A joyful Christmas to you!

I had high hopes for a couple of seasonal posts this week, but then my four-year-old brought home a tummy bug, and now, after me and his dad suffering through it, his baby brother is determined to cover as many soft-furnished surfaces with bodily fluids as he can.  So between loads of laundry and cuddles with a baby, I write this quick message of peace and goodwill to you.

I’m going to take a break from my beloved computer for a couple of weeks and enjoy time with friends and family.  Some things I am looking forward to in particular: fondue on Christmas Eve (pretty much our only family tradition), a visit from an old friend, a visit from a brother-in-law and his partner, a family-friendly New Year’s Eve celebration (ie, we’ll be home in time for our regular 9.30pm bedtime.  Yay!), knitting (socks), sewing (an ambitious–for me–christening outfit for S.), planning (for some new garden additions as well as veggie patch inclusions), walking (as much as I can), and a bit of time to reflect on the year that’s been and my hopes for the year ahead.

I hope you have some lovely things to look forward to yourself.

At this time of year I always like to return to my favourite Christmas angel’s website.  Three posts that are relevant to this season: Pun-ishment (for those awkward conversation moments), Miracle Cure (for all the carols that get stuck in your head as you are trying to go to sleep), and The Festive Spirit (inspired by her Christmas holiday with us in Aberdeen, 2013).

Thank you for visiting me this year.  This blogging adventure has been pretty good so far.  See you soon, friends!

That jolly old St Nick

In what might be our most controversial parenting decision yet, we told our four-year-old the truth about Father Christmas.  Ie, that he does not exist.  Wait.  You knew that, right?

Last Christmas was the first one my son was aware of, and it was one that will be hard to top: our first Christmas in New Zealand with our families for ten years.  Through us, his cousins, grandparents, and mainstream culture, L. picked up a few bits and pieces about Santa Claus.  Santa Claus was a magical being who entered homes through chimneys or doors, read the letters of welcome and petition, ate the small treats left out by small hands, and distributed carrots amongst his reindeer.

I am unsure what my son thought this Santa character was doing squeezing into my in-law’s home on this singular night of the year, because, strangely, the crucial part about gifts was not included in L.’s narrative.  The other crucial part that we neglected to tell him is that no one ever sees Santa Claus.  Oops.  Cue the pre-dawn Christmas Day meltdown.

One year on, and it was all about the gifts.  With every well-meaning man on the street asking what L. wants Santa to bring, the emphasis increasingly became about what Santa might give him.  And that it had better be big.  And lots.  And green+pink.  In short, Santa was no longer the man of mystery, but rather the one of shopping malls and demanding expectation.  Ergh.  Worst of all, pressure built up in my own mind to uphold this myth through the making of stockings and finding the right fillers.  The deciding of which gifts Santa Claus could take credit for and which we would.  And the frustration of buying things that I inevitably knew I would want to declutter our small home of next month.

Recently though, I had a circuit-breaking conversation with a Jewish friend of mine.  She said that even though she didn’t observe Christmas growing up, she loved celebrating with her daughter now because she liked the spirit of goodwill that it seemed to be about.  If you have read my blog from the beginning, you will know that I am a Christian, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that for me Christmas is a religious holiday celebrating the birth of Christ (and L., the donkey in the nursery nativity play, gets that too… to a certain degree), but I also love that many people who are of other religions or none celebrate this season for its spirit of goodwill.

And from whom, in part, does this spirit of goodwill come from?

Santa Claus a.k.a St Nicholas.  (check out this link for some beautiful illustrations and a detailed explanation of who St Nick was).

So this was the beginning of the dismantling of the Santa Claus story for our four-year-old.  We explained that Santa was not real, but is a story based on that of St Nicholas’.  We said St Nicholas was kind and joyful man who protected children and looked out for people living in poverty.  So today we try to live by his example in the days leading up to Christmas and we do kind things for others.  Gift-giving is a part of that.  But so is helping to rake leaves for a poorly neighbour, or singing carols at a hospital, or sharing toys with your baby brother.

