And there are big. HUGE. things staring back at me.

In addition to the revelation of my word for the year, I guess I have an announcement to make: I’m excited and terrified to announce that Aaron and I have made arrangements to move back into our bus, Eliza Brownhome, this coming summer. We converted and lived in her in the middle of Vancouver for 5 years, part of the time with a baby and a black lab. She’s pretty comfortable and we’re intimately acquainted with life in a small space like that. However, we’ve never done it with 3 very loud kids before. With these kids in the middle of a rainy Wet Coast winter, I often feel that our 1900 square foot rental is too small so I’m really not sure what it will feel like to squish everyone back into Eliza. On that front, I’m feeling some, um, trepidation.

However, I’m so excited about how this fits in with our bigger dreams to eventually live rurally, build a house, garden, support local agriculture, create community, reconnect with my sister’s family and centralize home life – that is to say, live, work, learn and play all on the same site. I realize that I haven’t publicly described this vision before so some of this may seem fuzzy to you…but suffice to say, that moving back into Eliza for the summer is the first tangible step in the direction of making our dreams a reality.

The initial plan is to do this for the summer and reassess in the fall. The hope is that some of the considerable money we pay in rent will be freed up for investing in our dreams.

It will be fun, and exciting, but we’re also facing a lot of hard work to make this happen which brings me to my word for 2012: ENERGIZE.

en·er·gize

verb /enər jīz/

1. Give vitality and enthusiasm to
2. Supply energy, typically kinetic or electrical energy, to (something)

This word came to me late at night on New Year’s Eve, as I lay in bed tossing ideas around. I had considered DO, ACT, ACTION, COMMIT but they all seemed a little heavy, a little bossy. You see, I was looking for a word that would mean just do it, don’t be afraid, quit procrastinating, you can do it, you have it in you, go for it. Even without this bus plan, I have a handful of projects that have been hanging over my head for quite some time:

• finish the kid’s baby books
• deal with the clutter spots (closet floor, top of dressers, junk drawers)
• clean up computer (sort 5 years of digital photos, clear out inbox, purge favourites/bookmarks)
• back up computer
• make slideshow/video for Silas’ first birthday
• finish making a useful household notebook
• organize all the loose paper recipes laying around

And now, on top of those, I have to sort, store and declutter so that we can fit the five of us in 500 square feet. These projects will be very freeing, but they take time and require action and commitment. They can be boring, easy to start dreading and easy to put off. My plan is to assign one project to each month and do it, no more excuses.

I like the word energize because:

1. It’s a verb so it suggests action.
2. It reminds me to be enthusiastic about my projects.
3. It encourages me to put in the energy, not to procrastinate.
4. I love the bit about vitality and enthusiasm – it means that with our energy we can bring life to our dreams.
5. There is room for me to prioritize self-care so that I feel energized too.

The flip side of our plan to live in the bus again this summer is that we’ve also agreed to help a local farming family with some of their projects, to help make their dreams more attainable and I look forward to bringing our energy, vitality and enthusiasm to their farm.

It’s going to be big year. I can’t wait.

Do you have a word of the year? I would love to hear what it is. Link up if you posted about it. And just because I’m curious, how many of you have some of the same projects hanging over your heads??

This year I am again in a mental space that allows me to step back and look at the bigger picture. This year I’ve chosen a word and I’ve been able to look back at the last two years to see the themes and lessons that brought us to today.

2010 began with me seeking a clear vision of my path, and consequently, faith and trust that my dreams were achievable. It was supposed to be a year of planning and moving forward, but we got thrown a curve-ball mid-way through the year, in the form of an unplanned pregnancy. Just like that everything changed: I forgot all about my intentions and plans from January and focused on the baby we would be welcoming. Yet, looking back, I see that the year was still embodied by vision, faith and trust. I had to rewrite my vision of our family and our plans and I again found myself looking for clarity of purpose as I reconsidered my dreams. I learned to trust the process and have faith in myself and my family as I fearfully wondered whether we had the energy to welcome/care for another child. I learned to relax and believe that it would all work out.

2011 ended up being a year of being, of presence. Mindfulness is a bit of a catch word in the last decade and I wish I could say that I consciously chose to be present but the reality is that it just happened. This summer, Aaron and I made the decision that our family was complete and Aaron went in for a vasectomy which meant that 2011 was the last year I will ever be pregnant, or give birth, or hold my own newborn baby against my skin. I spent 2011 reveling in the anticipation and feeling gratitude for the childbearing phase in a woman’s life. I spent 2011 watching my baby grow and trying to soak it up, knowing now, the third time around, how very fleeting it is, knowing that I can’t slow it down, knowing that I won’t experience this first hand ever again.

