“I love yellow soup!” declares the three-and-a-half-year-old with passion. “It’s my favourite ever soup, Mommy!”

(He hates squash. I love irony.)

So, here’s the confession: this is a recipe that I made up completely. Many of my recipes have actually been modified and melded from several other recipes (to the point where I am comfortable calling them my own), but with this one I really just made it up out of nowhere one day in the kitchen. We were on the GAPS Diet at the time, and it is actually GAPS legal if you leave out the cream cheese. The end result? Thick and creamy with enough flavour to keep you satisfied until you’re scraping the bowl out and hoping for seconds. It’s exactly what I imagine butternut squash soup to be.

{Ingredients}

This recipe is made to fit into my 9 quart stock pot. If you are making a smaller amount, just adjust the ingredients accordingly. It’s pretty forgiving.

15 cups homemade chicken stock (mine was quite concentrated this time so I used half water for frugality’s sake)
3-4 whole butternut squash, peeled and cut into chunks
2 onions, chopped
1 apple, peeled and chopped
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon nutmeg
3 tablespoons curry powder
¼ cup honey
½ teaspoon cloves
1 tablespoon real sea salt (be forewarned: if you try and sub in store-bought broth or bouillon, then this much salt will be way too much, but if you’re using homemade broth, the salt is necessary)
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1 block of cream cheese

{Method}

Step 1: Combine all ingredients except honey and cream cheese on the stove top in large stock pot. Simmer until all ingredients are cooked through.

Step 2: 10 minutes before serving, add honey and cream cheese, stir until melted and thoroughly combined.

Step 3: Use an immersion blender to blend completely until thick and creamy.

Step 4: Serve with sour cream and crumbled organic corn chips to garnish. You can totally skip the corn chips, but if you’re anything like me, you need a little texture variation in your meal. I love it with a simple green salad on the side as well.

Note: It freezes beautifully as well. That’s why I make so much: ready-made lunches for 3 or 4 days following, plus a couple of freezer meals. Not bad for one simply meal’s worth of work!

***

Do you like butternut squash soup? Ever tried it? As I always say (regarding food!): Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it, you just might find a new favourite!

Well, I missed last week’s scavenger hunt in the fog of solo parenting for 10 days while hubby was away in sunny Southern California hanging upside in an airplane. Two weeks ago was my first time joining in, and I had every intention of joining again, especially after such encouraging comments!

This week, I am back, and in usual Beth style, I took all of these photos this morning. I rightfully retain my crown as the queen of procrastination. (Check out Ramblings and Photos for tons more links to awesome participants. Some of those people are AMAZING photographers. Very inspiring!)

{The Prompts}

1. Love
2. Duplicate
3. Trending
4. Paper
5. Plastic

{The Photos}

{Love} Our sponsored child, Hawa, from Tanzania (where we spent several months).

{Duplicated} My kids' toothbrushes.

{Trending} With the big day of love being this past week, I'm sure buying flowers for your wife was a hot trend. While I'm normally opposed to participating in trends, this time I had no objection!

{Paper} The sweet card my honey brought me for love day. The message was lovey-dovey but not too cheesy. It was perfect.

{Plastic} Since I was my great-grandmother's only namesake, I inherited this fridge magnet when she passed away, when I was 13.

I hope to join in again next week, with these prompts:

1. Crossed
2. A Glimpse
3. Handwritten
4. Bliss
5. Gray

I like these ones. Should be fun!

Happy Sunday everyone!

Isaac is a 3.5-year-old that loves his trains and cars. He drives them around, making up stories and narratives for hours on end, having a grand time. (“Help! Thomas is stuck in the mud! I’m coming, said Percy, here I am! Pullll! Ughh! You’re free! Let’s go to the station to get a wash-down…”)

I had seen the idea on Pinterest for making masking tape roads on your carpet for the kids to drive cars on. But the idea didn’t quite appeal to me, knowing that I’d have to take all that tape and hard work apart and throw it away eventually. Thus, this little idea was born. Off to the dollar store I went, in search of a cheap shower curtain liner. The shower curtain liners at our “dollar” store were priced at $9.50, so I grabbed this tablecloth liner for $1.50 instead. I taped it down to the dining room floor on the four corners, and drew with a thick black permanent marker a bunch of roads and train tracks, plus a few extras. It’s nothing fancy, artistically speaking, since I had a 19-month-old climbing all over me while drawing. But he loves it.

We added the essentials – a train station, a library, a grocery store, and our house. There are spots for the car to park and for the trains to rest. Plenty of winding roads and a few trees and flowers.

I had hoped to be able to fold it up when they were finished playing, and save it for another day, but it turned out the plastic was too thin and ripped in several places from some of the crazier drivers I plan to find a cheap vinyl shower curtain liner (I’ll get that one I first saw if I have to), and make a more permanent version of the same thing.

Come back and let me know if you make one, and if your kids love it as much as mine do!

Have a happy long weekend (it’s Family Day on Monday for us).

I sit here sipping my morning cup of tea (decaf while I’m pregnant), basking in the warm glow. The sun pokes above the tree-line and dances its way through my half-opened curtains through which I saw a gorgeous sunrise. The living room lamps are still on and we are in the in-between of darkness and light. The day has arrived, I’ve been up several hours (though not quite as long as my love, who got up first with the little one and let me sleep a bit extra).

The little one and the big one are downstairs in the playroom. The sounds of giggling and happy playing are intermingled with the brief bouts of shouting and whine-crying. They learn and grow together as siblings and playmates, and at the end of the day he leans over to her highchair (which he insists on sitting beside at supper) and asks tenderly “Are we friends, Ally? Are we friends?”

She is 19 months old (and I am nearing 24 weeks pregnant), and she is still nursing. Mostly it’s just once a day, first thing in the morning. It has been a very important thing to her, and she has shown no signs of wanting to stop yet. We sit and cuddle, she and I, first thing in the morning. She nurses, while curled around my growing belly. She sometimes will stop and look at me with a goofy smile on her face, giving a sweet sigh of contentment, and continue on, gazing into my eyes with a piercing and tender love. Our special time brings comfort and peace to our relationship and starts us off with a good dose of oxytocin – lovey-dovey hormones.

I wonder sometimes – when will it happen? It will end, inevitably, and one day she will no longer be interested in being comforted and connecting in this way. She will outgrow the desire and need for it, and she will take a significant step toward independence from me.

I sit here sipping my tea, listening to my babes playing downstairs, and wonder. Is today the day? Is this it? The beginning of the end of a beautiful and tender nursing relationship? She didn’t ask to nurse this morning when I walked out of my room (normally she’s quite insistent about wanting it). She didn’t ask to nurse moments ago when she came upstairs pouting and crying because her big brother had taken a toy away.