And with that, the focus of our thoughts and actions suddenly diverted from an anxious “what will I get?”/”what will I get for him/her/everyone in my whole freaking life and how can I make Christmas a good time with beautiful food and decorations and pinterest-worthy traditions?” to a genuine spirit of relaxation and joy.  I had a deeper realisation that gift-giving and our presence at events, for example, are not obligatory, but something that are a natural outworking of practising (and receiving) kindness.  Also, I found that when I was more conscious of being kind, I noticed it happening around me–kindnesses directed at others as well as myself.  Perhaps it is just perception, or projection, but the world around me just became kinder this month.

You might be wondering just how cheesey and platitudinous my month has been, because the whole topic really is, let’s be honest, cheesey and platitudinous.  To  be sure, there have been some fun experiences of kindnesses (like leaving biscuits on a doorstep for a friend and running away in peals of laughter).  And these have been offset by regular four-year-old activities (stuffing Duplo down the back of baby brother’s t-shirt, completely overlooked by his desperate mother who tried to get him to sleep for the next hour).  In the hope of maintaining a bit of the Christmas spirit of magic and not appear to be total Christmas grinches*, we observed St Nicholas Day on the 6th of December by putting out our shoes the evening before in the hope of a chocolate coin.  “St Nick” came, and it was simple and magical.  And easily replicable year after year without having to reinvent the wheel or top in some way.

Four-year-olds certainly keep things real; in the defiant way a fundamentalist Christian child might talk about God to his devoutly atheist parents, L. has said to me two or three times with a glint in his eye, “Mum, I believe in Santa Claus, but I don’t think he will bring me gifts on Christmas Day”.

We may have come full circle, folks.

And I am still confused about what exactly Santa will be doing in my home on Christmas Eve…

 

*As an aside, L. heard about the grinch a couple of days after our St Nick project began, and suggested as an act of kindness we could invite him for Christmas dinner so he wouldn’t be lonely over the festive period.  I wonder when we should break the news about the grinch not being real?

Three things: Jasper jumper, Zadie Smith, and birds

I finished this wee hoodie in time for Christmas (and just in time for S. to be the perfect size for it)!  Hurrah!

Zadie Smith on optimism and despair.

We were given an old poster of garden birds (and birds of prey on the back of it) this week. I have learned a lot of interesting facts about and alternative names for birds; like the nuthatch is the only British bird that can walk down a tree trunk as well as up it; and another name for a song thrush is mavis.

Haiku-sday: Calendula lights

Calendula blooms

burn through thick mud and wet stone.

My sun this grey day.

A few of my favourite podcasts

I started listening to podcasts a few years back while drafting architectural plans, and now there are special spots in my brain and in my day that embrace this way of learning and connecting.

I should say that these days, I don’t listen to podcasts when I am stressed or overwhelmed, nor when I am going to sleep.  And I don’t listen when I am creating something that requires a depth of thought or being in a complete state of “flow”, and nor do I when I am with my kids (not for any reason of virtue–rather that it makes my brain hurt taking in so much information at once).  In fact, I really only associate these particular activities with podcast listening: cooking tea, knitting, walking (alone), and lying in the dark trying to get a tiny human to sleep.

I find myself wanting to listen more in the winter time–maybe as an interior escape from the cabin fever that comes at this time of year.  So I thought I might share with you some of the podcasts I am always excited to hear a new episode of, in case you might like them too:

• Slow Home is hosted by Brooke McAlary and comes out of the Slow Living movement.  With a gentle tone, it celebrates minimalism, simplicity, and authenticity.  Try: The Problem with Minimalism, Small Acts and Big Impacts with Jono Fisher, or Create More, Consume Less with Margy Heuschele.
• Katy Says is biomechanist Katy Bowman’s podcast about health, alignment and how to move in order to deal with the mechanical causes of ailments and poor health.  That makes it sound kinda boring, but Bowman’s work has totally transformed my perspective on my body, on movement, and how I engage in the world around me (and I am in NO WAY a sporty or athletic person).  If you have a body or live in the world, there is something for you in this podcast.  Try:  Babies and Movement Part 1 + Part 2, A Nature Education, or Stack Your Life for More Natural Movement.
• Living Homegrown is geared towards people with small inner-city gardens (or no garden at all) who wish to be “farm fresh, but without the farm”.  It covers a broad array of topics and I have gained much inspiration from it.  Try: An Epic Edible Garden, Slow Flowers with Debra Prinzing, or Fermenting Food 101–Troubleshooting.
• Away To Garden is a rich and broad interpretation of gardening, and it ranges from deep discussion of biology to the more woo-woo aspects of gardening.  Try:  Lee Reich on Planting Trees, Joan Maloof on Old Growth Forests, or Olivia Carril on Bees.
• Radiolab is a beautifully produced and very smart show at the intersection of science, philosophy, and human experience.  Try:  Colors, Henrietta’s Tumor, or From Tree to Shining Tree.
• And one for the kids!  We love Sparkle Stories (although we only listen to the free ones) and it is easy to have playing in the background while my son plays quietly and I get something adult-y done… like collect my thoughts.  They tell gentle stories that open up the imagination.  Here are a bunch of free stories, and if you subscribe in iTunes, you will get a free one each week.