After all the fears and uncertainty and surprise of 2010, we were delighted to welcome Silas into our lives. He has been a wonderful ray of light and sweetness in our family. He balanced us out and healed old wounds and the first 5-6 months with him were so beautiful and—I still can’t believe it—easy. I couldn’t believe how lucky we were to have him.

The last few months have been harder as sleep became a huge challenge and as a result, 2011 echoed 2009 in being a year of family, a year of being still and getting to know each other, a year of not taking on too much. I even went so far as to broadcast on facebook that we were struggling with sleep deprivation to the point where I was focusing only keeping my kids’ fed and clothed and as such my friends would have to forgive my lack of phone calls/visits.

2011 was about living day-to-day. 2011 was about the moment. 2011 was about now.

But here we are: it is January. The days have slipped by. We have a new year. We can see Silas’ first birthday there on the horizon. Our baby days are almost behind us. It is a time to let go and look forward. We are picking up where we left off: planning and visioning with eyes to the future, grateful for the last two years and excited for what is to come.

Stay tuned for my next post where I will reveal my word of the year for 2012. In the mean time, do you like to reflect on the last year as part of your process of setting intentions/goals for the New Year? What word would sum up the last year? How does it fit in the continuum of recent years? How does it inform your plans for the next year?

It’s no secret that kids don’t actually need a bunch of fancy toys, but unfortunately, I’ve also observed that given the choice, they just can’t resist the shiny, plastic, battery operated, noisy, walking, talking, lights-flashing ones.

When you first start to introduce natural toys you may find, like I did, that they aren’t played with as much as you’d hoped. Despite observing the kids in a Waldorf Kindergarten regularly play with rocks and acorns and silks, I have a hard time imagining my kids choosing horse chestnuts and pine cones over a bucket of Lego, given the choice. And it’s not just the rocks that pose this problem. At first even the more exciting toys like the wooden castle filled with wooden horses and knights were only played with when they were brand new and often sat in the corner after that.

So, you probably wonder what has worked for us?

First off, don’t get discouraged. Keep buying natural toys whenever you can.  Make it a priority to invest in these types of toys even if your initial efforts aren’t the raging success you were hoping for. Pool cash gifts from family and friends to get a big item or suggest that family members go together to purchase something you’ve been dreaming of. We started getting the kids some of the bigger ticket items every time a birthday or Christmas rolled around. We started with a beautiful wooden castle and eventually got each of the kids their own Waldorf doll. Expect that as you start getting more of them, there will be a shift.

Wooden castle folded open. King in the dungeon.

Expect that it will take a while, especially if finances are a big factor. Here are some ways to cut down on the expense:

Try making stuff. The woman who did up this room for her son says she got very DIY and made a lot of the toys. Some of the things that we’ve made for our kids include a wooden doll bed, some doll clothes, felt birthday crowns, a wooden sword, and a knight’s tunic. I also have a book that shows how to make simple felt animals which I intend to do with Rain. A lot of etsy vendors even sell patterns for making your own felt food and you can get cheap plain silk and dye your own play cloths. Involving your kids in the process is a good way to ensure that they will be more willing to play with the creations too.

Evaluate what big items you really want to purchase and what could be skipped. Do you really need those expensive play arches (even though they are cool)? It seems to me that you could invest in a lot more TOYS to be played with rather than the fancy shelves. Could you make do with a homemade stove/sink combo that sits on a table top rather than an expensive kitchen? Save those purchases until the end when you are really sure that you want/need/can afford them.

Two Good Starting Points:

Felt Food – I started getting the kids one set of felt play food from etsy for every gift giving occasion. I only spent about $20 at a time, but I did this for Easter, Valentine’s Day, Birthdays and Christmas so they added up quickly. At first they didn’t get used often but as the sets have started to pile up, they now play with them quite a bit. The sets aren’t expensive when you buy them slowly over time like this, and I feel good about supporting handmade etsy products. These make playing with the Fisher Price plastic stuff more fun until we can eventually afford the time/money to either make or buy a kitchen.

