Adding the Sweetness Back In

Yesterday as I was preparing to make jam from a batch of peaches we got, I posted about it on Facebook when a friend mentioned Peach Pit Jelly.  Taking the skins and pits that would normally be discarded and brewing it into a juice to transform into jelly. I had never heard of it, and was ecstatic to find out that I could extend the fruit into something even more.

As I skinned the peaches and pulled the pits I noticed a lot of "bad" spots on the fruit.  Places where the softness and just turning color would normally ruin the look of the jam, but still completely edible (and extremely sweet!) The recipe I found mentioned that these spots were also good to throw into the pile for the jelly , as they'd add flavor and sweetness.  

The line from the movie "Sweet Home Alabama" kept going through my head while I was peeling and pruning away the impurities. As Melanie & her mother are prepping the fruit, her mother says "Some people might call them 'spoiled'... but I think that, um, these almost-ruined ones sometimes make the sweetest jam."  I love this line and it was made that much more poignant- both figuratively and literally- as I stood there in front of my divided peaches.

Sometimes life isn't pretty.  We're scarred. We have nicks and dings. Soft bruised spots, vulnerable of spoilage from life.  It's how we take the not so great and find our niche with it all. Simmer all of it into the pot, strain it out and then finally discard and let go of the bad, reminding ourselves that without all those imperfections we wouldn't be who we are, just as that jelly wouldn't be what it was.

The jelly turned out tasting delicious and looking absolutely beautiful in the jars. Just as my life- dents, dings and all.  I'm surrounded by the love of my family and friends with a home I love filled with the beauty of memories made and the promise of more to come.  It will never be perfect and I'm positive there will be more bad to come with the good. If I just remember to keep that bowl handy, to trim it away and save it aside, there will be a chance to strain it out and add the sweetness back in.

The Value of Something More

For Thomas' birthday this year we have decided to go way above the usual party celebrations and have gone with a circus/carnival "extravaganza".  It all started while debating what to do at all.  Hannah and I were perusing the Oriental Trading website for some ideas and it suddenly snowballed into this crazy themed party.  Being "greenies" and frugal, we decided that many of the things we wanted to do we would make here, re-purposing items around the house, which should have also save us money.  

Now this plan sounded great as we giddily clicked through the website, buying the minimum decorations and party supplies, but as I was hitting the "pay now" button I remembered why it was that I never do themed parties.  No matter how cheap you try to go, they always end up costing a lot more than they should.  What started off as some simple ideas has spawned into a much larger scale production than any of us had anticipated.  Yet, since the child with the steel trap memory knows the plans, it's impossible to backtrack now.   ;-)

So, we decided to just go with it & not look back.  It has been fun coordinating with Hannah, my creative director.  I love her artistic views and fantastic ideas.  It's become a family project, and with all of these ideas floating around, the pull to work together has made it that much more fun.

What's funny is, the things we thought we were going to save money on ended up costing the most.  For instance, we decided to make the bean bags for the various carnival style games.  Hannah and I went to the fabric store anticipating a couple dollars worth of fabric.  Yet silly me overestimated the amount of fabric we would need, forgot about the thread I already had on hand, and ended up spending more than what it cost to buy the exact same game, complete with board & bean bags plus our time in making it all. 

Yet, as we sat there, prepping the sewing machine for the bags, Hannah looking up templates for decorating the board, Andrew cutting the squares and getting the filler ready, something so quietly happened.  We spent about 2 hours just chatting.  Nothing in particular.  No magic secrets to the world revealed. No mushy moments of love.  Just... life. Being lived in that very moment, shared in our small dining room.  No epiphanies of how awesome I am afterwards from the kids. ;-)  In fact, I'm positively sure the kids didn't even bat an eye at it happening.  Thomas drifted in & out of the room, checking on the status of our work.  He brought me 2 pieces of ripped paper to "fix together" on the sewing machine. We chuckled, he cruised back outside to help finish the second coat of paint with Steve.  We continued on with our work.

