Natural craft: Circular Weaving

I was digging out a few pictures of the heavenly circular weavings we worked on at the very first Mother Wild retreat for a lovely mama so she could see what I meant by the foraged hazel loom/frame and I realised they might be useful inspiration for other mamas needing easy/cheap/natural/calm activities at this crazy time.

There’s something meditative about circular weaving. You find yourself falling into a quiet place inside while your hands do the rhythmic in : out of the weave. Seems to have the same effect on children as well as grown ups in my experience. We were all pretty zen’d out working on these in the sunshine together a few Summers ago.

A rough how-to: Forage some nice bendy hazel. You’ll find it in most native hedgerows or often around the edges of parks. Willow works well too if you have access to some. Or I’ve often used holly with all the leaves stripped off which is a gorgeous dark colour when dried out. Wrap into a secure circle. Use strong thread to create a ‘warp’ (we had fancy gold but inexpensive crochet cotton) and tie in the centre to secure your end. Ideally have an odd number of warp threads on your loom so you get a nice weave pattern. Attach any yarn to one of the warp threads close to the centre (for the first rounds a thin yarn works well). Weave in whichever directions makes your heart happy. Change yarn and colour at will (tie the new piece to the old piece and hide the ends behind your weave as you go). Leave gaps if you fancy. Alternate between thick and thin yarns. Have fun. Laugh out loud when you realise you’ve chosen the colours you’re wearing as most of us did! Add a couple of beaded tassles or even a feather or two and hang on your wall to admire every time you pass.

Simple, meditative, natural crafts are always part of our Mother Wild Retreats. Sitting in the warmth of nature with a group of like-minded mamas making something beautiful with our own hands brings all kinds of happy-heart magic.

http://www.mothernurturemotherwild.co.uk

Celebrating Ostara with children

“Ostara, the Spring Equinox, takes it’s name from the Goddess Eostar, Eostre or Ostara, a Germanic Goddess of fertility and Spring.  We celebrate this festival at the time when day and night are equal in length.  The balance of the year has shifted – winter is on the wane and spring officially begins.

Ostara is a joyful holiday, centered around symbols of rebirth and growth; eggs, seeds, baby animals.  But Ostara also has a deeper meaning.  Because this is the time of balance between dark and light, it is also the time we examine all kinds of balance in our life.”

“At the Winter Solstice, the sun is reborn; at Ostara , the Earth is reborn.  All life awakens as the days grow longer.”

from Circle Round: raising children in Goddess traditions
by Starhawk, Diane Baker & Anne Hill

 

Ostara, the Spring Equinox, falls on the 20^th, 21^st or 22^nd March each year.  I was reading this week that it’s unusual for it to fall on a full moon and coinciding with this week’s powerful supermoon was even more of a rare event.  Astrologically speaking (and in very simple terms), this moon signified the end of an intense time and a new beginning.  With Ostara’s energy of rebirth, new air and new beginnings arriving at the same time it feels as though we’re shifting into newness.

I’m really enjoying sharing this festival with my boys this week, it’s such a lovely one.  As I mentioned in my Imbolc post, the intention behind sharing the Celtic festivals more deliberately with them this year is to give us more markers through the year to pause and rest at.  To bring a new dimension to our love of nature, take in the changing season, be present and feel grounded in what’s here, now.

If you haven’t explored any of the Celtic/Pagan festivals before, Ostara is a great jumping off point with children because it’s so very here.  We only need to step outside the door to notice the shift in the air and, with Winter as a contrast, it’s the very best time for a ‘let’s notice what’s different outside’ adventure.

My boys and I had a lovely dinnertime conversation about Ostara this week.  I shared what it was and asked what the word reminded them of.  ‘Easter’ they quickly spotted.  We talked of Spring; bulbs and plants springing up.  Of the balance of light and dark.  They spotted that there must be one in Autumn as well.  Yes, the Autumn Equinox or Mabon.  We wondered what all the new beginnings were and thought of spring flowers, veggie seedlings, blossom, bunnies, birds building nests ready for their young, wild garlic, eggs, chicks, ducklings.  Ducklings being especially close to my eldest’s heart at the mo because our neighbour is incubating the duck egg he brought home from the school ducks.

There are a couple of stories in the book I’ve quoted above that we’ll probably read over the weekend.  An almost child-friendly version of the Persephone story which I’ll edit as I go and another from the Ashanti people of Africa.  I also love the book Celebrating the Great Mother which has chapters on each festival, we’ll likely dip into the Ostara chapter of that one too.

 

Ostara things to do with children

A noticing walk

I should say now that this will be on every list in this series of posts.  It’s really the loveliest way to pause and observe, whatever the age of the children.  The more we take these conscious walks the more their reverence for and connection to nature grows.  Even when they’re reluctant to go, ‘let’s see what’s different’ get’s them bought in fast and ‘you show me the way’ seals the deal here.  I prefer this wide open approach to the tick-list style nature hunt, but really it’s whatever works for you.  Last year, my two made me chuckle when I realised they’d brought along a notepad with two columns marked pink and white and they were making a tally.  Ah, blossom days.

Nature table

This is always the first and most enjoyed switch up in our home.  When they were littler, our nature table used to be pretty for a day and then trashed quickly by all the nature treasures brought home in pockets and emptied out on to it.  Beautiful in it’s own way but it did make me chuckle when visitors came and saw a messy pile of bark, leaves and acorn cups on our dresser top.  These days our nature table has found a home on the playroom windowsill in our new house and it’s become a thing of beauty.  A place where our loveliest handmade seasonal bits and bobs are brought out and a beautiful scene is made.  This year so far there’s a green rolling landscape, spring-hued flowers popping up alongside flower fairies, perhaps soon to be joined by felted bunnies hopping around.  It’ll stay there for the season, often added to and always a lovely source of inspiration.

Seasonal story re-fresh

At 6 and 9 year old I thought maybe the days of our seasonal story basket were numbered, with chapter books and independent reading happening more and more.  But they still enjoy it and I’m glad because family reading time is such a good time for reconnecting and fostering the love of story, language and words.  The pre-cursor in my mind to active, rich imaginations.  See this post for some of what’s in our Spring basket, though I’m sure I’ve snuck a few more in there since I wrote that.  Chapter book-wise, try Milly Molly Mandy Spring (perfect for 4-6 year olds) and Enid Blyton Springtime Stories (we also listen to this one on audible).  For home-edders, I’d highly recommend the Floris Books book simply called ‘Spring’ which is wonderful for stories and seasonal songs.  I’ve used this series a lot while temporarily homeschooling my youngest.

Garden days

As the light balances temporarily and a step out the back door brings a new scent each day, all eyes are on the garden.  We’ve been the grateful guardians of this patch of earth for over a year now and while the first year was largely about watching and waiting to see what came up, this year is about breathing new life into this space of ours.  Ostara is definitely my favourite time of year in the garden.  The emergence.  The new growth.  The promise of what’s to come.  Just so lovely.  And finally, after puzzling and wondering what this garden needs to both flourish and feel like ours, inspiration has arrived.  There were times last year when there was nothing much doing anything so we’re excited to add to the planting, create some wildflower patches, add to our veg patch and an epic bug hotel is in the works.  Oh and some swings.  There has to be swings.