At the beginning of this pregnancy she was still nursing three times a day, which was fairly physically taxing on my first-trimester body. Then as we worked on gently encouraging her to nurse a bit less (using distraction, etc), she willingly moved into this groove of once of day, first thing in the morning. It’s a natural part of our day with which we are both content.

There so many emotions running through my mind. Sadness mixed with anticipation, and regret (that I weaned my youngest so early at 12 months and never had this kind of beautiful experience with him). Most of all though I feel at peace. Whether she continues to nurse throughout my pregnancy and beyond, vaulting me into the unknown territory that is tandem nursing, or if today really is the beginning of the end – I am at peace.

***

Today I’ve guest posted over at my lovely friend’s space, on “10 Ways to Make Art at Home”. Please pop over and leave a comment!

I am a big fan of introspecting. I suppose it’s my INFP-ishness coming through. (“They are idealists and perfectionists, who drive themselves hard in their quest for achieving the goals they have identified for themselves”). I am constantly thinking of ways that I could be a better person, and critiquing myself when I fail to do so. (“INFPs have very high standards and are perfectionists. Consequently, they are usually hard on themselves, and don’t give themselves enough credit… The INFP needs to work on balancing their high ideals with the requirements of every day living”).

(Seriously – this INFP thing is just so me, it’s ridiculous…)

All of the sweet women in my Wednesday Mom’s Group are familiar with my declaring that I am such a terrible housekeeper. I secretly suspect that I’m actually fairly average among my peers, but compared to PERFECT, well, I’m pretty bad! I have a tough time keeping perspective in these things, and balancing my high ideals with the nitty-gritty realities of life with pregnancy/toddler/preschooler etc.

One thing that I think would be helpful is to perhaps write down a list of “self-improvement” goals. Things like being more patient with the kids, keeping on top of laundry a bit better, and quitting using certain phrases and words (I’m not talking about curse words – since that’s not really my issue – but rather things like “hurry up!!” or “I’m tired/busy/just a sec/etc). I want to pray more for my kids and hubby, I want to be disciplined a bit more in my spiritual practices. I want to be more consistently healthy in my eating habits, not to mention more frugal.

Then, I was thinking that most of these things just kinda float there on the back burner, never really getting done and receiving a fair effort, since they seem so ridiculously impossible to achieve. But what if I just started with a day? Or even just an hour, if that’s more realistic?

For just one day, I could make a concerted effort to be more patient. Whenever the kids do something that starts my blood boiling, I take a breath, I talk myself out of it, and I employ whatever strategy I’ve prepared. Just one day. Seems do-able.

Then when it’s done, and I’ve succeeded (or seem some improvement), I know it’s possible. It kind of sounds silly, but I really think this could be revolutionary. To know that your goals have a starting point, and that they can start now, today, in the midst of your messy life and many imperfections. To experience the rush of reaching a goal, even if it was as simple as avoiding sugar for one single day.

The first day is always the hardest. But really, I can do anything. For just one day.

Just for one day I will be a more patient mom – not yelling/raising my voice/getting unrighteously angry/annoyed/etc. My strategies to achieve this goal will be to get a good night’s sleep the night before, to give the kids lots of attention when they ask (verbally or otherwise) for it, and to make sure I spend a bit of time reading my Bible. And, of course, heaps and heaps of deep breaths and biting my tongue!

(Please know that I don’t expect to become a perfect mother who is always patient and never gets angry. I do hope that my little experiment will cause me to be much more conscientious about it. I hope for it to be a catalyst towards personal growth in this area).

So, what one thing would you choose to change in your life, for just one day? Do you think this kind of experiment would resonate with you?

Pilot Man has been away for a full week now, and still three more days to go (he comes home late Tuesday evening). Today he’s flying one of these, and he’s totally excited about it because it’s apparently a big deal. My goal while he was away was to not just survive, but to really thrive and have a good time with my kiddos. I didn’t want each day to drag and be horrible and stressful. So, we employed a few strategies to make it happen. I was extra-patient and attentive to the kiddos, who ask every day if Daddy’s coming home yet. I planned lots of extra fun stuff in our schedule (I signed them up for swimming lessons on a bit of a whim, and the first one was on Thursday!), and I allowed a few treats that wouldn’t otherwise have happened.

Yesterday, though was “special”. Aliza was up at 4:50am for the day, and I had not gone to bed early enough to deal with that. So, it was a zombie-like-survival day, and while I may not have been very patient, I definitely think we made it through ok, all things considered. I took a few photos to document the passing of the day, and since my brain is still fairly mush-like, I think a photo post is a grand idea.

early (EARLY) morning green smoothie

illegal (I usually avoid caffeine in pregnancy) caffeinated tea + organic dark chocolate...

how could i possibly have had a bad day with this face looking at me all day?

and this silly one, too...

sometimes it's all about just letting go and embracing the chaos...

a (short) library visit passed the time this morning (aliza was not impressed that I wouldn't give her a rice cake while in the library, so we got approximately 1.5 stories read, and took the rest home)

yum. easy snack time.

23 weeks. yup. my babies like their in utero accommodations to be spacious, and I feel I have no choice in the matter.

my hair was getting ridiculously long. i mean, I liked how it looked... but it was a bit of a pain - always getting pulled by the kids, takes forever in the shower to wash, and generally feeling heavy and blah. plus? hello, split ends! so... the hair cutting scissors in our bathroom and I had a little rendezvous...

I think I like it. this isn't my best photo by a long shot (do you know how hard it is to take a picture of your own hair? dude. it's hard). however, i think i'm going to take a few more inches off later today. i'm feeling adventurous, and i do have a habit of making drastic hair changes while pregnant (I've chopped at least 8-10 inches each time, although this is the first time I've done it myself!)... and never regretted it. hurray for refreshing change! (it grows back anyway, what's the big deal?!)

just as i was finishing my hair escapades, there was a knock at the door with a lovely delivery.

dang, he's good

a little bit of a guilty pleasure with American Idol. I haven't seen every season, and right now I'm just catching up on auditions, but so far so good. They're not really showing the nuts much - just a lot of really talented people.

the beauty of the setting sun reminded me of two things - 1) the beauty in each day if we have eyes to see it 2) the hope of a hard day coming to a close and a new one to come.

um yes, I did feed my children french fries and hotdogs for supper. what?! the hogs were nitrate-free, the ketchup was organic, and there were green beans, too! #motheroftheyearawardrighthere

i snuck bites from this little beauty all day long, and finished it before breakfast this morning. it was massive, and usually I share it with my honey, so this was quite the feat. i think i'm done with sweets for a while (give me 24 hours, at least, haha)

So, now it’s Sunday, we’re headed off to church, and we have just two more sleeps ’til we see Daddy (three for the kids because he’ll get in after they’re in bed). Onward and upward!

