sickies tomorrow

Esther

Today is my sweet girl's 8th birthday. She is sick with a cough that just won't stop. Colds tend to go into her lungs and linger as coughs. She was brave and valiant, now tired and weary. I hoped to write more about my girl. But I am off to bed to nurse her through the night. I worked so hard to have this daughter. I am so grateful she is here, sickies and all.

Gratitude Experiment

As I continue to peel off the layers of defense, one of this week's realizations is that, indeed, I am competitive. I do not think of myself as a competitive person- don't like competitive sports, am a good sport when I lose a board game. (Though haven't always been. My sister may remember the fit I threw when I could not win one hand of Nertz while on vacation in Wyoming. Although, in my defense, I was newly pregnant, didn't know and was feeling crappy.) Yet, I am realizing that I compare myself to those around me to see how I measure up, or usually, fall short. I tend to be a 'glass is half empty' kind of girl and this prevents me from truly seeing how very much I have to be thankful for. So... I am going to try an experiment. I am calling it 'The Gratitude Experiment'. My hope is to post every day during the month of February, the things I am thankful for each day.

So, today I am especially grateful for my son who turned 15 years old today. His birth day was a scary one- I was critically ill with Toxemia and he was born by emergency cesarean section at 32 weeks gestation. We did not know his sex and the doctors said that after the surgery as I was coming out of the general anesthesia, I said, "his name is Colin." He weighed 2 pounds 13 ounces and was a little bit of a thing. I did not see him until he was three days old because it took that long for my health to stabilize. Yet once I laid eyes on him, lying there amidst the tubes and wires and beeping machines, I fell madly, fiercely in love. I am grateful that in spite of his tiny size, he was healthy and strong . Despite his rocky start, he grew quickly and in preemie terms, uneventfully, and came home 5 and a half weeks later.

I look at him now, taller than I am, feet almost as big as his Papa's, and can barely remember the tiny babe that he was. But I can still feel his weight on my chest as I held him skin-to-skin so many times in the hospital, or carried him as a wee bundle in the front pak. I am so proud of the adult that he is becoming. He is gentle and kind. Honest and funny. Wildly talented with his hands and a bunch of pipecleaners. Doesn't take me too seriously when I am being too serious. And can hold his own with his moody mama- respectfully. I am so grateful that he is my boy. Glad that he was my induction into motherhood. My first-born, my son Colin.

Boxed In

Yesterday I had an enlightening conversation with a woman- not yet a friend. In the past, I would have been intimidated by her- she is beautiful and dynamic- someone I would envy and try to emulate and assume that she would not choose to interact with me because I am not up to her standards. We talked about labels and how we limit ourselves by defining us and those around us. "Oh, she is vegan." Or, "they are unschoolers". We assume we know who someone is by their labels. I realized that while I resist being labeled, I have been desperately seeking those same labels as I begin to peel back the layers and really look at myself. Who is Taunia? She is a wife, mother, sister, daughter, birth supporter, chicken farmer.... the list goes on. It feels safe to grasp onto those labels as I look at myself, and as I look at others. But so limiting in my interactions with others.

I limited my relationship with my neighbor by labeling her. Though they were complimentary or flattering labels- artist, quilter, wise elder, mentor- I made assumptions about who I thought she was. I placed her in a box. I judged her. Mis-judged her. And did not really see her for who she was. Much like she did not see me for who I really am.

I don't want to do that anymore- to myself or to others. As I resist placing myself and others in that box- I feel so much more peaceful, more confident, less ashamed, less apologetic, better able to laugh at myself, to accept my own humanness and other's as well.

Mike and I were laughing last night as I recounted my conversation and then said, "You know who are non-labelers......?" There I go again. Habits are hard to break.

Lost in Translation

There are some people who know your faults, your imperfections, but see them and love you in spite of them. And then there are those who don't. Who only see your faults and humanness and choose not to look any further.

We found our home through our next door neighbors. We met them at our church and they told us about our home and after checking in with them to see if they would accept us as neighbors, we bought our home. The lady of the house is talented and artistic and I hoped we would become great friends and that they would become like family to us. Things began well and for the first year or two we began to develop a friendship. And then.... I noticed a chill when I saw her. So, I retreated and tried to give her space. Their eldest daughter moved back, and I knew how close they were and, sure, thought I wasn't needed any more. Plus, I never wanted to be an imposition and rejection is my greatest fear, so, really tried to stay out of their way.

They moved to WA two years ago, and their daughter and her husband have been living there. They seemed to be a private couple and I am a middle-aged housewife with 3 kids, so why would she want to hang out with me? See a pattern here? Anyway, parent-former-neighbors visit periodically and our interactions have been getting chillier and chillier. It has bothered me for a very long time- I have been wondering what I did to offend her/them. Well, they were down the week before Christmas and the husband went across the street to our good friends to tell them that the house was going on the market and their daughter was getting a divorce. They didn't come to tell us. I did go over to talk with the mother and had, once again, a really chilly conversation. I slept horribly, wondering, so decided that I should go ask her. What's the worst that could happen, right? We have no contact outside of their visits to their daughter now, and will have none after the house is sold, so, I have nothing to lose. And knowing would be so much better that wondering forever. I prayed for the opportunity to present itself to allow me to have a chance to ask her- and it did. The dad and daughter both left together, so I put on my boots and told Mike I was heading over. Surprised even myself.