Garden days this Spring will be slow and mindful.  The boys will play between bouts of mucking in and they’ll see how a (hopefully) beautiful garden emerges from our regular but never arduous work.  Three things I’ve noticed that help them get involved: being involved in the dreaming, planning and shopping for plants, running with some of their ideas for a sense of ownership and having proper robust child-sized gardening tools and gloves to hand.  It helps that lots of it will be edible!

When they were were little and we had a tiny garden we found a lot of mileage in growing cress on the window sill and sowing nasturtiums and calendula (marigold) in pots.  All pretty fail safe and quick to sprout which was essential in those days of zero patience.

Wild greens

This is the time of year my children love foraging.  You can see clearly what’s emerging, there are less nettles to swipe ankles (and more clothing on anyway) and after a winter of the lanes around us looking much the same each day, we now see and smell something different every time we step out.

We’ve already picked our first bunch of wild garlic and made this pesto.  My eldest, R, has big plans for wild garlic focaccia this weekend so we’ll be heading back for more.  It’s very prolific in the woods near us.  A friend swears by early nettles being the best nutritionally (I’m not certain how accurate this is but I go with it), so we’ll be taking gardening gloves to pick some for tea (use it fresh or dry it to store), to add to soup with the wild garlic and the same friend also juices them.  I’m also aware there are so many others wild greens and herbs springing up that I don’t know the benefits and uses of so our challenge this year will be to learn about and possibly use at least two new ones.

Please be very certain that you are picking what you think you’re picking and do your own research about the use and benefits of wild greens.  I’m not an expert.

Ostara crafting

There are plans for twig nests and felted eggs.  Wind-fallen birch branches are perfect for bending and twisting into nest-shaped rounds, adding moss or some soft down or wool if you like.  Wet felting around an egg shaped pebble or tightly packed wool roving will keep my children happy for hours.  We’ve also seen paper chain eggs we want to have a go at and N is keen for more sewn felt flower fairies.  The windows look a bit bare now we’ve taken our snipped snowflakes down so we’re dreaming up spring-coloured kite paper window stars.  Then there’s Easter cards, daffodil garlands, all the baking potential and our Easter tree will go up at some point, though we’ve plenty of homemade decs stored away for that.  And not strictly crafting but we’d like to help the birds with theirs by leaving them out some natural nest-building materials.

We won’t do this whole list, but likely more than we usually would because with my youngest at home with me at the moment we have that bit more space for creating.

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The way the dates have fallen this year it feels like we have a natural window of a month between Ostara and Easter (yes, of course, we celebrate that too) so I’m looking forward to spreading all this out across that time.  Chilled out festivalling is definitely the way I like it.  And as always, we’ll do what we feel like and have un-rushed time for and leave the rest.

An important part of this festival is it’s focus on new beginnings and balance so we will not be over-doing it and I encourage you to make that good choice too.  Taking that same thought within, I’ll be working on the question what would give me/us more balance.  This is a good time for choosing new ways of doing and being, maybe with some intentions being set at the new moon in a couple of weeks.  What kind of new beginning do we need?

If you have any Ostara traditions, activities and thoughts it would be lovely if you’d share them below in the comments if you’d like to.  Thanks for reading!

Imbolc – celebrating the wheel of the year with children

“Our culture only dimly remembers the festival of Imbolc, once a celebration of the visibly longer days and of the sacredness of the fire, particularly the hearth fire…. If we step outside for a few moments today, we can feel the difference in the winter stillness.  Though the ground may be covered in a pall of snow, there is a new freshness in the air, and a sense of possibility, a softly humming energy in the earth.  Suddenly, we realise that our winter time of rest and retreat is nearly over and that soon all of nature will be dancing and singing again.

Imbolc celebrates the first stirring of the seeds, deep within the womb of earth.  Just a nature is beginning to waken under it’s covering of snow, the birds to sing again, the seeds to put forth the first tiny shoots, so we can feel ourselves beginning to look ahead… to the plans and projects we will work on bringing to fruition in the greening season that is nearly here.”

‘Imbolc.  Stirring of the Seeds.  February 2nd.’
from Celebrating the Great Mother by Cait Johnson and Maura D Shaw

 

We’ve been big on seasonal celebrations for years now and my children’s appetite for it is seemingly endless.  A couple of years ago a friend shared this book with me and invited a handful of women to her house for  each festival in the Celtic wheel of the year.  I really enjoyed learning about the way the eight festivals of the year were marked and the shifting of the seasons celebrated.  Such a lovely way to really dig into the seasons and re-connect with a time when we would have been so much closer to them.  I’ve shared some of what I learnt about the festivals with my boys since and I’d like to do more of that with them this year.

Many of the Celtic festivals are known to us by other names or in other guises.  Yule being the Winter Solstice and falling just before Christmas Day, Ostara being close to Easter in date and in name, Samhain being the same day as Halloween.  In their more modern guise we may already be marking some of them and I’ve found it lovely to learn about the roots of these festivals.  There’s such beauty in the simplicity of them, their connection to the earth and how they give a deeper rhythm to the year than four seasons can.

So I thought I’d write here a bit about how I intend on marking them with my children.  I’m nice and late with this first one, skidding in on the afternoon of the day itself.  But I think that’s part of the point.  It doesn’t need to be a big event, planned for ages and fussed over.  It can all be last minute, a day or a week late, thrown together and very simple.  Children don’t mind.  Each of the festivals in the wheel of the year mark a time.  They usually are centered around a particular day and it can be nice to have that date in the diary, but sometimes, for me, the date itself becomes more of a nudge.  A reminder to slow down and notice.  Notice the changes around, notice the light, notice what’s happening on the ground – in the garden, on walks.  Notice what’s different than it was before.

This is forever the best game to play with children.  They love and are excellent at the noticing.  And if they’re distracted and a little detached, it just takes for me to say ‘ let’s see what’s different today’ while we walk our dog and they’re there instantly.

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Simple ways to celebrate

The simplest ways to celebrate any of the Celtic festivals are repeating the same two things.  The time of year is what makes them feel completely different.

Nature table – It’s common for people who observe the Celtic/Pagan festivals to create an altar in their home.  That word freaked me out when I first came across it until I realised that I basically have one laid out all through the year.  We call it our nature table!  Ours, these days, is on our playroom windowsill.  Each season we lay it out and it gets added to and evolves over the weeks and months.  It’s always beautiful and uses colour, nature finds, sweet things we’ve made or gathered, prints and seasonal books to reflect the season.  It’s a lovely thing and this year I’m thinking about how we add to it for each festival.

A walk and some food – if we do nothing else to mark each festival, because life is too full or it creeps up on us or something, what we can and will do is to go for a walk and have some food.  Heck, we have a dog so we’ll be walking anyway and we need to eat.  So just wrapping those things we’ll already be doing in an intention and being a bit more thoughtful about them will be an easy way to connect.  Noticing what we notice on the walk, chatting about what we see and hear and smell and feel.  They’ll often draw what they’ve seen when we get back (lots of snowdrops being drawn at the moment).  Taking a picnic or coming home to a meal or a snack which reflects the time we’re honouring.  If we do nothing else, I’ll be satisfied that we slowed and paid attention.

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So today is Imbolc (pronounced: IM-ULK), the festival that marks the return of the light, the earth waking up and looking to the possibilities ahead of us as we gradually begin to emerge from winter hibernation.  Candlemas, the Christian festival, is also celebrated on 2nd February and bears a strong resemblance in the way it’s celebrated.