***

{from the rising of the sun
to the going down of the same
the name of the Lord is to be praised.
praise ye, the Lord,
praise ye, the Lord,
from rising of the sun
to the going down of the same
the name of the Lord is to be praised.}

My precocious and adorable 3.5-year-old (the missing tooth is from an unfortunate run-in with a bed post when he was two).

Years ago in our marriage (we’re coming up on our 9th anniversary this spring), we attended counselling together. Inevitably as we talked about issues together, some shortfalls in our styles of communication were highlighted. We learned techniques for listening and for speaking that enhanced our communication to one another, which has helped us immensely over the years. It occurred to me recently that those particular technique are not just helpful in my marriage relationship – they are perfect for talking to my preschooler too!

Isaac is three years old. He is at an age where his reasoning capabilities are really starting to develop and grow, and he can understand fairly abstract concepts and conversations. Unlike my 19-month-old, who is still totally literal and limited in communication, he is capable of basic conversations on feelings, morals, metaphysics (the non-physical aspects of the world, i.e. God, etc), and logic. Not all the time, of course, and in some cases I throw my hands up in the air and try to remember that he’s still just a beginner at this stuff. Another important aspect to his development right now is that he is slower to really assimilate what you are telling him. I read once that toddlers take an average of 30 seconds to hear what you are saying, process it, and take action. They will also hear you much better if you are physically touching, or making eye contact with them while you speak. He is now a year beyond toddlerhood, but of course he is still developing in this area.

Today, with these developmental considerations in mind, I’d like to share some practical tools that I use in my parenting with love and freedom.

***

:: The Situation ::

An issue between him and his little sister where he wanted what she had, or vice versa. A classic case of sibling rivalry that was quickly turning into a yelling/crying/hitting/biting fiasco. His world is still fairly ego-centric, so he finds it difficult to reconcile his intense feelings of wanting something with the commands I give to share and wait his turn. Aliza is of course a typical toddler and does not take kindly to this.

:: The Tools ::

The Bear Hug

 I often use this technique when Isaac is highly upset, i.e.” freaking out”, and my words cannot even be heard above the crying and screaming. I wrap his entire body in mine, and hold him tightly so that he can’t get away. As much as I can I try to keep him in a little ball and restrict flailing limbs as well. I gently say “shh, it’s ok, I can’t talk to you when you’re crying/whining/screaming. I want to talk to you, sweetie. Calm down, take a deep breath”, etc. He struggles and fights me at first, but after probably 20-30 seconds (though it feels like forever) he relaxes his body and stops making noise (or at least brings the crying down to a  whiny whimper which means I can start talking and he will hear my words).

I often see parents treating a “temper tantrum” or “freak out” as something to be punished or ignored. This approach makes me uncomfortable for several reasons. 1) it teaches the child that his extreme emotions are unacceptable and, 2) it teaches the child that he must figure out how to deal with his emotions by himself (or else he will be punished or ignored).

You may have guessed that the Bear Hug technique is not one that I learned in marriage counselling (haha!), but I find it interesting to note similarities of the power of gentle physical touch, even in marriage. When we are arguing, often a physical gesture like taking my hand in his is the catalyst to our reconciliation. It denotes the breaking down of emotional barriers, and usually softens our emotions to one another. I find many parallels to the Bear Hug tool with Isaac, as I use gentle physical contact to connect on a heart-level with him again.

Repeatable Listening

This is the most powerful tool I learned in counselling, and we find it practically fail-proof in any and all argument (provided we can discipline ourselves to keep at it in the midst of “intense marital fellowship” when emotions are boiling over).  It looks a bit more complex in a marital discussion, but when using it with a preschooler – the principle is the same. The idea is to calmly say what you are trying to communicate (in age-appropriate terms), and ensure the other person really understood by asking them to repeat it back to you (in adult interaction you’d rephrase it in your own words).

For example:

We’ve used the Bear Hug and he has calmed down enough to listen (after being bitten by his toddler sister out of frustration).

Mommy: Hi sweetie, how are you feeling right now? (I acknowledge his feelings, and continue on…) I just want to tell you something, ok? When you take toys away from Aliza she gets very angry and frustrated. That makes her want to bite and hit you. Remember that there’s a nice way to ask her for toys (he knows the difference between calmly and nicely asking vs. crying and grabbing), and that if you get frustrated you can ask Mommy for help. Ok?
Isaac: Ok…
Mommy: So what did you hear me say?
Isaac: I dunno! (He hasn’t truly heard me yet).
Mommy: {Repeats}
Isaac: Don’t take toys from Ally.
Mommy: Yes, that’s right. And why not?
Isaac: She will get angry and she will bite me and hit me.
Mommy: That’s right. I love you. Are you feeling ok now? (Hugs and kisses, etc. The whole conversation took place with him in my lap, with lots of solid eye contact)
Isaac: Yup!

(Happily jumps up to go play… and shows clear understanding by being more gentle and cooperative with his sister for the rest of the afternoon. We repeat this as needed (sometimes several times a day), and have noticed that when we are consistent, he is quick to learn and put it into action. By getting him to repeat what I’m saying, he also understands the importance of it).

He is also beginning to understand that others around him have emotions too. I could tell a little lightbulb went off in his head the other day when having one of these conversations, because when I told him that it makes Aliza angry and frustrated when he takes her toys, his eyes widened and he said “ohhhh!”. All of a sudden he began to understand that he has power and ownership in his relationships with those around him – a truly vital lesson to learn in life.

So, these are my two “go-to” tools that I use quite often in “minor” altercations and issues. There are other tools I use for different situations, which I will share more about in the future.

Lest anyone think this is all sounding a bit pretentious, let me assure you that I don’t exactly have this stuff down pat. Most days see me fumbling around trying to put into practice the philosophical framework that we have in our parenting beliefs. It’s a good day when the above scenarios actually go as I described, and I manage to react that way instead of in my humanity – raising my voice, acting rashly, not listening or not being kind with my words. I want to emphasize that I am not an expert by any stretch of the imagination. You are the expert on your own child, and in offering these ideas I simply hope that you will be encouraged that gentle discipline is not only possible, but so rewarding in the end.

***

What are your favourite tools for communicating with your preschool age child? What do you find works well, and what doesn’t?

confused? read on to find out why the heck i put a photo of a red convertible for this post!

It’s been quite a while since my last link love post. Many of my awesome inter web finds these days go straight to pinterest, so if you’re on there be sure to follow me. So much delicious eye candy over there, it’s ridiculous. I only go on once a week or so, because it’s a total and utter indulgence (which is nice once in a while), but it’s a time-suck like none other.