I knocked on the door and asked if I could come in to talk for a minute. I told her that at one point we had been friends, but now felt that we are not, that I felt a chill whenever we spoke and I am not sure what I had done to offend her and was there something I needed to ask forgiveness for. She said that it was in the past and that now there really was no need to talk about it. But I told her I was asking for clarity, and I really wanted to know. Well, she proceeded to tell me that I had no idea how smug I came across and I thought I was perfect and better than them and was judging them and that I was unfriendly. Of course, I was shocked and said that it wasn't ever my intent to come across that way, that I really cared for her and their whole family. She said I did come across that way, so I asked her for some examples. And boy, she gave me some- a lot really. Here are some examples: I would not say hi when I saw them in the driveway; that I didn't want a real relationship, that all I wanted was information from them and I would only ask them about the house because I wanted to get my hands on their house; that I was competitive, materialistic; that I was the food police and never wanted to eat their food; I complained about a friend being miffed when my toddler got crumbs and food in their really nice car, and my friend should have been miffed and 'let me have it'. (Dear friend did not remember the incident- I did, and we resolved it.) Well, needless to say, I was crying and kept saying that it was never my intent to make them feel that way. That I cared for her and only wanted her to like me, and to please forgive me for coming across that way. Much, much more was said. I am leaving a lot out. And our conversation actually ended well, she was gracious and said that this was the first real conversation we had had in a long time.

So, I came home and have been processing ever since. My first reaction was shock, disbelief, horror, shame. I did see some truth in the examples she gave, that in them, were elements of my selfishness and insecurity, but really my intent was only loving and self-protection. And many of the examples she gave were years old. Years old, like 4 or 5 years old. And she was angry- angry with me for all of those years. She had been carrying that anger and hostility around for years. That really shook me to the core. To know that someone was carrying that kind of negative energy toward me for years feels awful.

It felt like she saw all my nasty bits- those places and things you try to hide, that are deep down, and she focused on those, and only those. I felt like I had been on trial- tried and convicted, but never knew my crimes, nor that I was even on trial. And it wasn't just her- I know her husband, children, their spouses feel the same way about me- so, multiple people. That is a horrible feeling. And how many others out there in the world, feel that way about me?

And then I was grateful. Grateful to know the truth. And that her truth wasn't my truth. That I had only held her and her family in the highest regard, my intent had been honorable and good. I feel only sadness for her and the anger she chose to hold for me. I could see how one could choose to interpret my actions the way she did, but most people wouldn't. I mean, would you take it as a snub if I brought my own cup of tea to your house? Eating the way I do (or should) saved my life and my daughters' lives, so yes, I am picky about what I put into my body, but that is not a judgement on you and your choices. (More on my relationship with food at a later date.) And the funny thing is, that some of the things she accused me of- being judgemental for one, I am guilty of, but not with her. I thought highly of her and her family, put them on a pedestal, truthfully, thought they were better than me. Why would someone as cool and talented as they are want to be friends with lowly me. I am off my point here, back to feeling grateful now. I am grateful that she was honest with me, that I see that her perception was just that- her perception. That I have some really wonderful and dear friends and family that love me in spite of my nasty bits. Isn't that amazing and wonderful?!! So, those of you who do love me in spite of my many flaws- thank you and I am grateful for your love.

Lesson 2. This could have been resolved and many of the hard feelings avoided all together if either of us had asked the other what was going on. One simple question, and, of course being truthful with the other. I would have been truthful. I thought she didn't want to know me on a deeper level. And she could have questioned me- asked me if something was bothering me, or told me when I did or said something that bothered her. I do know that I did not have the courage to ask her before now. I wish I had, but I didn't. I am only just now, at 38, confronting my deepest fears and seeing them clearly for what they are. So, no, I could not have asked that really hard question, because I wasn't ready to handle the answer. But guess what? I am still here, standing, I didn't shrivel up into nothing or dissolve in a puddle. So, she doesn't like me. My counselor says, "There are some people who will always love you no matter what. There are some people who will never love you. There are some people who just don't know you." I think she falls into both the latter categories. She thought she knew me and chose to dislike that person. I think things could have been different if we had been able to truly communicate. I think we could have been great friends. That really saddens me. I take my share of that blame, but only half. I think that her brokenness and my brokenness were a bad combination. I still think she is an amazing person, just not my friend.

I will continue to process this as it feels huge. I wish I were still in the grateful stage. There were a few days there were I was so happy and joyful and thankful for what I do have- the blessings and good friends and wonderful family. Today I am in the scared phase again- scared of what people think of me. That feels icky.