Letter to my children: Indoctrinating Capitalism and Driving Lessons

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Letter to my children: Indoctrinating Capitalism and Driving Lessons

“Dragon, I am not paying for you to play with the digging tool. I am paying you to weed.” Argh, I do not like that sentence. Boss Woman Hat doesn’t feel good. But - I am paying him and he is faffing and he needs to learn this.

“Okaaaayyyy.” Halfhearted swipes recommenced.

I look over at his pile. Corinna, he is 7. Do not compare his pile with your pile. “Dearest, if you want to do something else. I understand.”

“No! I want the sword! We figured it out. I work an hour for four days and I will have enough to buy it with my own money.”

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Letter to my Children: Travel Thoughts

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Letter to my Children: Travel Thoughts

Dearest beloveds,

The fun thing about where we live is that very different places are within half a days drive. For one week north to visit a different country, a new city, and practice another language. For another week southeast to eat freshly shucked oysters, watch sea birds, and do puzzles when it rained. Back to back. As my dear friend E said, This sounds like one of those ideas that seemed perfect in December.

Be that as it may, it has given your mother ample time in the car to contemplate travel: why people do it, the point of it, and the different tourist modalities.

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Goodbye Tentrr Hello HipCamp

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Goodbye Tentrr Hello HipCamp

A few months ago I went to the Tentrr website to update our opening dates for our Tentrr Signature Glamping site (home of the grazing goats!)

What is the world?

There was no more website. No communication. Nothing. It was only after doing a bit of digging that I found a FB page talking about the company declaring bankruptcy.

All of our templates, emails, reviews, gone with the wind.

So, after a bit of scrambling and false starts we have landed on Hipcamp.

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Letter to my Children: Time Apart

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Letter to my Children: Time Apart

Dearest Beloveds,

“Momma, can we go and play in the snow?”

Ohhhh, I can barely move. “Of course.” I looked over at your father. “Babe, can you be in charge of getting the children dressed for snowplay?”

“They don’t need help.” A huge grin cracked your father’s face. “They can do it all by themselves.”

Oh Thank GOD. “Mimi is the best. Thank God for grandmothers.”

Just back from my bone marrow transplant, barely able to dress myself, you two being able to dress yourselves to play outside was a huge gift. Gone forever was the hand-holding, the cajoling, the hide-and-seek, the reminders. As I listened - from a different room - to you two getting dressed - I realized I had been coddling you. That was two years ago.

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Homesteading Middles: The Year of the Caterpillar

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Homesteading Middles: The Year of the Caterpillar

Earlier this month there was a missive from Bean’s school. As the Hudson Valley deals with the deluge of spongy moth caterpillar, small dark caterpillars that can cause skin irritations… students will be kept off blacktops and playgrounds to limit the chances of exposure.

I was flummoxed. Spongy moth caterpillars?* Falling from the sky? Two days later in the soccer fields I continually picked off 1/2 inch long black wiggles from skin, clothing, bag, water bottle, chair, other people’s shirts, etc. They are falling from a clear sky and I am at least 300 yards from the tree line. What in the world?!

And both children broke out in itchy hives wherever one lingered too long on bare skin.

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Homesteading Middles: Dirty Feet on Chicken Salad = Recycling

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Homesteading Middles: Dirty Feet on Chicken Salad = Recycling

“Momma, are you ready for FULL ATTACK?!”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I am going to go in there and BE VICIOUS!”

“Okay, Dragon, go in there and be vicious - let’s see what happens.”

In November, we planted winter greens in the greenhouse. Hesitant to glean too much, we were very judicious in our harvesting. Suddenly March brought a few days in the 70s and the greenhouse went into overdrive. A good lesson from Mother Nature - gorge while you can.

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Letter to my children: Fire Fishing and Wood Ticks

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Letter to my children: Fire Fishing and Wood Ticks

Dragon, you have been dealing with palate expanding to encourage your tiny baby teeth to leave. As a result, there is an entire list of dos and don’ts of food allowances on the fridge. Sometimes your mouth is too sore to even contemplate the oh so finely shaved carrots and apples. You, all on your own, nailed the solution: Fire Fishing with Apples. (Ahem, the official name of course.)

“Momma, what I want to do is to roast an apple in the woodstove to make it soft.”

“Oh, dearest, not inside the house. It is warm enough that we could make a bonfire outside and you could do it there?”

A pause, a contemplative look, a shrug. “Sure.”

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Double Digits and cultivating Grandmother Energy

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Sitting in the waiting room of our local mechanic, I turned to the apple-cheeked, soft white curled woman sitting next to me.

Let’s see what the Universe wants to tell me about this feeling.

“Can I share something with you?”

“Of course, my dear.”

“My daughter is turning 10 today.” Tears flooded my eyes. “It makes me happy sad.”

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Letter to my Children: Parenthood can be Quite Humbling

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Letter to my Children: Parenthood can be Quite Humbling

Dearest Beloveds,

Parenthood can be quite humbling.*

One of the most confronting parts of being a parent is realizing you are passing down your neuroses/limitations/Cranky Monster baggage to your children.

Many teachers over many years have all taught me the same thing. We are energetic beings in physical bodies. Our energy body/aura surrounds us like a glowing multidimensional egg of vibrational me-ness.

In that aura there can be blockages. Blockages made of past habits, memories, things that trigger us, woundings, fears, etc etc. Rob Wergin likes to call them mud pies. Mucky, dark, heavy glurpy goo that sticks within our aura and blocks energy flow. Meme told me when I was 12 that 4th dimensional creatures live in our auras - called in as helpers when we are afraid or in pain but then they never leave and become a handicap.* Perhaps those two are the same thing.

I spend a great deal of energy and attention cleaning up my personal mudpies - but sometimes I think I splash mud onto you two when I am not thinking.

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