Right now the Honey is in sunny Southern California for 10 days. Yeah, I’m still in the frigid Canadian prairies, wearing slippers and rejoicing when it goes above freezing. He’s taking an aerobatics training course, which means he is scrambling his brains all this week whilst upside down and sideways in an airplane for many hours a day until he returns home to me (theoretically in one piece) on Valentine’s Day. When I called our credit card company to let them know there would be some large purchases out-of-country, she asked the dates he was away. When I told her he was returning on the 14th, she offered the helpful opinion that he’d better bring me something darn good for Valentine’s Day. I tend to agree.

Oh, and did I mention that his rental car (the cheapest deal he could get, which was something ridiculous like $11/day) is a red MUSTANG freaking CONVERTIBLE?!! Oh yes. There he is, cruising down the highways under sunny blue skies, surrounded by citrus orchards at their peak, with fresh produce being picked down the road! And did I mention that he is staying in an old historic inn with character and personality, a fantastic bed, and free breakfast? Oh yes, he’s living it up. He says he misses me, but I wouldn’t miss me if I were him. Or, if I were me, no, him… missing him if I… um, never mind.

I have a point, I swear.

Since my brain power is being sucked out by the knee-high-crowd at double-time with no other adult to share the load, I’m kind of short on brilliance and wisdom at the moment.

I just want to share a few things in my internet travels that have caught my eye as of late. Generally these are the tabs that I’ve kept open on my computer for days (or even weeks) because I just *have* to share them with someone before saying farewell.

***

Coconut Oil Touted as Alzheimer’s Remedy :: A fascinating piece on how coconut oil has been used to reverse the symptoms of Alzheimer’s Disease. (What makes me most angry is that there’s no funding because there’s no profit for drug companies if they have no one to sell drugs to anymore). Along the coconut oil theme is also this link that a friend passed on called A Millionish Uncommon (and Not So Uncommon) Uses for Coconut Oil. I knew most of these already, but it’s good to read over and remember them all!

Books Should Be Free :: This is amazing. Dozens (hundreds?) of children’s classics as audiobooks, all free to download. We’re starting with Beatrix Potter and The Velveteen Rabbit. There are other genres other than children’s books, as well.

How Other Cultures Prevent Postpartum Depression :: “As citizens of an industrialized nation, we often act as if we have nothing to learn from the Third World.  Yet many of these cultures are doing something extraordinarily right especially in how they care for new mothers.  In their classic paper, Stern and Kruckman (1983) present an anthropological critique of the literature.  They found that in the cultures they studied, postpartum disorders, including the “baby blues,” were virtually non-existent.  In contrast, 50% to 85% of new mothers in industrialized nations experience the “baby blues,” and 10% to 20% experience postpartum depression.  What makes the difference?  Stern and Kruckman noted that cultures who had low incidence of postpartum mental illness all had rituals that provided support and care for new mothers.  These cultures, although quite different from each other, all shared five protective social structures.“

Westboro Baptist Church Family Disowns Daughter :: And this is why people hate religion. I don’t just mean religiosity and the pharisees-kind-of-religion. I mean, this is exactly why people hate God, every church in existence, and every mention of religion. I don’t have anything nice to say, so I’ll stop there.

What have you been reading lately? Any great links to pass on?

*love*

Do I enjoy mothering?

Or do I merely survive each day, as though the reward were in the finish line rather than the race itself?

***

If I’m being totally honest, the deepest longing of my heart in this whole mothering thing is that I want to be delighted by my children, and our journey together. As we travel on this winding road, I want to feel the sun beating down on my shoulders, the wind blowing my hair, and soft earth under my feet. And when it’s stormy or cloudy or cold I want to get cozy together by drawing near to each other for comfort, even as other forces try to tear us apart.

So often the mama crowd falls into the endless hole of angst and fussiness, as though it were The True Test of Survival to endure the little years and emerge more or less unscathed. There’s a time and a place for expressing gritty and raw emotion bled forth from our deepest longings and humanity, but after the cathartic emptying there’s a choice to be made about how to fill ourselves back up. What framework do I set before myself?

The question at hand is what is my practice of mothering? What do I try to do to enjoy it more? I do one thing, and it is simply this: to remind myself that I am free.

I’m set free. 

From heavy and costly expectations and checkboxes and behavioural standards. From the need to raise a well-behaved child. From the idea that obedience is more important than their hearts. From the old laws that Jesus came to satisfy.

Freedom to try to parent my children as my God parents me. 

{With grace and freedom and love}.

And here’s why…

I believe that obedience and compliance are inferior goals in parenting, and that when those goals are achieved by means of punishment and fear that we are actually hindering our children’s understanding of the kingdom of heaven.

How does this parenting thing generally go in our culture (especially in “Christian culture”)? The typical goal is to raise children that are obedient so that they learn to obey God. How is this achieved? Generally through fear and punishment. The threat of punishment (whether it’s spanking, loss of privileges, time-outs, or something else altogether) is imminent at all times if the child disobeys enough to “warrant” it. This is generally an effective deterrent to misbehaviour, and children grow up compliant and obedient.

The problem is that God does not parent us this way.  

How does the Bible describe how God relates to His children? It says that God has made a New Covenant with us. When God spoke these words through the prophet Jeremiah, Israel had a culture of external control. God related to the people through external forces such as the pillar of cloud, and leprosy and stoning as consequences for sin. There were priests and temples and sacrifices – all ways to relate to God externally.

“Now in the external governing system, the motivating force in the relationship with God came in the form of blessings for obedience and threats of punishment… If the threat of punishment were to be removed, God’s people would lapse into another season of rebellion against Him… Unfortunately, many of us… continue to raise our children according to an Old Testament paradigm. It is still common… to believe that mistakes or sin must be punished. The parenting model that flows from this paradigm presents a “punisher” role for the parent and creates an “outside-in” approach to learning about life for the child.” (D. Silk, “Loving Our Kids on Purpose”).

In our culture now, God relates to His children from the inside. His Holy Spirit is our conscience and guide, and we no longer have external controls to ensure obedience. Christ came as the final sacrifice, and took the punishment upon himself. We are set free to make a choice without the threat of punishment. He gives grace upon grace, and when we mess up yet again he simply lavishes love upon us richly and gently guides us back to the right way.

This is the kind of parent I want to be.

The kingdom of God does not operate based on control. God doesn’t want a fearful Pharisaical rule-follower who doesn’t know love. He wants us to learn to walk in freedom, not bondage. To freely choose to love him, and to revel in that choice. To spin around with outstretched arms, feeling the wind on our faces and the sweetness of freely choosing love. To organically learn the natural consequences for our sin and to understand that His ways are so much better, and then to freely choose Him in love. To know the sorrow of freely choosing something other than Him, and the joyful repentance and restoration that comes from His incredible grace.

This is the kind of parent I want to be.