I could have opted for pre-made, cheaper items, and we could have saved time and money that day. Yet the cost of losing that quiet family bonding time was so much more than the money. The value of those moments far surpassed that of dollars saved. My wallet may be a little lighter, but our hearts are fuller.  To me, that just makes a lot of cents...

Watch for Equestrians

When my cousin & I were growing up, my Grandpa devoted a large portion of his Sunday's to spending time with us. Sunday mornings were church, followed by lunch out.  We would come home & the grown ups would take an afternoon nap.  My cousin & I would try to be very quiet because we knew if we didn't wake him up early, he would take us out for the day. Some days were just walks around the block with the dog.  Though the walks were never short because we had our "resting" spots along the way where we would stop and talk.  One spot was a brick wall containing a portion of someone's side yard. We would hide small objects we'd found under a bush there near the wall.  Things like a rock, a snail shell, a bottle cap, and whatever other small things we found to complete our game.  Then, one person would choose an item to hide while the others closed their eyes. As we got older more pieces were added & small things like getting to shuffle the other items around to confuse the other person.  We could play this over and over again, and it never got boring. Most days we weren't done around the block, so we would ride our bikes up to the elementary school, or down to the high school, zipping up and down hills, across parking lots, through the deserted halls. We would play hide & seek or just play on the swings and playground equipment.  Other times we played "Zombie Tag" or, another favorite,   "Avoid the Noid" Our own version of tag based on a series of very annoying Domino's Pizza commercials.  One of us was the Noid and we would chase the other's, using crazy silly voices as we chased the others.

We also went to parks quite a bit too.  We'd load our bikes into the back of the truck and head out for a full day of bike riding, exploring, and just really enjoying the moment.  One of the parks we went to is the same park I take my kids to now.  Guajome Park has a lake, and upper pond, 2 playgrounds, and tons of trails. Along the trails, there were postings everywhere stating in big, bold, menacing letters, "WATCH FOR EQUESTRIANS"  So, of course, our Grandpa seized this opportunity to warn us of the ever looming equestrians.  He would "spot their tracks" and proclaim randomly "Ooh! Did you hear that?! I think it was an equestrian! Stay on the path, don't go off of it, and stay close to me!!"  So Justin and I would listen but never quite know if we'd heard anything, always thankful Grandpa could keep us from the (big? small? slinky? sharp toothed? hairy?) equestrians.  I honestly don't know how long this all went on for, but I do remember saying one day, when we'd gotten back to the house "What does an equestrian even LOOK like?!" He had that same mischievous look he always got, and I just knew I needed to look it up.

"Grandpa!! It's a person who rides a horse!!!"   I couldn't believe I'd been duped, and SO well too!  All this time we'd been seeing equestrians out in the open. Spoken to equestrians, admired their horses riding on the trails.

So, when Andrew & Hannah were old enough to start watching for equestrians, I pointed out the signs.. warning them.. And one day, much sooner than my own gullible self, they looked it up themselves and said the same thing I did.  Now we get another round of it with Thomas, and this time the older kids get to help me.  Yesterday at Guajome, Thomas and I were hot on the trail of an equestrian.  Little did he know, he waved hello to not just one, but three of them! My Grandpa used to get such a kick out of hearing Andrew & Hannah talk about their findings with him, and I just know that if he were here now, he'd be loving Thomas' face lighting up as he told him all the evidence of the almost spotted equestrian.

It's funny, I'm always saying that traditions are the small things we love doing, not just big dedicated moments.  All these years later, who would have thought "Watch for Equestrians" would be one?  I'm pretty certain that some day many, many many (hint hint kids..)  moons from now, my kids will be walking down a trail and see a sign, and point it out to their own children. In that moment, they'll be remembering, the same way I do, covering a big smile as they pretend to be concerned for the tracks and the sounds of the dreaded... equestrian!!

