'Minimalism' - An obsession

I can't quite remember how it came about.  Searching around the web I came across some very inspirational blogs dedicated to the idea of minimalism and simple living.  When I read this stuff it just made so much sense to me.  "Of course I would love minimalism!"  I said to myself.  "It's just so me!"  Decluttering and simplifying my life? Yes please!  Reducing the physical and mental excess so I can focus on what I truly value in life?  I'm sold.

I have now made at least 10 trips to the local charity shops, have sold items on Ebay, and am wondering what else can go?  I have really tried to be quite ruthless with myself, here's what I've let go of so far;
- lots and lots of books that I have been carrying around with me for years and I'm still working on it
- clothes that I don't really like and don't fit me very well, it is so liberating to have a minimalist wardrobe.  I am definitely a person who benefits from having fewer options to choose from.
- don't tell the kids but I've removed many of their toys, some for good and some I've just hidden away to see if they notice they're missing, they haven't so far.
- kitchen utensils that rarely get used - I'm tired of rifling through a drawer to find the vegetable peeler, which I use every day, because it is surrounded by items I rarely use.
- a vase, framed pictures, candle holders, various trinkets that I don't really like and just sit there gathering dust.

As promised by many of the blogs I've been reading, decluttering and simplifying one's physical surroundings is about so much more than just stuff.  As I get rid of this stuff I don't really need the obvious question arises, what do I need?  What do I want in  my life? This is what I've learned;

- more time to spend just hanging out with my girls, now that I've decluttered so much there's also more space to hang out and play, what a gift.
- whittling down my book collection has reacquainted me with some books I really love and I've let go of the books that weren't that important to me - I never will be a very good dressmaker or baker, those books have gone.
- when you get rid of physical clutter it is like a reflection of what is going on in your mind.  In a clearer, less cluttered space, my mind feels clearer and less cluttered.
- Now I know all the things I don't want in my life and how I don't want to spend my time I am clearer about what I do want, I want to write.

I am in danger of preaching this message to everyone I come across, my husband is quite tired of hearing about it I'm sure.  I can't help it, minimalism for me is such a profound and spiritual concept, I just want to spread the word.

One last thing to share.  With less things to think about, to clean, maintain, repair, organise, I found myself lying on the grass in the garden with my youngest daughter one sunny afternoon this week.  Dinner was prepared (and it hadn't taken me long now that I've removed so much stuff from the kitchen), the house was relatively tidy and as a result of this I felt relaxed.  I lay there with my daughter crawling around, exploring the garden, and acknowledged to myself how relaxed and 'in the moment' I felt.  I can tell you this was a direct result of my project to minimalise our possessions and simplify our life.  My mind wasn't caught up thinking about all the stuff I had to organise, I felt liberated.  I could be there with my daughter, enjoying such a beautiful afternoon with her, encouraging her to take her first steps, giving her my presence.  This minimalism stuff is a powerful thing.

A childhood treasure for my baby

A stolen five minutes here, a stolen few minutes there, I will eventually get this done.  It will be a cushion when it's finished, one day when it is actually finished - it seems to be taking so long.  I will get it done though, for my littlest baby, a childhood treasure for her to treasure.  One day she may be sitting on her bed at university, a friend will reach over to pick up the cushion and comment on how sweet it is.  My littlest baby may respond with something like, "My mum made it for me when I was a baby", and with that comment she may be reminded of how much she means to me, she may look at the stitches and see my love for her embroidered in to the cloth.

In simple little stitches of pink, blue, yellow and red, I am drawing a picture of a house with people in it and surrounded by a cute little garden.  It is a home, not unlike ours, filled with people and a cute little garden.  This childhood treasure, like the others I have made for my other daughters, is not particularly skilful or imaginitive.  It comes from a place of love though, I think that counts.  It will be added to other treasures I will make over the years; to her baby photo album, a treasure box containing her first clothes and 'new baby' cards, and to the journal I started to keep for her the week I found out I was expecting her.  These treasures will be passed on to her the older she gets, she can take them with her when she leaves home.  She can tell that university friend her Mummy used to sit and stitch this cushion while I was having a nap as a baby, she would sit and think about the little girl I would become, she would sit and stitch this childhood treasure knowing that I was one of the most precious treasures she had in her life.

A story for mothers

Shall I tell you a story?  One day a woman with three young children, a long to-do list and dark circles under her eyes told herself that she was not allowed to do something that she really loved doing.  She told herself, in rather harsh tones (the same voice she used to shout at her children), to stop being so silly, who did she think she was anyway? and that she had far too many other important things to do.  She told herself that as a mother of three, soon to be returning to working outside of the home, she had no time to be indulging in her particular interest.  Her children needed her, every moment of the day, to take care of their needs and their comfort.  So she stopped doing what she loved, she 'put away those childish things'; literally - in a drawer, where she didn't have to see them because it was too painful.

