Kitchen

Once I told someone that if this homeschooling mom gig didn't work out, I'd love to have a cooking show. I like to cook. I like the art and the science of making food taste good and look beautiful. I like messing with presentation. I like to put plates in front of my family that make them slow down and savor the moment. Maybe it's genetic. I come from a long line of Italian cooks who respect the beautiful.

She scoffed. Scoffed! She actually said that food was just something to make, eat, and clear out of the way. She said she couldn't be bothered with thinking too much about it. She had a big family to feed and it was sinful somehow to give food more than its utilitarian thought.

I gulped. Didn't talk to her about food again.

Last year, I relinquished my inner foodie. First, I acknowledged that it didn't play well with all-day-long morning sickness. Then, it didn't hold up to the admonition not to be on my feet more than necessary. Then, it died altogether when I was banished from the kitchen and sent upstairs for 6 weeks of bedrest. After the baby was born, I couldn't really multi-task the premature baby nurturing and tasks that required--well--my hands.

We didn't starve. Remember, the foodie thing is genetic. Almost all of my children appear to have inherited the gene. The jury is still out on the one who puts hot sauce on everything. They COOK, these kids. And they care about presentation. The eight-year-old is particularly fond of finding just the right garnish. His current hero bakes cakes. (Apparently the creative kitchen gene is alive and well in that family, too.)

Now, though, I'm back in the kitchen. I choose menus that are a bit more involved than I probably should. I stand at the counter and do quite a bit of peeling and chopping. I am certain to make a mess as I go. I can almost hear my utilitarian commenter clicking her tongue and telling me that there is no place for creativity in the kitchen, that it's a waste of time and energy. No matter. I find loving, thoughtful creativity has much the same effect in the kitchen as it does in the schoolroom. Joy in the beautiful process is contagious and it draws us all in.

I'm not in the kitchen alone. Ever. The creative process and the creative product draw my children to me. They want to help. They see the joy that cooking brings and the want to be a part of it. And there we are, busy creating, when something else happens. They start to talk. Big ones. Little ones. They instinctively know that that recipe with all those steps will hold me here in this sunny yellow room. I will not leave. I will not turn away. I will listen. And they can be assured that I will hear the subtle seasoning in their stories. I will be attuned to the questions they hope to be asked. I will the mom in the apron who knows that it's not about the white sauce at all. It's about the inevitable conversation that happens around good food. It happens at the table, of course. We eat as a family and never are at a loss for words. But the intimate conversation, the sharing of hearts, happens over nearly-bubbling milk, whisk in hand.

I take the time to consider food. To consider cost. To consider skills. To consider time. To consider cleanup. And I decide again and again to choose the thoughtful, creative approach. Because, really, there are so many ways our children need to be nourished. Food is just the beginning.

A Room Where Best Friends Begin Their Forever

As it began to dawn on us that both Katie and Karoline would lose their "best friends" (only friends?) to moves in the same week, Mike grew very protective. He wanted to do something for them. We both really just wanted to protect them from the hurt. Truth be told, the hurt wasn't limited to the little girls. For the last five years, Gracie has been in the space between Katie and Karoline. They don't have any memories of life in this house without her in it.And it's difficult for all of us to remember a time when she wasn't part of the family.

It is no secret to anyone who knows me that I deal with stress by cleaning and organizing my house. My friends remember how immaculate the house was the day the cancer diagnosis came. Mike, however, does not clean when he is stressed;-). His role was different. He instructed me to do whatever it took to create a new place for three little girls to grow up as best friends. He actually said, "I want them to have the perfect little girls' room and I want the room to make them happy." He's a very sweet guy and nothing brings out the sweet in him like his little girls. So, I abandoned my plan not to spend any money. He wanted to make a gift of this room and I was the instrument.

 

The bed was given to us by my mother when we got married. It's queen-sized. Katie and Karoline can both sleep there.TheGood Shepherd picture above the headboard was a gift to me from Patrick's godmother. I love the idea of the Good shepherd watching my sleeping babies.

This dresser came from my father's attic.

This one came from my mother's house. We need one for Sarah, but I'm going to scour Craigslist for awhile and see what pops up.

The bookcase came from Costco a couple of years ago.

My stepfather made the stuffed animal shelf for Michael's nursery 21 years ago. It has moved with us three times. And this bookcase was an old white pantry shelf in my in-law's basement before they moved. I painted it in a Home Depot Disney shade called "Invitation to a Princess." Appropriate, no?

The room didn't really need painting but it did sort of look worn. We found stickers at Target and covered all the dings with flowers and butterflies. Tah-dah! Much quicker than a coat of paint.