It’s a lovely festival to observe with children because the changes are so noticeable.  After a bare first half of the Winter the snowdrops are up, springtime bulbs are beginning to poke their shoots up through the soil, those of us with veg patches are beginning to talk about what we’ll plant this year.  There’s a change in the air, even though we still have a good bit of winter left, our energy seems to shift gear a little as we leave January behind and – the game changer – there’s still a little light in the sky at (our quite early) dinnertime.  It’s still Winter, yes, but we sense the green season to come.

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Imbolc things to do with children

Here are few ideas for things you can do with your littles if you want to, on top of or instead of the nature table and the walk plus food.  I just want to note before I dive in that I will not be doing all of these with my children.  There will be no Imbolc overachieving.  I am over overachieving.  We’ll do what there’s time for and what my lot are interested in and leave the rest for another year (or never!).  These are ideas rather than a tick list.  I refuse to be part of the social media / internet plague of adding to your ‘if I were a good parent I’d be doing (insert thing you don’t have time for) with my kids’ list.  If you continue reading please do so on the understanding that if you do none of these things, it’s fine, because you are already a good parent I’m sure.  Also, I’ve learnt from experience to think about whether my children are the right age to enjoy a given activity and whether they’re actually in the mood.  Nobody wants a swipey toddler near hot wax or a sullen, tired 9 year old having to be coaxed through the supposed-to-be joyous making of something.

 

An earth candle or light garden – as Imbolc is said to be about waking the seeds hidden below the ground and warming up the earth ready for the growing season it can be lovely to represent this for children with the warmth of candlelight.  An earth candle for older children can be lovely, whereby you dig a small dip in the soil, hold a wick in place and carefully pour in melted wax.  Lighting the candle once it’s hardened.  For younger ones, gathering a few lanterns or empty jam jars to pop tea lights in, placed around the garden or an outside space on the earth as the light fades. (Usual candle safety considerations apply of course!).  My two have some kindergarten songs about snowdrops and little bulbs hidden in the earth locked into their memories, so you’ll usually find one or other of them singing them as they go around the garden.

Candle-making – to indulge my own interest and use some little jars I’ve been saving, my little and I are going to make essential oil soy wax candles this month.  My box of oils are a source of interest so we’ll have some fun coming up with lovely blends and use the candles we make at home and as gifts.

A fire outside – many Imbolc traditions speak to it being a time to warm the earth, so a little fire in a fire pit to cook something over can be lovely.  I saw an Insta post yesterday  of somebody (@bradshawandsons, I think it was) making hot chocolate over their fire in the snow.  I can get behind that idea.

Veg-patch planning – this is something we need to do anyway and my two love being involved.  They’re already talking about what they’d like us to grow and what could go where so I might use this time to pin it all down and draw out a plan with them.  The possibilities and the looking ahead to the growing season are perfect for the Imbolc energy.

Wassailing – I think I’m right in saying that this tradition has no official relationship to Imbolc (am I right?) but it falls around the same time of year and with many Imbolc traditions being about warming up and waking up the earth, wassailing seems to fit in beautifully to my mind.  Traditionally wassailing was a communities way of coming together to bless the trees in their orchards and send away evil spirits so as to hopefully get good crop.  I’m sure the tradition varies but generally there’s singing and lanterns and a fire.  We’ve been invited to our first wassail and my boys are very excited, so we’ll definitely be doing this once.  You might find one in your area if you’re quick.

Making bird-feeders – a much loved activity in our house and there are so many different ways.  Pine cones stuffed with coconut oil, nut butter or vegetable suet mixed with seeds are brilliantly messy and fun.  We’ve also used empty yoghurt pots as moulds before.  For young ones, though the miss the ‘seed’ theme, pipe cleaners threaded with ‘Whole O’ cereals and bent into a circle to hang from branches is fun and great for fine motor skill development.  My 5 year old will happily make these still.

Protecting the shoots – in our old kindergarten there had been so many bulbs planted by the families over the years that they popped up in clumps all over the garden.  The teachers at this time of year would give the children the special task of protecting the young shoots and the children would eagerly find all the shoots in the garden and place little rings of pebbles around each clump to show where people should be careful with their step.  Such a sweet thing with the threefold benefit of the children excitedly discovering the new shoots, helping them to conscious of not trampling them and giving the children a sense of stewardship of the garden.  If you have shoots coming up in a garden or even see some at a park this can be a sweet thing for the children to be involved in.

Seedy muffins or flapjacks – we bake once a week (while my youngest is homeschooled) so on our next baking day we’ll probably tweak one of our favourite recipes to make it extra seedy.  Maybe this could be the celebratory food we take on our walk or have by the fire when we get home.  Other food traditions for Imbolc are food with a hidden surprise inside. The book I mentioned at the start of the post suggests a muffin with a surprise pocket of jam inside, representing the surprises that are waiting just out of sight in the earth, readying themselves for the Spring.  A sweet idea.

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As you can tell, I’m pretty easygoing about how we mark these festivals, just that we do in some small way.  I find it grounding and it slows us down a little, giving markers throughout the year to anticipate and to look back on.  With my youngest home with me each day at the moment, we can take our time with this, spreading some of the activities out over the week or even month ahead and following his interest in whichever direction it goes.

It’s often said that we have many more than four seasons and I like that these Celtic wheel of the year festivals give us 8 points to pause and notice with our children what’s happening around us.  I definitely need that as much as they do.

Do you have any Imbolc traditions or activities for this time of year that you do with your children?  Share your thoughts in the comments below if you’d like to.

the year the word chose me

I don’t hang out in this little space as much as I’d like to but if my past posts are anything to go by the one thing you can guarantee to drive me here is the turn of the year and all it brings.

Over the years I’ve learnt that my natural instinctive cycles don’t quite line up with our modern day calendar-driven view of the year.  Winter, with it’s darkest and shortest days, is my natural time to go within.  Within my house.  Inside my head.  Into my heart.  To un-pick and unravel.  To sit with where I’m at.  To rest and replenish and ready my energy, just as the natural world outside the window is doing in it’s own way.  It’s a real time of re-set.  Remembering what’s important and honouring it a little (or a lot) more.  Stepping away from all the noise.  Harder to do in this time of reliance on devices which bring so much of that, but so necessary.  It’s a time I’ve grown to love because I now know that when I do the inner work through the winter, I emerge in the spring feeling a bit new.

There is an element of new year dreaming for me but it’s quiet and felt rather than loud and heady.

I’m not active as a coach at the moment but during my decade in practice I would kick off the year with goals and plans and I’d work hard driving them forward.  I don’t knock that approach now but it isn’t for me.  In those days I was in my masculine energy a lot of the time.  I think I had to be for the corporate world and I to get along.  Your masculine energy (yang) will help you power on through, but lordy does it need to be balanced – at least, it does in me – or the road leads to burnout.  Motherhood and the way I live these days calls much more on my feminine and I’ve found puts me much more in tune with this inward-focused time of Winter.

