cousin time

My worth...

is not determined by empty sinks or laundry hampers. It is in fact determined by me. We all have the fabulous power to choose our worth each and every day, just like we can choose our attitude. If marriage is a creation rebuilt each new day, then so too is our own self image.

Today I wrapped myself around old poky thoughts, not all day but long enough to take notice. I'm leaving a half finished quilt, strings of thread all over the house and taking our dinner down to the ocean.

If this year is about finding my best self I need to remember that. It's not about having a comment worthy album on facebook it's about falling in love with me, the lady formerly known as mariah shea.

Using the tools

Another Martha Beck class and I feel like I've finally showed up in the right place.

Not sure who I will coach but right now coaching myself is a wonderful journey.

Back to Back events

Our first weekend of back to back events, and my first debut of a solo Wood Fire Woodie event as chef went off lovely. All my nightmares were for not. I worked the oven pretty well. Not perfectly but well. Looks like a have a good teacher!

In addition to our busy weekend of events my sister, brother-in-law & nephew arrived for a quick and most wonderful visit. We shuttled kids to maximize our 48 cousin camp, but the kids had a blast.

It's Sunday and I'm officially tuckered out. Time for a little ice cream, wood fired peaches and a movie.

Good night!

Numerology

6 years of marriage. 2 homes bought & sold. 8 change of addresses. 1 Labrador. 2 children. 2 home spun businesses and a million ideas for other ones. 7 job transitions for me, 6 for my husband. No this is not a Dr. Suess book, this is my life in a snap shot.

And tonight I found the place I was looking for in a simple text: "Thanks for being a rockstar."

For me it is not things that bring joy, sure I love a new pair of sexy heels that is until my feet start to hurt. For me, it has been about finding a place in my marriage where I am visible, appreciated and loved. It seems it is always the small things that make us so darn happy.

Thank you to my creative, patient and sometimes turtle pace husband for making me feel at home in your life.

"I need to get out!"

Kirra screamed yesterday from her pink car seat on our way into town. I totally get that feeling and when I experience it is as urgent as Kirra's display "I neeeed to get out Mama, I do now."

So we stopped on the edge of Scotts Valley to get out. Kirra said she had to poop, but after our bold trip to the gas station bathroom where I believe we washed our hands 4 times on the way out, no movement, but you know what she was the happiest little two year old swing her legs on the potty singing our song "Out of the body into the potty. That feels good, that feels good." Of course her words are a bit muddled and sometimes body & potty get reversed. What ever, she enjoys the act of sitting on the potty.

Back to the car where our mess of cheese crumbs I'd scrapped out when we stopped seemed to boil on the asphalt. Parents & caregivers please note, even if you have sliced cheese left over from lunch it is not advisable to feed this to small children. It crumbs and since it is already warm it's soft. I do believe it was the cheese bits that had fallen under Kirra's legs that were the reason for the assertive "I need to get out."

Parenthood is nothing if you are learning everyday, somewhat humbled on a regular basis and forced to work through some of the issues of self confidence that you thought you'd long out grown.

It's quite in my house and I've hugged and kissed the girls a million times this morning. I am heading out in a few minutes for my first solo Wood Fire Woodie gig. I am filled with excitement fear and mostly anxious to get in front of the oven.

W.H.O. Bread

I left the house in search of honey and came back with none. But I was so much sweeter to be around! You see we used the last drops of our honey making our W.H.O. Bread - short for World Health Organization. I told the girls it's called W.H.O. bread because as soon as you taste it you want to shoot "Who made this bread? It is delicious." When I Ask this Sofia says "You and me Mama!"

Yesterday we had a lovely dinner al fresco enjoying homemade pasta topped with fresh tomatoes, squash, garlic & onions from Everett Family Farm, homemade W.H.O. Bread and a fresh green salad. As Sofia, Pat & I moved into the kitchen to bus our plates we heard a thud on the deck. Pat looked out to see Stella running into the front yard with the remainder of our still warm half loaf of W.H.O Bread. The Black Knight had struck again bouncing with the agility of a young pup reminding us of our days in Portland. Luckily Pat and I were able to corner the old girl and save the remaining untouched ends.

Sometimes life can be like this loaf of bread. You can take all the time in the world creating your lovely handmade project and when you turn you attention someone or your canine swoops in with a new agenda.

Transition

It's even the name of a bike company, but by definition it is:

tran·si·tion
   /trænˈzɪʃən, -ˈsɪʃ-/ Show Spelled[tran-zish-uhn, -sish-] –noun
1. movement, passage, or change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc., to another; change: the transition from adolescence to adulthood.
2. Music a passing from one key to another; modulation, b. brief modulation; a modulation used in passing, c. a sudden, unprepared modulation.
3. a passage from one scene to another by sound effects, music, etc., as in a television program, theatrical production, or the like.

My current transition is that a musical company taking a small pause from the stage and rearranging sections, notes and costumes to create a more harmonic & fun performance.