I want to remember that I am free, and to teach this truth to my children. To tell them that they too are free. To make sinful choices and to reap the sorrow that comes from separation. To freely choose love and obedience because it is better, not because it is mandated. Through the power of Christ we are free. May I always model in my parenting the freedom and love of God’s kingdom so that they know…

We’re set free.

***

This outpouring of my heart is inspired by The Practices of Parenting Carnival, hosted by Sarah at Emerging Mummy. Check out her blog on Monday, February 6th, for a fantastic collection of posts on this same topic, and consider joining in with your own thoughts!

I’ve been admiring Krista’s shots for a while now every Sunday when she participates in Scavenger Hunt Sunday – a little weekly photography exercise with prompts that you photograph however you wish to interpret them. I’ve always thought it would be fun to join in, but I’m so scatterbrained these days that I never remember to actually work on it through the week. Today though, I decided to just throw it together this morning before breakfast, with whatever I could find around the house. Also – I needed some pretty in my day after my flop of a blog post rant yesterday which garnered exactly zero comments. Bah humbug. Perhaps a little eye candy is more my readers’ style for today.

So, without further blah blah blah, here we are:

***

{The Prompts}

1. Strike a Pose
2. Footwear
3. Hobby
4. Shiny
5. Colour me Green

{The Photos}

{Footwear} With baby number three on the way and due in June, the footwear in this house that I find most exciting are the tiny little adorable newborn size shoes that are waiting for tiny scrumptious baby toes to fill them. PS, no we don't know the gender, but girl shoes are way more fun, let's be honest!

{Hobby} I am a true amateur at several different pursuits, which drives me nuts sometimes. I don't know if I'll ever be good enough at any of them to be called a professional. One of my most favourite things is writing, which I do on this keyboard.

{Shiny} The morning sun just sings its brilliance through my east-facing windows every morning (We are so lucky to have sunny blue skies almost year round. It totally makes up for the minus forty in the winter...). This is an antique candy dish which is part of a set that was given to me by my great-aunt before she died. I love the sunlight shining on my shelf of thrifted and antique dishes.

{Colour Me Green} While I seem to definitely possess the black thumb of death when it comes to houseplants, I am making a final last-ditch effort to revive these half-dead ones that I got from IKEA a couple of years ago. I always ALWAYS forget to water them, so I decided to keep them at my sink where I remember to give them water, under the windowsill with lots of brilliant sun. Miracles of all miracles - they are coming back to life, with more green and less brown every day

I’m also linking up today with A Rural Journal‘s Sunday Best, where you can show off your best shot of the week, as well as The View From Right Here‘s Weekly Top Shot. I’m going to have to say that the shot of my kiddos is my fave (of course), but really I was pretty happy with all them, especially considering it was a total last-minute thing.

Anyone have any fun and cozy plans for today? What? There’s some sport thing going on? Oh, uh, right. I guess it’s a good excuse for yummy food…?

This is the fourth instalment of a series I am doing on breastfeeding in public. You can read the first three posts here:

Uninhibited Breastfeeding in Public {Reclaiming My Womanhood From Perversity}
Uninhibited Breastfeeding in Public {Is It Obscene and Inappropriate?}
Uninhibited Breastfeeding in Public {Not Worth the Controversy?}

***

People stared at me as I walked through the mall. My face was disfigured and swollen practically beyond recognition, with deep nasty bruises from my eyes down to my neck on both sides. I could see people shifting their gazes when I noticed them staring at me uncomfortably.

I was 18 years old and I had undergone major reconstructive jaw surgery two weeks prior.

Both of my jaws had been broken, repositioned, and fastened in place with screws and plates. The top jaw was impacted (shortened) and the bottom jaw was lengthened. I was in the hospital longer and had a longer recovery than my boyfriend’s (now husband’s) grandfather who had undergone quadruple bypass open heart surgery just two days prior. The swelling and bruising eventually faded, and after a pure liquid diet for 2 months (which dropped me down to around 90lbs) I was able to begin eating again.

***

This was my only taste of being physically different (unless you count having red hair – haha), and it was only temporary. Still – the feeling of being stared at by people who uncomfortably shifted their gazes away will stay with me forever. Some people endure this kind of social ostracizing their whole lives if they have a visible disability or disfigurement. I used to have a coworker who has an extremely large growth on half of her face about the size of a pineapple (or bigger). I don’t know the whole medical background, but I do know that she’s had it for most of her life. I found it difficult to not feel slightly awkward or uncomfortable when speaking with her face to face, even after working in the same office every day.

Now what does this all have to do with breastfeeding in public, you ask? Well, by large the most common reason that I was given as to why we should not breastfeed in public without a cover is that it makes people uncomfortable. Some claim that it is more loving to avoid making someone feel uncomfortable, and that it’s not worth causing a controversy.

“I guess I figure if breastfeeding makes people uncomfortable, and it doesn’t hurt to cover up, and it isn’t sin to cover up, why wouldn’t I cover up?”

This comment left on one of my previous posts is rather typical of the position that I’m discussing here, so I’ll use it as an example. Now, let’s replace the word “breastfeeding” in that sentence with “the disfigurement”. Should my coworker have come to work every day with a large covering over half of her head so that none of us had to look at it and be uncomfortable? Or perhaps she should have just stayed home? Or worked in a separate room where no one had to see her?

Is it the responsibility of the disabled person, burn victim, or person with the disfigurement to “cover it up” so that others don’t feel uncomfortable? Or, perhaps, is it the responsibility of those around her to “get over it” and treat her with respect and dignity despite their emotional reaction at the sight of her? Who bears responsibility for those uncomfortable feelings (which, I should remind you, are the result of the wrong and perverted message of our over-sexualized pornographic culture)?

Now I’m certainly not saying that breastfeeding and a physical disfigurement are identical situations. There are obvious differences, like the fact that breastfeeding is not a 24/7 deal (though new mamas probably feel that way!), whereas having a disfigurement or disability is not something that you can stop having.

Nonetheless, I do think there is a valid comparison here. The assertion being made is that we should avoid making people uncomfortable. I just want to know why. Since when is feeling uncomfortable such a terrible thing? Historically it has been a necessary side effect of many instances of social change as new ideas were brought into acceptance. I think of things like racial integration in the 1960’s, and women’s rights in the early twentieth century. Then I think of things like having a large family (I’ve heard mamas of many children tell over and over again about the nasty looks and ridiculously rude comments they get in public). If one day I have a large number of children (like 5 or more), should I avoid taking my family out in public all at once? It will most certainly cause people to feel uncomfortable! Perhaps I should take them out only in groups of two or three so as to not to ick people out with the evidence of my lively sex life and my rejecting of modern society’s negative bias against children?

If you affirm that the disabled and disfigured should cover up or hide away, and that my (theoretical) eight children should avoid going out in public together, well then I shall agree that I definitely should use a nursing cover as to not make you or anyone else feel the slightest bit awkward (actually, no I won’t. I will likely think you completely ridiculous and rude, to be honest). But I don’t think any reasonable person would actually affirm that.