Fortunately for her there was something inside her that would not give up so easily.  A small quiet, gentle little voice that listened to all these harsh reprimands and nodded sagely and admitted that she was, indeed, 'very busy', and her children did need her very much.  This quiet little voice also suggested in softer, kinder tones than she used with herself, that perhaps if she did do a little of the something that she loved very much, if she gave this to herself as a gift, then maybe she would do a better job with all those other things she had to do.  All those other roles she had to play.  If she allowed herself this thing she might perhaps be more of a whole person and that whole person (as opposed to a person with a hole inside her) might be more pleasant for her husband and children to be around.  The little voice reminded the woman listening intently that as the mother in the family she was the heart of that family and a heart with a hole in it does not function as well as a whole one.

The woman knew these words to be very true, deep down she knew.  So, she took her notebooks out of the drawer, she took up her pen, she switched on her computer, she opened up her heart and her mind.  She allowed herself to do what it is she most loves to do.  She gave herself this gift and she was grateful.  The words poured happily out of her as she gave them some time and some space to do so; the words were relieved that they had their channel back again.

The only parenting book you will ever need

'Everyday Blessings: The inner work of mindful parenting.' Myla and Jon Kabat-Zinn'

This is it, the holy grail of parenting books.  I've read a lot of them.  This is the one that really spoke to my heart.  This is the one which resonated with me so much.  On every page I would read something that I knew deeply to be true.
 "The very fact that we are a parent is continually asking us to find and express what is most nourishing, most loving, most wise and caring in ourselves, to be, as much as we can, our best selves."
The authors share stories from their own family life raising three children, such inspiring and honest stories, not all of them about the things they got 'right' but they also share the times they got it 'wrong', when they weren't their best selves.  This is so encouraging, to be comforted and reassured by the knowledge that we won't always get it right, even if we are the 'mindful awareness' gurus of the literary world, but we can always learn from our experiences and try to do better next time.
"To attempt to see and honour the deep soul needs of our children as well as our own as best we can."

I could repeat so much of what I love about this book, but you just have to read it and take from it what resonates most with you.  What I can say though is that it has left me touched and moved.  It has left me with the overall feeling that no matter what choices we make as parents in how to raise our children you can't go too far off track if you act with gentleness and kindness and allow one's children a degree of 'sovereignty'.  This is a key term in the book which means that we help our children to develop into who they really are and respect that person and the choices they make.  Viewing our children as the unique individuals they are and giving them the space and the recognition they need.  This was very powerful for me.  I struggle with just backing off and allowing my children the freedom they need to become their own selves and, in truth, to distance themselves from me somewhat because that is what they will increasingly need to do.

As parents we don't need books to tell us about routines and the 'right' way to discipline children.  What this book has to offer is more profound.  In essence it reminds you that you love your children, so start with that and remember it even when they are rolling around on the floor in the middle of an all-consuming tantrum.  Stop, try to bring yourself in awareness and react from a calm place of love; I know, it's so hard, I've been there - a lot, it takes a lot of practice and strength.  I was soothed by the following words though,
"An important part of the process (of mindful parenting) is seeing ourselves with a degree of kindness and compassion."
This book is a wise old owl of a book, which embraces you in a loving cuddle and tells you to take it easy, parenting can be hard but also so joyful, take it moment by moment, be kind to your children and be kind to yourself.  It strokes your hand and plants a kiss on your cheek and tells you to keep trying, keep learning and reflecting and it will be alright, it will be alright.

Namaste Mr and Mrs Kabat-Zinn.

A divine morning

She is Aphrodite, known as Venus by the Romans.  Famously known for being the goddess of love.  It was a Sunday morning in the British Museum, here to support our eldest daughter in her school topic of 'Ancient Greece'.  We walked around the collection of statues and pottery, she was surprisingly very interested, our five year old daughter was unsurprisingly not, the littl'un was happy as long as there was milk to be had.