For years now I’ve chosen a word for the year and I’ve written about it often.  When I (repeatedly) wore myself out hustling it was a grounding practice which kept me true to what my heart was calling for and helped me to feel I was moving and growing, without the push push push feeling of my 20s.  It’s been a lovely reference for my years; I can journey back through them in vivid detail just thinking about the word of that year.  Some of them have been huge in their healing powers or their impact on how life shifted and panned out.  I look back on some of them as old friends.  I certainly was not the founder of the approach – at best, an earlyish adopter – but it’s been gorgeous to see it blossoming into an approach to the new year which supports so many people.

Last year was a huge year for my little family.  Our much loved Steiner school had closed, and while an awesome group of parents were working hard to keep that kind of education going in the area (and are succeeding beautifully – The New School, Canterbury) it had been clear that for us there was a strong need to make a new choice.  That style of education was so important to us, but we also needed the security of an established and stable school with plenty more friends to play with and a less-stress lifestyle.  It had been an enormous journey but this time last year we were readying ourselves to say goodbye to Kent, goodbye to the area we grew up in, goodbye to much-loved family and dear friends (more see you soon than goodbye, but still), goodbye to our house we’d poured love into for 11 years, goodbye to all our special places and reference points.  And hello to a new life in Herefordshire.

It was a considered decision.  We did know deep in our gut that it felt right.  We were moving to an area we had already fallen for.  A house in the countryside which despite being a bit of a project ticked every wish on the dreamed up list I’d set in new moon intentions more times than I can remember.  Hello to freedom from school fees and a sense of more space to choose the lifestyle we wanted.  But it was terrifying.  And very, very unsettling.

Added to that, the final month of our house sale was peppered with unexpected requests and delays which had us feeling like we were standing on shifting sand and I was newly, temporarily homeschooling on top of everything else.  So when I sat in January last year wondering what my word for the year might be, you can imagine why I drew an absolute blank.  I could barely imagine what the next day would look like let alone the year.

For the first time in a long time I didn’t choose a word.  I didn’t journal it, blog it, talk about it or anything.  Like so many other things at that time, I placed it gently in the ‘too hard’ basket and walked away.  Bigger fish to fry.

But one chose me.

The beautiful thing about all human beings is that we KNOW.  When we stop thinking and trying and let go of control, like magic our inner sage offers up the answer we couldn’t get close to seeing while we were trying so hard.  I remember while skittering around the house one day pre-move that I idly wondered: ‘if there was a word that would support me through this year of our big move, what would it be?’.  Grounding, came the answer from within.  Then more strongly, ROOT.

It seemed an odd word.  It somehow didn’t feel alive and inspiring and like something that was going to move me forward very far.  I would’ve preferred something like ‘bloom’ or ‘grow’ if we were going with plant analogy.  But no, my gut told me they weren’t right.  ‘Root’ hung around me, smelling earthy and feeling weighty, wanting me to stand still and feel into where I was.  I was not wildly comfortable with it.

So no blog post.  No word.  I had enough to do.  Moving would be the focus and then, well, I’d just see.

We moved.  It was huge and brought up every emotion.  I was crap at the goodbyes, in particular.  We were not as organised as I’d wanted us to be, it felt chaotic, but it happened with a sense of ease that comes from rising above it all.  Knowing that whatever happened, we’d shake it out at the other end.

We woke up on air beds in our empty new house.  Our stuff arrived.  We thanked the universe there was a garage to put half of it in while the epic job of unpacking began.  And so we unpacked and found what we needed.  We began to get to know our new space.  Grounding and rooting.  We unearthed our table and cooked our usual food.  Plumbed in the washing machine and filled our fridge back up.  Grounding and rooting.  We assembled rooms.  Put things on the walls.  Worked out and adapted to how things worked around here.  Grounding and rooting.  We ventured out and found what we needed.  We learned how to get back to our house without needing Siri to help us.  Grounding and rooting.  We paid attention to the light and how we used our new rooms and began slowly, mindfully to make it ours.  Grounding and rooting.  Plastering, painting, planning and dreaming.  Of what we can do now and what we will do sometime.  Grounding and rooting.  Meeting neighbours and gradually new friends.  School.  Invitations and exploring.  Finding it’s an even more beautiful area than we realised.  Rooting.  Seasons shifting, garden growing, hedgerows blooming, air changing.  Rooting.  Veg patch started, fruit tree planted.  Watching to see what comes up through our already loved patch of earth.  Rooting.  A puppy.  A Summer.  Birthdays.  Rooting.  New rhythms, bedding in.  The season changes again.  Rooting.  Coming full circle.  Back to ourselves.  Worn out.  Empty cup.  Digging back in to trusted ways of caring for ourselves.  Rooting.  Back to bascis.  Back to the heart and the core of us.  Emotionally re-planting.  Feeling into a sense of groundedness as the year turns again.  Rooting.

That was our year and I’ll look back on it with love and compassion.  It was far from perfect.  The years that both make and break me, as this one did, always stay with me.  And while I might not have wanted ‘root’ with it’s earthy, weightiness, it was exactly what I needed.  Whenever I felt overwhelmed, unsettled and couldn’t find the ground, it would come to me.  Reminding me.  I’d remember to breathe.  To feel the earth underneath me.  Reach out to the support around me.  Feed myself.  Drink tea.  Root into the very things that would day by day, inch by inch help us grow actual roots here.

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The year changed me without a doubt.  And it changed my yearly practice for sure.  These words I choose to hold might be inspiring and may lead me forward but in their essence they must be supportive, loving and feel like home.  So that, whispered in my own ear, they feel like medicine for the soul.

This year’s word is Nourish.  It came much easier.  The bags under my eyes, lack of sparkle and cold upon virus upon infection told it all.  It was almost Nurture and it was almost Feed.  It has similarities to the healing year of Tend.  It’s a lot about, ok I’ve done the big shit.  I’ve moved across the country, settled my family, worked out all the stuff, made headway, made friends, kept all (most of) the plates in the air, lost my head a few times, worn myself out completely and survived.  Nobody will mind too much then if I gently scoop up my depleted cup and tiptoe off to call in ALL the things that will help re-fill it.  Self care, soul food and absolute self compassion are where I’m headed first because if I run myself as ragged as I did last year I will end up in a messy heap on the floor.  Again.

January so far has been as much about boundaries as anything else.  We can always find more and more and more that needs doing.  More and more that wants our energy.  Especially within Motherhood.  So I’ve started here.  Carving out windows of time for things that feed me.  Making evenings a sacred time of rest.  Or play.  Or whatever brings light and warmth and glow.  Eating well.  Feeding, nourishing, in all the ways.  And it’s already making a difference.

*

I’m hoping to write more about nourishing ourselves as I go along through this year.  It’s always been one of my things.  My friends would tell you that.  They’d possibly tell you I’m excellent at it too.  Ironic then that I need to carry this word into the year as my guiding light.  I may talk about it a lot but aren’t we just brilliant at forgetting to take our own medicine?  Or more accurately in my case, continuously putting ourselves in the position where we need the medicine (face palm).  I’d love for you to join in the conversation if you relate to this.  Happy Nourishing New Year.

What to do with wild garlic

A quick post in response to questions and requests I’ve had from sharing our wild garlic foraging and eating adventures.

My boys are born foragers. Once they’ve be shown something in the wild that’s edible they lock it into their memory bank and recognise it forevermore. They even pre-empt the timing of each plant’s season and start hunting just at the time it’s about to spring forth.  It’s impressive.