Women's Liberation Hasn't Really Freed Us Women

I have a beef with the newer generations of the women's liberation movement. I know this is wrong of me to say, since I myself am a woman, but I am angry.  I do not in any way disrespect the blood, sweat, and tears of those who came before us.  I don't think women are inferior, nor should we be resigned to living in a "man's world". In fact, I am very liberal in my thinking when it comes to our roles both within and outside of the home.  My issue is that, I, as a stay at home mom and housewife/domestic goddess, have the undeniable work of defending my position, as do many women like me.

It seems to be the assumption that once a child reaches school age, the work of the stay at home mom is done, allowing the obvious transition into working outside the home again. Those who do not accept this and comply are judged and basically reduced to bon-bon eating, soap watching women, who laze about in sweats all day.  

Why is it that in this day and age a woman can't decide for themselves what their role within the family is?  We "housewives" are given the guilt trip of slowing down the progress of women's lib.  Articles spit on us, and reality tv perpetuates biased views. We are accused of relying on our husbands to take care of us, and bowing down to their whims so that we can mani/pedi ourselves stupid.  I do not know a single stay at home mom like this. We are here because we love what we do and choose to be here. Oh-and if someone wants to mani/pedi themselves stupid, well then, that's their choice too.

The sad thing is, it's not just moms who receive the flack for our choices.  I was telling my friend these thoughts and she brought up a great point.  What about women who choose not to have kids?  Women judge women who don't procreate. They get questioned incessantly about why they don't want babies, and if they're "sure" about not having kids.  When did it become an issue to not choose children?  Why does it matter so much to those who do have them...and vice-versa?

It doesn't stop there though.. Women are a catty species. They'll judge other women who have too many or too few kids. Even if they have "just enough" someone will judge the age differences between the kids. The way women choose to educate (private/public/home schooling), nourish, reward, or punish their children. The way they treat their illnesses, clothe their family, or the way they enroll or don't in sports, music, or activities in general. Breastmilk or formula, vaccinations, birth plans, circumcisions.  The use or non use of electronics, the types of shows other women let their children watch..  Even the way someone plays with their children is up for "discussions" among others!!  No matter where we are during our waking hours, someone is judging us.

We as women have missed the mark on our fore-mother's hopes, dreams, and sacrifices towards liberation.  We wanted equality, yet we quibble over how it's done.  I tell my kids all the time that life and it's related fairness isn't about everything always exactly equal down to the smallest percentage.  Life sometimes gives one person more of one thing, and another person more of another.  Some have certain talents, while others do not. If everything is always exactly portioned  into perfect little slivers, our lives would be B-O-R-I-N-G.  We all bring something to this life, and at the end of it all, fair means only that we saw what we had and made the most of while using our talents and working on strengthening our weaknesses. Yet women see differences as wrong, and feel that theirs is clearly the only way.  How is this in line with equality and fairness? How does this better our position as women and why should anyone take us seriously? When did being liberated mean having to follow what "everyone else is doing"  The very definition of liberate (taken from Dictionary.com) is:   to free (a group or individual) from social or economic constraints or discrimination, especially arising from traditional role expectations or bias.  

What I choose to do is exactly that. It's a choice.  When Thomas is a full time student (and even after he graduates), I will still want to be at home, assuming our situation allows it.  I feel joy and satisfaction in being a housewife, and what I contribute here within the home.  If I choose to go back to work outside of the home, it will be because I want to, not because I feel obligated to it.  That is what liberation was supposed to be about.  Freeing ourselves from being slaves to the home and giving us equal rights to men. Slavery is a strong term and justifiably appropriate. There is no question that we were very limited in our options and had no way to change it without these women's fight for us.  Yet, in this day and age,  if I want to bake a quiche and mend some socks it does not make me any less of a productive member of society, and I resent having it insinuated our said outright.  

My wish for the new generation of women's liberation is to free us from the bondage's of judgement. Let's stop worrying about what other women do and how they do it, and start opening our minds to what being truly free to choose means.  Let us teach the new generations to be true to themselves and give themselves credit for who they are, rather than what they think someone else thinks they're not.