From a spiritual point of view, I do not believe that breastfeeding in public could possibly “cause a man to stumble” any more than eating in public, walking in public, or just being in public! First of all, we should always interpret scripture in context, and in this case the passage is referring to food issues and the OT laws against unclean meat. It is saying that we should not eat something that someone else thinks is unclean if it causes them to stumble and eat it against their conscience. Does seeing me breastfeed in public cause someone who thinks that breast milk is forbidden by scripture to stumble and drink breast milk against their conscience? Somehow I don’t think so.

Even if you could apply that scripture to this situation, you would need to also be consistent. If seeing a non-sexual act of breastfeeding a child could “cause a man to stumble”, then I feel compelled to point out that seeing a woman’s hair, neck, legs, etc. could also do the same. This goes back perfectly to my discussion on modesty, and I ask then Why Don’t We All Just Wear Burqas? I contend, rather, that the man is responsible for his own thoughts, his own perverted thoughts, and his own sin. Most of us know that breasts have been over-sexualized by our culture to an unhealthy and harmful extent. Breastfeeding is not a sexual act – it is actually our culture’s distorted view of a woman’s body that is to blame for this theoretical discomfort and awkwardness.

The triple whammy of social taboo: 1) Breastfeeding in public 2) Breastfeeding without a cover 3) Breastfeeding a toddler. Gasp!

So, where does that leave us? If breastfeeding makes others feel uncomfortable, should I use a cover? If a man sees me breastfeeding my baby and it results in him lusting and sinning sexually in his mind, then should I use a cover? (never mind that most men still know what I’m doing and are perfectly capable of using their imaginations if they want to, which can still result in lust and sin). Or, should I breastfeed my baby without a cover (assuming I want to, of course) and contribute to the normalization of breastfeeding in our culture as a beautiful and natural act of love by a mother to her baby? I strongly believe the latter, and I wholeheartedly reject the notion that I am in any way responsible for the awkward feelings of others that come from such a situation.

What do you think?

The view from our front porch this morning, 8:30am. The coolest cloud I've ever seen!

“Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.”

{Lamentations 3:22-23}

 ~

“But I will sing of your strength,
in the morning I will sing of your love;
for you are my fortress,
my refuge in times of trouble.”

{Psalm 59:16}

In the midst of putting this post together I had a meltdown encounter with my three-year-old spirited son. I was the one melting down, to be clear. He was disobeying, ignoring me, and finally hit me. I reacted in anger, dragged him to his room, and pushed him in with him fighting me every step of the way. I yelled. I lost my cool. I was so *not* gentle or kind or loving. Husband walked through the door at that exact moment and saw the worst of it. His gentle words caused me to feel great conviction, which led to me cuddling with Isaac in his bed, apologizing to each other and tearfully saying I love you and rubbing noses. He asked me why there was water coming from my eyes as my tears dripped regret onto in pillow. I told him that I was sad that I yelled, and with big brown eyes full of love he put his arm around my neck and tenderly said “It’s ok, Mommy, I love you”.

Praise God for grace every moment of the day. Praise him for mercies and compassions. May my mistakes and yours always end with conviction and love and second chances. My emotions are so fickle but He is my fortress of love, singing peace over me.

If you are in a season of your life that is ripe with heaviness and burden, I want to encourage you today to breathe in the newness of a morning gifted to you by God. His mercies are new every morning, and He never fails. There is beauty all around us, dear friends, and my prayer for you today is that you see it and revel in it. Let it wash over you with gratefulness and peace.

I’m having a bit of a Blogging Identity Crisis. I have long envisioned my blog as a sort of intersection between the practical and the poetic, and I am content with my lack of a specific topic focus. I know that’s kind of against the “rules” for growing a blog – if you blog recipes and rainy day activities, then you should not also be taking on heavy spiritual or moral issues, or poetry and art, or God forbid – politics. Your blog should be about *something* specific. IF you are interested in growing your blog beyond the usual mom/grandma/bff readership, that is… which, I am.

Can I just lay it all bare for you here, knocking knees and insecurities aside? I do desire to see this thing grow. I think that most bloggers do, if they’re honest with themselves. (We all want to be heard.) I have two main reasons:

1) It is my art and soul poured out into word form. Most artists want their art to be acknowledged. Even beyond that, I want my art to matter. I want it to move hearts and encourage others in this messy business of humanity. I want it be an expression of my status as an image-bearer of Christ, and I want it to speak love and truth. Growing subscriber numbers and comments don’t define me, but heck yeah, they sure are encouraging. When someone shares my writing with others and likes what they read I am blown away and honoured.

2) It is a potential form of income-earning that I would like to explore. If I successfully grow my blog enough then the potential for earning a tiny bit of extra for my family’s income would be a tremendous blessing. We have willingly chosen a life of “poverty” (please know that I mean this relative to our own culture, not those around the world who are truly in poverty) in order to pursue overseas missions aviation. We are barely making ends meet right now, but we are learning huge lessons about trust and God’s provision, not to mention frugality and creativity  in meeting physical needs.

Now, perhaps you are thinking that I’m nuts. That I’m no artist, and that my writing certainly isn’t good or special enough to ever grow that much. Trust me, I have those fears myself. (Boy, do I ever!).

But, you know, maybe Mandy is onto something when she says:

“…maybe, just maybe, we’re all a bit nervous from time to time that what we have to offer isn’t enough. And we’re all a bit nervous that we aren’t going to break through the noise to draw attention to the message that burns within us. And we’re all a bit nervous that the crowd won’t have ears to hear or eyes to see. And maybe that’s just part of being an artist” (emphasis mine).

And isn’t that just it?

Trying to break through the noise to draw attention to the message that burns within us.

That is why I write in this space.

And yet sometimes I look at my latest posts and all I feel is dull. Enter: this little Blogging Identity Crisis. Sometimes I want to write about the practical stuff – the daily grind of being a natural-minded mama of nearly three littles just trying to hang on and maybe even stick my head out  the window and feel the wind rushing by as I scrape up dried bits of food from the floor, wipe poopy bums, and deal with discipline issues beyond my expertise. A recipe for something delicious and nourishing (though I totally believe that food can be art, too), a practical discussion on raising three-year-olds… stuff like that. Then at other times I want to hunker down over a piece of carrot cake and a steaming cup of caramel rooibos, and just talk about the heavy stuff. Theology, the church, pregnancy and educated childbirth, morality and God, whole foods and natural living. Sometimes I want to share my *gasp* opinions on things without worrying that I’ll disappoint or offend someone, somehow. I’m not in neat little categories, and if men are like waffles and women are like spaghetti (are they really?) then I’m the most tangled plate of spaghetti you’ve ever seen. (Perhaps you are, too?)