This year, in a new area and with the lengthy Winter we had, we’ve been a bit lost as to what we’re looking for and where to find it.  Well, I have!  They are totally tuned in still.  ‘It must be time for wild garlic,’ said my eldest over breakfast a couple of weeks ago.  We didn’t know where to look so we asked a neighbour and following his instructions found a huge patch and a gorgeous walk pretty much on our doorstep.

Coming home with a basket and all of N’s pockets stuffed full, I decided I needed to broaden my wild garlic use or we’d never get through it all.  Pesto is our first call. So easy and it keeps well, plus I’ve finally landed on a recipe I really love.  This year we’ve also added wild garlic to focaccia (this has to be the biggest winner), to dhals, to soups and stirred it through pasta and stir fry dishes right at the end.  This weekend I’ve got a roasted veg tart on the menu so a handful will go in there too.  It’s all kinds of awesome anywhere you’d have used spinach or chard and you get the added benefit of a kick of garlic.

Don’t forget the flower buds.  They’re all peeking out now here.  Chomp one of the those for a fiery garlic experience and throw them in along with the leaves.  Somebody told me the flowers aren’t so good to eat once the bud has opened?  I can’t verify that since they’ve not opened here yet.

There were many requests for the pesto recipe, so here that is.  Super easy and totally delicious.

 

Wild garlic and basil pesto

When I started making pesto with our foraged wild garlic a few years back I was following a River Cottage recipe – in fact, I may have posted that one on here before.  It replaced pine nuts with walnuts and, as with most wild garlic pesto recipes, it was purist in it’s use of just wild garlic as the green ingredient.  No basil.  It was fine but the walnuts made it a little bitter and I missed the fragrant basil so I invented my own version year on year and this is where I’ve ended up. Makes roughly a jam jar sized amount

Ingredients

40g wild garlic leaves, washed
A good handful of basil leaves
30g pine nuts (or go down the walnut route if you like)
30g parmesan (sometimes I’ve used other strong hard cheese – there must also be a vegan option you could sub in)
80ml extra virgin olive oil
A good pinch or two of sea salt
A grind of black pepper

 

Method

Food processor: throw in the leaves, half the pine nuts, the parmesan (broken into smaller chunks) and the salt and pepper and blend while pouring the oil into the spout.  When it looks like it’s all combined and there are no whole leaves left, stir in the remaining pine nuts and spoon into a sterilised jar, covering the top with a layer of more olive oil to preserve it.

By hand: pop the leaves, half the pine nuts, the parmesan (broken into smaller chunks) and the salt and pepper into a mortar and pestle and grind until you get the consistency you’re after.  Stir in the remaining pine nuts and spoon into a sterilised jar, covering the top with a layer of more olive oil to preserve it.

It doesn’t last long in our house.  I’m putting it on everything at the moment and – bonus – I saw off a cold in 24 hours this week so I’d highly recommend that.  I’m not sure how long it’ll last in the fridge but I’ve kept it for a week or two in the past.  Just keep the top covered with oil.

(I’m not going to lie – I’ve no time for taking pretty pictures today unfortunately so this is one I’ve grabbed from last year!)

The great thing about seeking wild garlic out in the wild is that you can smell it a mile off, so you’re unlikely to mistake something non-edible for it. Do check through your pickings though because we’ve found other plant life sneaks in, particularly when eager grabby hands are picking. Happy foraging!

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Post-move mindfulness

I tend to need a strong base in order to reach out into the world and do my thing.  Well, do anything really.  This past year I’ve had anything but.  Happily, everything is settling now and I’m beginning to feel the very beginning of rootedness but there’s still quite a way to go.  This week with it’s big, messy upheaval at home from builders when we’d only just started to feel like we had some kind of homely order sent me into a spin.  The rootedness is coming but there’s still quite a way to go.

It’s a bit like putting your tent up in high winds.  You think you’re getting somewhere when a sudden gust pulls it out of your hands and rips up a few other tent pegs on the way.

I’ve been thinking really consciously about what I need, to feel as grounded as I can be and trying to do those things.  It’s easy to make them into a big list alongside the already enormous just-moved-in, renovating house, getting-to-know-our-new-area one and heaping on the overwhelm.  Not so helpful.  I’m very much attempting not to do that by lovingly letting it go every time I drop a ball.

It’s been particularly tricky to find the time, space and energy to focus on my work given that I naturally draw upon my usual solid base to do it, but the need to tend to it stirs in my belly several times a day and I need to find a way to answer the call.

So, I’m sat at my table in an unusually quiet new house, with tea, candlelight, my journal and the laptop drawing in my focus and getting on with things.  I paid the deposit last week on the location of this summer’s Mother Wild Camp and we have such good soulful stuff planned that I have to get it out there.

 

Before that though, in case it’s helpful, here’s my guide to how I’m attempting to get rooted post-move and while life and house are in a state of flux.  I’d love to know how you do it.

 

Ahimsa

In my twenties, I practised yoga with a wonderfully warm and wise yoga teacher called Erica.  She was and is the epitome of the deep-rooted yogi and wise woman.  I had no idea what she was teaching me at the time but I knew to listen and listen well.  What came out of her mouth was golden.  All these years later her words continue to float back to me on the breeze when I need them.

Last week I was despairing at something and beginning a train of self-talk which was in no way helpful, when the word ‘ahimsa’ came into my head.  When she first talked to me about this first limb of yoga I doubt I fully got it.  These days, having carried it around for a good decade, it’s settled into my unconscious to the extent that I realise what she was on about.  ‘Ahimsa’ is said to be the practice of non-violence to self and others.  It’s meaning runs deep and I can’t do it justice here, except to say it’s worth thinking about.  When I sit with it consciously in times of stress and overstretch it helps me make better choices for myself.  Non-violence to self, to me, means kindness within.  It’s holding myself gently, catching my inner voice before it turns negative and putting down the stick, always.  It looks like softening my gaze, moving more slowly, being methodical and seeking out the light in a situation.  It sounds like gentle words, inside and out, and reassuring myself like I would my child.  It feels like tending to what I need to refresh and refuel and get up again.  It means allowing all the feelings and sometimes allowing balls to drop in order to process all I need to.

The world moves at quite a pace and in the age of social media comparison we sometimes feel we have to constantly be moving or be left behind.  When I catch myself there, ‘ahimsa’ sees me pausing, waiting, breathing, choosing my own pace, my own definition of movement.  Sometimes it means achieving less  to feel better. It’s self-care in all the ways, not just the instagrammable ways.

 

Children first

With this move being a relocation, there have been so many layers of needs that it’s hard to know which to begin with.  I very much subscribe to the ‘fit your own oxygen mask first’ school of thought and I’ve probably been doing that on some level, but post-move I’ve felt strongly that the primary need has been to settle the children first.  As a grown-up who has experienced a lot of change I know the process well.  The familiar untetheredness doesn’t last too long in the scheme of things and I know we’ll reach firmer ground in time.  Our children, having lived in the same place since they were born, don’t have the benefit of my experience and I’ve wanted to give them a good model of living through big change.  So it’s there needs I’ve turned to first.

Re-establishing rhythms and routines, finding familiarity, following the signs for what they need.  I’m blessed with an 8 year old who gives me a running commentary of how he feels.  Sometimes it’s tiring but it’s been so helpful in gauging what they need because he’s a good barometer of his slightly less vocal little brother’s feelings too.

