Our home school started this week. In a sincere attempt to commence the season by improving upon my own organizational shortcomings, I have been slowly preparing these past last few weeks by cleaning out my homeschooling cabinet, tossing out old papers, boxing up the past year’s curriculum materials, inventorying this year’s supplies, reading ahead in the lessons, and strategizing about how to merge my teaching plans with the farm production schedule. That was all relatively easy. The real task was cleaning the house.
Now we are not so slovenly that a little housekeeping should present a major obstacle. When our family works as a team, we can get everything picked up, dusted, wiped down and vacuumed in under four hours these days. The trouble came with this month’s weekly cleaning sessions where, bit by bit, while the girls heads were turned, Bob and I began making some curatorial decisions.
A friend of mine once described my home as “a houseful of doers.” At any moment in time, there is a pot on the stove, dishes in the sink, a knitting project next to a rocking chair, a half-woven basket on a work counter, soaps lined up and aging beside it, candle making supplies neatly piled in the corner, canning supplies lined up on benches, fabric and notions crated in rubbermaid totes stacked beside a sewing table, research books and articles piled on every side table and beside the toilet. That’s just Bob’s and my stuff.
Then there’s the kids. Each girl has her own craft space, tables blotted with colorful splotches of spilled paint, made sparkly by a few glitter accidents, and uniquely textured with crayon wax drippings.
These tables are rarely cleared. They are littered with paintings, sculptures, unfinished embroidery samplers, beading projects, weaving projects, knitting projects, sewing projects, mud projects.
Those projects that are actually seen through to completion then find their way to my kitchen counters, the refrigerator, my bed stand, and absolutely every wall my house.
And in all sincerity, while I’ve never seen it promoted in any glossy magazines, I like the “shabby homeschool” look for interior design. But I’m running out of wall space. I’m running out of storage space. And I face another year of creativity.
Bob and I stealthily began breaking down a few of the household art exhibits. The collection of capital letters decorated with macaroni and rick rack went out with the trash. The best paintings and crayon drawings were salvaged, but the rest went into the fire bin, carefully hidden beneath a stack of newspapers. The cardboard city that was slowly taking over the bedroom space was broken down for recycling.
And each time I select a piece for discard, I am wracked with guilt. I think back to the first days I held newborn Saoirse in my arms. Customers would visit the farm, coo over the baby, then admonish me repeatedly with what I have come to call the lecture: “Hold on to this! Cherish everything! Take lots of pictures! Save all their beautiful artwork! Enjoy every moment! The time flies, and pretty soon you’ll be missing all this!”
As I remove crayon-colored pictures curling up at the edges that are taped beside the bathroom mirror, I hear these words. And I feel as though, somehow, by throwing out a large percentage of my children’s artwork, by going through their drawers and removing worn-through garments, by pulling out abandoned knitting efforts and rewinding the yarn for another use, I am somehow flouting the wisdom that has rained down from every parent who has gone before me.
The truth is, as soon as I had a six month old baby, I no longer missed having a newborn. And as soon as I had a one-year-old baby, I no longer missed having a six-month old. As soon as I had a walking, talking toddler, I no longer missed having a baby at all. And now that I have a ten-year- old and a six-year-old, I definitely don’t miss having toddlers. I look back at a few of the photos now and then, and they make me smile, that’s certain. But the more engrossed I am in my life with these children, the less I think about the past, and the more I immerse myself in enjoying the present. It is this thought that pushes me forward, and helps me to override the guilt in my mind that by refusing to hold on to every artifact of my daughters’ childhood I am somehow destroying memories and flouting the divine gift of family that has so enriched my world.
I pull down the picture. With my fingernail, I begin scraping away the bit of tape that held it to the wall. I assuage my guilt by reminding myself that I am making room for this year’s projects. I am clearing space so that we can all celebrate Saoirse’s and Ula’s newest creative endeavors. It is good to cherish the past, but equally important to make room for enjoying the present and the future.
But what of that past? The curled up crayon drawing is still in my hand. I remember the day they made it. They had decided they were opening a beauty salon, and decorated the bathroom with drawings and paintings of stylish women sporting trendy haircuts. If I throw out that picture, where will that memory go?
And then, I catch a glimpse of my own image in the bathroom mirror. My face has changed dramatically since I first had Saoirse. My own youthful skin is slowly giving way to smile lines and crows’ feet….evidence of the last ten years I’ve spent grinning, giggling and laughing with these children. And there, written plainly across my aging face, is my truest memory book. I cannot hold on to each and every slip of paper, to each and every shred of fabric, knitting project, shed tear, spill, impromptu song, music lesson, snuggle, or kiss. All of them drift away. And I must keep physical and emotional space in my home and in my spirit to allow new ones to enter. But if I do, the lines on my face will capture all of it somehow, and when I gaze at myself and see those slowly emerging signs of age, I will know that I have lived well, and that I have enjoyed every moment.