Dress Up – starting a dress up bin is also a good place to start. This can be done inexpensively at a Thrift store and you can round it out with some play silks, a shield, a pirate hat, a sword and felt crowns. You could splurge and purchase some of the key items to round out your dress up bin or you could make your own. I personally found that the silks were instrumental in getting the kids to play dress up more often. I didn’t expect it but as soon as I started showing the kids all the ways they could use a silk, they regularly became a part of their play.

Play silks, sword and birthday crown in use.

But how to get the toys played with??

Rotate toys. Every preschool and daycare I’ve ever set foot in rotates their toys so that they are always offering the kids something fresh and new to play with. Put the wooden farm away for a month and then bring it out and put the Playmobile away for a while.

If possible, try to weed out the undesirable toys across a developmental stage. It’s easy to get rid of the plastic baby/toddler toys when your preschooler no longer plays with them and replace with natural toys that are age appropriate. This isn’t always possible when, like us, you have younger kids who might still be using those toys or if your older child isn’t even close to outgrowing their current toys yet.

Move some of these toys to a part of the house where they can still play with them but it might not be as desirable. For example, when Silas started crawling we moved all of the Lego upstairs for safety reasons. Rain has begun playing dress up and castle more often because those items are on the main floor where he prefers to play.

Most of us probably have far more toys around than are really necessary. You can institute a strict rule that every time something new comes in the house, an old toy is donated to good will. Or if you’ve taken a toy out of rotation for a while and it really doesn’t seem to be missed, send it to the Thrift Store. Over time, the balance of natural toys and plastic toys will shift, and as it does, you’ll find your kids will be more creative about using the toys they have around.

Flikr photo credit: Christaface

A couple of things got in the way of this plan:

1. Money – these natural toys are NOT cheap. Especially some of the bigger items like the wooden kitchen and play arches. I would be willing to save up cash birthday gifts from relatives until we could afford a fancy kitchen like this but Aaron finds them unreasonably expensive toys for kids (despite in my opinion, the obvious care, quality materials and craftsmanship that goes into some of them).
2. Hand-Me-Downs – my sister with older kids gave me a lot of the things they had outgrown and my mom passed down a lot of my old toys from when I was young. My toys had sentimental value plus, being made in the 70′s, they were durable despite being plastic (particularly my old Duplo and Fisher Price sink, stove and dishes). Also, who was I to say no to free toys?
3. Gifts – personally, I think it’s just a bit pretentious to tell people that I only want a certain type of toy for my kids, especially when these toys are also expensive and hard to find. If someone loves my kid enough to buy them a gift, I’m going to smile and say “thank you very much.” When people ask me what my child might like for Christmas or a birthday, I’ve found that the safest answer is “We always love books at our house!” About the only thing I will actually come right out and say is that we prefer not to have clothes or toys with licensed characters on them.
4. Super Cool Non-Natural Toys - over the years, we were occasionally swayed by really cool gifts, or marketing, or our kids’ likes and dislikes, towards things like Lego, Schleich animals and so on.
5. Mindset – to be honest, I think Aaron and I are both unwilling to be so rigidly crunchy as to make this kind of playroom a priority. We probably always will have a few plastic toys and Toy Story puzzles around. Afterall, I don’t think that the majority of non-natural toys are inherently evil (battery operated ones being the exception) so I’m not opposed to having them in the house. Frankly, I’m not wealthy or snobby enough to go all out on creating a natural playroom from scratch overnight. I assume that to be true for most people who admire these types of play spaces.

That said, a mostly natural playroom is still something we’re working towards. We’ve had both challenges and successes with this and my intention was to discuss what seems to work in making the slow transition to natural toys…but alas, I blathered on too long again so I will offer that up in my next post.

And then I grew up and became a mom. {insert crazed laughter here}

Can you imagine the adjustment motherhood has been for me in the personal space department?

Moms don’t get to have their own bodies. From conception, our little ones start sharing our bodies in a way that is equal parts annoying and magical. Then, wonder of wonders, they pass right through our bodies, out into the world and we begin the slow process of separation.

It doesn’t happen overnight. At first, there’s nursing. I’ve been nursing now for six years, minus a few months during each pregnancy. This means that day and night, someone is attached to me, sucking on me, crawling on me, sleeping on me, grabbing at me, sometimes even pinning me down or chasing me. (Don’t get me wrong – I love breastfeeding). Silas has also gotten to the play with his food stage: he pinches and squeezes the boob as he nurses, pulls the nipple out of his mouth, then lunges to re-latch. I know from past experience that this is coming too: sticking fingers up my nose or in my mouth repeatedly, trying to grab my tongue, while nursing. Thankfully, I’ve never allowed the nipple twiddling that most nurslings are famous for because I knew that would send me right up the wall.