Before Christmas, Michele contacted me and asked if I would be a monthly contributor to Frugal Granol in the role of “Family Life Contributer”, starting in January. Frugal Granola is all about “living a simple & sustainable life of passion for God, family, organic food, and bargain shopping”, which is right up my alley. I love talking about this stuff, and so this was a perfect opportunity! I was pretty much floored by the request, but agreed pretty well right away. Today my first article was published, and I am excited to share it with you!

 ***

The weather outside has been dreadfully cold* where I live on the Canadian prairies. All this past week there has been a severe cold front hovering over the prairies, and it has been approximately minus forty (and worse) for about 5 days straight. Needless to say, we’ve been fairly housebound this week!

Because days like this are plentiful around here, I am always looking for good ways to keep the kids (and me!) from getting cabin fever. Here is a list of some of my favorite ideas. There is a good mix of parental hands-on stuff and kids-on-their-own stuff.  I chose items with the toddler/preschooler crowd in mind, but many of these could easily apply to older kids too.

Read the rest & leave me some comment love by clicking HERE…

(For next month’s post I’ll be chatting about something midwife/birth-related, since I’m pregnant with number three and under the care of a midwife for the first time. Anything specific you think I should talk about?).

***

*This post was written over a week ago, and the severe cold is thankfully long gone. Right now we are enjoying a gorgeous chinook and my kids actually played outside for several hours today. Winter’s not done yet though, so I’m just enjoying it while it lasts!

Amazing Gluten-Free Play-Dough

Ingredients:

• 1/2 cup white rice flour
• 1/2 cup corn starch or arrowroot powder
• 1/2 cup refined salt
• 2 teaspoons cream of tartar (you can sub 2 tablespoons baking powder if necessary)
• 1 cup water
• 3 teaspoons cooking oil
• Natural colouring options – I like to use turmeric for a beautiful deep yellow.

The Original Play-Dough

{20 weeks pregnant with number 3}

~

A bit of background: my first babe, our son, was born after being induced in a big city hospital and my doctor was the chief of obstetrics. I was a number being shuffled through a factory system, and I didn’t know any different. This was before my introduction to anything even remotely natural in birthing issues, and though I said I’d “try” it without an epidural, I eventually ended up getting one. Thankfully I didn’t have any further interventions (other than the Pitocin they gave me, despite already being in labour), and he was born safely into our arms.

My second babe, our daughter, was attended by our family doctor in our small-town hospital with my awesome doula by my side. I was introduced to natural birthing by now, having read Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, and watched The Business of Being Born. I gave labored and birthed her completely drug and intervention-free (other than being induced with Cervidil). I was empowered and amazed by the incredible power of my mind and body as a woman.

Now, we are blessed to be just past the halfway point in our third pregnancy. We live in the same small-town now, and there are no midwives here. Our small-town hospital is not equipped for c-sections, so those who are high-risk are sent out to the city. I am fortunate enough to have had complication-free labours and deliveries, however this time we decided we really wanted to go with a midwife. We have to drive almost an hour and a half to the city to get there for each and every appointment, as well as for the birth itself, but we feel that it is completely worth it. (The vast difference in care with a midwife is a separate post in and of itself.)

Now, here’s where my dilemma comes in. Our plan is to drive to the city as soon as labour begins, and check in to the bed & breakfast that we know welcomes laboring and birthing women. I will labour comfortably in a home-like environment (not my home, but the next best thing, since the midwives won’t travel all the way to our town), and have a water birth in the birthing pool we plan to rent. We will stay for a few days then travel home after our third-day check-up with the midwife.

But.

It will cost us…

-       The home birth supplies (like renting the birthing pool, towels, etc).

-       The B&B for 3-4 nights.

-       Meals.

We were fine with this, and planning financially to save between now and then for the costs… until we found out that I could potentially have a midwife-attended water birth in the hospital. They have a room set up now for water births, and my midwives would still be my care providers. There would be no random doctors and nurses coming in and out while I’m laboring, no pressure to do anything I don’t want to do, the environment as I want it (dimmed lights, music, etc).

And since I live in Canada, it would be free. After our 1-2 nights in the hospital, we may go to the B&B for a night, or we may go straight home and then come back on day 3 for our midwife appointment. We could decide at the time on that one.

So, I’m torn. I have no idea which one I want. If money were no object, I’d probably choose the B&B. However money is very tight for us these days, and I want to make a responsible decision. If there would be a big difference in the experience and the environment, then it’s worth it, but if it will be pretty well the same… then I just don’t know.

Thoughts? Advice? What would you choose?

The other day I was in a gnarly mood, scolding the kids for breaking the crayons that I gave them to colour with. And since we all know that a grumpy mama begets grumpy children, and it’s all a big fat grumpy cycle of grumpiness, it was not a good scene. Eventually we moved on though, and I tried my darndest not to be annoyed that the brand-new crayons that they got for Christmas are now broken little pieces with the paper torn off and scattered throughout the house.

The next day I was scraping happy face stickers off the kitchen floor which had been strategically placed there for decoration by the three-year-old while the 18-month-old gleefully watched.

“Those darn kids just don’t know how to use these things respectfully. Stickers, crayons, and every time I let him paint he ends up painting himself more than the paper. Maybe I just shouldn’t bother letting them play with anything until they’re at least eight. Maybe ten. Maybe then they’ll play with them “properly”… I thought huffily, as I scraped them up with my fingernails.”

(At this point I’m indignantly picturing papers with adorable little drawings and reasonably-placed stickers, made with care and coloured with non-broken crayons…)

Then a little voice on my shoulder asked if I might try to compare my kids’ playful exploration of stickers and crayons with the way that I stumble around trying to figure out how to use prayer and other tools for spiritual growth.

“um, no,” I said firmly. “It’s obviously a totally different thing…”

Then the little voice whispered this thought: maybe putting an entire sheet of stickers on the floor just for the sheer joy of peeling them off the sheet and sticking them on is just the way I should be thinking about my spiritual life. Maybe breaking crayons and peeling the paper off and scribbling on the play kitchen are their way of discovering and learning about crayons and how they can be used. I’m sure that in a few years’ time they will have stopped those things and started using them more truly, more consistently, and more maturely.

But first, they are children. Acting in childish ways. They are immature and that’s ok. They are learning as I (gently!) guide them.

“And maybe, just maybe there’s a lesson there for you, too,” the voice whispered?

***

A little while later as I reached for my Bible and journal I noticed that my last entry was dated nearly two months ago. Yikes. When will I ever get this thing right? When will I stop being so immature in my disciplines? When will I learn to read and pray and think the way I should? 

And the verse I read was this: “Therefore, since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God.”

Perfecting holiness.