These curtains were too cute for words, so we picked them up when we picked up the stickers.

 

And then, I saw this rug. Hopscotch? Worth every penny just to watch Karoline try to do it. Worth even more to watch Daddy show Karoline how it's done.

Around this time, I learned that Jessica and I were doing the same thing three thousand miles from one another. That made Mary Beth and I giggle as we continued to decorate.

Above the bed are pictures of the girls in the bluebells. They are just gorgeous in these frames. We're doing one above the chest for Karoline, so there will be three in all, but Target needs a little time to replenish the stock. Costco did a fabulous job with the enlargements, just like Lori said they would.

The little girls helped with all the moving out and they were there as we moved furniture in, but we banished them to the basement while we stuck flowers on the walls and hung curtains at the window. When we invited them back to their new room, they reacted exactly as their Daddy had hoped.

 

The quilt on the bed was actually Mary Beth's. I pulled it off her bed and was delighted by the way it looked in the room.

That left Mary Beth without a quilt and so begins the story for tomorrow..

 

What Have We Done Here?

 

schoolroom before

We dismantled the "schoolroom." This was a long time coming. And I think it's a good thing. Last year, around this time, with bedrest looming, I began to think about that room and how tied we were to it. I was a little panicked by the prospect of "schooling" without it. And then, lo and behold, the "schoolroom" was moved bedside.

 

bedrest nest

Except it wasn't. I was in bed and the children came into my room for instruction and conversation, but the schoolroom still existed. And the children went in there and pretty much had their way with the resources. The schoolroom was trashed. Even those things that were well-intentioned (can you say "endless Montessori printables?" Mary Beth's Montessori blogroll is three times what mine is), were taking up lots of room. During bedrest, I learned I didn't need that big, beautiful room to educate my children. What I really needed was just to give them my "uncluttered" attention. After the baby was born, I was utterly overwhelmed by the "stuff" in that schoolroom every time I wandered in there. And that wasn't all that often. I had broken my schoolroom habit.

The room is huge. And we had kids who didn't really have a bedroom. Three of them, to be exact. So, it hit me late one night, that the schoolroom had to go. The room I so lovingly created when we moved into this house nearly eight years ago, wasn't the best use of that space any more. Truth is, as nice as that room was, it encouraged some unhealthy things.

• I was way too sedentary there. I would plop down in the desk chair and read, and point, and direct and pretty much never get up.
• The computer was way too available there. Just a quick check while plopped in the aforementioned chair..sigh...
• We had filled it with too much stuff. Too much stuff. Just because there's room for it, doesn't mean we should have it.
• We were cramped in there and it was too busy. It had begun to feel a bit like a busy fishbowl.
• I was burned out and I really felt like the schoolroom was feeding the fire. I wanted to begin again with a truly clean slate.

the pantry before

So, we dismantled the schoolroom. We relocated many of the hands-on materials to a closet in the mudroom. Like the schoolroom, I had loved that closet when I first filled it. All neat and tidy, all full of food storage. Attachments, attachments, attachments. Now, I determined to fit a room full of stuff into the pantry closet, while relocating the pantry items to the kitchen. I would need to pare down the manipulatives and the pantry items and some kitchen items. This was to be detachment in a big way.

kitchen pantry

the new mudroom closet

And I did it. And it's a good thing.

Then, I moved the core materials of our learning--essential books, paper, crayons, and pencils, etc,--to our sunroom. There are three walls of windows there and then one half wall of wall space. I was not going to put anything in front of the windows. So, I forced a roomful of materials against one wall. The rest are to be given away. More detachment.

Still a good thing.

The computer was moved into the family room. The entire middle floor of the house began to open itself up to our active learning there. I can see how much more I'm going to move during the day now. The children have desks and some books in their bedrooms. The ones who are old enough be encouraged to spend time each day in quiet study at their desks. They'll curl up on the couch with me to read. We'll enjoy the fireplace much more this winter. And yes, I'll fold laundry throughout the day. I'll make sure that kitchen stays clean. I'll probably sweep the floor a lot more often. I don't think it will be a bad thing to integrate our learning and our household activities.

And I'm so looking forward to having our mantel in front of us all day.

It's all looking like a very good thing.

Oh, and that left me with a very large, empty room where the schoolroom once lived. More on that room tomorrow:-).

Dear Tracy,

I am so blessed by you! These plans are beautiful. I have all the books. You've inspired me, and encouraged me, and made me smile. No small task these days. Thank you so very much.

Well that was fun!

I have a million things I need to do and two million things on my mind. But, I just spent an hour making my "colors" look pretty and now I'm stopping to blog about it.

Huh.

I do feel a little better...

Thanks for the inspiration, Jen!