They’re missing friends, family and normality understandably and it’s been clear what they need most is a new normal.  I think that comes naturally to some degree but things I’ve been doing to help it along is normal stuff like grocery shopping, garden centre visits, planting seeds for them to keep a watch over, giving them roles and jobs – favourites are feeding the birds and using their garden cart to transport things from car to house.  We’ve taken time to get to know our neighbours and the neighbourhood dogs, resulting in being invited along on dog walks (perfect for my two who eagerly await their first puppy in a few months) and over to play with neighbour’s grandchildren.  We’ve begun swimming lessons, signed up to forest school and said a grateful yes to all play date requests.  After 6 weeks there is an early sense of having some of ‘our people’ around us and of the children being seen, recognised and known.  They love that.  It’s a real strength of theirs that they embrace it so.

Building something for them into the stuff I need for myself has been great for us all.  While I try to stick with an almost-daily yoga and meditation (seriously the main thing that has kept me in a good place these past few months), they are loving their morning Cosmic Kids sessions, discovered via a convo in Melanie’s wonderful new facebook group.  Sometimes I forget to go and use the time for myself because I love watching them.

 

Nourishing evenings

As part of the ‘ahimsa’ thing and having tended to the boy’s needs, I’m trying to fully gift myself the evenings.  We have no dishwasher until we re-do the kitchen and while we’re getting started on the renovations of this lovely old house some areas feels such a mess, so it’s tempting to spend whole evenings doing, doing, doing.  But to be honest, with the artexed ceilings, anaglypta wallpaper and burgundy carpets it feels a little bit like squatting regardless of how much time I put into organising it so sometimes I’m letting it go in favour of what I really need.  I took some books out of the library (that’s another thing the boys are loving, regular trips there) and I’m sometimes sinking into fiction (something I’ve been missing), early nights, quiet time, whatever my soul needs.  And yes, sometimes it does need an hour on Pinterest building up a lovely picture of how this place will look one day.  I’m telling you, it does 🙂

 

Planning kindly

There’s a lot to do and a trip out to find something we need can take five times as long as it would have done back in Kent where we knew the places to go to get stuff, so it’s easy to feel like there are not enough hours in the day.  In all honesty I’ve been feeling that since becoming a parent anyway, but it’s even stronger right now.  Happily I’m a virgo and I love lists and plans so I have a notebook taped to my side always at the mo.  I’m doing my best to get it all out of my head into some kind of order while recognising that there are helpful lists and lists to beat yourself with.  We’re having none of the latter!

Planning kindly has become the thing.  Parking anything too big or with too many questions surrounding it and working with the list that feels possible.  Allowing it to unfold rather than flogging myself.  Taking huge delight in any progress even if something is unravelling behind me.

 

And when all of that doesn’t work, going to hide somewhere with a cup of tea, a squirt of recue remedy and messaging the friends I miss is the thing.

 

I’d love for you to add any of your tips for getting re-grounded in the comments here and if you’re in a similar place to me I’m sending hugs of solidarity.  We can do this.  We were made for it.

 

If you’re keen to hear about our Mother Wild Camp plans, head over here to hop onto our mailing list because we’ll open it up to subscribers first, likely in the next week or so.

 

 

Rituals to help us through…

After a long time away, my writing voice came calling this week, sparked by a conversation with my friend Hannah about the overwhelm and triggers that fall out of house moves and big life changes.  While messaging with her, I wrote that I find moving SUPER unsettling.  On top of that, I’m really excited about lots of it… but the trouble with that?  Too much excitement is SUUUPER unsettling for me as well. Double whammy.

It’s always interesting when the truth spills out of you on to the page or screen.  I had a moment of clarity.  Ah ok so that’s how I’m feeling.

Add to that a fair few layers of loss and impending loss (my dear Nanna is only just hanging on with us right now, we’ll soon be leaving family and friends when we move and our beloved school is closing) and the picture builds.  It seems that overwhelm, uprootedness and daily rounds of ALL the emotions are here to stay awhile and this is what I’m noticing…

Small things like clothes left on the bathroom floor are really bothering me.  As is noise, which is inescapable in my house.  Not my usual way, but I’m needing acres of quiet, order and alone time to process and unpack all the feelings.  Sometimes I’m not making the most loving choices for myself which puts my inner voice on a trajectory that’s not helpful or kind.  It can feel like floating and spinning and losing contact with the ground.  It shows up as low patience, self-doubt, over-sensitivity and zero headspace for small talk.  Man, I must be a joy to live with right now.

Moving house, loss and endings tend to trigger us all in some way or another.  They are big life events and even if some of them come about by choice, it’s so very normal to be unsettled and overwhelmed by them.  There’s probably no avoiding the stuff that gets thrown up.  It becomes about how we weather it, how we support ourselves and what we make the stuff mean.

The irony of writing this is that a few days ago I could not have voiced what I was doing to support myself – it was so unconscious.  I might’ve assumed I was doing nothing at all.  Having a conversation with somebody in a similar headspace helped me see what I was doing and, crucially, what I’ve been missing.

So, I’m sharing here my ways of seeing myself through this period of change.  Maybe they’re strategies, but that word feels a bit heady and clinical.  I’m choosing instead to call them rituals.  Rituals that are supportive and loving and, in some respects, sacred – repeated for as long as they’re needed.  They might serve as a pick and mix for others in unsettling times.  And if you have any to add I’d love to hear them.

Keeping on top of the small stuff

I can cope with my head being a mess if I can look around and see order.  My house hasn’t reached virgo levels of tidiness in at least a decade.  My little and big housemates don’t share that impulse with me.  But right now, keeping floors and surfaces relatively clear, being on top of the washing, having the fridge well-stocked, ticking off the jobs – it all helps me to feel there’s some order in the chaos.

 

Parking anything it’s not time for

Like the packing.  Who wants to spend Christmas surrounded by boxes?  Unless you have to, of course, but we don’t.  Our move will likely go through late January so we can afford to just live in our house during December and enjoy our last Christmas here before the boxes roll in.

My friend tells me to investigate a packing service.  When she made a long distance move, the cost of the packing service didn’t really add much to the removal cost.  I don’t know if that will be the case with our move but… imagine!

 

Hibernating as needed (but knowing when it’s enough)

Quiet alone time at home is like oxygen right now.  Time and space to potter, plan, think and feel does a lot for my mental state.  Too much though and the inner dialogue can go awry.  I don’t get much child-free time anyway but when I do I’m trying to be discerning about what I need.  Hibernate at home or roam outside?  I could really do with a short-term loan of someone’s dog.  The last time I had this much change and loss in one go I literally walked my way through it; pounding streets, paths and beaches with my dog.

 

Doing what I know comforts me

Big pots of warming, comforting food.  Lighting the fire.  Piling on woolie jumpers.  Reading and listening to words that touch my soul.  Going to bed super early.  Sometimes taking the laptop to escape into Poldark or The Crown.  Pinning ideas for our new home.  Snuggling up for storytime with my boys.  Knitting a jumper for my littlest love.

 

Simplifying

Oh I had big plans for Autumn/Winter/Advent/Christmas crafting and creating, at home and within my work.  But.  It took me a while, but I did eventually learn that when you have enough on your plate, you take things off rather than pile more on.