I would like to express my thanks to my good friend, Tom Smith, who snapped the portrait of me with Dusky one recent afternoon while we were having lunch.
too too true!
it reminds me of one of my favorite poems, i hope you enjoy!
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2004/10/04
Lots of wisdom in what you write today. I think clinging to “stuff” from the past prevents us to be in the moment and experience the peace of the moment. Blessings for a prolific and artistic school year.
This brings up the stark contrast between my growing up and Carle’s. Carle’s family was like yours, but rather than homeschooling it was full of a whole family practicing music for playing together, historical costuming, and building airplanes (both models and one big one whose parts still reside in our carport.)
In contrast, my house was always neat as a pin and ready for the judgmental suburban neighbors to come and visit. Nothing was out of place, and any creativity or imagination was shut behind bedroom doors, never to be looked at nor commented upon by grownups unless it meant we could get a better mark in school — for a report card worth showing off to the judgmental suburban fellow parents.
Bless your mess. It speaks of surety, love of what truly matters, a parent who values the child creating over painful precision and sterile cleanliness. Saoirse and Ula are lucky beyond words.
Love your message, Joellyn! I’m getting less concerned about (mostly imaginary) “suburban judges” by necessity (also we’re not suburban anymore!) and still get stressed about it. Also there’s a big difference between “messy” and “germy”, but we use the same word — “dirty” — to describe both, and doesn’t that say a lot about how we’re trained to think of our creativity and busy-ness?!?
Shannon, Thank you. As I look around my house with 7 trays of cantaloupe and tomatoes waiting to go into our greenhouse dehydrator contraption, all of Chandler’s balm, salve and candle-making ingredients, the paper swords and shields Owen cut out for selling to his friends, half the contents of our pantry due for composting in an attempt to ward off future moths, everything we’ve canned lately and haven’t found a place for storing and all our puppy training paraphernalia, it seems more conquerable now. Hannah Smith-Brubaker
It is refreshing to read your words on the beauty of ageing. I mostly hear/read/see the opposite, and it’s a shame. Here’s to growing older with our families and thoroughly enjoying the present moment! ~ Mel
Oh my! I cant throw them away either! I scan them so I have them digitally then they go in Tupperware or the super awesome ones get framed and are slowly replacing the Ansel Adams on my walls! lol
A house that’s a HOME will be messy! Better than living in a sterile “museum” as some houses feel like.
I have 1 box of stuff from when my kids were little. I look at it rarely. And someday, it too will be gone. Life is too full to be living in the past. My favorite spiritual teacher, Ekhart Tolle, says “all things are impermanent. The only place life can be lived is the here and now”.
I figure it’s Ok to think about the past at times, but we don’t want to miss the now! THIS is it, this is life!
And besides it can be refreshing to have some space opened up to allow for new creativity. Sometimes my husband gets rid of stuff I can’t bear to, and later I realize I don’t miss it, and am secretly thankful he does that!
Your post gives me new courage. You see, I am now 60, homeschooled my only daughter for her 1st 4 years of formal education and now I’m on the last years of having an in home daycare in operation for the last 18+ years. All my “babies” showered me then and now with precious creations as well as tons of school pictures, greeting cards and photo holiday cards. If I had ever had the energy or funds I would have made meaningful scrapbooks for each of the children. I didn’t, so instead I have mounds of paper (to be honest some of my junk comes from a poor personal filing system) and a VERY full refrigerator door. My mother, who passed away in 2008, was a very “neat as a pin” housekeeper as I grew up. In her later years she let the house cleaning slide and spent tons of time outside “clearing” her 22 acres. Her advice then was, “These children will not remember a clean house. They will remember the things you did with them.” While I appreciate that truth, as I am aging I long for more order. I find it hard to be at peace with the present when I can’t even properly clean my house due to so much clutter. I am trying hard to be ok with letting things go. But, like you, so many things replay a creative scene from my daughter’s or my daycare charges’ youth. Maybe it is easier if one has non-creative children! HAHA Just a parting note~when I homeschooled I used to spend the few hours my daughter would be away at a function to clean out her closet and room, tossing things I didn’t think she would miss. She soon got too old (or smart!) for this tactic. With many things we were finally able to compromise: I would make a photograph and then she could part with the object. Today we don’t even know where that photo might be (this was obviously before the digital age) but the idea at least kept us off “The Hoarders”!!