And it doesn’t end with weaning. My older kids are always sitting on me, touching me, pinching me. They even try to move my arms or legs to suit their own purposes when I’m busy trying to do something (like sleep, or nurse their little brother).

But I’ll tell you a secret. For the most part, I don’t mind.

I remember my prenatal class instructor telling us about a woman who scooped up her newborn baby, covered in blood and vernix and began instinctively, to LICK him clean…like a cat. I think it’s worth mentioning that at the time I heard this story, 7 months pregnant with my first child, I thought it was bewilderingly outrageous, but now, after three kids, I kind of see where she was coming from (though, I must say I have never done it).

Because these little beings began their lives safely sheltered and cradled inside my own body, part of me views them as an extension of my own body. In my mind, I observe my interactions with Silas, the way I wrap my body around his, kissing armpits, blowing raspberries on soft belly skin, nibbling toes. I could eat him up. He’s delicious. He’s a cuddler and in the mornings, we often lay together entwined, mouths millimeters from cheeks, breathing together, feeling each other’s warmth. His neck rolls may smell like sour milk and he drools on me but I barely notice. I remember being the same with Rain and Noa. There is no too close with them. It often feels like we can’t be close enough, for long enough.

There’s another little surprise though. I feel that slowly shifting with Rain. He is six now and I can feel our personal space beginning to bubble between us. Sure, we still cuddle and hug and hold hands and kiss and fall asleep with our arms wrapped around each other, but now, when I lay down with him at bedtime, his breath in my face feels too close sometimes. Or his stinky feet and dirty toes gross me out when I trim his toe nails for him. I recoil when he squeezes my bare arm with slobbery fingers that seconds before were in his mouth as he chewed on them. The division between parent and child grows more distinct as he grows up.

Now, sometimes now, I want space again. I want a few minutes when no one is touching me. I am coming back to the personal after six years of intimately sharing my space with him. I feel myself walking that same journey slowly with Noa too and I know it will come with Silas.

How about you? Have you felt that shift happen between you and your kids? Have you ever licked your babies? And more importantly, do you ever feel like you go insane if one more person touches you?!?

Hazel

Water broken, contractions slow. All day walking walking walking the house. Beer, nap, lovely. Sun sets. Now so fast! Pounding the bathroom wall. Doula’s eyeballs, “haaaaaaa, haaaaaaaa, haaaaaaa”. Even transition won’t keep me from clicking “next” when Christmas music comes on the IPod shuffle. Friend’s restaurant caters. Team takes turns eating in the kitchen while I privately push. Baby comes down down down, then wriggles into the water. Papa lifts her up. After all this waiting, 286 days, she is here, on my chest, one eye swollen, red heart between her brows. He whispers, “She’s a girl”. My girl.

- Emma Summer, Your Fonder Heart

Done in 90 minutes! (And 100 Words or Less)

Contractions on Halloween

Trick… or Treat?

Trick.

Two days later… false alarm?

It’s time!

ER : “Pregnant lady in distress”

Orderly: “Can’t find the only working elevator”

Crawling zigzags throughout a darkened lobby

Maternity nurse: “Too soon – let’s monitor”

NO!

“Need to push”

“Can’t be! Let’s start an I.V”

Uh-uh!

Three primal screams, the busy room paused

Daddy: “There’s a HEAD in that water!”

One more push…

Caul birth.

Snip. Whoosh!

Baby on tummy

“Don’t cut that cord!!!”

Anxious doctor: “Can I cut now?!”

“Wait! OK… now”

Nursing newborn

Uneasy staff

“It didn’t cry!”

“Is it OK?”

EVERYBODY OUT!

Babymoon…

- Alicia C., McCrenshaw’s Newest Thoughts

**Note: Alicia submitted the cutest picture to go with this story but as of 11:00pm PST, wordpress will NOT let me post it without automatically mucking up all the code for this post. Argh. Hopefully, I’ll be able to add it tomorrow.

Tegan

With my second child, I was determined to have a natural birth after having an epidural and induced labour with my first child. I read 7 books and many, many natural birth stories online over the 9 months that I was pregnant with her. My labour pains began at 1:10 am and I was excited. I told myself to relax my cervix and pictured her sliding down. My mantra: Woman have been doing this since the beginning of time, you can do it! She was born naturally at 3:30 am that same morning and I was home by 6 am.