My lovely friend Sara and I, when our babies were little, used to talk a lot about low expectation days.  We’d gift them to ourselves when we were in massive overwhelm, which was quite often with two babes who hardly slept.  Well, right now, I’m gifting myself a season of low expectation days.  We’ll do some of the stuff I dreamt up, but not all and that will be just fine.

 

Natural support

Increasingly my home feels like an apothecary (and I couldn’t be happier about it!).  What I’m reaching for at the moment are: warming, spicy, gingery teas to chase off the cold I’ve had, green smoothies and plenty of beetroot and other roots for chi-boosting, blood-building qualities.  I know of old the ways in which stress depletes my body.  I’m about to top up on herbs from my dear herbalist friend Jodie.  Her herbal tincture mixes for nervous system support have seen me through many times of stress or change.  Rose (for grief), Avena (for soothing) and Borage (for courage) often feature strongly in my personal mixes.  I’m also trying to make sure I’m getting my b vits because a battered nervous system will need them.  I prefer to get what I need through my diet but since I eat largely plant-based a supplement is sometimes helpful.  At the mo, popcorn with Himalayan salt and nutritional yeast (source of b vits) is a big favourite in our house.

When I come up against big emotional stuff I head to my homeopath.  And daily I’m getting huge benefits from diffusing and applying essential oils.  I signed up with dōTERRA* a few months back and I’m finding it truly awe-inspiring to have blends that uplift, calm, ground and support me in my arsenal.  They’re doing wonders for the whole household.  And then there’s my mainstay… Epsom salt baths for the win.

(*Not an ad but this page links to my account, meaning I get a commission for orders placed through it)

 

Could do more of…

For all I’m doing, it’s mostly in snatched moments in and around the busyness of life with two children, alongside moving house paperwork and hospital visiting.  I could do with doing a little more of all of it.  It’s one thing picking up the herbs but I need to consistently take them.  I’ve been feast and famine with yoga and doing zero meditiation.  One day I will nail these as daily practices, I will, I will.

 

Seeing ahead

Whenever I’ve stood in the middle of a life storm I’ve known that I have a choice.  To get whipped up and carried away by the stuff and busyness and the emotion of it.  Or to be in it while holding onto the knowledge that there’s an end point somewhere.  It will all settle down again.  It will look very different when it does, but it will look how it’s supposed to.  And I’ll walk around in the new normal and be grateful for both what came before and the shift to what is now.

I’ve been imagining a time in the early Spring when the storm has blown itself out, when the Winter is slipping away and I walk out of my new house with many of the goodbyes I’m right now anticipating (dreading?) behind me and I see shoots of green poking through the soil in my new garden.  And I breathe out.  I breathe into the newness and begin to feel settled again.  As a visualisation it’s really working for me.  I really look forward to returning to a place of feeling settled, though for now I’ll root into today as much as I can.  For all it’s unsettledness and times when I want to hide in a cupboard, it’s still all pretty awesome, this journey of mine.

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I’m just thinking that writing should join the list somewhere. It’s been a really help to write all this down.  Hurrah for the writing impulse returning!  Thought I’d scared it off for good this time.

I’d love for you to share any tips or rituals you have for helping yourself get through in the comments below, if you’d like to.    And if you’re going through all the changes at the moment, give a wave – we could form a virtual circle of support  xo

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gathering and tending (a work in progress)

Here we go, a few words about what I’m working on.  Grabbing them quickly and laying them down here before they whoosh off and desert me again!

I’m at the very beginning of creating something that’s straight from my heart and something I feel the world needs more of and it feels really good.  It’s about women.  In this case specifically mothers – gathering together in wild, wholehearted support of one another, in all our sameness and differences.

A place and a time to sit in the feminine energy of a gathering of mums, feel a hint of the ‘village’ we’re all missing and take care of our own needs for a while.

Because they are many, these needs of ours.

Us mums, we do so much.  We hold so much.  We fill all the cups of the little and big people we love.  And we leave filling our own to the end of the day or week or month, when we maybe squeeze in a little bit of self-care, making only a small dent, but often it’s all we can manage.

While within us there lie parts of ourselves waiting for some tending.  Our bodies want to rest or stretch or move and our minds want to be opened; without too much effort on our part ideally, because we’re TIRED.  Our creativity wants a fling out in the open.  Our soul craves something, anything really, to nourish us.

In our busy, exhausting and, yes, joyful days it feels a tiny bit selfish to think of our own needs.  We’re told subliminally all the time that we’re supposed to be superwoman. And maybe we already are in some ways.

But I know this…

Tending our own needs has a further reach than we realise. Our families reap what we sow. When we go back to them, having felt seen and heard and understood and having played with some ways of unravelling our minds and our tired shoulders and our bunched up creative urges, they see a mum recharged with a lighter step and a twinkle in her eye. And they LOVE that.

I know, because I’ve seen it with my own eyes.  It’s hard to step away, to leave them in order to honour my self, but I see the lovely shift reflected in their eyes when I walk back through the door.  Mummy is back.  She’s the same but different.  And everything is good.

I’m going to begin offering some workshops and retreats for mums over the coming months.  To start with they’ll be in Kent, but I’ll later think about travelling them around a bit.  I used to run some, pre-children, and applying the motherhood filter has taken them into a whole new realm.  In my bones, I know that we’ve never needed stuff like this more.  No mum should feel competed with, unsupported, lonely, hemmed in or dog tired all the time.  I’m hoping that through these ‘days off’ I’m going to offer, through some online stuff I hope to create and a lot of tribe-building social-media-ing we can bring something supportive and nourishing to mums who want and need it.  Because mums need nurturing too.

Join me on Instagram with  #nurturethemothers,  a fledgling hashtag project celebrating our moments of self care, and register your interest for retreats, workshops and other things in the works at www.mothernurturemotherwild.co.uk

sunday (free-from) pancakes

  
This pic, straight from my insta, and the briefest, hastiest blog post before I forget the (surprisingly good) pancake recipe I made up this morning. I know they’re going to ask for them over and over so I can’t let this recipe go the way of so many forgotten inventions of days past!

Apple and Cinnamon, dairy-free, spelt and almond pancakes

180g spelt flour (I used the ‘white’ variety that isn’t really white but has less bits in)

70g ground almonds

2 tsp baking powder

Pinch of sea or Himalayan salt

2 large eggs

1 apple, grated

Sprinkle of cinnamon to your taste (as in, I’ve no idea how much we put in because I left it to my 4 year old!)

We measured the dry ingredients in a wide-mouthed batter jug, the wet ingredients in another. Combined the two and blitzed with a stick blender – easily done by hand but we were HUNGRY – stirred in the apple and cinnamon and then just put two tablespoons-ish at a time in the oiled pan, flipping them when the bubbles rose and popping them in a low oven to keep warm.

If you’re totally dairy-free, coconut oil is your best bet I’d imagine. We often use that. But we tolerate butter fine and my hand reached for that this morning. Either way, I think they’re a winner. 

Happy Sunday!

