I'm taking piano lessons, just for the fun of it

I’m taking piano lessons for the first time in… many years… 15 years, probably.

I was nervous to begin. Nervous to start over, to be terrible at this after playing for most of my childhood.

But actually, I’m not embarrassed at all like I imagined I would be. Instead, I’m so happy! It’s a joy learning something just for the joy of learning.

And because of FaceTime, I’m able to take lessons from my favorite teacher, who has been teaching piano for 50 years: my own Mimi. 🥰❤️

Throwback photo to November 2020, pregnant with Emerson and feeling very dramatic with our grand piano. 😂 because of its size, it didn’t move with us to the forest loft. My sister is hanging onto it for me until we build our home. 😭 we were given an upright piano and it’s in our master bedroom now. I’ll have to get a photo of it soon. 💞

Our... powdered milk container. No, I'm not kidding

An entire post dedicated to a glass container filled with powdered milk? Yes. That’s the kind of content you can find here, apparently. (hahaha.)

This milk container is such a little thing, but as you might remember, I’m choosing to notice the Big Littles. This is one of those.

Our first two boys, Eliot & Emerson, switched to formula at 4 & 5 months old — that isn’t something I would’ve ever imagined. The stories are still gut wrenching for me, but at some point, it stopped hurting every time I made bottles. And instead, making milk has given me something to be thankful for. What a time to be alive! I can’t image not having milk available in this way…

When Eliot & Emerson were one and half years old & two and a half years old (at the same time, they’re nearly irish twins!) we switched them to powdered milk instead of formula. And when we did that, we started putting our milk in this happy glass container. Seeing it in my kitchen is a reminder of how thankful I am for all the ways we have to feed babies.

At this point (a year later) they really should not still be drinking milk every day — not like this. I would like to switch them to raw milk, and actually, we started weaning them off their nighttime milk and my heart is so happy and sad. ❤️

I wanted to make sure I documented this sweet season, since this visual reminder that prompts my gratitude won’t be on my counter much longer.

Into the wardrobe…

We recently finished reading through The Hobbit (for the second time) with the boys! And we’ve started a new journey into the wardrobe with Lucy, Peter, Susan, and Edmund…

We’re borrowing Matthias’ parents copies of the Narnia series while we look for our favorite version to purchase. I really didn’t find any beautiful sets for sale online… that surprised me. But the paperback style series is what I grew up with too, so we’ll appreciate it for it’s memory-value.

We moved up the boys bedtime routine at the beginning of the summer. We start putting Eliot & Emerson down around 6:45. We read our books in the dark (Matthias wears a head-lamp or uses a flashlight), and we try to be out of their bedroom by 7:30 or 7:45 so they can fall asleep.

This is very different than our previous routine… We wouldn’t even begin bed time until 8:30 or 9. I was desperately needing more evening time with Matthias, and he was totally on board with moving bedtime earlier. It’s been awesome.

It helps that they’re exhausted from playing in the heat during the day. The only downside is how bright it is when we’re putting them to bed. That’s why we do their bedtime routine (including books) in the dark, in their blacked-out room. I feel like it gives them some time to adjust before we leave them to fall asleep.

Home: work & rest

If I could describe the vision I have for our home, it would have more to do with feeling than aesthetic. Not that I don’t value a beautiful home; it’s something I’m continually working towards (and probably spend too often worrying about).

But I know from some emotionally hollow years inside of a professionally designed and decorated home, that no perfect sconce, end table, or wallpaper makes up for a suffering family culture.

I do want our home to be beautiful, comfortable, and safe. I want to feel snug, hugged by saturated colors, warmed by dappled natural light, and have books within reaching distance in every room. (Thank you, baskets, for your service.)

Home is the place to have my hair down, shoes off, and stray mugs on too many surfaces.

Home is a restful moment.

Home is the place to be off, the least-done and most-cozy: PJs and slippers and makeup free.

But home… is also where the people I love the very most live. Home is also where my full time career is, as mother and caretaker of this space.

I am constantly working towards finding the balance of

this-is-where-we-rest

and

this-is-where-life-happens-with-my-people-so-I-better-really-show-up.

I need days off, too, of course. But I spend most of my time at home and I have found that only being off at home doesn’t work for me.

I want my husband ands kids to see: out of everyone in the world, I care most what they think. I don’t want to consistently give them my second bests.

The balance of I rest here, and I show up to serve, love, work, and do the majority of my life here, is so weird and vague.

If there is a perfect balance, I haven’t found it. But, I have learned some things about myself... like…

I don’t want to only get dressed or put on makeup for other people. I do it for myself, and I do it because I like feeling like I’ve tried.

I want our home to be clean for us. Not because other people are coming over, but because we enjoy being here more when we do the work to keep it up.

My attitude is a matter of what I let myself think and I am constantly course-correcting my negative thoughts (especially around how repetitive household work and child rearing can be).