- Tanya, matedo-tanya.blogspot.com

{Finally, my birth stories, dutifully shortened, perhaps the only way they will ever get written.}

Rain

A few days past my due date with my first baby. Contractions start at bedtime, hours after a stretch and sweep. I labour through the night, in and out of the shower, as our midwife sleeps on the couch. Early morning, she suggests breaking the waters. Soon after, I am Pushing. Ring of Fire. You are born at sunrise. Our eyes are locked in yours – minutes pass before we check to see that you are a boy. Then, retained placenta. I still remember the golden autumn sun reflected on the lake as I stepped out to the ambulance.

Noa

We spent all that day packing to move. Every minute of the next three days is planned out. At 4:30, my water breaks. Three weeks early. Change of plans. Scrambling with my sister to finish cleaning her guest room. Send the kids to the park. Wash the towels. Fill the birth pool. Friends pop in to say hello. Midwives arrive. An hour later in the summer evening sun I am pushing out a baby girl on the bed, just as the pool is finally full. Too early. Too late. House full of kids & neighbours – it’s the perfect birthday party.

Silas

Turn off the light, tired. Contraction. Call the midwives. Call Kate. Wake the little ones. Pacing round the house. Child’s pose. Into the lukewarm pool. Relief. Pots boiling on the stove. Kids eating all my popsicles. Midwives’ gear everywhere. Laughing. Refusing to get out of the pool. Breaking the bulging bag of waters with my fingernail. Moments later, pushing, roaring, baby is here. Scooping him up I feel a scrotum and know he’s a boy but wait for Big Brother to announce, “It’s a boy! I got what I asked for!” Complete.

Thank you to Emma, Alicia and Tanya for submitting stories.

It’s not too late to join in: post a short story on your blog and link up in the comments!

1. We enrolled Rain in our local Waldorf school. Waldorf schools discourage tv and computer use by kids.
2. A recent study has come out that showed that children who viewed 9 minutes of Sponge Bob Squarepants showed difficulty concentrating on tasks immediately afterwards (compared with children who viewed the slower paced Caillou or who viewed no tv). There are some inherent problems with this study and I also have to say that I wasn’t at all surprised—I already agree that tv viewing isn’t the best use of my kids’ time and we’ve all heard variations of this before—but, it’s the topic du jour so it’s currently influencing friends, other parents, my husband to have more discussions about kids’ tv viewing.
3. My daughter started having wicked temper tantrums when we would ask them to turn off video games or turn down a request to play.

Last week, I felt compelled to make some changes. We were letting the kids play selected video games online. They were allowed to visit CBC Preschool Games, Sesame Street and Treehouse. The games are educational so I had been feeling good about it. However, I tended to get lazy and let my 20 minute limit slip to an hour and more often than not the kids would end up watching video clips on Treehouse that I hadn’t supervised and where they were exposed to commercials. I was shocked when Rain started begging me to buy Charmin toilet paper and Bounty paper towels at the grocery store because they are 5 times more absorbent than the other brand or they disinfect better than a regular dish cloth. When Noa started having melt downs over the games, I knew they had to go.  In the last week since I made the decision that they could no longer play these online games there have been no more tantrums about media viewing.

However, I’m also a stay-at-home-parent to three kids, one of whom is a baby who has been waking hourly for the last three months. We have no family living near us and no babysitter. We don’t have in-laws taking the kids for the weekend. We don’t have help/support. Our friends all have babies of their own and I’m hesitant to ask them to take our three kids when they only have one. My older kids don’t nap so I can’t nap when the baby does. I’m exhausted and sleep-deprived and as I wrote last week, I’m starting to struggle with my temper, a lot.

So here’s my conundrum, as much as I would like my children to be watching less tv (perhaps none), it’s the only way I get a break at all. It’s the only sure fire way that my older two won’t start fighting right outside the bedroom door just as I’m getting the baby to sleep (meaning another hour of trying to get him down). It’s the only way that I can actually lay down and have a rest in the afternoon. It’s the only way that I can occasionally sit down and put my feet up, knit or write a blog post. Sometimes it’s the only way I can get the laundry or dishes done or dinner on the table before 6:30 or 7:00 pm.