The big girls ran off with their Daddy at one point, I sat on some stairs and breast fed the littl'un, in view of lots of museum visitors, a staff member and Aphrodite of course.  The museum visitors seemed not to notice, it's really not that interesting compared to some of the most precious antiquities of the ancient world and I was being very discreet, the (female) staff member gave me a small, acknowledging smile and Aphrodite, well she wasn't overly concerned with me or my baby.  She did nod my way though, and smile, her feminine curves gracefully outlined by her robes.
  "What's your name?" she enquired.
  "We are 'Mother and Child", I said, "only a temporary exhibit".
  "Oh", she casually responded, "they're not as interested in you as they are in me are they?" 
  "No", I admitted, "but sometimes the everyday is no less extraordinary despite its ordinariness; childbirth, breastfeeding, those two girls running around getting under the feet of irritable tourists, these are the special treasures of my world.  I am the goddess of my family, my husband is the hero, and our children are living breathing deities who have blessed us with their presence.  We're all a temporary exhibit", I explained, "just here for a while to experience some of that love you have at your disposal.  By the way, thanks, for all the love, it's really pretty amazing stuff, it just blows me away sometimes," as I glanced down at my baby still feeding, a veritable rosy-cheeked cherub.
"You're welcome", she replied with the subtlest of flicks of her golden hair and a glance at her nails,   
"you flesh and blood goddesses are so lucky, you don't have to stand here and be gawped at for all eternity."
"I know, I get to go home and look after my little ones and drink in their loveliness, I'll be off now Aphrodite, nice chatting to you", I hoisted the littl'un up on to my hip and went to find the others.  My moment in the world of the Ancients and the divine was over, I did get to go home and look after my little ones and drink in their loveliness and I would do it for all eternity.     

february

This February I am;
- Looking for signs of Spring and finding them, just peeping through.
- Enjoying the games being played, the pictures drawn and the spellings practiced on our new chalkboard in the kitchen, I think we should just cover the whole house in chalkboard paint.
- Thinking that we might eat more meat-free meals in the light of the whole horsemeat scandal, you can't go wrong with veggies.  Ratatouille, butternut risotto, poached eggs and vegetable rostis.  Not sure    my, "it's not a dinner without meat", husband will agree.
- Eagerly anticipating the half-term break, a rest from the school run, lots of time for my girls to play and a few nice activities planned as well, oh and the odd lie-in, which in our house means until 7am.
- Shivering in the cold, hibernating inside, dreaming of a sunny day when I can out to the greenhouse and get those vegetable seeds sown.
- Searching for something new and inspirational to read, any ideas anyone?  I get twitchy without a pile of books by my bed at the ready.
- Trying to muster the courage to write a book proposal, not sure I can, but I do know that writing this blog is good for me, makes me feel I get to do a little something for me, and then I can return to my family feeling a little bit more fulfilled.
- This February I am looking for signs of a more authentic and peaceful me and finding them, just peeping through.

The lessons of a messy children's bedroom.

Once upon a time I lived on my own, in a tiny little flat in London, fairly happy, lots of friends and a good job.  I always knew I wanted a family and then one day along came a man with whom I fell in love.  So began the story of our family.  Three children later, my days are quite different now.  Each morning there are so many tasks to be done just to get us all out of the door on time for school.  When I return from the school drop-off, it's just me and the littl'un.  I have a coffee while I feed her, we then make our way around the house clearing up after the tornado that passed through at 7.30 that morning.
  This is a picture of my two eldest girl's room.  This is it on a good day, I really would be too embarrassed to show it on a really bad day when the carpet is no longer visible.  When I come in to this room in the morning I feel utter despair.  The beds are unmade, there are toys and books everywhere to be seen.  Pyjamas, toothbrushes, hairbrushes strewn around from the morning rush. I straighten everything up, smooth out the duvets, put books back on the shelves, cuddly animals back in the basket.  And I will do it all again tomorrow. I'm no martyr, it's just the reality of being a Mum.  Doing the same things day after day, meals, laundry, cleaning, diplomatic relations and lots of picking stuff up off the floor.
  I do realise, however, that this is just all part of the territory.  My children love their toys, they play endlessly with these horses, barbies and baby dolls.  They read those magazines and the books.  They really inhabit this room and the rest of the house.  Their physical presence is truly felt.  When I come in to this room after I have left them at school for the day these objects lie inanimate,  without the spirit and imagination of my daughters to animate them.  I think I should try not to feel despair when I enter this room in future, but gratitude that they are here, my girls are here and they are happy, they are boisterous, they are filled with the joy of a childhood in which they get to play with their toys, flick through  their magazines, making a mess as they do.  This is not to say that I don't get cross with them when they do make a real mess, I do.  There are often tears when I insist that they clean this mess up.  In quieter moments though, I do enjoy discovering the little scenes they have set up with dolls, animals and wooden blocks.  I do feel grateful that I have these girls in my life at all.  That I am not still in that tiny little flat in London, on my own, wondering what it would be like to be a mother.  This is what it is like.  A messy house, a tired body, little free time; the price to be paid for having three beautiful children.  There are lessons to be learned everywhere, even in a messy children's bedroom.