I want my children to see me acting out my thoughts: Hey-I-really-care-that-you’re-here-and-with-me. And this-job-at-home-matters-too-so-I’m-trying-to-treat-it-with-respect.

So while I am continually on the lookout for ways to make our house more aesthetically beautiful, I’m trying to stay tuned-in to my thoughts, attitudes, and behaviors that contribute (or detract) from our ideal family culture and home atmosphere.

Recently I’ve been struggling with some “I am failing at this” thoughts with my household. When it happens, I go for a walk and tackle a project, and find those make me feel like I haven’t completely lost my handle on our home.

It’s a process and I’m okay here, living in the middle.

The dinner bar, a small thing that makes me Happy

It’s the littlest details in a home that really makes it feel all yours; that’s what I’ve been figuring out the last few years. One of the small changes I made for us this year was adding a dinner bar. It’s a dinner-time size collection for my family - four plates, four bowls, silverware, cloth napkins, and the two candles we use for dinner time.

Having it all here in one place, near the table, makes putting together our dinner table easy, and means I get to enjoy looking at our pretty things. And I find that extends my looking forward to another shared meal.

It’s a small thing, but it’s made a difference and added to my daily joys.

I’m learning to be okay in the middle

If you ever come to my house, please wear socks. Not because I don’t like your feet, I’m sure they’re just fine, but because I want to spare you the feeling of walking across my dirty floors.

I wish my floors were clean, I really do. But that would take a thorough sweeping AND mopping three times a day, and that’s not something I’m willing to commit my life to, to be honest.

We live in the forest, but for some reason there’s so. much. sand. It seems at least one small bucketful of it is tracked inside our house each day.

If I wanted to live near sand, I would’ve moved to a beach where I could at least enjoy some ocean sounds, but I don’t live anywhere near the ocean… and still, sand, everywhere

I’m in a moment of life right now where I keep going back-and-forth between being totally okay with the fact that I don’t have everything under control, and feeling totally unequipped for this current job of running household and trying to raise tiny humans, while I love God and try to teach them the same.

Of course, the days when I feel like I have it together (my house is decently clean, my dishes are unloaded, my laundry isn’t behind) I feel like somehow… somehow, I’m going to be able to be the mom these boys deserve and the wife I want to be and also the best caretaker for this home.

And on the days when laundry is behind (which is nearly every day) and there are dishes to be done, because I haven’t unloaded, and my bathroom sink could really be wiped out, I despair a bit… wow, I don’t have this, and I am not equipped for this. Does this come more naturally for some people than it does for me?

On the good days, I remember that how I keep my household in a single minute is not a picture of how I keep my household as a whole. I’m allowed to have a Tuesday afternoon where everything is a wreck and that’s okay, because I will get back to it, the reset will happen.

But, on the not great days, it feels like this exact moment - of my dishes piled up and being behind on laundry again - it feels like this is my whole life, and like that somehow means I’m a failure.

I find when I’m really on top of the household - spotless floors, perfect systems - my children get a bit neglected.

But if I spend all my time with my children and don’t take the appropriate amount of care of our important household chores, then we all suffer; because who wants to have to wash a fork every time you need one?

I have to be okay with living in the middle.

In the middle of the process,

because it’s always a process and our home is as alive as we are.

The middle is…

an okay place to be.

And actually, the middle is the only place I can be.

So I’m learning to be okay with being in the middle of my own life. And I’m learning not to judge myself so harshly when the middle isn’t the perfect representation of who I want to be, or what I want our home to be, as a whole.

Our mornings

At the end of December I began a journey to read the Bible through in a year. I can’t believe I waited until 28 to do this for the first time, but here we are.

I rearranged our living room again around that same time— right after we pulled down our Christmas tree, in the week before the new year. I pulled my favorite chair into the best morning-time winter light in our house.

(Here you can see the light that makes my heart sing)

It seems silly that something as simple as changing the arrangement of our furniture would make my days so happy, but the arrangement has given me extra space (on the windowsill behind me) for the books I’m reading, my letter writing box, and that leaves room on my side table for a coffee, water, and whatever the boys want to show me. (I love that this gives my Bible a home— I don’t ever have try to remember where I had it last. Less thinking, more reading.)

The configuration has worked so well that I find myself going to bed excited to wake up the next morning and enjoy coffee in my spot.

Our post-breakfast routine that’s working well recently:

Eliot opens our morning time with prayer and then I follow. I love when he prays, I like to follow so he continues to hear how to pray. (Right now his prayers are only giving God updates on what’s going on.)

Eliot picked out this book from our church bookshop for his birthday and we started reading it together several days ago. It’s a small chapter book and I wish I could give a copy to all my friends with kids! The elevens chapters are only about two pages long each with beautiful illustrations and discussion questions to guide conversation and engage the children at the end of each chapter.