It’s a process, a journey, a destination. In order for something to be perfected it must by nature find its beginnings in imperfection. On my way as I’m learning and growing and fumbling around with scales on my eyes, I’m making a mess of things, breaking crayons and “wasting” happy face stickers like there’s no tomorrow. But I’m trying to get the hang of this stuff. I’m exploring. I’m curious and even playful; I’m determined.

Most of all though, I’m hopeful.

That God can take my broken crayon offerings and lead me to discipleship and the art of perfecting holiness.

One carelessly placed sticker and broken crayon at a time.

This is definitely one of our family’s all-time favourite soups ever. It really does taste like a taco in soup form, which is pretty awesome, in this mexican-food-loving family! It is heavily modified from a recipe in the GAPS cookbook, “Internal Bliss”. With a few tweaks, it would still be GAPS-friendly, which, for those not on GAPS just means that it’s extremely nourishing and good for you! I’ve slowly been perfecting it over the last year since we were on the GAPS Diet, and I think this is the final and best version. Do let me know if you make it, and if you enjoy it!

Southwest Taco Soup

{Ingredients:}
1/4 cup of butter
2 onions, chopped
6 cloves of garlic, crushed
2 tsp. salt
4 tsp. cumin
4 tsp. chili powder
2 tsp. oregano
2 sweet peppers, diced (yellow, red, or orange)
2 lbs. ground beef or ground pork
8-10 cups of bone broth (chicken or beef)
2 cans of diced tomatoes
2 cans of black beans

{Toppings:}
Fresh diced cilantro
diced avocado
grated cheese
sour cream
broken up corn chips

{Directions:}
1. Melt butter in large stock pot.
2. Saute onions until softened.
3. Add garlic, stir.
4. Add salt, cumin, chili powder, and oregano, stir.
5. Add 1/4 cup of the broth, if necessary.
6. Add the meat, stir until it is broken up and browned through.
7. Pour in remainder of broth and stir.
8. Add diced tomatoes and black beans.
9. Cover and let simmer for 30 minutes.
10. Stir in cilantro, if desired. Serve with suggested toppings, and enjoy!

***

I’ve been seeing a bit of an increase lately in subscribers, so if you’re a newbie around here, welcome! Also, why not show the love by liking the Red and Honey page on Facebook, where I am going to be posting all of my favourite links from now on!

Boy-meets-girl love story begins in high school, complete with shirts, ties, and knee socks.

She’s 17. He’s 18.

They fall deeply, ridiculously, intensely in love. The easy kind of love.

3 weeks in they talk marriage.

More certainty in her bones than for any other decision in her life.

Marriage at the tender 19 and 20 years of age.

It’s better than they had ever dared to hope.

Travel and nesting and learning and living and enjoying each other.

Reality rudely intruding at times with humanity’s selfishness, but love still greater.

Finally, the arrival of a new kind of love in the form of a babe.

With it comes a new kind of stress and challenge to the union. The need to work harder.

Still love. But the hard-work kind of love.

The easy love fades into oblivion.

8 years of marriage later and there are two kids, a minivan, and a whole lot of unresolved distance.

Heavy responsibilities, sleepless nights, long working hours, unmet expectations, unfair expectations, and still… love?

But love doesn’t come easy anymore.

Love is now on the back burner.

Snide remarks and grumpy attitudes rule the roost as selflessness takes a backseat.

And the love feels different.

Trapping.

Heavy.

Lukewarm.

And yet, hopeful.

There it is, in the fiber of their being, a smouldering and undeniable love for each other.

As their hands brush in the kitchen, and he kisses his bride.

She fearfully lets some of the walls come down enough to really kiss him back.

And she offers words of understanding and appreciation, and a foot rub.

And he gets up early with the kids so she can sleep in.

They love now with intent. With action. With selfless choices.

With a daily surrender to self.

They trudge along in the thickness of life continuing the climb until they are rewarded with the view from the top.

Stopping to take a breath when the sun breaks through the clouds and gives perspective again.

Denying the urge to live for self and instead living for another. For love. For life.

Until it’s second-nature. Until it’s easy again.

And at the end they rock in their chairs on the front porch with grey hair while holding hands and reminiscing.

Of how they loved and loved and loved.

And how that love looked different depending on the season.

Sometimes difficult to see through the haze of humanity.

But sometimes felt with passion, known with certainty, and enjoyed with abandon.

The sometimes-glimpse of heaven.

They never gave in to hopelessness. They knew that it was worth the work.

Until it was easy again.

They never stopped loving.

This morning as my kids were playing with play-dough at their little table in the kitchen, they were happily smooshing and rolling to their heart’s content. Then, it would occur to the three-and-a-half-year-old that he really should let his cars and trains join in the fun. He runs downstairs to get them, promptly gets distracted with his train table and other toys, then wanders up half an hour later to play-dough that’s beginning to get crusty and dried out. If I try and put it away while he’s downstairs, he inevitably wanders in seconds later freaking out because HEY-HE-WAS-PLAYING-WITH-THAT-WHY-AM-I-TRYING-TO-RUIN-HIS-LIFE?!

So, crusty play-dough is a constant danger in our house, and I’ve thrown out several batches and had to remake it when it finally crosses the gross-and-crusty line. This morning as I eyed the crusty little bits of dough on and under the table (because my kiddos sure as heck don’t leave it in a nice ball on the table when they abandon ship… there are bits and pieces everywhere, which dry out even faster), and wondered if there was any way to make it soft and smooth again.

Since we make our own gluten-free play-dough instead of store-bought, I can only say for sure that this method works on ours, but I would be seriously surprised if it didn’t work on any kind – regular home-made, store-bought, and gluten-free homemade. I’ve heard of people trying to use a little bit of water or even steam, but I think this method is much more effective.

The secret is… a little bit of glycerin.

I keep a bottle in my cupboard for when I make Royal Icing – the kind of icing that you put on sugar cookie cutouts at Christmas that gets hard and glossy. When you make the icing, it gets crusty quickly, even before you ice all the cookies, and a few drops of glycerin into the bowl will de-crustify it instantly. I’ve been doing this for years now, and didn’t ever use it for anything else.

This morning it occurred to me that if it works to de-crustify icing, then why not play-dough? So I made an indent in my crusty hardening play-dough, poured in maybe half a teaspoon, and worked it into the dough with my hands. (You may have to do some good kneading, depending on how crusty your dough has gotten). Magic. It was like new again! Yeah! So, I share this secret with you in the hopes that we can save the planet and our pocketbooks, one crusty ball of play-dough at a time!

Happy playing!

PS – Because I know someone will eventually ask: you can usually buy glycerin at drugstores (like Shoppers Drug Mart) and craft stores (like Michael’s). It’s not expensive, and goes a long way.

{Linking up today with Your Green Resource at SortaCrunchy}