Looking at this list, except for the australian Slow Home, I realise these are all North American podcasts.  This makes sense, as the birth of my podcast interest was in the USA, but I wonder if you know of some good UK ones that I might add to my listening menu?

Three things: Standing Rock, buyerarchy, feminism this year

Ko au te awa.  Ko te awa ko au :  I am the river and the river is me.  (Māori proverb from Whānganui).  Elated for, grateful to, and in awe of Standing Rock in their victory this week.  What won this victory at Standing Rock? The answer is indisputable. In great numbers, people put their bodies in the way to declare and defend their rights. In so doing, they revealed what legal rights are: not just idle promises, not just nice things to have, but the material guarantee of safe drinking water and community self-determination.  Here.  Check out the film at the bottom of the page too.

I love this Buyerarchy of Needs.

Feminism in 2016.  My favourite, from Aziz Ansari: If you believe that men and women have equal rights, if someone asks if you’re feminist, you have to say yes because that is how words work. You can’t be like, ‘Oh yeah, I’m a doctor that primarily does diseases of the skin.’ ‘Oh, so you’re a dermatologist?’ ‘Oh no, that’s way too aggressive of a word! No no not at all not at all.’

Haiku-sday: Windy day at Deer Park

 

Dry leaves rush past us

and we laugh.  My hair whips at

my face.  His blows back.

You could make this place beautiful

A poem that has done the internet rounds this year but I really like it and its challenge, so here we go again…

Good Bones, by Maggie Smith

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.

Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine

in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,

a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways

I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least

fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative

estimate, though I keep this from my children.

For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.

For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,

sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world

is at least half terrible, and for every kind

stranger, there is one who would break you,

though I keep this from my children. I am trying

to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,

walking you through a real shithole, chirps on

about good bones: This place could be beautiful,

right? You could make this place beautiful.

Three things: Advent, reflux, moccasins

I learned recently that Advent was introduced roughly around the 7th century as a reflective pause before the Christmas season, because people were getting too excited too soon about Christmas.  Hmmm… ring any bells?  This year in September (!) I saw the first signs of Christmas in the shops.  Ergh.  Anyway, we have started to read Watch For The Light and I think it is helping us not to get too ahead of ourselves or anxious about our plans.  I think.

Solidarity to anyone who has had a baby with silent reflux.  Oh boy.  It.  Is.  Hard.  Work.  When it all seems too hard, I think of this article that affirms how I have felt for a lot of the last 8 months.  Dealing with a reflux baby can be soul-destroying. In the windy, gripey world of newborns, it is often misunderstood. In this context it is easy to understand why it can bring families to their knees and why reflux is implicated in child abuse and shaken-baby syndrome cases. Even in the most well-resourced families it can exact a heavy toll. A local mum I met on the reflux grapevine describes how one day, after hour upon hour of crying, she rang her mother in desperation, convinced she was going to hit her baby son. “I just sat in the hall, shaking. I kept asking myself, ‘When is it going to end, why doesn’t anyone understand?’ ” She wondered, when, if ever, she was going to enjoy her baby.

And moccasins.  Everything I wanted to know about moccasins.  I have a dream to make myself a pair.  To wear everywhere, not just around the house like these cosy slippers above (which actually belong to my partner.  Which he does not know I sometimes slip on when he’s not around).