After we read, we practice our scripture recitation. Currently:

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly!

(With big hand motions, of course! Because, fun!)

And then we practice our catechisms. It wasn’t on purpose, really, but we have learned a little of the Westminster shorter catechisms and some of the New City catechisms. I love that both are on Spotify to listen to & sing along with!

I have a copy of the (tiny kids version) New City Catechisms book we’re working through front to back so we have order to what we’re learning. (And I just found out: they have a free app!)

I feel like typing it out makes it sound more formal and lengthy than it all is. Our morning time is casual, upbeat, fun, and short! Probably 10-15 minutes!? We finish it before the boys can become tired of it. (They’re still only 3 months, 1, and 3! 😂)

That’s all for our morning rhythm right now✨ Then it’s back to play for the boys while I do my Bible time! We replaced our coffee table with a train table so they play in front of me while I listen to & read the Bible.

I know the details will always be changing, but I pray we continue to have a morning time of worship together until these little boys become men and leave our home.

Tucking in

Look how precious this prayer is for your children 🥹

Jesus, bless their feet, may they bring good news.
 Bless their legs, may they carry on in times of suffering.
 Bless their backs, may they be strong enough to bear the burdens of others.
 Bless their arms to hold the lonely, and their hands to do good work.
 Bless their necks, may they turn their heads toward the poor.
 Bless their ears to discern truth, their eyes to see beauty, and their mouths to speak encouragement.
 Bless their minds, may they grow wise.

And finally, bless their hearts, may they grow to love you — and all that you have made — in the right order.
 Amen.

Oh man. 🥹

I didn’t write it. I found it a while back and loved it so much that I shared it with some friends & family, and kept it in my notes so I wouldn’t lose it.

I don’t pray it word for word over the boys, well, ever, really. (I did the first time.) But I was inspired by the format of prayer and use it often when I’m tucking the boys in.

The boys are never peaceful or quiet during nighttime reading or prayer, so instead of being annoyed at their energy I try to engage them when we do this so we love our routine and don’t dread it.

Often it’ll look like…

* putting my hands on theirs* Bless their hands, may they serve the orphans and the widows

(giggle giggle)

* holding their feet* Bless their feet, may they be brave enough to follow you wherever you call, Lord

(does a 180° under their blanket)

*kissing their heads* Bless their minds, may they think on what is true and good

(more kisses! more!)

*touching near their lips* Bless their mouths, may they always speak words of love and life and kindness

(momma, tickle me!)

*putting my hand over their heart* Bless their hearts, let them be set on the truth and have a desire for you

Inevitability they’re wriggling, giggling, asking me to grab their feet again or for another kiss. I imagine Jesus loves watching them and their routine, even though they don’t focus. They don’t get it right now, but someday they will.

Food, love

Being joyful around the many chores surrounding food is one of the ways I can show love to my family most often.

The planning, shopping for, storing of, preparing, and cleaning up from meals: it’s one of the most time consuming activities in our home. Even when I do things in the “quicker” ways, nothing about the endeavor as a whole is quick.

That’s ok though, fast isn’t the ultimate goal of life. (Reminder to myself.) (And fast to where, exactly, anyway?)

I used to feel like meals were the things I had in-between my real life.

Now I understand, shared meals are a cornerstone for families rich in relationships. They aren’t a bridge in-between moments, but foundational in family life and home culture.

Meals tend to set the pulse in the home. Days with granola-bars-on-the-go inevitably feel rushed and stressy, even if the load and to-do list is light.

Alternatively, a day packed with activity doesn’t feel like a heavy burden when I’ve had an intentional, delicious and healing meal, around the table with my children to set the tone.

Ultimately, when my attitude is one of complaining, I communicate with my mood that one of the most important needs my family has is annoying or burdensome to me.

But when I choose gratitude,

Gratitude to have children and a husband to share meals with

Gratitude for the money to buy our groceries with

Gratitude for a safe home to store our food in

Gratitude for the time at home to be the person preparing meals for my family

it makes the many labors of love around food feel so worth it.

I can enjoy...

journal, 12/16/22

I work hard for a tidy home

And it’s important, and it matters

But some days, instead of “picking up as a I go”(which is genius, and, also, torture) I find need to leave the mess and follow the mess makers

To the blocks

To the table

To the couch, with a basket of books

Maybe instead of the clean house ideal,

I can be a little more well-rounded in my desire

I can enjoy...

A joyful home, joining in their play

A creative home, letting them make worlds for themselves in our little space

A prayerful home, not just a tidy one

One where we value play, togetherness, and creativity, as much as we value being picked up

It’s not one or the other, but I find I have to give myself more grace these days

Constantly reminding myself: it will get cleaned, it always does

Maybe it’s just not as a fast, and maybe that’s ok, because everything else around here is way too fast

Like Eliot... nearly three? When did that happen?