Last week, I experimented with trying to get through the day without screen time for the kids and guess what I found out? I was stretched thinner and lost my temper more often. So I asked myself: what is more damaging to my kids, tv or me losing my shit? The answer was rather clear to me. I know there are people out there who will judge me for that, who will say that I’m just justifying my behaviour, who will say that there are other solutions to help me get the breaks that I need…and they may be right. But they don’t live at my house. My husband works and I’m home with the kids. We can’t afford childcare. I get up with a baby 8-10 times a night. So I get to make this decision.

That said, here are a few things that make me feel better about this decision:

• My kids are rarely exposed to commercials because we don’t have an actual tv (we use netflix on our computer and movies that we own). Some of the complaints I’ve read about tv, talk quite specifically about the problems with commercials for kids under 8. I personally think that commercials are a problem for everyone and I’m glad that I’m not exposed to them either, but I’m particularly happy that my kids aren’t.
• We are very picky about what our kids watch. We limit our kids exposure not just to violence, but also to anything overly scary or with evil villains. As an example, Sleeping Beauty is not allowed but Surf’s Up gets a thumbs up. We encourage shows that have learning opportunities like nature shows or Busy Town and we make sure the content is age appropriate. One of the problems with the study mentioned above was that the kids watching Sponge Bob were 4 years old and the show’s producers claim the intended audience is 6-11 year olds – it isn’t that surprising then that it negatively affected them.
• We know what they are watching. We don’t just walk away and let them watch whatever they want. We choose together. I know what they are watching and in most cases have either previewed or spent time watching with them and we often discuss what they watch afterwards.
• We limit how much they watch. My kids are 3 and 6 and they watch 1-2 hours a day. This feels like a lot to me but generally this means 1 movie and when it is over, we turn it off. We very rarely let them have marathon viewing sessions where they watch several things one after the other. We have observed our children get wired and cranky when this happens so we don’t do it.
• We have set conditions under which they may watch. They have to be dressed (unless they are sick and we have declared pj day). They have to have eaten breakfast. And for me usually, I also limit all tv watching to the afternoon. None in the morning. None during meals (we eat together at the table) and usually none after dinner (except when we have a family movie night). I expect that they clean up toys before they can watch.
• My kids still get a lot of time with me. The articles I linked to above also talk about tv as a problem in the context of kids being at school all day and then coming home and watching tv in the evening, mentioning that it’s better to do other things (board games, walks) and spend time together. Because Rain is in half day Kindergarten (4 days/week) and I am home with the kids, we still spend most of our day together.

I do wish that my kids didn’t watch tv every day and I’m quite certain that in the future we will reduce our kids’ screen time even more, but at the moment, this is the amount that is working for me and I’m ok with that. Yet, I still feel guilty and embarrassed about admitting how much they watch and I still feel like other parents will raise an eyebrow when they hear how much our kids watch.

How about you? How much screen time do your kids get? Are you ok with that or do wish you could make changes? Do you feel guilty or embarrassed about it?

As we pull in, the sun glints off the only other car in the gravel parking lot. It is early but the day is already warm and the sky is a brilliant blue. It takes a couple of minutes to disengage: unbuckle carseats; gather ourselves; make sure keys are in hand, not ignition, before shoving the door shut with my hip.

We make our way through the opening in the hedge and up a path to a little market stand. The cedar shake roof is long and low and one wall is open to the fresh air revealing a wide counter and a cooler with vats of ice cream: raspberry cheesecake, bubblegum, maple walnut, moose tracks. There is no one behind the counter but after a minute, a woman calls out from the side of the building. We find her sitting at a picnic table playing cards with a young girl. She tells us that the best picking is to the right, anywhere we like.

We clatter off, the four of us and our odd assortment of buckets. Noa, our thirteen month old daughter is not walking yet but we brought along her push toy: a bright yellow, orange and purple wagon with big wheels, a handle and a storage box under the seat. She toddles after us determinedly pushing the wagon over the gravel, falling every few steps but always quick to rise and push on. She has not yet figured out how to turn the wagon; her tactic whenever she encounters an obstacle is to look back at us with a grin and wait for help, one hand still resting on the handle. However, today she will need no such assistance. We have come to a pre-walking, wagon-pusher’s paradise: a blueberry farm. Our four year old son Rain runs ahead to choose our row. After a moment’s wait while we turn the wagon into the wide alley between waist high blueberry bushes, Noa is greeted with the longest unobstructed straight stretch she has ever seen. We set her free.