Day by day, but last night we took a huge step and organized all of our paperwork which is bountiful with two small business, a family and lots of medical papers.

And as I turn around there is an arm chair full of laundry needing to be folded and tucked away, "Later," I say to the pile at bay, "later I will deal with you."

But more pressing things are being calling to my attention. Kirra is rearranging her booster chair "My boooster chair." she says hitting every syllable. She's removed the small cloth from under her chair & is now cleaning the table. Sofia is snuggled on our bed watching Calliou. And our fireplace is covered in my sewing machine with an iron full of fabric and half cut pj pants waiting to be sewn.

I love everything about fabric.

Mama Meatballs

2.5 lbs organic ground meat
6 large cloves of minced garlic
2 tbsp of local honey
.5 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground sea salt
3 tbsp prunes minced
2 tsp fresh thyme
1 tsp dried oregano
5 tbsp Panko bread crumbs
1 cracked organic egg

Place all ingredients into a large metal bowl. Remove rings and place clean hands into bowl to mix. Once all ingredients and evenly mixed begin shaping your meatballs.

Place 2" round balls onto backing pan.

Cook for 30 minutes at 350'.

Serve with roasted potatoes sliced french fry style. Par boil potatoes for 10 minutes or until soft. Drain mix par baked potatoes in Panko bread crumbs, fresh thyme & salt. Bake for 20' at 350.

Plate meatball on top of baked potato slices and dress with fresh tomato, basil & garlic "salsa".

Enjoy!!

The honest truth

Staying at home is SO much more work than all the drama & preparation to go to work. There are days when I feel like a domestic housewife, a has been professional now relegated to toilet, poop and laundry duty. I need a system because too often I get lazy and I wake up doing yesterday's work.

Like the laundry pile for example that hogged our couch all of yesterday. My husband folded it all last night. But because I didn't put it away and he wasn't going to our Labrador slept on most of it and the other portion has slowly been pushed to the floor by our daughters. Who can blame them when you are 2 & 4 you don't care if your clothes are folded or not.

So Martha what's the painful emotional thought behind all of my domestic suffering? Okay let me see if I can get to it "I can only be a respectable mother if my house is clean, tidy and organized."

Is it true?

Hell no.

3 reasons:
1. Yesterday I made bread & pasta with Sofia while we rotated laundry and created the most magnificent dinner for our beach picnic.
2. Today we managed to leave the house & make the most fun out of our adventure on the go: fabric store, coffee launch picnic & shopping for pullups in the car cart.
3. I can sew and make magical creations like adhoc pj's on our dining room table with the house a mess.

How does it make me feel when I think this thought? Angry, not good enough, like I should be happy I have a husband and not ask him to help organize. I feel small threatened and out of control.

Who would I be without this thought? Relaxed, I would laugh in the face of laundry and move through it not getting stuck in it's volume.

If I woke up tomorrow without the thought "I can only be a respectable mother if my house is clean, tidy and organized." who would I be?

I would greet the day with joy, excitement and focus on my creative pursuits.

Turnaround:
I can be a respectable mother if my house is not clean, tidy and organized.

Ahh that feels good, true and workable.

Pirate Park, a new friend & Cow boots

Not a bad start to our week. By bike we ventured to our newly discovered park appropriately named Pirate Park. I think the real name is Twin Lakes Park, but there is no lake in sight only a 20" long Pirate play structure. The girls played for an hour swinging, driving the boat and enjoying the entire park to themselves thanks to the morning sprinkle.

Before noon we packed up to go home where we collected Stella, detached my bike and began our walk to the vet. Of course we took a momentary detour to stop at Verve for Bubaccino's, Banana Bread & a Cappuccino. An hour later we'd made it to the vet to drop Stella off.

After picking up some new jam we ventured in the direction of home determined to find the East Cliff park I'd seen on a map last night. Luckily it was only a few block up from East Cliff on 38th. We call this park Surf Park. We shared the park with a group of surfers and their instructors. Sofia befriended a little boy and after a bit of warming up got right into her first game of tag.

Home again home again to find our package from Nonna complete with two sets of pink cow boots. Ready for the farm!

Dear Mr. Skunk

A skunk just sprayed near our daughters room and Sofia came running out of bed to inform me of the injustice. "I don't know why that skunk is living near our room. He should find a new house."

Tomorrow morning we are going to write Mr. Skunk a letter explaining just this. Sofia has promised to include a note.

Also we will be writing a note to Lulu. "Lulu who I asked?" "The coffee shop Mama," Sofia replied with heavy eyes as we gathered in the bathroom waiting for tiny Kirra perched upon her Elmo seat to announce she was done "going potty." I looked puzzled so Sofia, who does not forget anything even though she is not yet four, continue "They shouldn't take so long getting your coffee so we should write them a note."

Okay two note pads are set up ready to go:
Dear Mr. Skunk & Dear Lulu's Coffee Shop

These are the nights when a 9 pm bedtime is not frustrating but unbearably sweet.