Going ‘back to work’ is mildly terrifying and we probably need to talk about it more

A bit of background: I’m a coach.  I ran my own business for 8 years or so, combining high level corporate coaching with personal coaching.  Heart-warming, cup-filling work which made a difference to people and earned me a good living.  I loved it in so many ways, but as my firstborn reminded me, loudly and clearly when he arrived, it wasn’t ALL of me. The way I wanted to mother him (gently, attached, consciously) didn’t sit as easily alongside the work as I’d imagined it would.  After almost 2 years of juggling work and family I chose to take a career break.  It was hard to shut down what I’d worked so hard on and I cried over it, but it was also so right for us then and I have never regretted it for even one second. Another son and 5 years later, we have all felt the benefit. I am changed because I allowed motherhood to change me – I’m pretty sure it was supposed to – and I’m happier and more whole than I’ve ever been.

Still, while it’s been the very best thing to have had a chunk of years to be all about mothering (and I’m so grateful this was even a possibility for us), it wasn’t intended to be a forever choice.  I always knew I’d journey back to work when it felt right and that call has been coming through.

So a journey back to work is on the cards, but, in fact, forwards rather than back.  Because there is no going back, I don’t believe. Not for me.  Intense experience changes us and while we can go back and put our old career back on like a suit, I’m not convinced that it always fits as well as it used to. At least, that’s how I’m feeling. And it’s ok to ask, ‘well, who am I these days and what do I give from where I stand now?’.

The answer has been a work in progress for a year or two. A hazy sense of knowing it wasn’t ‘this’ and it wasn’t ‘there’ but it might be ‘this’, perhaps with a bit of ‘that’. Foggy, unclear ideas and feelings; coded messages from my heart to my mind that took a while to decipher. But I’ve gone with it and I have an answer. I have a thing I’m going to do.

It’s not completely new – kind of an evolved version of what I did before combined with a heap of new stuff.  It has threads that speak to every piece of meaningful work I’ve ever done.  It’s a response to a wonder I’ve long held.  It’s for people I would gladly spend my life upholding because I believe in their awesomeness (it’s for Mums).

It feels important. It’s everything I want to do work-wise right now. And it’s really quite scary!

Because it’s big and we don’t talk about this ‘back to work’ stuff enough.

New work and starting a business is big in itself.  But restarting, reworking, relaunching, redesigning, re-entry into the world of work as a mum after a long time out – something that most of us do at some point in our journey – gosh, it’s HUGE. Add to the mix that it’s something you care deeply about and you still have your family to care for and… whoa!

Like much of motherhood, there’s this weird societal norm that says we should just get on with this big transition quietly and not make too much of a fuss.  Well, I’m not sure I’m buying that.  We need to talk about this.  We need to honour the uniqueness of the part of the mothering journey where we begin to move away ever so slightly.  And we need to hold a space for each other while we navigate it. If it’s exciting or terrifying, if it’s exhausting and messy – we need the space to say that it is. Hearing it makes people realise their own fears are normal and maybe stops them burying their thing before it’s grown wings.

And so, in the manner of a slightly wired friend who left her filter at home, I’m just going to do an emotional download on the subject. I know a few mums – in real life and on Insta – who are in the process of getting back to work at the same time as me and it might help them to read it. If nothing else it’ll quieten my head down and free me to get on!

All the scary things about restarting my career/business

I’m starting from zero. Again.
Standing at the beginning of something fresh and new is great in so many ways.  And it’s also hugely daunting. Having stood here before, at the beginning of creating something, I know how much work it’s going to take. Working for myself was by far the most rewarding way I found of working, but it was also the most demanding.  The first time around I had no concept of what was ahead.  I wonder if it would have scared me off?  This time I need to take the leap knowing all about what I’ll need to put in.  The thought gives me butterflies.  Have I got it in me a second time around?

Where the heck do I find all the time?
I mutter this often.  When I’ve written an epic list which’ll take me ten times the available window I have to work that day, I feel massively overwhelmed.  There’s a lesson in allowing the rest of life to dictate the pace.  There are only so many hours in a day or week when my little loves don’t need me. Sometimes those hours are all that are available.  I’m learning to just go with them.  Balancing the odd late-night working with early nights the rest of the week. Calling in some daddy-daycare when it’s possible.  I try to tell myself it’ll take as long as it takes and that has to be ok.  Pre-children timeframes were very different, but these are the ones I have now so I’ll work with them.

Meanwhile, I do mental things like committing to a date and deciding I’m going to build my own website.
I don’t even know what to say about this.  It just seemed like the right thing to do!  Predictably it sparked a mass freak-out.  Luckily I have a husband who thinks I’m invincible and is great at pep talks, a web designer friend who made it seem easy and the dogged determination I see in my four year old.  So I guess we’ll just see how that pans out? (Help!)

Putting myself out there feels all kinds of vulnerable
There’s been a simplicity in being a full-time mum.  Not needing to put myself out there for anything much has been a luxury.  With no need to sell myself or anything else, I could just be myself. It’s been a healing place to sit.  Just me in the world.  No cloak around my shoulders. The work I’m creating comes from this place; from having been able to be my whole self without playing any corporate games.  And when I step out there to offer it up, it will be just me, in the world, offering something I care about.  That’s where the fear kicks in.  The vulnerability of putting myself out there with an open heart, no protection cloak, and allowing my self to be seen… oh wow, somebody give me a shot of courage please!

There will be sacrifices
I’ve had the luxury for a few years of never really having to say ‘no I can’t do that, dear child of mine, because I have to work’. And so beginning to say it has felt strange and uncomfortable.  The confused looks and the slight disappointment.  Ouch, it’s hurt a little bit.  I’m aware that to make space there’ll be times when I’m pulling away and while I don’t love the idea of that, I’m reminding myself of the other side. I’m raising two boys, after all, and it’s my job to show them a life well-lived.  While I want to be by their sides, holding all the hands and reading all the stories, I also want to show them how to follow a path that matters to you. I want to find a way to show them that family and work can coexist happily when you’re mindful of balance. That work isn’t really work when you do something you love. That it all gives more than it takes away, for everybody. And so, I’m trying to embrace the small sacrifices here and there and keep in mind what it’s giving us all too.

I sometimes have to remember why I’m doing it
The fears, the mum guilt, the vulnerability – on certain days when the wind is blowing in the right direction they swirl around and put me in a negative headspace. I end up questioning it all, wondering if I’ve got my priorities entirely wrong. Those are the days I have to dig deep and remember my why. My why is that this work calls to me. It allows me and others to be creative and grounded, supported and well-resourced. It’s wholly about the good it does. My inner critic can be loud and harsh and I’m getting used to quelling it’s fears. It isn’t about succeeding or failing, it isn’t about it or me, it’s about them. It’s about showing up with something good to offer those who want it and doing the work well.

 

And so you see, I can talk myself into it and I can talk myself out of it at any given moment.  That might go some way to explaining why I feel like a crazy person some days.  Given I’m attempting this alongside finishing off my Handwork course (a portfolio of 2 year’s work!) I very possibly am crazy!  What it comes down to though is: it is a bit scary, there isn’t enough time, I’m feeling pulled in all directions, but somehow I’ll make it work because I have to.  I’m a driven, creative woman, who also happens to be a mum, and I need to honour that.

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I’m looking forward to sharing more of what I’m hatching here soon.  I don’t quite have the words yet, but they’re not far off.  And if you’re walking in similar shoes to me right now, beginning something exciting and scary which changes things at home, I see your inner crazy person and I raise you mine!  Comment if you feel like it and we’ll cheer each other on.