Noa is instantly distracted from wagon pushing paradise when she notices the marble sized berries on the bushes. They are a deep dusky midnight blue and covered with a light powdery film. I am not sure that Noa has ever had blueberries and she has certainly never seen a blueberry bush. Call it human instinct; she drops to her knees, crawls to the nearest bush and begins to fill her mouth with berries with both hands.

In fact, this is pretty much the reaction of all of us. We are all diverted from our intentions by the sweet, slightly sour fruit. I love the tanginess of the berries that still have a red blush to them. It takes a few minutes before we are able to get down to work, overwhelmed as we are by the plenitude on each bush, blueberries hanging in clumps like grapes.

Eventually, we settle in. The rows are wide with freshly mown grass between. It is the perfect work space for a mom of young kids. Fully fenced to keep out the deer, bushes dense enough that it isn’t easy to get into another row, vast enough to provide a sense of freedom for roaming as far as they like and provided they stay in my row, I can always see them. Rain wanders off, imagination and monologue running a mile a minute as usual. He has a yogurt container laced on to his belt loop but he picks directly into his mouth.

The only rule: Fill your bucket or fill your mouth but once the fruit is in my bucket, hands off. The small competitive spark in me flares up as I make it my goal to fill my large pail before we leave.

Aaron and I begin working on opposite sides of the same bush so we are facing each other. Noa stays close for the most part, filling her belly or pushing her wagon beside us. She occasionally crawls over to the fence to check out the horse on the other side, squealing “Puppy! Puppy!” Rain spends some time picking into the storage box in the wagon but between him and his sister, the berries don’t last long in there. As Aaron and I start to pick, the lovely plump thud of the berries falling into my pail makes me feel like a kid in a candy store. When the sound disappears, I am spurred on by the realisation that it means the bottom is covered and I focus in. My attention narrows and I am now looking at the berry farm with my mind’s macro lens. Grass, leaves, berries, stalks, spider web, dew.

I don’t have to worry about my children. I can hear them, see them out of the corner of my eye. They both check in periodically or I raise my head to double-check. They are safe. Rain’s yogurt container is empty every time I ask how much he has picked.

Aaron is busy picking. I can’t see his face; only a hand or a shoulder sometimes, after a rustle of the plant. We fall into conversation and spend a glorious hour chatting uninterrupted (without having to leave our babies with a sitter!). We discuss parenting, we strategize, we gossip, we dream, we make idle chit chat. Hands busy, words flow easily. Sharing pleasurable work, we connect in a way we haven’t in a long time.

The weather is fine. The sun is bright but the day is not yet hot. It feels good to be up and out of the house so early. We are happy to have the field mostly to ourselves. We already feel rewarded by the act of harvesting our own food. Touching it. Picking it. Knowing where it came from. Everything about this day feels so right, so wholesome. Doing the work to pick our own food, together as a family, everyone involved and present, even the very youngest. I imagine a time when this is what it might have meant to go to work: not working 8-10 hours a day separated from our families to be able to buy food but working together to grow food.

Rain begins to whine that he is ready to leave and I am reminded that I am being idealistic. We get him settled with his sister for a picnic; they share a bottle of water and some rice crackers. They keep each other occupied for another precious fifteen minutes, long enough for me to fill my bucket.

We pour our buckets into a big gallon pail and our bounty fills it almost to the top. I gather the children and Aaron carries the pail to the farm stand to be weighed. We have brought in ten pounds of blueberries in an hour, a leisurely sunny hour in the company of our family. We get ice cream cones for the ride home. Rain is deliriously happy. Noa falls asleep in her carseat.

The berries have not been sprayed: no need to wash. We eat all ten pounds that week—on cereal, in cobbler, pie, frozen, fresh, by the handful—and we head back the next weekend for more.

I know that one idyllic morning is not the reality of growing all of your own food or of sustaining your family in the current economy but I feel happier than I have in weeks for having reconnected in this way with the outdoors, my family, our food and the concept of working together. The paid work I have known in offices, retail stores, grocery stores did not connect me to the bare essentials of what we need for survival—good food, fresh air and community—in the way that this Sunday morning at a u-pick blueberry farm did.

Now that the leaves are starting to fall, we have to ration the few bags of blueberries we have left in the freezer. Rain is back at preschool. Noa is walking on her own without the wagon. We are planning for the winter, pulling sweaters and mittens out of storage and hoping that our first attempt at growing a winter garden will be fruitful. Aaron has started baking our own bread. They are little things but it feels good to keep that blueberry picking feeling year round. When we look back over the summer, Aaron and I agree that the few hours we spent at the u-pick were some of the best of the season.

