Gratitude

Do you ever do the word of the year? I remember picking one last year, but then I forgot what it was. Clearly it worked really well for me. Maybe this year will be different? Whether I remember the word or not, I do need to remember the action.

Gratitude

... Be thankful for what I have in my life instead of focusing on what I don't have.
... Be thankful for the friends and family who support me.
... Write thank you notes, even when they are way, way, way overdue.
... Acknowledge past efforts of those who do things to make my life special and better.
... Let the kids know that every day they make my life better, even when there are lost goggles, spilled cheerios, and early morning interruptions.
... Give thanks to each of you for encouraging me.

Goal Setting for 2014

My oldest, The Monster, is very big into goal setting thanks to her public education. We work hard at breaking down the details and steps necessary to reach her goals. In that process it has reminded me that I need to do a bit of that myself.

So, here goes. In 2014 my studio goals are:

1. To turn all quilt tops sitting in my closet as of right now into completed quilts. There are 10 of them. And 2 others already being quilted.

2. To distribute all the Just One Slab quilts before the end of winter.

3. Stay on top of my accounting with a monthly sit down in front of a spreadsheet and a pile of receipts.

4. Revamp my website and blog (with the input from all of you!)

5. Produce at least 1 new pattern for sale.

6. Finish one of my novels.

7. Complete at least 3 quilts in a series I've got planned. This Mountain Meadows would be the first one in the series, but I have sketches for many more.

8. Teach the girls, as they ask, how to use the sewing machine on their own.

9. Make exercise a daily part of my life again. (I consider this a Studio Goal because it is part of my overall time management for work.)

10. Start and finish my third quilting book.

Those are the big goals. It does not account for the ongoing, must do, and just for fun sewing and writing commitments that are there every day as well. And of course all the awesome unplanned things that could still come up. Oh yeah, and that family thing that happens outside of the studio too.

Yes, I am insane. And I wouldn't have it any other way. How about regular updates on all of these, so you can help keep me in check? They may be more like reality checks, but I am not scared in looking at this list. I think teaching the girls to sew on the machine themselves might the most frightening thing of them all!

Jane Austen Update (Weekend Reads)

So... it's been two and a half years since I confessed that I hadn't read any Jane Austen. I thought I would give you an update.

I've read three now - Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and Mansfield Park. Phew.

Here is the next shocking confession: I didn't particularly like them. Now, I didn't hate them, but I certainly didn't love them. And I expected to love them. When faced with an evening alone and the TV to myself I search for a period drama. I love Downton as much as as anyone else (and boy are there plenty of parallels between Downton and Austen). I adored all the Bronte books when I read them. But, at times, these three Austen books were a bit of a slog to get through. I finished Mansfield Park at some point last winter and decided to take a break from Austen.

I'm not dismissing their value as literature of the the English language, nor the enormity of their story and the fact that they were written by a woman. There were, however, many, many times that the detail was intense and the plot very, very slow. More than once I wished the BBC had done a miniseries on all of the books.

(As an aside, I do totally get the Colin Firth thing now.)

You know what? I think I would have loved these if I read them in my 20s. When I had a romantic view of romance and still thought drama in a relationship was admirable. I too was daydreaming of marriage and that being an end result as opposed to a beginning. Now, approaching 40, I consider it romantic when my Hubby empties the dishwasher and drama means The Evil Genius thinks the world is out to get her again.

Don't worry, I'm not giving up. I will finish the other three, maybe even this year. I've got lots of tea on hand.

Thank You for Making it Special

My son gave me a cold for Christmas. It's been well over a year since I suffered the indignity of this much snot. Right when he was born, come to think of it. My already easy going holiday became much more low key because of it. I also got very reflective. Very, very reflective.

Not to throw him under the bus, but my husband wasn't much help. Super stressed at work and fighting a nagging injury that won't heal rendered him tired and grumpy and only up for a few things. So, despite my cold, it fell mostly to me to do the things like find the decorations, bake the bread for breakfast, buy all the groceries, and cook a turkey dinner. And change the diapers and make sure there was real food consumed among the sugar. I am as tired as the up-early and burnt out by noon child in all of our homes right now.

So, back to being reflective. This holiday, seven years into motherhood (eight if you could being pregnant), I've realized that if it wasn't for Mamas Christmas would really, really suck.

Yes, the fathers do a good job with what they do, and there are a few who adore Christmas and go all out with their ugly sweaters, hot wheels tracks, and light shows. There are also fathers who are alone and do it all themselves and turn out some very magical affairs. But it is the Mamas who make it special for the vast majority of us.

Mama is the only who buys or loads the advent calendar despite the fact that it drives us insane both that they beg for candy every day this way and that it forces an impatient countdown we have to live with for twenty five days. Mama is the one who bakes - with or without the kids along side - for countless teacher gifts, neighbours, Santa's plate, and all the leftovers we likely eat ourselves. Mama is also the one who usually remembers the teacher's gifts. Mama is the one that remembers the random statement about yet another useless toy and gives up her precious babysitter time to drive across town for it.

Mama is also the one that gets the stockings out and makes sure there are oranges in the house to stuff in their toes. Mama buys the candles to line the table so the meal feels extra fancy to a five year old. Mama makes sure the party dresses are clean just in case someone wants to dress up for dinner.

And then Mama is the one who has to say no to TV for the few days of holidays. And Mama makes sure everyone gets outside for sledding even though the new toys, and their wrappers, beckon. Or Mama is the one who gets up early when even though the kids stayed up late they awake wired and ready to go.

The traditions are the family's, but it is Mama who makes sure they happen each year. It is Mama who sacrifices her time on the beach to make pyrohy in a vacation beach rental because we always have pyrohy on Christmas Eve. It is Mama who makes a second batch of Christmas Tree Bun because your family devoured it before Hubby got any and it is his family's deal anyway. It is Mama who makes collects toilet paper rolls to make personal Christmas Crackers.

Making the holiday special is far from a thankless task for a Mama. It may the one time - whether it is Christmas or Yom Kippur or Eid or Festivus - where our work to do things for our family is truly noticed and appreciated. So much work, but worth every late night, every elbows up shopping trip, every flour covered nose, every sticky floor to see the light on their faces at something truly special, the giggles of a family treasure, the insistence on the tradition. I don't care that I didn't get a single thank you - other than the quiet one when she got to play without an audience. Actions speak louder than words and I know they had their moments of glee and I had something to do with them.

It was only this year, perhaps clouded by the whiskey I was using to kill the cold virus, that I realized just how much my Mom did to make our holidays special. And just why it hurts when that day comes when your kids don't show up and let the Mama do her job. When we grow up and move away we change the traditions, we take away the opportunity for Mama to make us feel special. We think we're doing her a favour, easing her burden. We don't understand her lamentations about how things just aren't the same anymore. We don't realize that we've taken away a chance for her to deliver without thanks, to make us feel special by doing the Mommiest of Mommy things.

So, to my Mom, thank you. Thank you for your endless baking of rogalki and whipped shortbread and Christmas Jewels, for spending a week in the kitchen to cook two meals that we practically inhaled, for doing the dishes while we played an old version of Trivial Pursuit or Life while Dad shouted out the answers, for making spinach dip every New Year's Eve, and for snuggling us when the party after midnight mass got to be too much. Thank you for letting me steal some of those traditions for my family. Thank you for letting me come to this realization myself. Thank you for bringing special to me.

Merry Christmas.