Thanks for the blessings of your posts. Your energy and insight inspire even this old woman!
I homeschool as well and went through the same process of taking down the art work that adorned my walls all this past year (it now echoes in here). Although I have kept pieces near and dear to my heart, much of it had to go due to lack of space! The part of your essay this week that resonated with me was the fact that every stage of your child’s life becomes your favorite time. I, too, do not look back and yearn for their infancy or toddler ages. I have a ten year old and a sixteen year old and I have always enjoyed the ages they are “today” the best 🙂 I look at pictures and boy do I smile, but I wouldn’t want to go back in time. Thank you for your inspirational and thoughtful writing that makes me smile every Tuesday!
Appreciate the heart and sincerity that’s gone into all these comments as well as the original post!
Shannon, I just forwarded this to “BlueChef” with the following note:
“Thoughtful post with beautiful photos. She’s doing the “curatorial” work by taking the photos…”
That’s my method, and I don’t even have time for that. 🙂
RedChef
Yes! I agree…this blog has become something of a family photo album, where we can keep track of (at least a few) of these things!
Junk is like friendships, they come and go and you enjoy them at the time and at the time you need them. We now take pictures and load them on cds for viewing, sometimes printing, it is fun to browse but we really do have our wrinkles always unless we get too vain and do the unthinkable knife trick to the skin with surgery (I dread the dentist let alone a shot or surgery),
I fondly have a dresser stuck with pictures that i take down o1-2x a year for cleaning, (we too homeschool and that superclean comes when needed.) On that note you will find a picture of myself with dh when we first dated, my first friend at age 2 on her grandma’s steps for Easter all decked out, her name was Debbie Green and i have never been in contact with her since age 10, God only knows where and how she is, but my mind has her alive and well on grandma’s steps. Her slightly older brother was our guardian or watchdog who i often called upon more than my own mom 😉 also you find a picture of my godparents, my neighbor’s funeral mass card, the pope’s portrait with my dearly departed great-uncle Enrique (he was an archbishop in case you were wondering how that got stuck there), and my parents and I at the beach in Far Rockaway when I was a babe. Pictures are through my house, and on our stairwell which is huge, I go through droves of posting pictures (dubbed my prayer wall) and I have a little picture book of Christmas family/friend pics that I browse. I also keep schoolwork, not all of course. we can just take a snap shot of some of that in the attic for record keeping and the kids when they get married they can then do something with it, probably toss it at some point but at least they will gladly glance one last time. It will ultimately be the memories locked in their heads and scars that they remember forever and will share their stories, we shall have to pray they are good and that the bad have silver linings. It does amaze me how God can make a silver lining out of anything.
Not to bore too many here, but the other day my eldest son and i were at church when 2 smokers sat on either side of us, reeking us almost up to Heaven with the stench, we said a prayer for them and ran to stand at the back door. Within 2 minutes we assisted a man pushing another in a wheelchair in and sat right in our spot so they could attend mass. It was worth standing in the back and we complained no more but were glad for the inconvenience and the man having any seat at all. So as we clean and scrub, toss and guard away in boxes when we can (so far our attic has behaved itself in storing things-we pray it continues) let us know it is our time to do it, simply because we can, every fiber and every threat is a piece of life.
The other day i was reminded of this by a friend i met through irish-step dance (dance has been wonderful for us as a family to meet and greet others and bring to the community fun, pictures again have made this happen) as she made a quilt of octagonal pieces of cloth like my mom had done when i was a very small child, the quilt is gone but a simple pattern piece brought back the fabrics through the years, the places she took it to make it and use it, the memory was priceless as i shared it with my girlfriends and we with our children as we sew another thread of memory into life. My sister has no time for sewing, but she snaps those photos and shares, another few friends love to write, i get the Christmas yearly update and i know i will be sad when they stop but I will never forget them. In the end the question is the same, what good did you do with what was given (good or bad) make it good, a good memory to pass on in some little way, a true blessing. The hardest part will be finding time, these days it has been up to God, but His time has been more perfect than mine. Peace, Tatiana
Thanks for another thoughtful post, and more importantly for continuing to post honest photos of your messy house to the internet. I adore you bravery.
I also love your shabby homeschool aesthetic, though I feel the need to point out– you don’t have to homeschool your kids to cultivate such a look! As someone who hates cleaning, I did find some solace when I realized my kids’ messy tendencies just meant that they were interested in and engaged with their world. As you say, ‘doing’ is messy, and ‘doers’ makes messes. BIG ones.