How do you connect with the food you eat and what are you storing away for the winter now?

Unbidden, a familiar thought flitted to mind, as it does in these moments: I have never failed so spectacularly at anything as I do every day at parenting. There is a bit of hyperbole in that sentence, the gift of a recovering depressive who is often too hard on herself, but there is something else too.

Appropriately, a few days later I stumbled on a little quote that spoke to the heart of what I was feeling:

“The end product of child raising is not the child but the parent.”
~ Frank Pittman

You see, when I say I’m failing at parenting, I’m not talking about my kids. For one thing, they are generally sweet, bright, funny, interesting and usually polite and caring. Yes, they still do kid things like fight or loudly ask me to “look at that lady’s face!” in the grocery store or throw their lunch on the floor, but overall, they are wonderful kids.

For another thing, I sincerely believe that as parents we can neither take credit nor blame for who our kids are. They are their own little people with their own free will and ability to make choices about how they behave. I am responsible for showing them the way but it is up to them whether or not they choose to follow me.

Am I setting an example that is worth following? Am I being a person that is worthy of emulation? In the end, I can only take credit or blame for my own actions. I am the product of this parenting journey. Am I being the parent I want to be? Am I proud of who I am today?

Last week, the day I found myself sobbing on the floor—it wasn’t because Noa threw her lunch on the floor. It was because I lost my temper, and in my increasing sleep deprived fog I am losing my temper more and more over kid things, over things I want to control but can’t. As I try to keep up with expectations (from others and myself) with three kids, no sleep and little support, I am finding it harder and harder to remember that my kids are on their own journey. As my sister says, “I can’t change them, but I can change my expectations.” I can focus on being the parent that I want to be, even when my kids are choosing to walk their own path.

For the person telling the story, it is all gloriously relevant. Every action, reaction, in-action, every word, every intervention, every moment…it all coalesced into the birth experience of that mama. As a means of documenting a life-changing event it is understandable that mama wants to get all of it down. Not to mention, some of the back story or early seemingly insignificant events take on meaning as the story progresses, explaining why things were done or not done.

I’ve read a lot of birth stories and I see how they change depending on the audience. The ones posted on forums within days of the birth are heavy on the details, plot point after plot point, this happened and then this happened. The ones I’ve read in Mothering magazine may have less details and more dialogue, more thoughtful reflection, more arc.

It occurred to me that a shorter birth story forces you to really boil it down to the salient details. What stood out for you from that birth? Was it the time of day? The way the room looked, the shadows on the wall? Was it the care you received? The interventions you either asked for or refused? Was it the person who held your hand? Was it the baby’s gender? Or the baby’s health? If you had to tell your story in 100 words or less, what would you feel was absolutely vital to share?

So I’m putting out the call. I want to hear your stories. I want to hear the most important parts of your birth stories, the parts that resonate with you right now, in this moment – because certainly the details that matter now might be totally different than the ones that mattered in the first days postpartum, or that will matter when your baby is 20.

The Rules:

1. Your story must be 100 words or less. I will not post stories that are 101 words or more. I will email you back and ask you to shorten them. I realize that this is a totally random arbitrary number but it gives us a framework so I’m going with it.
2. You can do whatever you want in those 100 words. It can be a poem, it can be a paragraph, it can be point form, it can be a haiku. It can rhyme, it can be complete sentences or it can be fragments. As long as you put whatever matters to you in that story.
3. If you choose to give it a title, the title will not be included in the word count.
4. You can submit more than one story. Send one for every birth if you like. Or if you want to, you can write more than one about a single birth as long as you are clear that they are describing the same birth and you were interested in comparing points of view, exploring multifaceted emotions. My hope is that each one can stand on its own. I’m not interested in multiple short stories that just continue the same story; I don’t want a mini-series. If you write more than one about the same birth, please add a note indicating that both stories are for a single birth and I will post them together.
5. You may include 1 picture with each story.
6. Send your stories to aaronandalison@gmail.com by September 30, 2011 at midnight PST. Please add your name as you would like it to appear and the link to your blog, twitter or facebook pages if you want me to post them.
7. Depending on how many I receive I will begin posting 5 each day starting October 1, 2011. I reserve the right to change the number posted per day. I will post every story I get.

This is not a contest. There is no winner and no prize. I just want to hear what is important to you and I think others want to hear it too.

I look forward to reading and sharing your birth short stories.